My terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

Some days it feels like a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. No matter where you live. Yesterday appeared to be another normal day. I had an early morning meeting so we switched our daycare routine. While being uber productive during my early morning hours, I scheduled a long overdue vet appointment for The Beagle. Surprisingly, they scheduled me for the same day! That worked perfectly since I was picking up Maximus. We’d just take Wrigley to the vet after we got home.

Amazingly, I made it to the appointment on time. And the dog didn’t poop in my car. {During one trip across town he got nervous and pooped in Bryan’s car. I was pregnant with Maximus at the time. Not cool.} He did however poop when we got inside the building. My dog appears to be a nervous popper. The good thing about pooping in there was that 1. I had a bag attached to my leash, 2. It was cement floor, and 3. I needed to give them a sample. The bad thing was that the room was PACKED and I was holding a 25-pound toddler who was very nervous about this strange place. {Thankfully, he isn’t a nervous popper.} I somehow managed to keep Maximus from stepping in the poop. Because why would Wrigley stay in one spot. He was literally trying to walk around and I’m not sure if he even knew he was pooping. {Being a mom is glorious!} By the time I got that picked up, my dog leash locked, was holding the kid, and found an empty spot to stand away from all other people and animals. Well, I remember thinking that I was literally sweating from head to toe. And really wishing I’d had time to change out of my work pants, but thankful I’d switched my shoes for flip flops. Most of all, I was wondering how long I’d have to wait and if I could physically hold this kid and contain this dog, while holding a bag of dog crap.

I had to stand there balancing a dog who didn’t want to be there and a toddler who had to be held. Thankfully someone weighed him rather quickly and I was able to hand over the bag of poop. I felt like a site to watch. Pregnant belly, purse, kid, dog on a leash, sun glasses on my head, and pants that felt like they were falling down and are definitely too long. It was awesome. As I was standing there holding my heavy child, I realized that I wouldn’t put him down even if he would stand. Too much commotion and dog uncertainty. I wasn’t letting my dog near anyone, but I obviously can’t control other dogs. Somehow I didn’t think about the room being packed full of dogs when I thought this would be easy enough.

I think I stood for at least 15 minutes before there was a spot to sit down. When we did, Wrigley calmed down a lot. There was also only one other dog in the room and the people had cleared as well. It was very calming on all of them. Maximus had stopped asking to go bye-bye, but wouldn’t sit next to me. He had to sit on my lap, only ensuring that I didn’t cool off. By the time we went into a room, we’d been there for more than 30 minutes. Thirty minutes of which I had originally thought I’d be walking out the door by then. Ooy.

The exam room was another story. Maximus was super clingy and worried. And Wrigley knew this was the reason he didn’t want to be there in the first place. Again, Maximus wouldn’t sit on the bench next to me and Wrigley wouldn’t sit still {who can blame him!} on the ground. They both wanted out the door and to be as close to me as possible. Someone came and took Wrigley to get his nails trimmed and Maximus got worried all over again. “A Giggy go? Go bye. Go home.” I tried convincing him that he was going to get his nails cut, just like mommy does to Maximus. It made no sense to Maximus. Thankfully, when Wrigley came back he’d already had his shots and been checked over. I was a little concerned about the logistics of holding a toddler and trying to control a dog on a table, so this was music to my ears. I’m sure Maximus would have gotten upset about Wrigley getting shots, too. So, thank you kind people at the vet for making things a little easier for me!

I was able to send Bryan a quick text while Maximus and I waiting for Wrigley. “It’s hot as balls in this place!” He offered to come help on his way home, but that was right when Wrigley came back in. I figured I was fine, I only had to pay. THEN, I walked out into the waiting room and it was super packed again! I did a little juggling and found my phone to send out an SOS. “Packed waiting area. Going to be a while.” I did the toddler-dog dance a little more. Moving to this spot to avoid people. Then to that spot to avoid dogs coming through. Finally, one of the ladies said, “Let’s get you out of here.” More music! As I approached the counter, another woman was trying to get helped as well. She was totally fine with me getting called up and offered to take the leash to give me some help. Bless her kind heart! She didn’t even wait to see how I’d manage to hold a toddler, leash, and fish out my wallet. Boy did that free hand help a lot! I was halfway through my transaction when Wrigley started getting really excited about something. I turned to the lady and said, your job is done. Wrigley was so excited to see Bryan. I’m pretty sure he knew he was going to go home! A few minutes later my hands were free of both dog and child! I glanced back at the clock and it was after 5. An hour of that juggling mess and I finally had some reprieve! Although it was still hot as balls in that room.

$160 later, that dog has super quiet feet but still hasn’t been groomed. 😦 The poor guy probably doesn’t feel that good after three shots. He came home and drank 3/4 of a bowl of water, walked across the kitchen and threw it up. Yah, for more bodily fluids! An hour later we fed him, and he immediately wanted outside. He walked around the yard eating a lot of grass and promptly threw up all of his food at the foot of the deck stairs. Then, Bryan made him come up on the deck and he threw up more food there.

It’s a new day and my only concern has been if he’s doing ok from the shots. He seems to be getting some energy back and hasn’t thrown up anything. No one seems too traumatized, other than me.

Some days are terrible, horrible, very bad days. When that happens, I sure as heck will learn from that experience. Never again will I take a toddler and dog to the vet. Never again will I go to the vet during the summer months wearing anything less than shorts and a tank top. Realistically, I’ll probably procrastinate even more the next time they send me a postcard for a visit.

Maybe I can get someone to offer in-home services.

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My terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day

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