I'm every woman!

On Thursday, Lydia got this rash on her chin out of nowhere so I called the doctor and got an appointment. (Luckily, my bestie, Kelly, offered to watch Maya...THANK YOU KELLY! and haha, I said 'bestie', is that gay? I was just trying it out.) She looked her over and had no idea what it was. The girls' doctor even called in the other doctor and asked her for a "second opinion". Doctor #2 was just as clueless. So just to cover some bases, they said they wanted to do a few blood tests. Great. Needles. Lydia, like most children HATES needles. She screams at the top of her lungs before, during and after shots. So it was 5pm and the closest lab was open until 530. The receptionist called the lab and asked politely if they'd wait for us to get there, then when she hung up said, "Woah...so she said 'They better get here before 530, because we lock our doors at 530.'" Nice.

So finally 10 minutes later they give me a lab order form and google directions that say it takes 17 minutes to get there. Crap! It's 510 and I have to drive in traffic to get there to a ticked off needle wielder and a scared 4 year old and try not to waste 3 minutes. So, we rush out the door, follow the directions as best as I can in these crazy California roads and their crazy California road signs and I make a wrong turn. Crap again. So I called the after hours line and asked for plan B.

She said, "Oh, just go to Balboa."

Me: "What's Balboa?"

"The Naval Hospital."

"Oh, how do I get there?"

"Where are you?"

"I have no idea."

"......"

So I drove around a little and found a highway and she told me directions....sorta. She told me how to get to the zoo. "You'll see the hospital," she said. I was not so confident. Luckily, the doctor happened to call and stayed on the line until I got to the gate of the Naval base. So I look around on base and find what I'm hoping is the hospital, which is broken up into I think at least 4 buildings. COME ON! So I finally find a directory and it's slightly vague, so I park and hope someone is around to ask. Then I look in the back seat...Lydia is asleep. Seriously? So I'm supposed to wake her up to get poked with a needle? Wow, this is not going to be fun.

We go in, look around, ask a guy who I think was trying to speak English, ask some ladies, get pointed to an elevator, go through a maze and find the lab. Ugh, the lab. Since it was 6pm, there was no one waiting. Thank. God.

I tried reasoning with Lydia and telling her she was going to get a little poke and to please not scream, "Just take a deep breath and blow it out instead of screaming."

She replied back, "But Mom, sometimes when I get a shot, I have to cry and scream."

"I'll get you a toy if you try not to scream."

"Well...I'll try..."

I was not convinced.

So we sat down and I held her in my lap and she got all nervous and when I held her tighter so the lady could take her blood, she started screaming, "NO, DOCTOR! PLEASE DON'T! DOCTOR, NO! I DON'T WANT TO DO THIS! DOCTOR PLESE DON'T! AHHHHHHH! NO DOCTOR!"

Then when it was over, she cried and cried and said, "I'm ready to go to Target."

I got her a Barbie wedding dress.

The doctor called within an hour to tell us that her blood counts were good, so luckily it wasn't that causing the rash. But now they have no idea. They don't think it's anything serious, just mysterious.

So we went to Kelly's, got Maya, who was sleeping and came home. (Thank you again, Kelly!) Lydia was a little hyped up, so I told her she could lay in my bed while I took a shower. That's where I do my thinking and praying.

So, la-dee-da, I'm thinking and I start praying, "Dear Lord, please don't let anything be wrong with her...please let it get better...please just let it go awa---I'm every woman!...I'm every woman! What? Where did that come from? Sorry, God...thank you for my girls, I love and adore them so mu--I'm every woman...WOOOOoooo..I'm every woman!" Yes, I started singing a Whitney Houston song in the middle of praying. What is wrong with me? I hope God understands A.D.D.