Hashtag International Women's Day

[nanila]

So apparently it's International Women's Day.

I have celebrated by achieving new nadirs in parenting.

Humuhumu is off ill from nursery for the week. The bloke and I had agreed I would look after her today because he had to lecture. (Don't worry, I get uninterrupted working time later in the week. Equality, you see!)

We had received an appointment for Keiki to have his eyes checked for long-sightedness and amblyopia - since Humuhumu has both - several weeks ago. I tried to have it moved a few days ago when we thought neither of us were going to be able to take him in, but was told that because of cuts in local services, the next appointment would not be available for another four months. So we kept it.

It was at a clinic I'd never been to. If I'd known then where it was, I'd probably have decided to take the appointment at the hospital in four months' time.

Humuhumu and I had to pick up Keiki from nursery in the afternoon. The area around the nursery is currently a construction zone and its entrance is controlled by a three-way traffic light. The fun thing about this arrangement is that you can't actually see people coming in or out of the nursery slip road until they appear on the main road, and sometimes they block off the slip road during the day to do work on it. So I waited patiently at the light, observed that the road appeared to be blocked, and drove past and parked along the main road. Never an ideal situation when you're on your own and have two small children to manoeuvre in and out of a car. The walk to and from the front door was long enough that when we finally managed to collect Keiki and get everyone back in the car, we were already late for his appointment. I tried to keep calm and drove off to the clinic.

The clinic turned out to be off a tiny one-lane road with double yellow lines on either side, meaning that there was nowhere to park within 200 metres of the entrance. The metal fencing around the clinic featured a dizzying array of signs, which I tried to parse as I drove carefully through the narrow entrance and manoeuvred into a parking space. The wonderful setup of this car park meant that I was blocking off two other cars, and would have to reverse very carefully indeed in order to exit.

The one good thing about the appointment was discovering that Keiki's vision is absolutely fine. The orthoptist was the one Humuhumu likes best as well, and she monkeyed around the room the way toddlers do when they like someone.

We said goodbye to the friendly receptionist. I discovered that in the twenty minutes we'd been inside, two more cars had arrived and parked perpendicularly behind me. Also, someone was waiting to take my space. In theory, I still had just enough room to reverse all the way back to the gate.

And if I didn't have a toddler and a baby howling at me from the back, and if I were not quite so inexperienced a UK driver (coming up on nine months since I got my licence), I might have been able to do it, but after three attempts to get through the gap between the building and the first perpendicular car, I was very nearly in tears.

The woman waiting to take my space parked up next to the clinic entrance (double reds) and came to my window. Another woman who had just left the building noticed, and came over as well. Both of them were terribly sympathetic and understanding, which made it more difficult not to cry. One offered to guide me out, and the other to go in and ask the person behind me to move their car. I tried twice more to get past with the guide's help, but she stopped me after the second go, saying she didn't think I could do it without taking a wing mirror off.

A third woman exited the building, and after coming over and making a lot of comforting noises, moved her car so I could, finally, get out.

While all of the above was happening, the primary school next door let out, meaning the road and pavements were full of small children. As I reversed very, very slowly past the clinic gates, I managed to read one of its signs. It said, "This car park is for registered clinic personnel and disabled persons only." Ah. That would be the icing on the cake of this EPIC MEGA DRIVING FAIL, then. To any such persons using the car park that day were inconvenienced by me: I apologise.

After we arrived home, I plonked my children in front of the television (don't worry, it gets worse) so I could dial in to a telecon. Usually this telecon takes about 20 minutes, so I reckoned two episodes of the Octonauts would suffice to keep them quiet. But of course, this was the one occasion in fifty when everything was not normal, and people actually had to have discussions about non-routine items. I realised we were coming up to the time when I was going to have to speak just as the emperor penguin episode was drawing to a close. As the end credits rolled, both childrens' heads swiveled round to regard me where I sat on the sofa with my laptop. I cringed as they spoke/babbled simultaneously.

"I'm hungry!" announced Humuhumu.
"BWABAAAACAT!" shouted Keiki.
"Can we have your input now, Dr Nanila?" requested my laptop speakers.

I cast about in desperation and my eyes fell upon the box of Mother's Day chocolates I'd been given on Sunday. Flinging the lid to the floor, I selected two at random and shoved them into my startled childrens' mouths, which allowed me to give my crucial 45 seconds of input after a slight delay. Afterwards, I discovered one of the chocolates contained raspberry liqueur. (I told you it got worse.)

Hundreds of years of women fighting to be allowed equal opportunities in working life and pay as men, and you get days like this. Is it worth it? Pardon my sweariness, but (please imagine me saying this in full American mode): Ab-so-fucking-lutely.

Comments

[nou]

That sounds like a really hard day, and also one that you handled really well.

[recessional]

That sounds like a hellish day.

However, as "nadirs" of parenting go, you have barely splashed in the very shallowest bit of the tide-is-out beach water, okay. In fact you may be back up on the sand bank.

[rmc28]

At least they are asleep now?

This is miss_s_b. Apparently I've been logged out.

[(Anonymous)]

Raspberry liqueueueuer is nothing. My mum used to rub brandy on my gums when I was teething.

[cxcvi]

Fucking hell. Yay?

[hilarita]

Oh for fuck's sake. If there's basically nowhere to park within 200m, they should tell you in the appointment bit, so you can plan ahead, and allow extra time for walking (especially with small children, who aren't the best at being hurried)...
I hope tomorrow is less fraught.

[gominokouhai]

> (I told you it got worse.)

Damn right. You should have had the liqueur one yourself.

[kaberett]

... <3

[davidgillon]

I'm afraid the cherry liqueur reduced me to giggles.

And it may have been hellish, but as far as I can tell you managed everything thrown at you, which deserves some considerable kudos.

[azurelunatic]

Oh ugh! What a day!

Though it sounds as though if either Humuhumu or Keiki remembers this day later, they will remember it as the glorious day with Octonauts where the afternoon snack was CHOCOLATE!

[omnipotent]

Despite all that went wrong, you handled it really well! You are awesome like that. Sometimes a cry is needed to get through the day.

I did have a chuckle about you accidentally giving one of the kiddies a liqueur chocolate. Already starting them on a path for a fondness of the boozy variety, I see :P :P

*hugs*

[ironed_orchid]

Oh timing.

That car park episode sounds awful.

Well done - twice!

[ed_rex]

I empathized as I read, but kept being distracted from that feeling by the skill and humour with which you told the story.

I'm sorry you had such a stressful day, but a (small, I hope) part of me hopes you'll have others now and again, so that I'll have the pleasure of reading about them.

[yvi]

Ugh, I am so sorry, that sounds rough.

If it helps, I was in tears Saturday evening because I couldn't get into any of the parking spaces at my father's place, and I have been driving the same car for three years and had no kids with me. I had my husband do it in the end...

[antisoppist]

Awards you entire box of boozy chocolates. Hell the parking alone would be enough. An older bloke once came over to me in a hospital car park and asked if it would be helpful if he parked my car for me and I was very grateful rather than feeling patronised because I had a crying child in the back I was taking to A&E with severe headache and vomiting and I can't park anyway and the car park was packed and their spaces are tiny.

I think what we should be aiming for is Sweden, where one of my male clients once had a phone call with me interrupted with "pappa! pappa!" and explained without apology that he was working at home because his son was ill and his son had run out of the games on the ipad his father had thought would keep him occupied while he rang me. I said I knew how it was...

[tree_and_leaf]

That sounds like the day from hell - but you survived! I hope there were some boozy chocolates left in the box for you.

[cmcmck]

A day, you had one.

And men still need lessons on what 'equality' actually means!

[perennialanna]

The only thing wrong with feeding liqueur chocolates to a child is that you definitely deserved it more. After all, it isn't so very long since Gripe Water for babies was essentially fennel-flavoured vodka.

It was a day, and this is a new day, and everyone survived the last one so they're all going to make it through this. I hope there are still some raspberry liqueurs left in your box for you.

[vi]

<33333333!!

[silveradept]

You made effort at parenting the whole time. That alone prevents you from the nadir, as I have had plenty of unattended children in my workplace while their parents are present.

Victory is yours.

[askygoneonfire]

I applaud your efficiency in having so many things going wrong/being stressful all in one go ;-)

Hope the rest of the week is a lot easier!

[liseuse]

That sounds like a day from hell! The day from hell, in fact! Congratulations on surviving!