I took Burke to the doctor for a well check and shots this morning. Last week I prematurely took the stroller out of the van thinking I was doing so well that I didn't need it to get Burke out of the car anymore. This week has been a bit rough. Of course, I got to the doctor's office with out it so little Burke, who still topples over if someone blows on him, had to walk into the doctor's office. This wasn't a quick jaunt. No worries, we had time. He also had to walk down the long hallway to the patient room to meet his doom. Four shots for the boy today, two in each leg. He cried longer, harder, and louder than I remember my other boys crying.
Just before the nurse came in to deliver the torture, Dr. Rob started into a serious conversation with me. It was interesting and thoughtful as he is our Pediatrician, not my Orthopedic Surgeon. He pointed out that not many women experience a debilitating sickness while still having the responsibility to take care of four small children. He reminded me to take things slowly and only do what I need to do and nothing more. Then he told me that his wife had a stroke when their children were three and five years old. Before that moment I had no idea that he might actually relate to what our family is experiencing.
After Burke calmed down enough we attempted the trek back through the office to make another appointment at the front desk. At this point everything was making Burke cry, he fell down, he dropped his lid, he dropped his sticker, I picked it up... There was another woman waiting there to schedule an appointment. I can't help but imagine what she was thinking..."Why doesn't that mother pick her screaming baby up? Why is she even letting him crawl around on the floor at the doctors office? Doesn't she know there are germs everywhere? What a horrible mother?"
What can I do? Explain to every Tom, Dick, and Harry, "I have hip dysplasia. Let me tell you about that last three months...So, you see I simply can not pick up my screaming child and lovingly haul him out of here. I will just have to drag him by the hand instead."
As I drove away from the doctors office I felt I would cry. Instead I wondered, "Why am I felling this way?" Aside from being frustrated and overwhelmed I felt blessed. Why do I only have hip dysplasia and not a stroke? Why are people willing to help us so much while others struggle by without? I do not know but for the hand our family has been dealt I am truly grateful.
We picked pumpkins...
...went on a hay ride...
...got hay in our underwear and a few other places...
...took lots of photos...
...walked the maze...
... and chased turkeys, and ate donuts, and used outhouses, and drank cider, and sat on tractors......and had a great time doing it!
Of course, he had breakfast in bed.
Lucky #7. At least seven times on his birthday Isaac said, "This is the best day EVER!" Lucky for us he is easy to please.
First, find a handy pack applesauce carelessly placed on the low shelf by your busy mommy. Make sure it is the type with the wimpy foil lid. Most likely it is. Place your sharp new top teeth on top of the foil and bite down--HARD.
Once you have punctured the top tip 'er up and go to town. If one container is not enough to satisfy your appetite, help yourself to another. 
Once you have eaten all you want, take care to turn the container upside down and smear over freshly mopped floor. Do not overlook the other items you have previously pulled out of the cupboards while your mommy slaves away. They'll need a good smear as well.
