For the Criminally Inane

For the Criminally Inane

Tuesday, August 23, 2016

Opposition

School's in again. That means I'm back to writing full-time.

At least that's what I committed to on the first day of school. "Nothing is going to keep me from prioritizing my writing time," I said to my husband that morning.

Foolhardy declaration.

I was in the kitchen when I heard the phone buzz. It wasn't my phone but my husband was showering so I picked it up and said with a formal voice, "This is Amey Zeigler."  You never know when the next agent is going to call and I want to get in the habit, so even though it was my husband's phone, and I knew no agent was calling on his phone, especially from a local number, I still answered it with my most professional voice.

"Mom!" I heard.  My near teenage daughter sounds normal in real life, but on the phone she sounds like a four-year-old and this was amplified by the pleading in her voice that sounded close to tears.  "They won't let me go to class!"

"What?" I ask, feeling the morning slip away with this phone call.

"I don't have all my shots!"

Oh, yes, the poorly communicated immunizations. I looked on-line at their parent portal two days before school started under the tab 'immunizations' where you'd think such important information might be shared, but gathered no intellect.  You see, we decided to have one last hurrah in the last free minutes of summer break and made a mad dash to Yellowstone, realizing that we only have five precious summers left with our daughter before we pack her off to college. So we asked a friend to pick up her schedule whilst we were out of town. I got a disturbing text: Can't pick up schedule. Shots not up to date. School holding it ransom until you comply.

Ok, that wasn't it verbatim but that was the gist.

No shots, no school. Great.

I had to do some digging as to which shots she actually needed to get into school. I was wondering what dreaded disease I was unwittingly exposing my child to while everyone else was protected.

Meningitis.  Not on the national schedule for immunizations but on the state required list.  Glad Google knows these things because it was no where on the school site.

So I start making phone calls. "Can I get an appointment, like, yesterday?"  Earliest appointment is at 2:50. I take it. That's fine she can come home and have an extra day of vacation. Wait, schools in. My boys get out at 2:50.  I call back to cancel appointment. Then call another clinic for their earliest.  It's in a half hour!  Half hour! And in the next city. But I have to have her previous immunizations faxed to them. Fine! So I rush down to the school to pick up my daughter.

I was on the phone talking to the old pediatrician's office trying to get the fax number to the new pediatrician in the school parking lot and oh, ho! ho! the internet is blocked on my phone when my daughter calls. I tell the old pediatrician's office I'll call them back and switch over to my daughter.  In her four-year-old voice, "Are you coming to pick me up?"

"I'm in the dang parking lot!" I say, because no matter how frustrated you are, you do not swear on the phone to your daughter when she is calling you from the school you are parked at.  So I hang up, jump out of the car, run inside, slap my ID down, wait while the computer prints out some handy thing that I sign to take my daughter out of school. She comes out and we're running out of there like Batman and Robin. I wish I had a cape.

We make it to the doctor's on time. She gets her shots and they say we have to wait fifteen minutes, but my daughter says she wants to make it back for third hour. Fine! I say. Again, Batman and Robin out of there, only more stealthy because I don't want them thinking I'm a bad mom for taking her out of the doctors before the fifteen is up.

At the school, I take her inside, give them her "proof" of shots and the secretary says, "Do you have a doctor's note?" I was like, that print-out says she was there!  It wasn't some back alley! "If you call them and have them fax a note, it will be excused." Oh, yes, let me spend more time on the phone making phone calls and finding fax numbers.

I get home and the morning is gone and I am still in my work out clothes, hadn't eaten breakfast, cleaned up or showered. "Tomorrow," I said carefully. "Nothing is going to keep me from doing prioritizing my writing time. As long as nothing more important comes up!"