Kristin vs. The Worst Day

Where do you begin describing one of the worst days ever? Well, I suppose you start at the beginning...

Last week we had scheduled a meeting with Medicaid (or Medi-Cal, as they call it here) to apply to get health insurance. The meeting was for this morning at 6:45am. A horrendously early time, I know. But it was the first meeting of the day (which bodes well for office timeliness), and it was at a time when Brad could go, before his classes started. So we dragged our dreadfully sleepy selves out of bed very early (December was the exception -- she was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at 5:56am) and managed to pull into the office parking lot before they opened their doors.

We got into the office and told the receptionist that we had arrived for our appointment. She told us to go wait in the waiting-area. 6:45am came and went. 7:00am came and went, as did 7:30am. At 7:45, Brad decided he would miss his Greek quiz and class (which would probably give him a zero for the quiz) in order to get the three of us applied for Medi-Cal. At 7:50am, we were told that the lady who we were supposed to meet with had called in sick, so someone else would come in for her at 8:00. At 8:20 we were finally called back to have our appointment. So much for office timeliness. As for the appointment, I don't think it could have gone any worse! It was confusing and horrible, and December only wanted to run amuck over everything, empty my purse of its contents, pull all of the papers on the desk onto the floor, and scream like a banshee if she was prevented from doing so (all of which she accomplished in a very short amount of time). She had gotten sick of the Medi-Cal idea after the first 45 minutes of waiting.

By the time we got back home around 9:45am, we still hadn't gotten ourselves applied for Medi-Cal. I think the lady we met with was so harried that she just wanted to see us gone (and, if she had her way, never see us again). Brad had to rush off to school, and I was given the task of doing phone calls to try to figure out some of the confusion. By this time, I was so frustrated with the waste of a loooong morning that I just wanted to sit down at the kitchen table and cry. But I told myself to buck up and start in on the phone calls. I actually had done a couple (and gotten nowhere) when December needed me.

Now, for the past few days (that have truly felt like weeks) December has gotten into one of her ornery phases. I'll describe this phase to you. The only word she knows is, "NOOOOOO! NO! NOOO! WAAAAA, AHHHHHH, MOMMMMYYYYYY, WAAAA," (well, I guess that would qualify as more than one word). But you get the point. Nothing is right in her world, and anything you offer her is the exact opposite of what she wants. For example, if her friends come over to play (something she normally thinks is great fun), she watches them arrive, and her first reaction is a loud scream. Everything is worthy of a long, drawn out wail. It's like you're in a never-ending melt-down mode. It makes all of the days more difficult, and December gets disciplined tons more during those days, but you eventually get through them.

So, anyway, I was called off from phone duty to tend to a few of her melt-downs (about 4 or 5 of them, to be exact). That's certainly a draining activity! When I got back to looking up phone numbers, the one ear that is always tuned-in to the station of "WTRU-UP2: December Activity" told me to check up on December. She was in the bathroom, and, as you might guess from me describing this as a really bad day, she had succeeded at locking herself inside! As you know, December's newest trick is to climb into the sink (a dangerous feat). As I worked feverishly with a paper clip to unlock the bathroom door from the outside, I heard her climb up into the sink and open up the medicine cabinet. Great. What kind of horrible taste-testing was she going to do on the plethora of pills in there? I threw the paper clip down and ran to my purse to grab a credit card. I know December's weird love of toothpaste's minty taste, so the entire time I worked on the door, I was yelling, "December, put the toothpaste DOWN! Icky toothpaste! Do NOT eat that toothpaste!" Really, I had no idea if she even was thinking about toothpaste, but I thought I should be safe. Unfortunately, I make a horrible thief, and I couldn't get past the bathroom's lock. I tried calling our apartment manager to see if she had some kind of a key, but she didn't answer the phone. So I called Della (one of the seminary wives) and asked her to come over and watch, or rather, listen to December while I searched for the manager.

Thankfully, Della and baby Samuel came right away. As they walked up the stairs, I heard a large crash coming from the bathroom. My heart nearly flew out of my chest as I waited for December's pained cries, but thankfully, they didn't come. I was relieved -- anything besides December is replaceable! Della came to the bathroom door, continued the "December-DON'T-eat-the-toothpaste" tirade and started plucking at the lock with my discarded paper clip. I ran down the stairs toward the apartment office. I found the manager sitting in her office (roar -- why in the world did she not answer her phone?!), and after I quickly spewed out my problem, she said, "Oh, dear," rather coolly and picked up the ringing telephone...and then proceeded to have a good-sized conversation with whoever was on the other end. Oh boy -- I wanted to scream at her that my BABY was stuck behind a locked bathroom door, about ready to fall out of the sink while eating whatever pills she found in the medicine cabinet and washing them down with a good mouthful of toothpaste!!

She finally got off the phone and called the resident handy-man. I raced back up the stairs to wait for him to arrive...thankfully it only took him about 5 minutes, but at the time 5 minutes was FOREVER to wait! He pried open the door, and December walked out, safe and sound! The thing that had crashed to the floor and broken was my duckie toilet-wand holder. Its head has been quite cleanly severed off its body.

When I put December down for a nap, I had high hopes of a solid 2 hours in which to get things accomplished (which she has been giving me lately)...but again, I am writing to you about a very bad day, so you may intelligently guess that she only napped for 30 minutes...which she did. Since she has been awake, I have been looking up phone numbers and calling different people who might be able to help, calming the relentless flow of temper tantrums in between calls. I think I've called close to ten different numbers, all which have proved fruitless. I have left lots of messages and have listened to lots of automated voices and waded through phone trees, but to no avail. This all fills me with great angst (I actually don't know if "angst" is the most correct word to use in this instance, but it's a fun word to say and I wanted to say I was "filled with angst" -- because it sounds cool).

Also, December has just managed to rip off one of the sides of the door knob on the door into our closet...and then she shut the door, thereby making it impossible to get into our closet. Sigh. Oh well...who needs to wear clothes or wear shoes, anyway? Clearly not us!

I can only say that I am thankful that it is dinner time. That means that the day is drawing to a close. Brad is off helping at a theological conference, so he won't be home until later. I'm sorry for not including pictures...typical of this day, I could only find one of the batteries in order to take any pictures. December likes to play with batteries, so I'm sure she's put the other one in a great hiding place.

All in all, I guess today could have gone a lot worse...after all, we are all still in one piece and healthy in body (though disgruntled in spirit). I had better go and feed December some dinner, lest I treat myself to Melt-Down #144 of the day!

I am quite certain that tomorrow will bring a better day, and boy, do I ever look forward to that!