It's Daniel's first birthday party--let the Mommy Wars begin.I don't care who you are, what letters go behind your name, or what self help book Oprah is pushing this month that teaches you to embrace yourself....we all participate in Mommy Wars. From conception, we gauge which pre natal vitamins are better than the other, whose maternity clothes could cure autism, whether or not Sally had an epidural (and if she did, how far dilated was she when she got it "Oh....you got one at 4 centimeters? I wanted to hold out until 7....I heard it helps them read faster. But don't worry, I"m sure Billy's speech impediment will go away soon."). Then, once then kid is born, the entire first year is a build up to the first birthday party. I've known women who spent more on this damn birthday party than they did on their Honeymoon. And I'm not over exaggerating(yet).
It's going to be a cookout that is Chicago Cubs themed. Specific enough to be cute, while vague enough to be hard as hell to buy for. Guest list is 30 of our family and friends, none of whom I'm sure give a durn whether the napkins are baseball themed, solid red or blue, or get monogrammed with his initials and birth date. But for those who are unlucky enough to be called my best friends, they'll get to hear about this and other life altering decisions almost daily for 6 weeks leading up to the big day.
We've planned this party to be in North Carolina, which of course, is the best state in the country---and compared to other nations around the globe, might as well be the land flowing with milk and honey.
It's Friday, Daniel's actual birthday and the day before his party. Brian's mother, brother, and sister-in-law have flown in for this specific function alone.
Friday morning, after getting up and ready to take Daniel to breakfast at Timberwoods (the best damn place to get breakfast on I-40 by the way), Brian tells me he's feeling kinda crampy "down there". Well that's a romantic statement first thing in the morning.
Considering I've either called, texted or confronted Brian with the most pressing issues of the moment, such as the newest fondant icing maneuvers, I know he's had no time to stray. So he's either slept in a weird position the night before, or he could possibly be having the second kidney stone of his life. I feel so bad for him after seeing him the last time he was in that much pain, I'm almost hoping he's found a new "friend". Hey, but just almost.
Halfway through breakfast, Brian is almost positive it's a kidney stone. Honestly, I'm just happy this popped up on the day before the party instead of the morning of. (Selfish, I know).
To diagnose the kidney stone, they'll most surely need to do a CT scan, which can't be done in a doctors office and most urgent cares do not have the equipment. We'll have to go to the Emergency Room.
Driving to the ER, I'm still going over these dang lists. Get cupcake mix, white icing, food coloring, multi brands of chips, hot dog buns, onion, etc.
Hey, kidney stones are fixable. First birthday party pictures last a lifetime here people.
It's around 10am when we park at the ER.
Going into the ER, I notice at the check in window there is a woman around her late forties to early fifties with medicaid card in the left hand, blackberry in her right. She's speaking to the RN as though Nurse Betty clearly has a hearing impairment and only understands languages of the Southern variety kicked up four decibels to educate the hard of hearing.
"Yesss.that's what I had toooollld ya'll. Hur throat is 'bout half swollen shut. ALL SHUT! Hur right arm is numm. Yup...nummm and tingalin reeel bad. She's in pain too. And cudn't walk fur nothing in here either. Mmm-hmmm....she ain't feelin good t'all."
Well damn! Where is the gurney?!? Somebody get this poor thing a wheelchair!
I'm looking around knowing I'm going to see an angelic 12 year old sprawled out on the sanitized tile looking ghost faced and ashey while wearing a white choir robe mouthing church hymns because she wants to praise Jesus in her last moments.
I turn to the right and the only other person in the Emergency Room is a 17 year old Emo Avril Lavigne with a black box dye job, a black t-shirt with the ever popular swirlies in silver, and ripped black sweatpants that obviously didn't come in size dumb ass. Our sweetheart has taken her hair scrunchie and tied the pants tighter around her waist to reveal what now looks like a fabric nub above her ass crack.
Mom looks over at her never gonna be reformed Trailer Park sweetheart and says, "Any better baby?"
Pointing with her chipped star bright nailpolish, Pollyanna whispers, "Na....it hurts reeeeel baaaaad mama. Like, right heere."
I didn't have the heart to tell mama that the swelling and fresh red bruise is probably a hickey courtesy of Bubba's advances from Thirsty Thursday's at the night Owl.
Oh hell no.
I have 35 cupcakes to frost and decorate not to mention 24 balloons to get to a helium take and a fondant Chicago cubs smash cake to pick up....before the end of the business day.
I look at Brian and shoot a "follow me here" type stare.
"Listen babe....play it up cause she is NOT bumping us in the line." My sweet husband fakes a limp to the triage room. I knew he was in it for the team effort.
Two hours later with Percocet prescription in hand, we're out. Brian does in fact have a kidney stone that hopefully (and hopefully is apparently a medical term) will not block his urine flow until next week when we can make it to the Urologists office that was able to blast Brian's last stone.
Life, as always, was laughing at the plans we had made for the party which resulted in a detour trip to Statesville to drop off Daniel so his grandmother, aunt and uncle would be able to at least have one night of quality time with their newest family member.
Also on the agenda was leaning on my dad and sister's help to pick up said custom cake and begging my mom to make the cupcakes with my promise that I would ice them later.
All said and done, the party was a blast that Daniel will never remember (hell, Brian might not either with those pills) and another battle won in the ever on going Mommy Wars.
We triumphed over Emo.
And the pictures will be fabulous.
