Have You Seen My Identity?

Last year was a fun year for us. We had a no-good, horrible, really-bad year with the kennel and in trying to save lives of countless puppies, we were at the vet's office every single week for nine weeks. Some weeks, our visit was daily. Becky injured her knee on the trampoline (turns out, Sam was justified in his hesitation to get one) and was in therapy three times a week for months. Micah changed ENT's mid-stream with the ear tube placement and we had visit after visit trying to get things ironed out between the doctors. Luke became an orthodontic patient and we are frequent flyers at their office. Not only did his braces need adjusted, but it seems as though he'd had a faulty installment because we were there several times a week getting them put back together.

Fun times, people. Fun times. I wish that I got paid for all this running because someone, somewhere, should compensate me for all that free time I was to have when the kids went to school.

Spending all this time in waiting rooms has taught me a lot. First of all, I take a book along. I have read more books in the past year than I have in the five years previous. Half hour increments are so much nicer than two minutes on the toilet.

I learned to read people in an instant and seat myself accordingly. I can map out a waiting room like you wouldn't believe.

I have become, for all practical purposes, a professional waiter. I wait here, I wait there, I wait for him, I wait for her. I simply wait, because I am a waiter.

Unfortunately, my kids have mistaken this not so desirable quality with the other kind of waiter. The one where I wait on them hand and foot, like a puppet at their bidding.

I wonder if there will ever be a time that I'll get my life back.