A busy morning

Yesterday, the carers at crèche were concerned about BallFiend's coughing and wheezing, especially because he kept trying to eat through a coughing fit (boys!) and so was gagging on his food. So I decided I better take him to the doctor. I needed to get him a new referral to the allergy clinic at the hospital anyway (he is due for his annual review in November).

The doc listened to his chest and said he is definitely wheezing. She thought that it was probably due to his mild cold, but wanted to 'get on top of it' before it takes hold, so prescribed Redipred (3mg per day) and Ventolin (2 puffs, four times a day). She was also concerned about his eczema which has flared up quite a lot in the past few days. Good news is that the ear infection he had about 6 months ago has definitely cleared up.
Redipred must be strong stuff because the doc asked me to bring him back tomorrow morning for a review.
BallFiend is given a purple balloon as we leave and (as usual) acts it like it is the most amazing thing he has ever seen.

After the doc, I head off to the pharmacy to buy the drugs. Bloody pension day. Every single car park was full. I try three different car parks, then I give up and park on the side of the road, a good 10-minute walk away from the chemist. The first thing BallFiend does after getting out of the car is investigate an oily, black puddle in the gutter.
"Look mum! A puddle!"
Next thing, a smallish stone is thrown in.
"Plop!"
Then little fingers fish the stone out so it can be thrown in again.
"Oooh! Look mum, rubbish!"
A screwed up piece of paper is added to the puddle. BallFiend stands up to admire his work, wiping his blackened fingers all over his (clean this morning) t-shirt.

I hadn't brought BallFiend's stroller so we did the walk at toddler-pace and eventually reached the chemist about 20 mins later.

Medicine purchased, I decide that since we were at the shops with the car anyway, I might as well stop at the supermarket. But BallFiend has other ideas. He sees the neatly-stacked piles of biscuits in the window of a Greek cake shop.
"I need to go in there." he announces.
What the hell, I decide that I could do with a rest and a snack. I get a babycino for BallFiend, a cuppacino for me, and a cake (sponge base with custard filling and chocolate icing on top) for each of us. BallFiend enjoys playing with the sugar sachets while we wait, then tucks in with gusto.

Next stop is the ATM since I have about $2 in cash on me. Another short walk at toddler-pace ends up taking 10 mins. BallFiend enjoys helping to push the buttons on the ATM and is excited when I give him the 'ticket' (receipt slip) to put into the waste-paper slot.

Then off to get a BBQ chook. There is a shop which sells "free-roaming, chemical-free, hormone-free" chickens so whenever I am in the area, I usually get one. At $8.50 for a whole chook, it would cost more to puchase a raw chook and roast it myself. On the way, BallFiend decides to jump over every crack in the footpath and onto each white line at the pedesterian crossing. Then we stop to look at a tree and I spy a deformed leaf that has grown in a beautiful twist. BallFiend is fascinated, so we pick the leaf and then he immediately asks me to 'put it back on, fix it'.

Eventually we reach the chook shop, make the purchase, and BallFiend has a long conversation with the shop keeper about the twisty leaf, and then we finally leave. BallFiend wants a drink but I have left his water bottle in the car. I 'bribe' him with a visit to the 'toy shop' (a discount variety store) which is right next to the supermarket. Inside, BallFiend finds a bag of "shiny pink stones" (those polished glass pebbles used for putting in the bottom of vases). So I give him 'one dollar' so he can buy them.

Finally, we head off to the supermarket. At last, a lucky break: there is a trolley waiting out the front which isn't locked up to the one in-front, so I don't have to put the coin deposit in. This is a real bonus today, since I am parked on the side of the street, not in the car park, and pushing the trolley all the way back to the trolley depot would have been a major pain.

I grab my groceries as quick as I can (still takes 45 minutes at least). BallFiend enjoys spotting all the balls hanging up around the aisles:
"Look mum, LittleMissL's ball" he says, pointing out a ball that his friend LittleMissL has at home.
"Look mum, my soccer ball", this time pointing out a soccer ball and cone set that he has at home (won in the pass-the-parcel at a friend's three-year-old birthday party).
"Look mum, a little tennis ball"... and so on.
Suddenly I hear a loud clatter and look down. BallFiend's stones have scattered all over the floor. He was enjoying the sound they made as he shook the bag, but unfortunately the knot in the bag has been shaken loose. He starts bawling, until he realises I am putting them back into the bag for him. Then it's all smiles again.
"You pickin' them up mum!" he says with delight. An emotion I have trouble sharing as I squat over my pregnant belly trying to gather them up and get them back into the bag. The bag is eventually placed safely in my pocket until we get home. (Unfortunately my maternity pants are still a little loose -- I need a bigger belly bump -- and the weight of the stones starts pulling them down, so I spend the rest of my time at the shop hiking them back up.) At the checkout I realise there are two more stones that have fallen into the cuff on my pants.

I leave the supermarket with my impossible-to-steer trolley and nearly wipe out two teenage boys who are sitting at the bottom of the ramp drinking homebrand orange fruit drink. I push the trolley through the car park towards the street.
"Look at all the fucking cars mum", comments BallFiend. Hmm... I guess I must have been swearing earlier when I couldn't get a parking spot. That thing people say about kids copying everything we do must be true.
I exit the car park, cross the road and then the trolley gets one wheel stuck on the driveway ramp and another in a small pot-hole. I grunt and grimace trying first to push, then pull it up over the edge. Two women sit on a low brick fence, talking and watching me. When I finally get the trolley onto the footpath, I have to walk past them. Their feet are blocking half the path but strangely I don't feel any great need to say 'excuse me' as I go past.

I finally reach the car, get BallFiend's water bottle for him and begin to unload the shopping into the car. First, one of the plastic bags breaks. Then BallFiend complains that the water bottle is empty. Then the driver of the car parked next to mine appears. He has a small dog, a dressing on his forehead and a walking stick, and is parked in a 'disabled' spot... yet another pensioner, I presume. He opens both doors on the right side of his car while he encourages his dog into the back seat, blocking my path from the footpath to the boot of my car. I don't feel the need to apologise when my shopping bag full of UHT milk cartons bumps his car door closed, onto his walking stick, as I pass.

We head for home. Just as I start to back out, BallFiend waves the balloon around blocking my view and I nearly back into a passing car. I confiscate the balloon and suffer the tantrum. When I finally make it home (about 1.00 pm), BallFiend runs inside, leaving me to haul in the medicine, other refrigerable items, the nappy bag, the snacks bag, my handbag, the drink bottle, a soccer ball, and the 'yellow bouncing ball'. I leave the rest of the shopping in the boot for DeepSpice to bring in.

Then I get BallFiend more water to drink (after he has attended to his thirst, he enjoys letting it run out of his mouth, down his chin and onto his front), make a toilet stop (I had been hanging on since just after we left the cafe), answer the phone (Telemarketer. Hmph.), make us both lunch, ring the doctor to ask about when I am meant to give the Redipred (as I have forgotten the instructions) -- she isn't there so I wait for a call back, distract BallFiend from throwing his stones around the room, discover BallFiend has a pooey nappy, change nappy, answer the phone (the doctor calling back), administer the Redipred and Ventolin, prepare BallFiend's cot for his nap (while he runs amok -- probably the drugs hyping him up), prepare BallFiend for his nap (change him out of damp t-shirt with oily black finger marks on the front, lather him in eczema creams, read story, cuddle).

It's now about 1.30 pm and the end is in sight... BallFiend holds my hand (just one finger actually) as we walk to his cot. He insists on carrying the balloon, kissing it goodnight and placing it in the ballpit. Then he has to hug kiss the sparkly ball and the 'Earth beachball' goodnight. Finally, he is in the cot and lying down. I start to leave the room, but he is sitting up again.
"Mmphk me in, want mvrs 'n" he mumbles through his dummy.
I eventually work out that he wants to be tucked in under the covers and cheerfully oblige.
I leave the room again, this time ignoring any further statements ('I don't want to sleep, time to get up'). The crying fades as I get further down the hall and 15 minutes later there is nothing but sweet, sweet silence.

I collapse on the couch for while, till hunger and thirst drive me back to the kitchen. This baby is already feeding at least 4 hourly. Then tackle guest list for CutLuce and DesignerMonkey's forthcoming wedding. RSVPs were due back three days ago and yet there are still about 10 guests who have not replied... almost all of them are from our extended family.

The next time someone asks me what I do on my "day off work" I will direct them to this post.