Sometimes we're "that family." Today was that time.

This is the only photograph I took today: Hayden at the taco shop happily eating a bean burrito. This was the one moment of peace in what was otherwise a day that felt as if it had been scripted for some horrible sitcom about an inept mother with too many kids. 

After a long day of subbing at the high school, I'd rushed home to grab all of the boys from the sitter and run Lawson up to Kaiser for the only available doctor appointment.  He's looked like this for a week straight now, so it was time to go in and get checked:

By this, I mean pale, bundled up due to constant chills, crabby, and feverish. He's also been complaining of headaches, weakness and body aches, so I wanted to get to the bottom of it. 

When we got to the medical center, I tied the baby on my back, grabbed Lawson and we went on in to begin what would be the toughest 3 hours I've endured in at least a couple of weeks (You remember the yummy bugs the littles had a couple of weeks ago? Yeah, that was bad too, but at least it wasn't in public...)

Since he was about 18 months old, Lawson has been terrified of the doctor. He will scarcely let him near, and only then if he can cling to me like a monkey. Not an easy way to conduct an exam, let me tell you. His ears and throat looked fine, but Lawson wouldn't breathe on command, and between the crying and squirming, the doc couldn't hear what was going on in his lungs. In retrospect, I should have said "no thanks" when he said to rule out pneumonia he was going to order a chest x-ray, but at that moment it sounded reasonable. 

Always trying to be efficient, and realizing that Hayden was probably due for the second part of one of his vaccinations, I decided we'd just pop over to pediatric injections on our way to radiology. Serious strategic error, as you could probably guess. As soon as we got checked in, Lawson recognized the place and began repeatedly shrieking "I want to leave this place!"  We distracted him as long as we could, but it was no use. Knowing the nurse would call Hayden the moment I walked away, I gave the big boys all of the money in my wallet (a whopping $1.10) and sent them down to the snack kiosk to buy some candy to keep Lawson quiet. (Yeah, I'm not above using what I call "external motivation" to survive my days.)

Off they went, and of course they called the baby in for his shot, which is always such fun for this mama also. Ugh. When that was done, I went looking for the other three boys, and I soon heard thumps and squals coming from one of the elevators. Yep. That was them, and the doors opened to reveal them holding not candy, but Slim Jims beef sticks. Evidently $1.10 is not enough money to get you candy at the medical center, but it will buy you a fistful of meat sticks. 

With Hayden still whimpering from his shot, and Lawson bitterly complaining that his Slim Jim had been bitten by a monster (I guess he could tell because the end was jagged... ?), we arrived in a very full radiology waiting room. There it was: 4:45 on a Friday afternoon, and I had just shown up with my little circus. No one else waiting seemed exited about the show, either. 

I let the sad, hungry (because his usual dinnertime is 5:00 PM) baby chew on a Slim Jim (yes, another accolade for my Mother of the Year application), and tried to talk to Lawson about how they were going to try to take a picture of his chest, and if he did a good job I'd buy him some ice cream. All he heard was "ice cream," and began running around shouting at the top of his lungs "Who wants some blue ice cream?!"  

So as to better chase him, I untied Hayden from the baby carrier (another strategic error, as I now had 2 littles on the loose), and I tried to get them both to walk calmly in the hall. You can probably guess how that ended: Hayden and Lawson were both screaming simultaneously in the waiting room, attracting lots of looks, and attracting the well-meaning receptionist who offered them coloring books and crayons. Although Dillon and Koen were bit players in this drama, they were still there (conspicuously whining about needing their iPods, and engaging in little mini-slapping matches), and they happily and promptly took over the coloring books, leaving Lawson to throw a crayon at an elderly gentleman sitting nearby, and Hayden to attempt to taste-test every color. (Even when I'd removed the box from his vicinity he kept finding the crayons Lawson had dropped/thrown.)

They were all conspiring to make me look like a total amateur, and I am not exaggerating when I say I have never been so mortified. (Admittedly, it was an amateur move to head to the hospital with no snacks or toys on hand, and so close to dinnertime, but hey, isn't that the life of a working mom?  Also, let's be honest--do I really want my kids eating snacks and playing with their own toys at Kaiser? Yuck.)

All things considered, the x-ray itself went amazingly smoothly and quickly, so no one had to listen to Hayden screaming out in the hall for too long. I'd tied the baby carrier to Dillon, stuck Hayden in it, and rushed away without looking back. That was a sight I wish I had a photo of: A screaming, flailing baby tied to his 10-year-old brother's back, with Slim Jim and crayon flecks all over his face. 

After a trip to the hospital cafeteria for some tapioca pudding (that's become kind of a tradition for us), it was time to scrounge up some dinner. By now, it was 6:15 PM, and all I could think of was getting the little guys to bed as soon as possible, so we stopped at a taco place nearby home. 

And that was when things got REALLY crazy. As I was standing at the counter trying to order, I looked over to see Koen at the soda machine pushing the ice dispenser and letting the ice fall into his hand then eating it.  Lawson was loudly demanding water, and when told to wait began snatching soda cups out of the (not at all toddler-proof) holders on the counter. When I stopped him and set him down at a table to wait, he expressed his frustration by repeatedly screaming at me "You a poop truck, you a poop truck!"  all the while pointing his finger at me accusingly. Hayden was being driven mad by the sight of food just behind the glass out of his reach, and was squalling in his own baby language, probably saying something  similar to Lawson. 

I somehow managed to order our meal , and I was amazed to see how inexpensive it was. Later, when I had time to actually look at my receipt, I saw that the cashier had given me some kind of discount. I'm just going to consider it hazard pay.

After many, more tears, and much more cajoling, everyone was eventually quiet and fed, and I even managed to catch that sweet photo of Hayden's bean-crusted face. I'm so glad I have that shot, too.  It wasn't easy getting everyone home, cleaned up, and put to bed; 

there were many more little disasters and dramas along the way. Without that photo, the memory of that fat, funny baby who happily ate his entire burrito would have been swept away in the tide of all of the other bits of chaos that was my day.