Happy New Year, blah blah blah

I give up. I have all of these half written posts floating around in my head, lovely ones about Christmas and how Christmas on a budget isn't that bad and spending $30 per kid actually was fine and Jett had so many presents he didn't even care about his last one and lovelier posts about the new year and all the fun things we are planning to do and the playgroup we joined and the highchair we borrowed and the fact that the two boys are sharing the same room now and loving it and my posts were going to be entertaining and sweet and nostalgic and something my boys would look back on and know how much I loved their little baby selves. But the post that actually gets written gets written at 12:20 in the morning and doesn't cover any of that. Instead it covers this.

What one thinks about when driving her toddler to the emergency room at 11:15 pm when it is not really an emergency, but on the other hand it is not Not An Emergency.

Or

When your kid has croup but can still breathe but you'd like him to breathe better.

*************************************

I'm driving down Western Avenue and Jett is in his carseat in the backseat. We didn't leave in a rush, so he has his winter coat, hat, and mittens on. He's wearing his green dinosaur pajamas, gray socks pulled up over the legs of his pajamas for warmth, and brown high-top shoes. He thinks we're going to go get medicine to help him feel better. I ask him if we should turn on the radio and he says yes. I follow the speed limit. We're relaxed.

Then I realize that I'm driving to the emergency room, why am I relaxed? I am taking my baby to the emergency room, why am I driving the speed limit. Wait a minute. This car in front of me hasn't even reached the speed limit. Not only am I relaxed, I'm driving slower than the speed limit! What is wrong with me? I pass the car.

I turn down Fullerton and start thinking about exactly where the hospital is. Fullerton and Lincoln. I start thinking about Fullerton and all I can think of is the redline stop. Is Lincoln before or after the redline? Before or after? The redline stop is my landmark for everything I know about Fullerton - do I look for the hospital before or after the redline? Think, Amy! It's impossible to drive by a hospital without knowing it, right? I mean, it's going to be that big white building just past Lincoln, right? Right?

(It's after the redline and there is NO street sign on Lincoln at Fullerton).

Should I be talking to Jett, or not making him talk? Should I turn around and look at him as usual at the redlights to try to get him to smile? He won't smile at me. Is he tired or scared or out of breath? Which is it? Which is it? Is he getting better? Awesome. Except if he's better, do I still take him in to the ER?

Ok, Ok, I'll stop looking at you Jett. I'll turn around now. The light is green.

Here's the driveway to the hospital. The sign says ER, but where do I put my car? Do I seriously have to look for street parking at the ER? That person in scrubs taking a smoke break says I can leave my car here, take my kid in, and then come back and move my car. Really? Leave my kid in the ER without me? Also, he's breathing pretty well now, do I risk the $50 ticket? But I'm taking him to the ER! I should be rushing instead of worrying about parking tickets! What is wrong with me?

Oh, I can park in the parking garage. Fine. I take the first spot, but since it's the first spot it's a tight corner and requires a 10 point turn. I am so slow! I am taking my baby (toddler) to the ER! HURRY UP, AMY!

I get Jett out of his car seat and he wants to walk. He wants to walk. Into the ER. I feel like the only parent who has ever brought a two-year-old to the ER who is healthy enough to walk in to it. I feel more self-conscious than I did during the 10 point turn in to the parking space.

We leave the parking garage and cross the street. It gets windy and Jett wants me to carry him because he is too cold. Thank god.

Triage goes fine, except for Jett's fear of hospital scales, but the nurse weighs me holding him and then weighs me and subtracts. They are very accommodating when it comes to screaming toddlers.

We are in the waiting room for 3 seconds and in that time I distract Jett by offering to buy him a pop-tart from the vending machine. We're dropping in the coins when the nurse calls us in.

Jett is examined by one nurse and three doctors. The first doctor asks Jett if he will open his mouth. Jett grips his now-opened pop-tart and says, "Nope" and the doctor doesn't push it and I say a silent prayer of thanks because Jett is still recovering from his episode with the hospital scale.

In the end, they gave Jett some medicine to reduce the inflammation in his throat (from the croup) and each doctor tells me over and over again how it is FINE that I brought him to the ER. It is GOOD that I brought him. Croup is tricky, and it was his first time having it.

Personally, I was thrilled to be in the ER. After he forgave me for holding him while I stepped on the scale, he calmed right down. In between doctors we layed on the bed and giggled and sang and kissed each other's foreheads. To be honest, it was my favorite part of the day.

The last doctor to examine Jett was trying to decide whether or not, in addition to the liquid medicine he took, Jett should also receive a breathing treatment of epinephrine. She really summed up the whole experience when she said, "You know, I think he's going to be fine without it. I've just never given the breathing treatment to a kid who was eating a pop-tart and singing."