For some reason our pediatrician’s fax machine does not like our pharmacist’s fax machine.
Everytime we need something filled he faxes it over and we go to pick it up to find out that they never got his fax.
Today we went to try to pick up a new allergy medication that we are going to give a shot for Brian’s chronic, going-on-five-weeks cough. Only to be told they hadn’t recieved the script. This was actually the second time we had gone to pick it up to not find it there.
We left the pharmacy, left a message at the pediatricians and went home.
Not too soon after the nurse gave me a call apologizing profusely. She told me she had given up on the fax machine and had called it in and that we could go back out and pick it up.
Brian had just had a full day of school, gone to the pharmacy and to the grocery store. We were home and he was in his pajamas within two minutes of walking through the door. One could not expect me to get him to go back out in public without crying and public displays of tantrumming (PDTs).
Sometimes, it’s those teeny-tiny moments, that make me realize how different our lives are. No, not the fact that I just listened to the same line in Aristocats 378 times in a row or that I have a crash pad and swing set up in my kitchen. Nope, just that nonchalant comment that I could just go back out in public, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.