Is there a Doctor in the House?!

My worst nightmare came to pass; we had to bring Ashley to a doctor yesterday after passing what was probably the longest day of my life waiting for Alberto to come home.  Sunday night the diarrhea started, Monday morning I bought her Gatorade and started the BRAT diet, however by Tuesday afternoon she was burning with fever and refusing to eat because she felt like she was going to throw up.  Ashley, who is normally a ball of energy, was listless and spent most of the afternoon sleeping.  The Madrina came home first and stopped in to see me as was her habit and said we needed to bring her to the doctor as soon as Alberto got home.  We jumped on him the minute he walked through the door.

Ashley moaned and cried pitifully during the entire ride to the pharmacy that partnered with a doctor much like the Minute Clinics back in Minnesota.  We paid the 25 peso consultation fee and sat down in the uncomfortable plastic chairs to wait for the Doctor.  I could feel the heat radiating off her legs and Alberto recoiled in shock when I set his hand on her knee so he could feel it too.  Just then the Doctor came to the lobby to bring us back to the exam room.  As we sat talking to him about the symptoms and what she ate the last few days, Ashley continued to cry softly while poor Alberto broke into a sweat with each little noise she made.  The doctor focused on what she might have eaten asking very direct questions on whether she mostly ate chicken, pork, or beef and if we’d been anywhere outside of Mexico City.  I ran down a list of food I’d seen her eat, what she’d drank, and where we’d been including the meal we’d had at McDonald’s the other day much to my husband’s irritation.

A trip long overdue

I'm not sure I want to go back home to the frozen north, but only because I'd have to travel with my darling Ashley again. She started whining upon arrival at the local airport shortly after my dad dropped us off. It was kind of cute actually because he really wanted to help me with the luggage despite the fact he's not strong or coordinated enough to be of any real assistance. I told him to stay in the car while I wrestled with my 2 checked bags, 2 carry-on bags, and each of our "personal" items. I was already irritated because I was up until midnight waiting for my sister-in-law Aide to show up with whatever it was I was supposed to bring with me, which in turn became my second checked bag. It didn't help that I had to rearrange everything to bring my largest bag to exactly 50 pounds to avoid a fee for overweight luggage, and my carry-on was an overstuffed duffle bag. I had separated my electronics for easy removal from my carry-on and my toiletries were in my largest checked bag; my goal was to not be "that person" who holds up the line at security.

Our first order of business was discovering the location of our terminal, after which my priority became brunch. We went to this pretentious French bakery/cafe and ordered the only thing on the menu that appealed to me - a breakfast quesadilla. I should have known better, I mean the menu stated that all of the ingredients (including the whole-wheat tortilla) were organic. I was served an nearly tasteless plate of barely edible food, for which I was charges $12. Ashley insisted that I remove the green stuff (wilted and overcooked spinach) and the following conversation occurred:

Home and Hearth

I’m alive and its Friday, which means the next two days, will be spent mostly at home doing laundry.  @#^%!  I’m sure I’m over-reacting, right?  I mean I do get time to myself, granted I’m never awake to enjoy it, but that counts for something right?  I want what my mom wants, some quiet time where I can sit and read a book should I so desire without interruption.  I’m seriously considering getting a hotel room for me and Ashley to have a mini-vacation.  We could have French toast for breakfast, a peanut butter sandwich for lunch, and popcorn with a movie; if it came with a Jacuzzi tub, a bodice-ripper romance novel, and a complimentary hour of child-care it would be a restorative dream come true.

I need a little escape, but I can’t afford that little bit of relief, especially now.  My mom said something on Tuesday that I have never heard before, “I went to go put gas in my car and I wasn’t sure if my check would bounce.”  My mom may have spoken of financial hardship in the past, but never like this.  She’s spending three times what she normally did for groceries that don’t last half as long as before.  My brother has yet to pay her the rent he’d promised and they aren’t helping much beyond using the WIC coupons that Carol has.  The electricity bill is through the roof just like the other utilities and my brother’s main concern seems to be where he’ll find his next economy-size bottle of Bacardi and does it come with a complimentary can of Kodiak (chewing tobacco).  I just doubled my rent payment because I need to do something, anything, to help out.  I’m also going to start extending my exercise schedule after working at FedEx so I can shower at the YMCA 5 days or more a week.

I’m putting an immediate halt on all unnecessary spending and I’m counting the days until I can file my 2012 tax return.  I won’t get as much back as I have in other years, but I will get something.  I just hope that something is enough for 2 tickets to paradise for me and my favorite girl.

“I see my path, but I don’t know where it leads.  Not knowing where I’m going is what inspires me to travel it.”

Rosalia De Castro

Ciao