I’m a lucky girl. My mother-in-law was able to come up on Tuesday and Wednesday to help watch the boys since I wasn’t supposed to be very close to them after swallowing the radioactive iodine pills I had to take for the thyroid scan. Her presence turned two crappy days into two very productive ones.
Yesterday alone, I went to the DMV, changed the title on our new car, got it registered, changed our car insurance, drove home, picked up the license plates from our old car (yes, that I should have brought with me the first time), drove back to the DMV and turned them in so that we could cancel our insurance on our old car, took the new car to get it inspected, cleaned out all of our junk that had already accumulated in the new car (within a few weeks we had enough clothing and shoes in there to keep the boys dressed for two months), took our laundry to the laundromat and put away all of the clean folded up laundry that had been sitting in our bedroom for weeks.
Even though I was proud of myself for accomplishing so much in a single day, I felt gross all day. The DMV smelled like urine. The car inspection place had a layer of grime on everything from the floor to the half-full coffee pot. Cleaning out the car unearthed a few ‘surprise items’ I wish had gone into the laundry or the trash weeks earlier. Plus there was the fact that I was doing all of this knowing that there were chemicals swirling around my body that I wished weren’t there.
Oh, and I hadn’t hugged or kissed my kids in 24 hours.
That doesn’t sound like a big deal, but it is harder than you think to be around your kids without going near them at all. In fact, it is pretty much impossible to make a 2-year-old understand that he can’t come near his mommy. Which is why I tried to stay out of the house all day and evening.
I’ve been dreaming about having a whole day to myself with no kids and without having to pay a babysitter.
It wasn’t as fun as I’d imagined.
In fact, the best part of my day may have been the scan itself. I was able to just lie down and close my eyes for 30 minutes with a giant machine centimeters from my face. I’m not sure of the technical term for it, but I am basically the opposite of someone who is claustrophobic. I love small, enclosed spaces. Nooks are my jam. This scan was a breeze.
Well, it was the best part of my day until I came home to find a gorgeous composed salad with salmon and brie toast on the table, my best friend playing with the boys at the playground, my mother-in-law finishing up homemade ice cream sandwiches and pouring wine. Wine with the label “La Bella Sposa” because, as she put it, “Even if they have to take out your whole neck, you will still be beautiful!”
I’m pretty sure no results they could give me will have the endgame of ‘full neck removal,’ but I appreciate the sentiment and positivity.
And now comes the really fun part: The waiting game.