Already, much has changed from the original plan. Due to a recent health scare, we weren’t sure that John’s grandparents (Avo and Vovi) would be able to help us out while I finished up clerkships. So a few weeks ago I called the daycare in a panic, pleading that they squeeze Ari in two months earlier than anticipated. As soon as the director heard “health,” she interrupted me, telling me that they would figure something out. Really flippin’ fortunate, right?
Little did I know how lucky we would be. After several reassuring tests and examinations, John’s grandmother seemed to be in the clear, for the most part! And then she insisted on coming to stay with us. We were hesitant, but thought we would try things out. Not wanting to overwhelm her, we compromised: they would come to stay with us temporarily, but we would put Ari in daycare three times a week.
It has been an adjustment for all of us. We’re four adults and a little one with exploding diapers living all together in a duplex with one small bathroom. John’s grandparents are living far from everyone they know except us, and they don’t drive. And our daycare, though wonderful (as I’m appreciating more and more after speaking with residents with kids), has hours (7am-6pm) that are not always conducive to the schedule of a physician and a med student.
Yesterday, for example: John was moonlighting out of town, so I was responsible for drop-off and pick-up. I cleared it with my residents that I would arrive a bit late and leave a bit early. Ari was one of two kids in the entire daycare when I dropped her off, and I was still 30 minutes behind even my predicted arrival time to clinic. Then, on the way home, traffic was so congested, I frantically called my friend and neighbor Steffi, who piled her three-year-old daughter, her parents, and their two dogs (they were at the park at the time) in a car to go pick up a tuckered out Ari. (It takes a village, right?) How do residents do it? Thank God I’m on neuro.
All that said, I honestly cannot remember a time I’ve been this happy. I still cry most mornings as I walk to the train (Vovi says I have a heart “de pollo”), but I love being back in the hospital (at a children’s hospital no less!), and I look forward to the hour and a half I get with Ari when I get home. And Vovi insists on making dinner for all of us–we are SO spoiled. So today I got home at 6:30, immediately snatched up my daughter, threw on my pajamas, made myself a coffee, and enjoyed the last of the sunlight. It’s heaven, albeit one in which the inhabiters are not-so-photogenic (at some point I’ll do something about her impending bowl cut).
Then again, as long as I have my boo and my babe, the site of Armageddon is also not such a bad place (more on Israel soon-ish!):