The Waiting Game

Less than 40 days until Jack climbs on a plane to head back to the States; I can hardly believe it! He's got the countdown to the hour, so it's safe to say he's ready. I'm not taking a day for granted with the never-ending stream of bad news from that side of the globe. Just get here safely, I tell him, I can wait wait wait a long time.



Quinn is learning that other people seem to have the knack for waiting (but it'll be a wait until she learns there are stupid and extraneous letters attached to words just to mess with those learning Engrish), but so far, waiting seems dumb to her and she's having none of it.

She's not into:

• Waiting for her food to be mashed up
  
• Waiting for her Moooooommmmmmm to rescue her from her crib
  
• Waiting for the cat to come to her
  
• Waiting to swallow what's already in her mouth before stuffing more more MORE in
  
• Waiting to look at the pictures before she slams the book closed
  
• Waiting for everyone around her to learn ESP -- come on people!

And she's about to bust through the computer monitor next time she sees her Dad online if he doesn't hurry up and get here already! Not soon enough, but "soon" I tell her. So we play the waiting game by distracting ourselves with hikes, naps (as many as I can drug her into taking), and this week... a hint of the H1N1 virus.

In fact, that was the cause of the worst lesson in waiting Quinn has had yet. It was awful. I really tortured the kid.

Hellbent on getting the H1N1 vaccine for both of us, I scouted out the only place within a 50 mile radius that had it. Having finished a 20 page paper the night before, I failed to wake up as early as intended and didn't arrive until 45 minutes before the clinic opened. By then, we were behind about 50 other people who didn't hit "snooze." Yes, 50 people BEFORE the place even opened.

Long story short, I was the freaky parent who stood by the wall, hardly talked to anyone, and kept my baby in her carseat and stroller for... (gulp!) SIX hours.



Horrible. I know. But we all kept thinking "Any minute. Any eff'ing minute they are going to call us. If I leave to pee, to eat, to change a diaper, I could miss our chance!"

After about two hours, Quinn just gave in. She must have determined I lost my marbles and this was her fate. It was kind of sad, although she'd still play with and smile at me, I felt like the nutjob I clearly am.

As if just being around that many people (even though she was practically encased in her stroller) wasn't exposure enough, I decided to get the "live" form of the vaccine for myself. Knowing it made me more likely to contract it, I wagered that it would just make Quinn more resistant if I could keep it at bay.

Fortunately, I only felt a bit fatigued and smidge out of sorts. So phobic of getting our premie sick, I wore a surgical mask for a day, but have since come to since she is totally fine. (Quinn -- and everyone else -- must have thought it was the lamest Michael Jackson Halloween costume yet... An honor I could live without and would gladly pass on to the woman I saw earlier today sporting the next lamest Michael Jackson costume. Although I'm not sure the sparkling glove hanging from her back pocket really was a costume in her mind, let's give her the benefit of the doubt.)

So, back to the other waiting game we know... According to the timezone in Afghanistan, it's only 39 days to go!

While we wait wait wait a little bit more, we wish you well!
Mama J Freaky Jackson & Baby in the Bubble