Add this to "Things I love more than clowns but less than avalanches."

Can I take just a minute to explain how my day is already at its maximum stress capacity and it's not even 10 a.m.? How more adrenalin is flowing through my veins than blood right now? How I'm on my third chocolate chip oatmeal cookie and, coupled with a double shot americano, I'm stubbornly claiming this as my breakfast?

I'm breathing in deep, thoroughly enjoying my coffee, and immensely grateful for the internet, where people can vent about stuff and folks will write (((hugs))) and stuff.
 
There is a  measles outbreak in the province of Quebec right now. As such, the government is doing boosters at the school for all kids who don't have proof of vaccination. You can opt out of this, of course, but if there were to be a measles outbreak at the school you would have to keep your child home for the duration.

We tried to find Gutsy's vaccination records, but they're missing. Furthermore, the doctor's office where he had them done is now closed and in another province to boot, so tracking these down has proven to be like finding a needle in a paper stack.

Literally.

Thus, we decided it would just be better to have Gutsy vaccinated at school. Besides, I can't quite remember if he ever got his second shot, and measles are not something I care to trifle with. Sure, it's not the worst disease out there, but it's definitely not a fun one, what with about 10% of the infected getting hospitalized and stuff.

Gutsy seemed okay with the whole thing at first. I should have known better. By this weekend he had developed a severe phobia of vaccines (and he hasn't even read Jenny McCarthy's book... weird.) We've had tears and tantrums and moodiness that would put most teenage girls to shame.  He's spoken at length about how scared he is, how he can't do this, how he wishes he could fast forward to the day after the injections and it would all be over. My mama heart breaks, I tell you. I hate to see my little gremlin suffer with so much internal turmoil.

(As a fun exercise, try saying "internal turmoil" five times fast. I just said it out loud as I was re-reading and I realized and it ended up sounding like "intemral tummoil" by the third time.)

I wanted to tell the boy that at least we're not the U.K., where they apparently call vaccines "jabs" - and that sounds way more terrifying - but I concluded that might not help matters.

One of the things I've done for a long time is shelter Gutsy from many situations that make him anxious. But, as his new and wonderful therapist has said, exposure to the things that make him nervous is the only way to help him learn the coping skills to deal with life. Since I've also seen this course of treatment on several A&E programs, I knew he was telling the truth. TV doesn't lie. As such, we're going through with the vaccination, but I'm going to be there while he gets them done so I can hold his hand and talk him through it.

Today is V-day (that would be short for Vaccine Day, not Valentine's Day or her naughty little sister, Venereal Day.) Getting Gutsy out the door and into school was a bit challenging. He ended up eating breakfast in bed (and not really eating it because he felt too nauseous), fighting me about getting dressed, and eventually getting to school about 10 minutes late. But we got there without him kicking and screaming, and that's amazing. Another amazing thing is that he's been open and honest about how he's feeling, and he's been able to stop yelling about something irrelevant and say, "I'm sorry. I'm only acting like this because I'm scared about the vaccine." We've had lots of conversations and even more hugs.

I know how terrified he is inside. I know he's a walking panic attack right now. The fact that he got to school despite his anxiety shows me that he's one heck of an incredible kid - which is not surprising, considering he has my genetics.

Anyway, I spoke with the principal this morning and asked if I could be there. I explained his anxiety disorder and how he won't be able to do this without me. She said that would be fine. Problem #1 solved.

Problem #2: The vaccines are being done in the afternoon.

Did I mention that we have three kids in three different schools this year? That's right: each gremlin infests a different location. And the drop-off/pick-up schedule for Gutsy and Spawnling is pretty tight on the best of days:

Drop off Gutsy for 8:00, drop off Spawnling at 8:20 across town (well, our part of town.)

Pick up Spawnling at 2:20, rush like my caffeine fix depends on it and pick up Gutsy for 2:35.

Today, we hit a new snag: Gutsy's vaccination can happen anytime between 1 p.m. and the end of school. But I have to leave his school by 2:05 at the latest to get Spawnling. No problem, I'd just ask Geekster if he could work from home today, thus adding an extra parent into the mix.

Problem #3: Geekster has a meeting at work between 2 and 3. It's been scheduled for a week and is pretty important. And it's an in-person meeting at his work, which is half an hour away. Therefore, he can't be my back-up singer driver. Tragic.

So, by 8:15 in the morning I had an unfair amount of scheduling conflicts in my head. And this would be fine, folks, if my life didn't feel like this

every.

fucking.

day.

Every day I arrange, tear apart and re-arrange schedules. I organize, prioritize and realize these schedules. I can't juggle to save my life, and yet I regularly have five schedules up in the air, circling around and around my head, and I had better not let them drop because oh-my-god if I do it's going to be a very big mess. Meals, cleaning, chores, homework, activities, baths, playtime, bedtime, quiet time, all over the floor. Messy.

We all do it, us parents. And we're taxed to the limit most days, too. Even in households like mine with two equal partners who share in the work, it's a challenge. And today is an even bigger challenge, because I'm stuck between two very important things: Helping my son through something scary and making sure my other son doesn't get scarred for life because I'm late picking him up (and that his teachers don't give me the stink eye.)

Good news: we have a possible solution. There's a chance Gutsy can be one of the first kids vaccinated on account of his anxiety (at least it's good for something!) and, if not, my mom said she'd pick up Spawnling at school.

I had to sort all of this out prior to 9 a.m.

I'm already tired.

The kids are getting crackers for dinner.

And, if they're lucky, cheese.

UPDATE: I just wanted to say that Gutsy continues to astound me with his (undoubtedly genetic) awesomeness. There were a few tears and a bit of coaxing on my behalf, but it was over quickly and he immediately started comforting and supporting other upset kids. He's a healer, that one. Also, The school staff were wonderful in that they brought his class in ahead of schedule so it wouldn't put me behind schedule. They get some end-of-year love for sure - and a promise that I will never gift them with Christmas fruitcake in the many more years our gremlins will be attending this school.

Oh, and the best part? Gutsy told his friends that I'm his "stress ball," because he can hug me and squeeze me a few times and it makes all his worries melt away. This, of course, made my heart melt away. And then he hugged me. *sigh* I love him. I coffee love him, even.