How's about a little autism story today, my friends? Here's a keeper. Feel free to retell it around the water cooler, at the gym, in the waiting room as speech. I'm done with shame. It's gone. Sayonara shame.
On Sunday one of my girls wasn't feeling well. I knew she had a sinus infection. Rather than wait until Monday to see the pediatrician, I brought her to the urgent care center in town. When she is sick sometimes her bladder gets funky - and she had a tummy ache. So we went to the bathroom several times during our wait for our doctor's visit.
Speaking of the wait, the staff was incredibly kind. My daughter sat nicely, speaking very little, mostly reading her "Brown Bear" book. I didn't mind the furtive glances from the twenty something girl who was wrapped around her boyfriend like a snake. Or the "tsk tsk" look from the older woman. Or even the infomercial that featured Mr. T telling me he wanted a steak dinner fast - and then cooking a frozen block of steak in 8 minutes in some contraption that looked like a Sony radio from 1972.
Oh, the bathroom. Well, my daughter said, "Go to bathroom." for a third time. When she got up, there was a small spot on her seat. Uh Oh. We went into the bathroom, and sure enough, she was a bit wet. And none too happy about it.
Think fast, Kim. We were next in line for the doctor. Her nose was running like a faucet (in Church I turned to look at her and saw a stream of snot pouring out of her nose. I declined that whole "peace be with you" handshake thing to the great relief of my older friend Delores and Mr. Fox who were seated behind us.) I was not going to miss our checkup.
I knew she would not remain in her wet underwear. In fact, she kicked off her shoes and started to change. Except the cupboard did not hold any dry underwear. Thinking fast, (well, I paused for one second, I must admit.) I whipped off my shoes, pulled down my cream colored jeans, wriggled out of my panties (oh how I remember when tearing off your underwear in a small room meant FAR more fun) and said, "Here, honey. Put these on." She did. I got her dressed, shoes on, tied and two seconds flat. I pulled up my own jeans and slipped back into my shoes, sans underwear. Hey, what do you think we all did before thongs?
We saw the doctor, who was a sheer delight. I swear, he asked me more concerned questions about my daughter and her sisters and autism than 99% of the specialists we've ever seen. Dr. Lopez, you are a good doctor.
I sashayed out of the office, confident in my daughter's quick recovery and that I was NOT going to have to worry about VPLs. (Young people, those are visible panty lines.)
Got home, unzipped and flashed my fanny to Mark. "Um, what happened to your underwear?" I pointed to my daughter. "She needed it more than I did."
Yeah, I'd also give her the shirt of my back.