Today was the Little Kidlet’s second day of school. I dropped him off, and while he was shy in the new class, he wanted me to leave.
Then I came to pick him up. He was in tears (he’d just had a fight with a kid over a toy) and I was asked to pick up his backpack from the preschool office.
Now, the Little Kidlet has food allergies and carries an epi-pen with him. Not knowing what was in store for me, I thought that filling out all those forms authorizing the school to care for my child was enough to bring them. I was informed that they’d need something from his allergist for the epi-pen to even be there. Worried that they’d tell me he couldn’t attend preschool (which meant no 3 hours of peace and quiet while he’s in school, and while his big brother’s in kindergarten), I left, on a mission.
I admit, I was mad. Not because there was another form to fill out, but because the preschool’s health paperwork (a good 10 double-sided pages) asked multiple times if my child had food allergies and what medications he takes because of them. Each time, I made sure to note that he carries an epi-pen, even though we haven’t had to use it yet. Not once did they mention that I needed the letter, back when I’d have time to work out when I was going to visit the allergist’s office.
Instead, I was calling the allergist’s office to find out about this mysterious letter. Which I was told that the school should have given me (the school told me the doctor’s office would have it) and that they would gladly fill out and fax back for $15.
So I went online. It’s California law to have dosage instructions laid out for the school and signed by a doctor, so I’d have to do this. The sooner, the better. So I drafted my own letter and called the allergist to confirm their hours. Only to discover that they aren’t at their office that’s near the LA/OC border (closer to me), but down in Orange. What’s usually a 30 minute drive on streets if I hit every single light, turned into 45 minutes on the freeway in traffic. Which feels like an hour and a half on the road.
I found the building, parked my car and handed over my letter. I explained that it’s a private school that had no letter, and she took it to the back to see if they could sign it. Immediately she came back, informing me that it had been over a year (one year and a month, to be exact) since the Little Kidlet had been seen by the allergist. I asked them why I’d only just received a reminder to make an appointment if it had already been a year, and explained the situation again. He needed it for school, he hadn’t had any major outbreaks… and I was willing to make his appointment right then and there.
They brought me the paperwork.
I got home, and realized that somewhere in the narrow passageways at the building’s garage, I had to have scraped up against a yellow pole. A neon yellow pole. Which left transfer all down my car. Thankfully, I didn’t lose any paint from mine, and it came off with a little elbow grease and some wax. Thanks Father-in-law!
Honestly, before my kids came along, I would have never gone to that much trouble. I don’t even know that I’d put that sort of a rush on anything for myself (evidence: I managed to put off going to the grocery store for a week because I didn’t feel like going out in the heat).
I did it mostly because I love my son and I know how much fun he’s having at preschool. But there’s a part of me that did it because I’m really looking forward to those 3 hours of alone time- something I haven’t had regularly since the Little Kidlet was born.