He's had a rough week.

Wyatt hasn't had the best week.

At his last dentist appointment, in March, it was discovered that he has two cavities, a cracked molar and serious plaque.  Go ahead and call us bad parents for our kid having bad teeth, but it's much more complicated than that.  Much.  More.  Complicated.

Anyway - we thought the appointment for oral surgery (knock out shot and an iv) was for April 2 and spent the week leading up to April 2 in complete disaster mode.  Wyatt was a mess.  He couldn't sleep or eat.  He complained constantly that his tummy hurt.  He projectile vomited off my bed all over himself and his dad.  It was intense.

The day before however, we didn't have a phone call with instructions and started to panic.  Ross called the dentist...April SEVENTH, not SECOND.  Pretty easy mistake and we just shook our heads and stopped talking about the dentist all together, saving our weekend and our sanity.

Fast forward to April 6.  Wyatt's scheduled time was 11 am.  Bad time.  He couldn't eat anything after 5 am, and we thought he could still drink clear liquids.  Ross took the day off to take Wyatt and so we didn't have to deal with Quinn at the dentist.  At 10:30, he checked Wyatt out of school and they headed to the appointment.  Wyatt was in a good mood, being very tough and was a real trooper.  His dad had given him a blessing the night before, and I think that really helped him to chill out.

At 11:15 I got a phone call from Ross.  I assumed it was to tell me that Wyatt's procedure had started and that he survived the knock out with out screaming or puking.  It was Ross.  He called to tell me that they were headed home, no dental work.  Apparently there was a miscommunication and though we thought Wyatt could drink, he wasn't supposed to drink anything at all for three hours before the procedures.  Crap!  Good thing he walked in drinking a gatorade.

The never ending dental drama continues for another week.  The new appointment is for next week on the 15th.  Rewind.  Play.  Repeat.

Then, we hit Wednesday.  Wednesday it rained ALL DAY LONG.  I was so happy for the rain, we need the water desperately.  It rained all morning, there was a break in the afternoon, and then around 4:00 it really started to pour.  Wyatt's first baseball game was supposed to be on Wednesday.  We got dressed, loaded the car, and headed to the ball park in the rain.  Literally 3 minutes from home, we got the call that all games had been cancelled for the night.  Way to go baseball league.  Wait to cancel until you totally break the hearts of every single 5 year old in the hood.  There were lots of broken hearted tears in our car after that call, that a giant cookie from Schmidt's couldn't fix.

We drove home with our cookies and our sorrow.  Someone sat in the car with a broken heart until he was ready to come into the house.  We ate dinner and the boys played video games and on their kindles and got to go to bed later than their bedtime, all nice as a consolation prize.

Thursday - yesterday, Elliott had a game and we thought Wyatt had practice, both at 5:30.  Ross met us at the ball park in time to take Wyatt to practice.  Par for the course I suppose, the original plan blew up in our faces (screaming terrorist two year old) and instead of me taking Wyatt, Ross took Wyatt and Quinn and left for practice.  About 15 minutes later, they came back to the ballpark where I was sitting in the cold.

No practice.  We just assumed - had never been told - and blew it with Wyatt for the third time this week.

He must be growing up, because just a few weeks ago, this kid of mine wouldn't have let us hear the end of such glaring parental errors (because you know, the rain was our fault too).  But, he's taken it in stride, thinks we are dorks, and is just moving on to the next day....

waiting for us to screw up again.

But, in spite of it all, at least I know he still loves me.  He's a good egg, that kid.