The Public Health Department

I spent the day wanting to punch fight. If I could punch fight a situation, rather than the people involved in it, I would have been tossing fists all day. It started at 4:30am when The Taz decided that she was done sleeping. I don't blame her. Her whole world has been rocked. New house, new parks, new school, no Debbie, no backyard (that momma will let her play in anyway - see The Pond).  So I lay on her floor by her tobbler bed so she will at least try to fall back to sleep.

Before we left Minneapolis, I thought I would be really organized and on the ball, so I got The Taz and Bear Cub their well-child doctor visits along with immunizations set up. During the appointment I told the doctor we would be moving and asked the standard stuff about moving to a new city (Should I be teaching my children to run in a zig zag motion? Because I heard that gators can't chase you if you run like that. Really? Really.), and my doctor said not to worry about the kids transitioning because they are more resilliant to change than we would think. Well The Taz's natural response to change is manifested by the inability to sleep through the night. We've been in Floriday for two weeks now, and we've slept through the night once. Once. It was nice. I remember it like it was my first kiss. (Not that my first kiss was anything special, in fact it wasn't. My stomach turned on me mid-kiss and I ended up cutting it short so I could go have a bout of the scoots. But, I did really really look forward to my first kiss and dreamt about it for what seemed like years - much like I dream about sleep now.)  Resillient my ass. It was pre-dawn and I had spent two hours on the floor of The Taz's room so LetsCallHim Troy could sleep because he isn't feeling good and he's got to actually bring home the bacon. Punch fight.

I toured a few daycare/preschools and found the one I liked. I won't lie. I was home with the girls' exactly three days when I decided that I wasn't cut out for that job. I'm not made of that material and I didn't want to end up scarring the children or worse yet, getting a house call from social services. I've digressed...again. So, I'm enrolling the children and feeling quite proud as I whip out my vaccine records for the girls. They were a little weathered from traveling in my purse for two weeks, but I had them. I hand them over to the owner of the facility. She says "Oh. You're not from Florida?" As if looking at my "so pale you wan to check my pulse" legs didn't give it away, I answer "No." She informs me that you must have state required forms for immunizations that are blue and yellow, and no, copying the ones I have onto colored paper aren't going to do the trick. Not to worry she says "you have two weeks time." Yes. Plenty of time.

I call a local pediatrician. Long story short is that I have to go to the Department of Health to have Out Of State immunization records transfered over. My insurance won't cover another well-child visit so soon. It will be over $250 to get the new forms from them. BUT, if I just pop over to the Department of Health, they'll make that transfer.

I get to the Department of Health. Immediately I feel like I should be wearing a breathing mask. It smells. There are wall to wall people. Apparently it is back to school time and EVERYONE in the state of Floriday needs immunization records. That is, everyone without a regular doctor. I start to wonder if this is worth the $250. But, the lady at the check in assures me that it is only and hour wait. Well, I am already here and currently my only job is to do this one thing, so, I wait. Apparently it is lunch time now and the people behind the door calling numbers (mine is 86) have gone to lunch. It is 30 minutes before a number gets called (Numer 48). Punch fight.  There is a woman behind me that is talking to her daughter like the mother in the movie Precious. I turn just enough to get a look at the little girl. She is smaller than The Taz. I feel rage building up inside me. I start to pray. "Dear Lord - Please protect that little girl from her mother's hand. Please give the mother patience and instill a sense of tenderness for her daughter. Dear Lord, Please help me not stand up and punch fight that mother right in the throat. Amen."  I hear the mother threaten to throw her child out the window.  I turn around with disgust in my eyes and look right at her. She is big and nasty and suddenly I did not want to punch fight her anymore. But I give her the stink eye and continue to pray.

I kept going back and forth in my mind "if I leave now, for sure my number will be called in five minutes and I will have done this for nothing. Two hours later, my number gets called. My appointment literally lasts 3 minutes. But I only come away with one sheet. I need two. Bear Cub is short one shot. WHAT? No no no. She's not? How can that be? I call the MN doctor. The shot she's missing is not given in MN until 18 months. But in FL she needs it at 15 months. Punch Fight. Punch Fight. Punch Fight.