I had a doctor's appointment today.  You know the one, ladies.....that one we affectionately refer to as our "yearly".

I got there and, right off the bat, couldn't help but notice the most prime spaces were marked "Reserved for Mothers with Babies"  Yeah, ok.  I remember those days.....the stroller, the big car seat, the diaper bag that housed everything you received at your baby showers.  I'm not cold hearted and I haven't forgotten what it's like to have an infant, but I did start to ponder......."Where is the parking space for the perimenopausal mother of teenagers, who doles out money like a PEZ dispenser, whose wardrobe has experienced no discernible changes since Bush was in office, whose bank account is suffering from a continuous hemorrhage, and whose hormones could snap at any moment turning this normally precious woman into a raving, sweating lunatic?"  Yeah, can't you spare a space for her somewhere near the front?  We're a worn down and forgotten people. 

My hurt feelings and I went on inside, signed in, and received the 14 forms that I needed to fill out even though not one, single piece of information had changed since my last visit.....but I didn't ask any questions.  I sat in the chair with my pen and clipboard and looked over at a young mother holding the cutest, little baby boy.  Oh, my goodness.....he was adorable......looked to be a month old or so.  He was sleeping like an angel......probably worn out from screaming all night.  His bleary eyed mother was holding him on her shoulder and smiled as I complimented his adorableness......and then I noticed his daddy.  He was sound asleep, even snoring a little, leaned over on the mother's other shoulder.  Oh, I remembered the exhaustion that I saw in their faces and started to feel a twinge of guilt about the parking space envy that I struggled with out in the parking lot.

Finally, they called my name and I was taken back to the scale.  Doctor's scales......they are from Satan.  I weighed in 4 lbs. heavier than I did when I left home just twenty minutes before......and it's a special bonus when the nurse yells it out just in case you didn't see how she kept having to move the little thingy farther and farther over to the right.  Where's HIPAA when you need it?

The nurse left me alone in the room with my standard issue sheet and assured me that the doctor would be right in to see me and by right in, she apparently meant just after he delivers a couple of sets of twins, performs a hysterectomy, and has his lunch break.  So, there I was.....alone with my sheet to count the ceiling tiles, study the woman's reproductive anatomy charts adorning the wall, contemplate how I now needed to go to the restroom, and estimate how much longer I'd be by judging the distance of his voice.       

Anyway, I got that over with for another year.  Oh, ladies, you know how good it feels to get that appointment behind you.  The receptionist handed me that appointment card for September 4, 2015.  I snatched that joker and skipped out of there like a school girl......aaalllll the way out to the perimenopausal parking area at the back of the lot.  

On my way home, I got next to this old man at a red light.  Yes, he was quite old......I'm not just saying that.  He was on one of those three wheel motorcycles.  I noticed as we sat there that he glanced over and was revving his engine as if to taunt me.  "Nah", I thought, "surely not.....he's just a little, old man.....probably on his way to volunteer at a hospital or work at his church" .....but then the light turned green and it was on.  He was racing me!  Changing gears as fast as his little, old hands could and looking over at me.  Well, racing isn't something I'm usually interested in, but something about his challenging "tude" awakened the competitor in me.  Maybe I was feeling unusually peppy and free from having "the yearly" behind me for another year.  Maybe my waning hormones were on the down swing.  Or maybe it was a mid-life type crisis I was having there at the red light as I longed to feel youthful again.  Whatever the reason, I couldn't let this old man beat me on his tricycle, so I gave the ol' Highlander the gas.  Oh, he stayed with me for a minute, but soon......the fuel efficient, sensible, middle class mom mobile with third row seating was too much for him to handle and he was looking at my license plate.  I laughed and may or may not have mumbled some smack talk into the rearview mirror.  What's wrong with me?!?!!      

And finally!!!  Tomorrow is the beginning of the Mississippi State football season!  I'm so excited about the season and our new stadium addition.  I use the possessive pronoun, our, because I feel that with the large tuition checks we're mailing in up there combined with ALL the ones my parents and Davis' parents have written through the years, the campus is......well, mostly ours. 

I'm not excited about the game day forecast of 80% chance of rain though.  Dreading the heat, I've been trying to decide all week just how little clothing I could wear without violating any laws, but now the heat threat has been replaced with more of a drowning risk.  Between the two school colors, I thought white might be cooler earlier in the week, but now I'm thinking maroon will probably be the safer bet in a torrential downpour.

Regardless, we're not letting the rain dampen our school spirit and plan on enjoying a relaxing Labor Day weekend with the family.  Hope yours is restful, too!

See y'all next week!