And I'm not talking about any old shopping - frock shopping. I thought, oh my kids are cheery today, perhaps I will go and try a bit of clothes therapy.
It started off all fine and dandy. The chatty assistant, got out the obligatory toy box full of crappy lego. I took one look at it and crossed my fingers. I browsed the racks and considered my options. I noticed that my children had decided to explore the shop a little. My daughter, in particular, loves sparkly shoes. As my son headed toward the door I scooped him up and the helpful assistant said, oh you can just push the door closed, which I did. I should have known then that I was doomed, but I pushed on.
I selected perhaps 8 dresses to try on... it was a lot, but when you've got your gear off, you might as well try on more than 2 dresses right? My son headed to the door again and a lovely woman (insert sarcasm) added, look out for his fingers, he had them right in the crack... hmmm I did not know that about doors and fingers so... thanks! But if you were concerned you could have felt free to have rushed to him while it was happening, not tsk tsk his mother after he had wandered off!
Not long after that when I had begun trying on dresses, I heard the assistant say... we need a tissue. Now I have a dress over my head and I'm standing in my knickers... wouldn't you just think, that perhaps, somewhere on the desk that you haven't moved from since you got the toy box out, that there might be a box of tissues? Then I heard, he's got dribble on his face and he's going near the clothes. So I yanked the dress over my head and secured the zip.
I decided ok, lets put dribble boy into the pram and insist Miss Four sit in front of the pram, outside the change room with their sandwiches, that ought to work... for about 30 seconds. Miss Four got distracted and wandered off. I called her back and the same thing happened again. Dribble boy seemed to be enjoying his sandwiches. So I hurriedly threw on the dresses, gave them a good 10 seconds consideration in the mirror and pulled them off.
Now it's not often my son cries, but once he starts he means business. And with 4 dresses or so to go he starts. No amount of cajoling, offering the "good" food, or asking Miss Four for help will work. There is no choice but to pack it all up or to push on.
As I have all my clothes off I decide on the latter. So right then the shop fills with woman. But still the crying continues. He takes it up a notch for good measure. My daughter sticks her head in and I push her out, sad puppy wimpering can be heard. But still I push on.
Just as the crying reaches its crescendo I manage to put on my shoes and give the pram a few quick pushes to offer some distraction. What I really wanted was to give it a good swift kick.
Trying to keep my composure I told the assistant that there was one frock that I liked, but it wasn't really what I was looking for, so I would keep looking. So as I pushed the pram through the doorway into the street the crying miraculously stopped - like instantly.
I mentioned it to my husband this evening, and of course he had the perfect answer, what did you expect, he's a man!
Anyhow my left thigh had a dose of Mr C today. As I expected it did sting a little more and this combined with the auto-injector being right in front of my hearing apparatus made the injection marginally worse that the other four tried sites. I got a single mosquito bite lump, but it disappeared quite quickly. I didn't use any ice or heat today just to feel how it would go in my thigh... it just seems less fatty than my love handle hips and post baby blubber belly. My thigh was a bit achy during the day, but it was totally bearable.
I really hope that Mr C has got his decoy job down pat. It's nice to know that he should have commenced his new employment, 48 hours after entering my body, which is unlike the other MS injectable medications - they take weeks. My MS nurse told me that after she called to see how I was doing...Fine thanks.
I'll do the injections myself next week!