Dr induced insanity

Let me say that I dread when one of my boys becomes sick. Not only because they are feeling ill, but because it usually ends up a the Dr office.

I dread going here. I get nervous just on the phone call. What time slot am I going to be fit into. Most usually it falls right when the boys should be napping. This means this : No sleep = no happiness. I begin sweating. I start the countdown. 2 hours. Ok, I can get him to get a power nap. The oldest will have to get cleaned up and I will whip up a quick and healthy lunch. For some reason I feel like I am going on trial when I take my kids in. Like the Dr will know just by looking into their eyes that they had peanutbutter and marshmallow fluff off the spoon as an afternoon snack. He will know that last week I forgot to brush Ty's teeth before he went to bed and I was simply too lazy to get back up. He will know these things and I will get it big.

So, I marathon clean my house. I mean, he'll know ... it'll show on their clothes, right?? (I am a freak, I know.) I make the youngest lay down. He screams ... I scream. It isn't pretty. 1 hour and 45 minutes has flown by. We have to go! I scurry them out of the door like the finest drill sargeant I have ever seen. I cram the kids into the car with carrot sticks in their hands - just for good measure.

We make it to the appointment in record time. I am sweating under my T-shirt. I usher the boys in with a fake smile. We check in and I envy the mom sitting with all 6 of her kids huddled around as she reads them a story. I look at my two playing in the water fountian. I act like I am rummaging through my purse.I cannpt be held accountable for what I don't know, right? The room echoes so much I don't want to yell.

We get in to the actual exam room. Now, here's the final stretch. The boys want to touch everything! The biohazard box and it's beckoning red colors. Ethan licks the toy trucks that have surely been loved on my kids carrying some rare disease that is only transmitted on plastic. The drawers full of all sorts of used-to-be-sterile equipment. I am panting in exhaustion now. Please come in Dr. I am silently chanting.



Finally, we are at the desk to check out. My boys are chanting for a treat. I quickly fish half melted peppermints out of the bottom of my purse. These aren't stickers they wail. I lick one and stick it to the back of his hand. It is now I say.

Thankfully, we are back at home and all is well. What is that peculiar rash on Ethan's chin ? Could it be the toy truck disease ...... better call the dr.



*Vinatge