The Bomber had a wellness check today (and by ‘today’, I mean almost 3 months ago). Talk about a lesson in surviving pure molten unrelenting frustration. From the minute I remembered we had this appointment I was annoyed. That’s right, the key phrase is “from the minute I remembered”, because you know I can’t remember anything like I used to.
So here’s the brief synopsis. Grandma was supposed to take The Bomber to her wellness check. I was going to meet them there and then go straight to work, fingers crossed it wouldn’t take forever. The appointment was at 9:45 on a Monday morning. Really?!?! What was I thinking? That’s possibly the worst appointment time ever. Monday morning = busiest day of the week. 9:45 = two hours into my work day, plus just late enough for the doctors to be running behind. Awesome.
So, because I’ve been meaning to put this appointment on the calendar since her last wellness check (yes, I realize it’s been 3 months, get off my back), I didn’t remember until last night at approximately 7:00 pm that we had this appointment…. terrific. Since about 5 minutes before this happened we re-arranged our regular Monday morning routine so that Grandma could go camping. Normally, no big deal. But, of course I had to agree to a new routine on the one day I forget an appointment that I never would have scheduled if my mom wasn’t available to help…. Gah! Enter: annoyance. So, now I have to re-arrange my entire day and pray to the work gods that I don’t have a busy schedule because I’m locked into spending the entire morning at the pediatrician’s office.
So, Gadget and I get up this morning and get the girls ready. Gadget goes to work and things are looking decent. I mean, I actually got to shower and get dressed before he left so I’m already ahead of the game, right? If, only. I leave for the appointment early thinking maybe we’ll get in early. Wrong. We wait in the lobby until our actual appointment time. 9:45 they call us into the room. Well, at least we’re on time, right? Wrong again. 40 minutes later the doctor comes in… oh wait, that’s not the doctor. 
That’s just a medical student who asks all the same questions, does all the same tests, but who leaves us waiting for the real doctor when he’s done. 20 minutes later the real doctor comes in and immediately scolds me for letting my baby play with a cell phone (because, and I quote, “they have chemicals all over them” – what?!?), and then asks condescendingly if I brought any toys with me. Why yes, I did. You see, there’s one by your foot. And another one under the chair. And a homemade one on top of the table (oh, you mean you didn’t lay that white paper out for her to tear up and crunch?). It’s just that you’ve locked us in this tiny room for over an hour with nothing to do, nothing to eat (yes, it’s now lunch time – animal crackers can only suffice for so long), and loads of cupboards and drawers with no child locks that are full of things my toddler shouldn’t touch – which means I’ve been playing goalie for the last hour and a half. Oh, and have you noticed it’s about 85 degrees in this room? No one, and I mean, no one, is in the mood for your tone. So, please, move on with your exams before I throat punch you.
So, at this point, you would think I’d been punished enough. But, no. The doctor finally finishes and leaves, and we get to wait YET ANOTHER 20 minutes for the nurse to come in and give shots. You can imagine how well that went over with The Bomber. Have I mentioned that at this point The Comedian is not so comedic and has commenced with making it her personal mission to keep The Bomber in line. As soon as The Bomber quits crying, The Comedian is all over her to keep the sticker out of her mouth, quit playing with the drawers, stop climbing on the chairs…. At this point I almost wish she would swallow a sticker or fall off a chair – at least then maybe we could get some friggin’ attention up in this piece.
We finally go to check out and we’re hit with one more little gem. Normally there are two secretaries… except one is at lunch (yes, that is how long we’ve been here). And now the other one is on the phone… for over 5 minutes. While we wait in the hallway. With even more things The Bomber can destroy. Which means even more things The Comedian has to prevent her from getting into. I think I saw the room swirl in front of me as The Bomber starts screaming, The Comedian commences a broken record of commands, and I give up. I didn’t even try to stop the nonsense. I just looked at the receptionist as if everything was normal and handed her my card. As we’re leaving I remember the last straw. No AC in the El Deucey. Here’s to a 30 minute car ride home in 100 degree heat.
