The Tragedy Known As Bringing Your Kids To Your Doctor Appointment

There are a handful of things that I miss from my days of working outside of the home, and topping the list is being able to go to medical appointments by myself.

I used to be able to schedule such appointments before, during, or after work. I got to sit in the waiting room quietly catching up on the latest celebrity gossip not having a care in the world, while feeling sorry for the disheveled woman sitting across the room trying desperately not to draw attention to herself and her three disobedient young children, and failing miserably. “Sucks to be you girlfriend.” I would deliberately sit as far away from her as possible, for obvious reasons. What a hot mess. “Control your kids lady! This is not a circus. Who brings their kids with them to the doctor anyway? Ever heard of some discipline, or a babysitter, or a damn hairbrush?”

Fast forward and I have become the annoying lady that everyone is trying desperately to avoid in the waiting room. I am the one who looks as if she just rolled out of bed because I didn’t manage to get my shower in for the day…again. I am the one whose children refuse to use their “indoor voice” and defy my direct orders of not using the chairs in the lobby as an obstacle course. They could give a shit how their behavior is influencing everyone’s opinion of their mother, nor do they have any regard for the other innocent people in the room who are now certainly wishing they would’ve rescheduled their appointment.

Thank God for the nice elderly lady who always gives me a sympathy grin and tries to make me feel better about the situation. “It’s goes fast, sweetie. Enjoy it while it lasts.” Everyone else is looking at me as if I shouldn’t be allowed to have children. They are beyond annoyed and not the slightest bit amused that my child is in the midst of an art project using the community box of tissue and bottle of hand sanitizer. I know what they are thinking, “Will someone please call this lady’s name and get her and her misfit children the hell out of here?” The very audible sighing that immediately follows when my name isnot called leaves little to the imagination.

It’s not like I don’t try to prepare for these visits. The process involved in and of itself is exhausting. Snacks packed (check). Second snack packed just in case they don’t like the first one (check). Books (check). Note pad and crayons (Yep, got it). iPad (double check). Diapers and baby wipes (check). Hand sanitizing wipes (Of course! Who goes to the doctor without them?). I am confident that I have not forgotten anything. It’s suppose to be a quick visit anyway, so surely this supply list is adequate.

Or not.

As I stand up and motion for my children to follow me after my name is finally called, the look on the nurse’s face is priceless. Her expression quickly goes from “Good afternoon Mrs. Veldhouse” to “You have got to be kidding me right now!” We proceed to head down the hall together in an endless parade of chaos only to end up in a room that was clearly built for no more than two people. This is not going to end well.

As the nurse quickly escapes the room with the false promise that the doc will be in shortly, I go into immediate panic mode.

I frantically unpack the iPad, put snacks in hand, and display books in clear sight. Yep, we should be good. “Okay kids, Mommy really needs you to sit quietly while we’re in here.” I’m talking to both of them but staring directly at my 3 year old son,begging…pleading. He is clearly the loose cannon in this equation. It could go either way. “Okay Buddy? If you’re a good boy, Mommy will take you out for ice cream afterwards.” He smiles, which is always a bit concerning in this type of a situation, but I decide to smile back and hope for the best.

The doc finally enters the room and within 3 minutes compliments me on my well behaved children who are sitting quietly in the corner, eating their Cheerios, completely plugged in to whatever they are watching on the iPad. “God bless the iPad (I actually said it out loud).” Here’s what I was thinking, but did not say out loud, “They are good kids aren’t they? Look at them. So innocent and sweet. They actually listen to me sometimes.” It’s a clear victory for me. Ice cream all around!

Things took a sour turn quickly thereafter. My 10 minute visit turned into a 60 minute visit involving 4 shots of Novocain in my scalp and 1 stitch (yep, one). During the impromptu procedure, my son decides to throw an absolute fit because the iPad is not doing what he wants it to do. “Mommy, can you fix the iPad?” He’s handing it to me. I am laying down in the supine position with needles in my scalp. “Mom. Mom. Mom. Fix the iPad Mom! It not working!”

Obviously I can’t turn my head to address him (you know, because of the needles in my head and everything), nor does the medical staff take a moment to even acknowledge that my son is attempting to hurl the iPad in their general direction. “Buddy, Mommy can’t help you right now. Maybe look at a book or ask your sister to help you.”

Good one. Princess can’t be bothered. She is completely immersed in her book about the Unicorn Gods and how they sacrifice all little brothers in an effort to save the world from their destruction. In addition, she is above assisting an annoying toddler in what clearly is an obvious technological fix. What a dumbass.

Long story short. The next 20 minutes involved screaming, blood, one really big stitch, and a vigilante child who has become completely unhinged. What started with him throwing his Cheerios on the floor, ended with him ferociously stomping on every single one individually like some miniature god damn Godzilla or something. Those poor little circular toasted whole grain oat bastards never stood a chance. “Save yourselves bland circular snack! You are no match for him!”

As the visit comes to an end, I am left in the room with the annoyed nurse, my 2 children, and an overwhelming pile of Cheerio remains on the floor. RIP little guys.

I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to all of the healthy snacks out there. I should have known better. It was a selfish attempt on my part to portray myself as a good mom. You were sacrificed for my image and I am truly sorry.

I should’ve packed Cheetos.

“I love going to the doctor.” Said no stay at home mom ever.