"Mama, I sick," he said and I decided to bring him to the doctor.
I DO NOT do well with doctors. If you've read Hug Him or Punch Him then you already understand why. But despite that, I have an especially hard time getting along with the kids' pediatrician. It took years to find him. He's awesome with the kids and I refuse to quit going there just because our personalities don't mesh. It's hard though; every time I see him, I try removing the elephant in the room, but I don't even know the elephant's name!
As I rushed around and prepared to go to the doctor, The Zombie Elf kept whining, "It hurts, Mama. It hurts."
With the speed of a ninja, I packed all four of my children into the car and headed to the doctor's.
Now when I got to the doctor's I felt like an idiot--an idiot with an army of children. You should have seen all the beautiful women in the waiting area. They wore boots for crying out loud! (If you didn't know this, women who wear boots are the fanciest people ALIVE!) I wanted to say, "What? Is it super model day in here? Maybe I should come back when it's 'normal people' day." They were immaculate. One lady's hair hung in barrel curls. Another woman carried over a pound of foundation on her face. It looked good though; they all looked good IN THEIR BOOTS!
I felt bad as I gazed at my rumpled jeans and the spit-up on my shoulder. My three oldest kids goofed-off and my baby wailed in her car seat. One woman tipped her nose up at me and huffed, actually huffed!
Weren't we there because our kids were sick and we'd been up all night babying them? Or had I been mistaken--was it a role call? I sighed with relief when the nurse called my kid's name; I was sick of sitting by those six-foot beauty queens and I hate singing that song about myself; you know the one, "Which one of these is not like the other."
When we got to the room, it hit me. I wondered if that doctor hates me because I'm not a beauty queen! Maybe he sees super models all day long, so when he sees "regulars" like me he doesn't have to be nice. I knew that was it and vowed, the next time we visited, I'd wear a pound of make-up too!
The pediatrician knocked on the door and walked in after that. "So one of you is sick," he said, speaking to the kids, like I was less than a ghost in the room.
"What's been going on?" he asked The Zombie Elf.
"Where does it hurt?"
"My ouchie nose. I want more milk."
The doctor still refused to acknowledge me. But he wasn't making any headway with my two-year-old! So I finally interceded even though that doctor would rather converse with Lucifer than me. "Earlier he said his throat hurt."
"Does your throat hurt, buddy?" The doctor put his back to me.
I wanted to groan, but suppressed it. That's when I decided to make friends with the doctor. I can't figure why he won't talk to me. Isn't he supposed to be nice to kids AND their parents? In Elisa world, tip number one (for making a friend) is to start with small talk; a great way, is to ask the person if they like their job. (Note: Only ask if you're genuinely interested.)
Since I was curious, that's what I asked. "Do you like your job?"
"I just like children," he replied flatly. Then without even turning, he cooed to my baby who still rested in her car seat.
I rolled my eyes. Seriously! That man is exasperating.
Step number two. In Elisa world, if the person doesn't like their job or simply shoots you down, try saying something nice.
"Do people ever tell you that you remind them of Bob Sagget?" After I said it, I realized it wasn't the best thing to say.
That doctor turned to me, actually turned and his eyes pulsed with rage. "No . . . no one has ever said that. I hate Bob Sagget and his dumb . . . home videos."
Wow, I felt like I'd taunted a raging bull and his anger was about to stick me in the gut. I knew then, it was time for step three--it was time to lie. I thought of the beauty queens in the waiting room--I remembered the one who'd put her nose in the air and I got an idea. "Yeah, I don't think you look a thing like him, but a couple of those beauty queens in the waiting room were saying how they think you look like Bobby." I couldn't believe I'd just pinned the whole thing on those poor women in the waiting room. I'd sicked the doctor from Hades on them!
He glared at the door and I expected it to melt into lava. It took him a moment, but he did regain his composure and that "Sagget Lover" asked, "Wait? Beauty Queens?"
"You should see 'em," I said with excitement. We were having a conversation--the people-hater and I were having a real conversation! "That crowd out there--they aren't your regular mothers. They're a whole different brand of gorgeous."
He decided to swab my boy's throat after that and I was surprised to see that he'd cracked a smile, something I didn't know he could do. It was a miracle! Then to beat all, The Sagget Lover actually spoke to me instead of my kids. "I think he has strep. I'll be right back."
Anyway, The Zombie Elf has strep. As we walked past the women in the waiting room, I waved to the lady who'd stuck her nose up at me. The Zombie Elf turned and waved to her too. I hope the doctor wasn't too hard on her and I wonder what she said when he asked if she really thought he looks like Bob Sagget.
On a side note, this all happened yesterday. The nurse gave The Zombie Elf a shot in the butt and he won't be contagious by the time The Scribe is supposed to have her play date.
I'm nervous about that play date. I hope the kid will be nice even though The Scribe put a "kick me" note on her back. I also wonder if the mother knows what happened and how this is the punishment for the crime. The mom's coming today too. She said she was worried about her daughter coming alone. That makes me wonder one thing; maybe she does know about the note!