Falling Down

Remember that Michael Douglas movie?




That's me today.  (Minus the gun and violence).

I have spent 1 hour and 45 minutes in the car today, just driving locally.

I've been to two doctor's appointments already.

And I've kind of had it.

Doctor's Appointment #1- At a plastic surgeon, to get Casey's bandage removed and to check on the stitches.  First I had to pick Braden up from a playdate downtown, and then head all the way back up to Bethesda in ridiculous traffic (yes, it's nice out, I get it people want to go to the zoo, but PLEASE GET OUT OF MY WAY AND DRIVE).  Once out of the thick of traffic, I missed the exit for no real reason at all, adding 20 minutes to my trip.  Once I arrived in the vicinity, I could not find the office, despite google maps, printed out directions, other forms of technology, etc.  I called my husband in a panic (as we were already late), where he instructed me to "calm down."  (As an aside, if someone ever calls you somewhat hysterical, the absolute worst thing to say to them is to "calm down," followed closely by, "relax.").  We finally found the place and saw the doctor, and I was able to explain that Casey fell out of a bar stool in the kitchen and had to get stitches, etc. etc.,  and the wise doctor actually said to me: "Way to go, Mom."  He then pulled off the bandage (which took about 3 seconds), said it looked fine, and charged us $88.

Doctor's Appointment #2 - Casey has been off since Friday night - fever, lethargy, not eating, whatever.  As I was leaving Doctor's Appointment #1, I thought that maybe I should try to make a sick appointment at his pediatrician's office, which happened to be right around the corner from Doctor's Appointment #1.  Who knows, maybe they could even see me now?  I sat in the parking lot and called Doctor #2.  When presented with menu options, I selected #2 for "make a sick appointment," and was then promptly disconnected.  Three times.  I then decided to select option #3, for "make a well appointment," where I was then put on hold for 12 minutes before I hung up (with both kids screaming at me from the back seat - MOM, GOOOOOOOO!!!!!).  I decided fuck it - I will just freaking drive there.  I showed up at the office, with both kids in tow, and told the receptionist that I couldn't get through and could I please get a sick appointment for some point that day.  She gave me a nasty look and a big sigh and told me to call the sick line - that's the protocol- to which I responded I CAN'T GET THROUGH ON THE SICK LINE, HERE I AM, PLEASE TALK TO ME.  They eventually took pity on us and took us in, and Casey was examined and prodded and of course nothing is wrong with him, it's just me.  Meanwhile, T minus 3 days until we all get sick from whatever virus we picked up in the waiting room, either there, or at Dr. Appointment #1.

By the time we got home it was 1:30 and we were all starving and tired and done.  Yet my kids won't eat a thing.  And won't go to sleep.  And while I'm at it, let me just complain about the fact that it's beautiful out and we can't go outside (because Casey has to "take it easy" or he will reopen his wound and then I will have to revisit Dr. #1 so he can once again tell me, "Way to go, Mom").

And the fun thing?  I have my own doctor's appointment tomorrow.  Braden has a dentist appointment to get a cavity filled on Wednesday.  Thursday is OT.  And Friday is something I am probably forgetting.

On weeks like this I don't know how working moms do it.  Mad props to you.

I cry uncle on today.