I’m right here in the throes of it. Sitting here at the kitchen table, waiting for #3 to finish his math homework. Listening to #4’s blaring clarinet wails. Shooting coos of sympathy to the angry teething tyrant, who is muttering in annoyance in his exa-saucer. And in the background, the endless drone of Barney the Dinosaur on Netflix, declaring that the doctor is a friend of his.
Not today. Today, the doctor is not a friend of mine.
Today’s (mis)adventures actually started yesterday afternoon, when I had the alarming realization that #1 was quite overdue for a vaccination. A vaccination which is required by law, mind you, and our deadline had already somewhat passed. An appointment needed to be made within the next day or two. I called the ped’s office, and through #1’s anguished shrieks, made an appointment for today, at 1pm, for both a physical and shots.
Now for parents of say, 1 or 2 children, your average trip to the ped’s office is usually only mildly inconvenient.
Not so with numerous children. With six kids, babysitters tend to disappear like the mole heads in the Whack A Mole game; popping quickly underground unless you’re lucky enough to whack one silly enough to actually watch your six rugrats for you.
In short, no babysitter on retainer means hauling several kids in one “shot” (heh, pun) to the dr’s office. For this appointment, an audience of impressionable youngsters would witness #1’s needle-phobic hysteria.
Today’s relay began with dropping off 1,2 and 3 at school, followed by #4 at preschool shortly afterward. After rushing home to settle #s 5 & 6 down for naps, it was already time to retrieve #4 from school and head out to pick up #1 for the dreaded appointment.
I’m cursed by my geography to have my kids attending a school that lacks a decent parking lot. Maybe not a big deal for most, but to a mom of a litter like mine, that’s bad. Very bad. Because it means parking on a nearby street and hauling everyone out of the momobile, just to retrieve one.
So out of the momobile emerged #s 4 and 5 holding hands and running, as I hurried briskly behind lugging #6. We entered the school and waited for #1. (You know those “do not loiter” signs? They were made for people like us. Because we loitered. All over the hallway. Loudly, too.)
Finally an anxious #1 appeared and we headed out.
And here was went it went downhill.
Instead of hauling the cumbersome double stroller into our ped’s wee exam rooms, I figured I’d run to Babies R Us and pick up a cheap umbrella stroller for #5. Baby #6 could be worn in a sling, #4 would walk alongside me, and we’d be quick and happy. Right?
If that was so, there’d be no point to this post, right?
We had enough time. I’d picked up #1 early. I drove off to the mall. Within six blocks of it, found myself jammed into traffic so horrendous that I could have shut the car off and picnicked on the hood. Which would have been preferable, because #s 4 & 5 were bored and impatient.
No cars moving at all.
# 4 whining for Goldfish.
#5 whining for a juicebox.
#1 fretting over her shot.
No cars moving at all.
We had the misfortune of being in the approximate area of a police lockdown; there had been criminal activity nearby and key roads were closed.
I threaded my way through the jam. #4 pouted. #1 chewed her fingernails. #5 squealed in agitation.
Oy. I made a frantic call to the ped’s office, who assured me that they were running behind. Good.
So I rerouted us via parkway to the next Babies R Us. Extracted the cranky trio and baby and speedwalked into the store, purchasing the first stroller I found. Done!
At the doctor’s with our new stroller, baby sling, and grumpy #s 1 and 4. We opened the office door, and….
… you know the faces of people waiting in the DMV? How they have those sullen, hopeless expressions? Because they have their numbered ticket, but the numbers aren’t moving on the damn board?
That was our ped’s office today. Minus the tickets.
We parked ourselves on some chairs to wait. Well, the kids did. I became the corrections officer. Because when you enter anyplace in public with more than 3 kids, you KNOW people will be watching.
Baby’s #6’s eyes popped open from his slumber; of course, NOW. #s 4 and 5 swapped Goldfish and giggled. #1 fretted and bit what was left of her nails in unhappy anticipation.
So we waited. And waited. And waited some more.
42 minutes later, our favorite nurse emerged from the back exam rooms with a pained look on her face. She’s great. She loves us- we’ve provided great business for many, many years.
She said the wait time was….. 2 hours. Crisis put them behind schedule.
She said, because she loves us, “you should reschedule.”
She said, “how’s tomorrow, at 9am?”
On the outside, “Sure. Let’s GO, kids!”
On the inside: “F#$%&^!!!”
Out we went to the car in defeat. #1 fist pumping for the unexpected delay in execution. #4 and 5 spilling Goldfish crumbs like Hansel’s trail. #6 whining in hungry protest.
Blew through Taco Bell for lunch. I realized after leaving the order was wrong.
Of course it was.
Maybe I’ll give them a chance to get it right tomorrow- since I’ll be back in that area, tomorrow. Again.
Doctor’s Orders.
© Copyright 2013 Six Pack Mom, All rights Reserved. Written For: SPM Writes