Class is back in session, Fall is upon us, and kids are dropping like flies. Trips to the pediatrician are a necessary part of parenting, but that doesn't mean we have to like it. And I, for one, am not a fan. It could be because my kiddos are terrified of shots and finger pricks, or perhaps it's the haze of the stomach bug lurking in the air, but it's never a fun trip for us. Whether you're new to parenting or you just need a laugh because you already hit up the doc this week, here's how to take your sick kiddo to the doctor, in these 12 easy steps.
Sleep as little as possible the night before. Change soiled sheets. Administer Tylenol. Rub an upset tummy. Put on cartoons at 3 a.m. Don't worry: it's not like tomorrow is going to be a long day or anything.
The office opens at 8:30 a.m. Call at 8:30:01 a.m. Proceed to wait on hold for 30 minutes and get the first available appointment. At 1:45 p.m. Smack dab in the middle of nap time.
Watch the panic in his eyes. Inform him that no, you are not 100 percent sure there will not be shots involved.
Prepare for a long day. Pack snacks. Lots and lots of snacks.
And wait. And wait. Wonder what everyone else's kid is in for and try not to touch anything. Realize your head is resting on your hand. Break out the Purell and bathe everyone in it.
Does not cover her mouth. Instead wipes her snot-covered nose and then proceeds to touch everything in the waiting room (including your sleeve, twice).
And wait. And wait. Watch as your child goes between being concerned about the possibility of getting a shot and terribly bored and destructive with the medical supplies. Pull out your iPad. Hand it to said child. Wonder if the doctor has forgotten about you.
Once the doctor finally arrives (and after he says something "funny" about the fact that you've gotten no sleep), ask for the magic bullet to make your child sleep again. Learn your child is indeed sick (thanks, doc), will not need a shot, but will need a finger prick. You know, just in case.
Comfort your poor child, who is freaking out because a finger prick is decidedly worse than a shot. Look at your watch and realize you have been there for a total of two hours. Wonder if the nurse has forgotten about you.
Feel your heart rate rise as your tot enters into full-on meltdown mode and start offering your child anything he wants in order to make the screaming stop.
Hear the dreaded words: it's a virus. Doc tells you lots of TLC is the only thing that will make your kiddo feel better. Be happy it's not Ebola but sad there are no medicinal quick fixes. Cry silently to yourself.
Empty your wallet on toys, gum, hand sanitizer, Gatorade, and Children's Tylenol. Grab a Starbucks on the way out; you deserve it, mama.