I think I may just have a nickname at Elise's pediatrician's office. It's nothing bad, but in the fashion of Prince or Madonna, it is a one-word moniker, albeit without the fame or talent. I think they simply refer to me as "She", or "Her".
As in "She's on the phone... something about Elise's poop again". Or, "Oh no, it's her! Everybody hide!" I say this mostly as a joke. I LOVE Elise's pedi and her staff and think they are amazing, incredible and wonderful. And no, I won't give you her name because then it just makes it harder for me to get in to see her on a weekly basis.
But I have become something I never wanted to be... a High Maintenance Mom. Not by choice, but Elise has had her share of strange things in her short little life, and of course her diabetes makes me extra cautious.
So I go out of my way to not be a pain in the butt when I take Elise in for her appointments. I'm extra polite, I try to be nice to the office staff, I have my payment ready when I check in... stuff like that. The one thing I try to do without fail, is BE ON TIME, because I understand how that can mess up a doctor's schedule.
This usually means I run into their office, about 5 minutes before the appointment time with Elise precariously tucked under my arm, panting from the exertion of it all. Neither of us will have our hair brushed. I may or may not be wearing matching socks, and I'm usually trying to remember if I put on deodorant; making a mental note not to raise my arms too much while I'm there. My shoes are untied, Elise probably isn't even wearing shoes and if I remembered to zip up my pants, it's a good day. It's a pretty image, isn't it?
So I was very pleased with myself today when I managed to leave the house 30 minutes before her appointment time of 10 AM. With the 15 minute drive, this gave me ample time to saunter in; calm and cool with my jeans zippered up.
Well, the devil is in the details, isn't he? Because when I arrived, a full 15 minutes before Elise's appointment, the entire parking lot was full. I mean FULL. There were about 10 other cars circling the lot like hungry sharks. I don't mind parking far away and walking, but that wasn't even an option. To my delight, I saw not one, but TWO people walking to their cars that were parked in the very aisle I was in. I put my turn signal on and waited.
Both of these people decided to get in their respective cars, turn them on, and just sit there. I waited about 2 minutes, and still they sat, oblivious to my growing contempt for them. Five minutes. At this point I was debating about leaning on my horn and yelling expletives out my window at them, but I remembered that little eyes were watching; very impressionable little eyes.
Elise's appointment time was growing closer, as was my boiling point. Just as I decided that my SUV could totally crush the one guy's tiny sport car, leaving enough space for me to park; he backs out and leaves. A full 7 minutes after he got into his car.
So began my 100-yard dash to the pedi's office. I made it with 2 minutes to spare, and my jeans were done up. Thank goodness for button-fly.
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