Surviving the Good Doctor Doldrums

"Good things come to those who wait." Wise words coming from someone who's probably never stepped foot in a pediatrician's office before. I don't care how "good" your pediatrician is, no amount of attentiveness or sound medical advice from your kids' doctor is going to make up for the TWO HOURS you will spend in a crowded waiting room with a sea of boogery, feverish little people, most of whom are wiping their snot all over your orifices. That's the problem with good doctors. It doesn't take long before everyone else on the planet has figured this out about them.

Over the years, I've learned to accept our pediatrician appointments for what they are: an all-day affair that require the planning and packing of a weekend camping trip. It doesn't matter if I've made the appointment MONTHS AHEAD OF TIME, I'm still going to make lunches, pack a change of clothes, and fill a duffle bag full of the kids' favorite toys and books because we'll be spending most of our afternoon parked on those multi-colored, polka-dotted, navy blue couches that already feel like a second home.

Surprisingly, this is not the time to chat or be chummy with the other moms in the waiting room. We are all in unspoken agreement that this experience is way too annoying and exhausting to "make nice" with eachother. Besides, I don't have time for small talk about preschools or potty training. I'm busy chasing Baby Dude who's on the lam, has dashed out of the waiting room and bolted down the hall into one of the patient rooms for the FIFTIETH time. And when I am not sprinting through the doctor's office, I will play referee over the only two toys in the waiting room, toys that instigate vicious, screaming fights between stir crazy kids.

Eventually though, just as I'm about to foil Baby Dude's plan to launch a children's book into the fish aquarium, the nurse will call our name and send us back to one of the patient rooms. But, this is not the end of our doctor visit nightmare. This is where the heat gets turned up a few notches. Here we will spend yet ANOTHER HOUR waiting in an even smaller room where toys and books have been replaced by dangerous doctor tools. Think Edgar Allen Poe's Pit and the Pendulum, pediatrician style.

It's about this time that my survival instincts start kicking in. Necessity may be the mother of invention, but mothers are the GRANDMOTHER of invention. With a little creativity and a lot of imagination, entertainment in these painfully boring rooms is readily available. It just comes in the most unexpected place...

TA-DA!

No, not the bed, silly stethoscope! The crinkly white paper ON the bed! You know, that laser shield of protection against germs and diseases as your two-year-old kicks, wiggles, and wrestles all over it trying to escape from the nurse's infamous "measuring of the cranium".

If ripped off and wadded into a tight ball, that seemingly useless paper can present countless sporting opportunities like...

soccer!

and trash can basketball!

Goin' in for the lay-up! Nice shot, BD!

And if sports isn't your thing, there's always the game we call "Wig-Out"!

Lil' Miss calls this one the "Rapunzel".

For more of an international look, there's the "Aladdin".

And my personal favorite, "Little Heidi".

It also works as the "Pippi" with a little tweaking.

But our adventures in paper hair coiffing are cut short because the good doctor has arrived! Can you believe it? See how fast the time went by? I actually look disappointed when she finally walks in because we hadn't tried out the "Beehive" or the "Afro" yet. And we never got a chance to play jumprope or tug-o-war! We need more TIME!

Just as I'm contemplating how we can linger a little longer in this room, alone with that thick roll of white crinkly paper, the good doctor reminds me that the kids are due for shots today, THREE SHOTS EACH! And now nothing, not the sports, not the hair, and not even the suckers waiting for my soon-to-be sobbing children sounds good anymore.