Sometimes I am Mean

Would it be bad to send someone a letter letting them know they are an idiot?

Probably, huh. If not, I'd likely be receiving a lot more mail. And I do like to get mail, just not that kind.

I just spent three hours at the pediatrician's office. And that was our third visit in the past week and a half. Not including one really lame trip to the Urgent Care.

The same Urgent Care that I would like to send some disagreeable mail.

Over the past week, Luke had an ear infection and Ava had some poop problems. If that was too much information, sorry. This is a mommy blog.

Last Friday I was convinced that Max had an ear infection. I've come to recognize his signs pretty well and knowing that this week holds an airplane trip I was anxious to get the antibiotic show on the road if, in fact, he did have an ear infection. And having sat at the pedi's office enough for one week, I opted for the Urgent Care, knowing the diagnosis would be simple and short.

Unfortunately, I left the office with no diagnosis and feeling very patronized. The nurse practictioner clearly thought I was an overly anxious mom (Oh but I am!), told me he was fine and that sick babies did not smile. He told me that because Max had smiled at him when he walked into the exam room, he knew he wasn't sick.



"What your child is doing is called a social smile."


"He doesn't know me but he has learned to smile and that is what babies do."


"Sick babies do not smile socially, therefore we can know that this baby is not sick."


I wanted to tell him that I was The Mama. I wanted to tell him that I have had children smile at me on numerous occasions when they were sick, especially this one. I wanted to tell him that I knew something was wrong. But when he looked in both ears and pronounced them fine, symbolically patting me on the head, I could not argue. He looked in his ears after all, and if they were fine, they were fine.

But over the weekend Max developed a bad cough. And by last night he was audibly wheezing. And it felt a little like de ja vu. I knew I had to take him to the real doctor especially before our trip.

It was the craziest, busiest I have ever seen the pediatrician's office. More than once I questioned our being there, especially with all three hooligans. Thank goodness Dan came to take them for a while.

He got them strapped into the van only to discover that it would not start.

He took the kids to Sonic in his car, where they ate and waited for AAA. After a little testing and installing one new battery, the van was ready to go just as Max and I were finishing the marathon appointment.

Inside I had learned that yes, indeed, Max was wheezing. He'll be the lucky recipient of some breathing treatments. It was good I brought him in, she told me.

She wanted to look in his ears. I hadn't mentioned anything about the urgent care or his ears. I had been told they were fine, after all.

But she attempted to look in his ears and found there was too much wax to get a good view so she got our her little digger tool and went to work. Once it was clear, she could easily see that his ears were badly infected.

And that is why I want to write a letter.

Deciding before examining, that a smiling baby couldn't possibly be sick and that a young mother couldn't know what she's talking about is stupid. It's as if he already made up his mind, thought I was silly, and only looked in Max's ears to satisfy me. It didn't matter if he didn't have a clear view because he already knew Max wasn't sick.


And if that's all it takes to be a nurse practitioner, sign me up!

So from now on, I will continue to pack my bag and stroller like a day trip for the zoo and endure our marathon appointments. Or maybe I could just buy my own otoscope and set up shop.

I bet I'd even get less hate mail than that guy.