Monday, April 25, 2011

I Need a Doctor

I know this blog is supposed to be about my kids, but today I want to talk about me. ME! Me, me, me! MEEE!!!

My long-time Opthamologist retired recently and I was due for a check-up. So last week I looked for a new one online, and found one in a building I'm fairly familiar with - and it's close to my house. Win! My old Opthamologist was kind of far (and uber-trafficky) away, so this was ideal. Especially since they always give you those eye drops to dilate your pupils, and then driving home is a real...challenge.

So anyway, I made an appointment with the new eye doctor, and arranged a sitter, and even arrived ten minutes early so I could fill out whatever paperwork they needed before the appointment. I love when I'm all responsible and grown-up. It's very satisfying.

When I walked into the ten-story building the first thing I saw was a polite but no-nonsense note taped to an office door: "We don't have a building directory. Please don't ask. Look near the elevator." Right-O. That's fine. Why would I need to ask, when there's a comprehensive building directory right outside the elevator? I think I may have even snorted in contempt at this point. Snorting in contempt is easy to do when you're ten minutes early.

I get to the elevator, and, strangely, the directory is in no kind of order that makes sense to me. Like, it's not alphabetical, which would have been nice. It's ordered by floor, then by suite - you have to look at every listing until you find the one you need. So I did just that - I looked at every listing. No Dr. Weber. I looked again, scanning for Optometrists, Opthamologists. Nothing.


I start to feel self-conscious, because I've been staring at this directory for at least three minutes already. Scanning. Scanning. Now I have only seven extra minutes to complete my paperwork. Okay, this will still work. I must have missed it. I scan again. And again. Now I look like a total fool - I've been standing here for literally five full minutes, staring blankly at the wall. I could ask one of the offices, but no! 'Please dont ask!'

I'm temporarily rescued by two women who approach the elevator, push the button to go up. Great, I figure, it's time to explore the building. Maybe the doctor's not listed on the directory (maybe I'm NOT insane) and I'll find him by stopping at a couple of floors and looking around. Great. Problem solved.

One of the ladies pushes the button for Floor Three. Okay, I think, that's as good a place to start as any. Maybe Dr. Weber is on the third floor. The ladies walk off, and I am left to stare blankly at the third floor doors and hallways, none of which involve Optometry, at least not in the traditional sense.

I get back in the elevator and look at the panel of buttons. This is the point where, I think, I may have made an error in judgment. I wonder at the buttons for a moment before slowly reaching a finger out and pushing 'Six.' That, my friends, was the beginning of the end.

My brain was telling me, "No luck on three. How about six?"

So I tried that.

I got off on the sixth floor and looked around - no Dr. Weber. When I got back into the elevator (with three minutes left to do my paperwork) I realized that I can't go randomly up or down, I need a SYSTEM. I need a PROCESS. I went to three, I went to six, but I didn't go to four or five. So four or five it was. I went to four. I went to five. Then seven. Then I realized I missed Floor Two, so I went there.

What was I thinking, you ask? I kind of remember my brain telling me that every floor is as good of a chance as any, and if I just remember which ones I've tried I'll be golden. But it involved, certainly, a lot of ups and downs.

Floor two, as it turns out, has an Optometry Office! Yays! Wow! It's ah-maze-ing! And I'm right on time - it's exactly 9:00. And I don't even think too much about how Floor Two follows Floor One in, you know, the literal sense. So I had a little adventure. Big deal! We're here now, and that's all that matters.

I approach the desk, smile at the administrative assistant. Can she help me?

She sure can!

"I have an appointment with Dr. Weber."

"Oh, honey," she says, looking confused, "He hasn't been in this building for years!"

True story.

And, I know, the KIDS. The kids are why you're here.

Gage, who is five (and three quarters!) is very eager for our summer to start. We have a camping trip planned in early June (actually, in the spirit of honesty, we'll be staying in a cabin. But with no running water! That's roughing it enough for me). Then the beach later in June. A four-day "Camp" planned with friends in the Poconos, where he can spend all the time he wants getting muddy, tired, and strong.

Lila is almost four and she's excited for her birthday. She has chosen the theme "Fairies Riding on Unicorns" for her party, despite our attempts at steering her toward, you know, one or the other. So, Fairies Riding on Unicorns it will be. And I know I've said it before, but WHERE did this girly-girl come from!?

Josephine is 17 months now and talking like a champ. She will repeat anything you coax her to attempt, and she is brave as all get-out. I have to (literally) pull her off the dining room table multiple times a day, she's such a monkey. She looked in the mirror last week and said "Me." Ever since she has been referring to herself that way, and it blows my mind. I don't remember the other two having that self-awareness at this age. Yesterday she said "Me. Ate." I looked at her, confused, and repeated "Ate?" She kind of sighed, then opened her mouth wide and pointed inside. "Oh, you're hungry!" Bingo.

The highlight of our month, sadly, has been a major Spring Cleaning, but it feels good to be starting fresh.

Pics to follow - must upload.