If Any Of You Mention Oils, I Will Punch You In The Face
Taking your child to the pediatrician’s office is the worst. When you walk through the door and turn toward the Sick Side of the waiting room you can almost feel the germs descend onto your scalp and lay eggs in your eyebrows. Your child is of course oblivious to this. She wriggles away from your iron death grip and traipses across the lobby, stopping to lick the handles of the chairs and laying down and humping the industrial carpet with her little diapered bum.
As the receptionist hands you The Pen, you know the one, the one that’s been touched by boogery hands filled with moist flu virus, you frantically dig through your purse looking for your own pen, because your own boogers are way cleaner than everybody else’s.
Defeated, you gingerly grasp the waiting room pen and sign in, eyeballing the hand sanitizer nearby. If your peds office is anything like mine, the hand sanitizer dispenser squirts right at eye level, so you’re basically maced every time you try to practice hygiene.
Blinking back tears, you find your child trying to shove all the toy blocks in her mouth and fight back a dry heave. You surreptitiously attempt to swab out her mouth with the leftover hand sanitizer still globbing onto your eyelashes.
They call her name, and you grab her hand as she wipes her own green boogers across the play mat and stands up. Paying it forward.
They take you into the little room for the weigh in and she licks the scale for good measure. As you turn to talk with the nurse about her blood pressure, you feel yours rising as you see your daughter wipe the floor then stick her finger in her own eye.
Into the room, you help her sit on the examining table wrapped in crackly paper and she begins ripping the edges and unrolling the rest. You check your phone, then realize your phone is now covered in rotavirus, hepatitis C, and ebola. You grab more hand sanitizer to wipe off your phone and get another shot in the eye.
The doctor does the obligatory courtesy knock before opening the door to reveal your daughter hanging off the edge of the table while you wipe sanitizer out of your eye and your mascara trails down your cheek. You pull yourself together and save your child just before she cannonballs off the table. You are a great parent. You are rocking this. The doctor will not be reporting you to DFACs.
The doctor confirms that your daughter has a virus, a double ear infection, and pinkeye, and your own eyes begin to itch uncontrollably. As soon as she leaves, you pump more sanitizer into your eye for good measure, grab your prescription, and pull your daughter off the table.
She licks the door frame for good measure.
At checkout while you sign the credit card slip, your daughter sucks on the counter, touches her eye, and wipes your face. You schedule a follow up appointment for two weeks from today, knowing good and well you’ll be back here later this week.
They hand her a sticker, which she drops on the floor, steps on, picks up, and puts directly into her mouth.
Super.
You take her for chicken nuggets on the way home and as she shoves a nugget into her mouth, licking her greasy fingers, you realize you forgot to wash her hands. Three days later, you’re back at the doctor with a brand new virus. Well played, peds office. Well played.
(If any of you mention oils, I will punch you in the face.)
(Also, I just ordered some, so you win.)
Written by Melanie Dale. Read more about her first week using essential oils: Oils Can Save Us From The Zombie Apocalypse.