You know what hell is?  Hell is being in a waiting room with an infant and a toddler.  Heck, anytime I have to wait for any amount of time with my children I feel the hot flames of hades licking my heels as I break out into a sweat.

What we did in the Waiting Room. Cat eye glasses and a paci. Go ahead, get judgey. I dare you.

I had to wait 50 minutes at the Navy Medical Clinic to get Maisy’s shots.  Why?  Did you know Active Duty Military gets preference over any dependents?  In theory, I get it.  I do, but when I’m sitting rocking a stroller while Joe Enlisted enjoys his time off the ship to get his malaria vaccination; all whilst drinking his Monster Energy drink- it makes me angry.  It does.  When Lieutenant Pilot Brown Shoes gets called back before me to get his weekly allergy shot- I get a little mad.  What I wanted to do was walk over and exercise the Vulcan death grip or at the very least disembowel them with my eyes.  I could do none of that at the risk of looking like a crazed, unfit mother.  So instead I softly sung the Thomas the Tank Engine song to my squealing toddler.  And the light at the end of the tunnel… was shots.  So that wasn’t great either.

Luckily (or Blessedly since I’m a reformed kind of girl) Nick just purchased a double stroller for our family.  Great.  Except it’s a tank.  If my previous stroller was a mini cooper- this is a… uh… not great with cars… really big a$$ stroller.  I saw people in uniform practically running through doorways to get out of helping me hold the door open.  I almost ran over several people who were trying to dart around me.  Really?  Really people?  I saw pregnant mothers look at me fearfully as if thinking “What have I done?!”

From door to door our trip to the health clinic took five hours because of an abandoned warehouse, medical records, tunnel traffic, TriCare ineptitude, and rage.  Navy wife, navy life.  Winky face!!

Sweet Maisy Jo after her shots. Smiley and happy.

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