Mr. Pissy Pants Doctor Man.

Yesterday was like "omg" stressful. So stressful that I can only write about it today. My child would not stop crying, the poor thing. A few days ago, as I told you all, he was diagnosed with croup. The doctor saunters into the office where we take my son, and asks me what's wrong, and I describe to him that my child has a fever of 100.3, he sounds like an 80 year old male smoker, and he's coughing like a sea mammal. Aaaaand the doctor looks at me like I'm stupid. Like I should know what's going on. Like I have no business being here or something.

He does THIS:

And says "It's probably just croup."

Uhm......"It's probably just croup?"  I stand there looking at him, having no idea what the hell "croup" is. All I know is that my little kiddo has been crying for 24 hours, and I somehow need to find a way to make him feel better. This boob better tell me how the hell to help my son. So, I ask him what exactly "croup" is, and he gives me another look and explains to me that "it's just a cough that sounds exactly like what he has, and every child gets it this time of year. it's fairly typical....blah blah blah".

Basically, the more he talked, the more annoyed I got (although I'm excellent at hiding it when I want to, I might add), because the son-of-a-bitch was treating me like I was every other Mother out there--"too concerned, paranoid, too worried, etc etc". I mean, can't he have the decency to have some respect, and treat my concern like its important and it's his only focus at the moment, and not seem like he's concentrating on the affair he's probably having the nurse practitioner instead? God.

So, I calmly listened to him with an understanding smile, trying to understand, practically doing one of these:

Okay, Mr. Doctor-Man. Sure thing. Sounds Super-de-duper!

When internally, I really am feeling like this:

I'm faking it, you poop! You really piss me off, Mister! Grrrr!

I seriously can't stand it when they expect me to know what the hell is wrong with my son, when it's quite obvious that I came to them for the answer. And, on that note, dont treat me like why I came to see you is either not a big deal, or a waste of time. You get paid big bucks, pal, to tell me about croup, so at least pretend like you're interested.

And, watch your back, because next time you're so incredibly rude to me, I'll tell my 2 year old son, and he'll come and hunt you down and fight you. Don't think he won't, either. That kid has a mean sucker punch.

And, we all know who will win THAT fight.

Bitch, please.