When you're sick, how do you act? Do you jump on the couch and giggle with glee? How about beg to swim and then spend hours playing in a tiny pool? Do you continue to carry on like a stark raving lunatic? No? Just Alexis?

Yeah.

So, earlier this week I had to take a field trip for work. Said field trip was going to land me back near work before quitting time, but not more than an hour or two before quitting time. So I found myself looking for excuses to just call it a day and not end up back in the office. I mused that perhaps I would take Alexis to the doctor since she had been suffering from a runny nose for a while. In the end, I let it go when I ended up getting back too late to actually get an appointment.

Then I got to thinking . . . that nose sure had been running for a while. Definitely a week. Actually, definitely two weeks. Come to think of it, when was the last time it was NOT runny? I dunno. A month, maybe? With that thought, I started to pay a little more attention to any signs or symptoms that might tell me that the Toddler was suffering from more than a case of Igotodaycareandswiminnastygermsallday-itis. Lo and behold, she was coughing, too. Not often, maybe once every couple of hours. But, when she did cough, it was gooey. Like, the river that was flowing from her nose clearly originated in her lungs.

At that point, I was 99% in favor of taking her to the doctor, just in case. That 1% hold out was the part of me that was clinging to the "it's just a runny nose" thing. I opted to throw the question out on twitter, and within minutes, a bunch of moms said they would take her.

That was enough for me to pick up the phone.

I'm pretty sure that when I call our pediatrician's office, the triage nurse opens up Alexis' folder, sees that she is an only child, and immediately goes into You Stupid First-Time Moms and Your Overreacting Mode. She heard "runny nose" and "occasional cough" and put me on hold, probably so she could mock my Crazy First-Time Mom ways. When she picked up again, I sensed that we were headed down the path of Just Wait and See, so I started to tell lies. Bold-faced lies. Suddenly, the kid also had a fever, watery eyes, and was extra-fussy. I didn't mention the part where she was at daycare and I hadn't seen her in hours. Or that she totally seemed fine, except for that runny nose and occasional cough.

The whole time I was telling lies, I was wishing that woman worked at the door at Target. I could save thousands of dollars a year if she just stood at the door and made sure my venture inside was warranted.

"I see here that you aren't due for a routine visit for seven more months."

"I know, but it's sort of an emergency."

"What do you need?"

"Razor blades. I really need to shave my legs."

"You're an old married lady with a kid. Nobody cares if you're growing a new National forest on your legs. Admission DENIED. You can call back when it's a real emergency."

Seriously, if Target made it as hard to go drop $100 as the pediatrician's office does, I would have zero debt.

I managed to somehow finagle an appointment for later in the day. An hour and a half into the joy that is a Friday afternoon at a pediatrician's office, I found myself wondering if I could track down that triage nurse and punch her. The kid had a double ear infection and some sort of respiratory/sinus thingy going on. If I hadn't resorted to lying, I'm sure she would still be suffering.

To be honest, after being trapped in a small room for an hour with Alexis, I didn't really think the trip was going to be worth it. But then, as if on cue, Alexis started hacking up a wet lung the very moment the doctor came in the room. I'm sure the doc thought I was AWFUL for letting the kid suffer that long, but seriously, she coughed more in those five minutes than she had in several weeks combined. She actually coughed enough in front of the doctor to warrant a breathing treatment.

I would tell you all about that ten minutes of joy, but I looked at Will Smith's little light and bloop-blooped that from my memory. All that's left is the knowledge that at some point in my life I tried to hold a little mask up to a psychotic hippo's face. I don't think it was fun, but I can't be sure.

So now my Not-at-All-Sick child is taking the happy pink crud in hopes of putting an end to her nose trying to run all the way to Mexico. I just wish she would have told me she was sick.

(And, Alexis, if you're trying to create a "Tough Mystique," you might want to put an end to telling me to kiss the boo-boo on your foot when you accidentally kick a speck of dust. Telling me your ears hurt is GOOD. Keep all pains less significant than an ear infection to yourself, please.)