All we can say is: Seriously? Again?

When we got home from the book signing we took Eva's temperature to find it had reached 101.8. We put her to bed with Tylenol and kisses and hoped she feel better in the morning. We found out our babysitter was sick and couldn't take kids on Monday, which caused a slight 5 a.m. panic at first until it all worked out in the end when Eva woke up and was still sick herself. I had taken Friday off for the surgery and couldn't really afford another sub day at school and Travis was working on perhaps the biggest story of his career, so Super Grandma came to the rescue and took care of our little Ernie as closely to the way Mommy would as she could :). When her temperature wouldn't subside we got her an appointment with Dr. Moen for 5:30 p.m. We arrived for our appointment leisurely; I was proud of our punctuality, in fact,as we strolled in at 5:25. That pride was quickly deflated when I checked in to find that I had gone to the wrong office and Dr. Moen was waiting for us, i.e. his last patient, at the East Moline office. Which I had never been to. Awesome. Luckily he told the girls to send us over anyway and we were off. I grabbed the office's address from a business card, put it in my GPS, and spun off. The GPS took me right and then immediately regretted its decision and started to turn me around. I was slightly annoyed. Then we proceeded to go on a 15 minute pointless loop filled with side streets and frustrating circles, leading me always back to the road I started on, and by 5:40 I called (who else?) my mother in a panic. I didn't get any further than, "We are so, so late and I have no idea how to get there ---" before I started sobbing right there on the Avenue of the Cities. My mother's rational attempts to calm me down didn't do much in the way of stopping me from blubbering in fear that I would lose the appointment, waste the doctor's time, and at the worst, get severely embarrassed. She used her phonebook and looked up the other number to call them. I called and, since they were waiting after hours, their phones were already off. So there I was, lost in a city I absolutely never drive to with a cracked out GPS and a crying baby in the backseat.
I called my husband. His stupid news job that I hate with nearly every fiber of my being afforded him the position to say things like, "About now you should be passing a Subway, right?" and "Go through the stoplight and count 2 side streets and then you'll see it." which are the kind of directions my GPS needs to be able to spit out for me. Although I hated to bug him on his big, busy day, there he was: my knight in shining armor taking me where I needed to go.
The staff was very kind to me, which was ridiculous since I was 35 minutes late. Dr. Moen told me to not think twice about it. I assured him I would. Eva got in a fistfight with the nurse trying to take her temperature (101.6) and then took it to a new level with Dr. Moen during her examination. Prognosis? Ear infection in her right ear and a swollen throat, quite possibly strep throat. He said the fever could have been caused by the infections or by her vaccines from her well baby visit. He wrote her a strong prescription of antibotics, got a smile out of her, and sent us on our way. I really love our pediatrician.