Checkups

Remind me the next time that I have to take all three kids in for their checkups to have the pediatrician slip me a script for some Valium.

Two fun-filled afternoons spent at the Peds office. Because they won't see them all in one visit. Like I have 10 kids or something. Really? They don't have an extra 30 seconds to throw Tate up on the scale? Here's an idea: I will trade them 10 minutes of my wait time in the tiny room of nothingness, for them to lift look into Tate's ears, nose, & throat.

I really like their doctor though, so it's all good.

I think this was the first visit in 4 years that I remembered beforehand that they would request a urine sample. Every other time I have dutifully made them potty before we left the house. So as they stand there hovering over the little plastic cup...we get nothin'. Zip. Zilch. Not even a drop. But this time we were prepared. Reese even said, "Mommy, this will be one time that you don't make us potty before we leave the house!". In toodled my very well hydrated little girls ready to pee their hearts out.

Once we got past the giggling, that is. All 4 of us crammed into the tiny bathroom and the giggling began. Somehow they were still able to do the deed. Tate was fascinated with the whole experience. Needless to say, it was much easier when his turn came around the next day. An expert aimer, that boy.

Drue is by far my best shot taker. Well, better than Reese anyway, who flailed about and hollered for her Kindergarten shots. I had already prepared Drue that she would be getting some shots. And that they would hurt at first, but would be over in a flash. Reese kept reinforcing that fact that Drue would be getting a shot, but not her. I couldn't remember if there was one I was forgetting about for Reese so I tried to prepare her as well, just in case.

She didn't end up needing any, so I plopped Drue up on the table. The nurse said nonchalantly, "Ok, first I'm going to prick your finger....".

Oops. Totally forgot about that test. Hadn't prepared her or me. Huge tears spilled down her cheek and I couldn't do anything to stop it. The nurse just kept squeezing out more blood. I thought I was over crying when my kids got shots. Not so. If they are crying, I'll be crying...or at least tearing up.

It was fun to see how much the girls have grown. Drue continues to be 100% for height. Reese was 75%. Which she thought meant she wasn't as good as Drue.

I herded them all out, turned in my forms at the check out desk, retrieved some oversized stickers for the girls and we went on our merry way. We got into the elevator to go back down and Drue was still teary eyed so I was trying to console her some more. Reese pressed the button and as the doors closed, I happened to look up and catch a glimpse of Tate, on the other side of the doors! Of course I panicked. In our elevator at work there is an "open" button that will simply open the door back up instantly. My hands flew over the button choices but I didn't see that option there. I quickly pushed "2" because we were on the 2nd floor and the door slowly creaked back open to reveal my sweet little boy, whom I gently grabbed and pulled to safety.

When we finally made it home, there was a message on our answering machine. It was the pediatrician's office calling...reminding us of Tate's appt the next day. I laughed at the time the call came through. We had been sitting right in their lobby when they called.

Tate's visit went much more smoothly. I was relieved to find out he wasn't as skinny as we thought. I had to fill out his little milestone sheet, which involved me having to ask him to jump on one foot, or tell me which line was longer, etc. After he answered each question he would say, "Yes! I'm good at this!". One of the questions was, "What do you do if you are hungry?". He said, "Ask Mommy, may I please have something to eat?".

He got his 2nd chicken pox shot. And he did great! He kind of whimpered, but that was really it. The entire way home he kept saying, "Mommy, I didn't even know it wasn't going to hurt. Mommy, I didn't even know I wasn't going to cry." He was so proud of himself. As we walked in the door, he promptly stepped on a sewing needle in the carpet. Irony stinks. He wailed.