So, 4 is great and birthdays are fab, but there's the dark side, too - the annual doctor visit. And 4 is a doozy. Can you say 4 shots? All i can blame is sleep deprivation for the mistakes I made.
At Andrew's 9 month check up, he had his first (regular) flu shot, which needs a booster. Doc said just get it at the 12 month visit. But, he's healthy right now, we were headed to the doctor, so why not get the booster, too? And since I was taking both of them, why not give the nanny the morning off?
Mistake #1: visiting doctor alone with both kids
Mistake #2: 2 co-pays
So, we get there, get all checked in and sorted out who is getting what, and settle into the room. And that's when it hits me. How am I going to handle two kids crying from shots? How can I comfort one while the other has their shots? Yikes.
Elizabeth's visit is fine. Perfectly healthy, 50% for weight and height. Then, the doctor hits me with a new procedure. OK, go down to the bathroom and have her pee in this cup.
pee in a cup? Wha-?First off, this is a girl with extreme bladder control who gets angry if forced to 'try' when she doesn't have to go. Gulp. Luckily, we can leave my bag in the room, but not Andrew. So off Elizabeth, Andrew, and I go to the bathroom. Also luckily, the doctor has explained to Elizabeth what she needs, so with this outside request, I am feeling more optimistic. So I ask her on our walk if she will go. She replies, well, I don't have to pee, but I do have to poop. Double gulp.
Into the bathroom the three of us go. Let me also explain that Andrew is one busy baby who cannot be contained. He has reached cruising altitude and is ON THE MOVE. Constantly.
Mistake #3: not asking if there was anyway anyone could watch Andrew during this procedure.
I figure it's a doctor's bathroom, and we're one of the first morning appointments. How bad can it be? So I let Andrew loose to cruise around the walls and crouch down in front of Elizabeth with the pee cup. I explain what we're going to do, keeping one eye on Andrew, and shove the cup under her. Miraculously, she pees right away - all over my hand - but I maneuver the cup enough to catch some of it. All this activity interests Andrew and he drops from the wall to crawl over and check it out, stands back up holding onto the toilet and cruises around trying to get in on the action.
I pull the cup out, whirl around to the sink, put down a paper towel, put the cup on the towel, turn on water, rinse my hand, and whirl back around to wipe and flush all in 10 seconds. And then grab Elizabeth, get her to wash her hands, put lid on cup, wash off cup, and wash my hands, all in 20 seconds, only to turn around and find Andrew happily splashing in the toilet. So I grab him, and wash off his hands. Whew.
We march back to the waiting room. And in comes the nurse. One shot for Andrew, 4 shots for Elizabeth, and we decide on the flu mist for her, too, to avoid another shot. We decide we'll give Andrew his shot, then the nasal mist, then the 4 shots. OK. Elizabeth watches Andrew get his shot, and when he starts to cry, she crawls under the exam table whimpering. I comfort Andrew, put him down, haul her out, hold her on my lap, and she gets the mist and starts crying. And Andrew starts crying, holding onto my leg. Nurse says she needs me to sit on exam table holding Elizabeth for the shots, and at my look grabs Andrew and sits him down on the floor. And he starts to cry. Nurse instructs me to hold on tight - TIGHT - to Elizabeth's upper body, then shoves E's feet between her own legs, and Elizabeth loses it at being so pinned down. And bam bam bam bam, with screams of pain, outrage, and fear growing each time. Nurse lets go, says, sorry, and walks out.
So I scoop up the two of them and collapse onto the chair and the three of us have a good sniffle. Andrew and I recover quickly, but Elizabeth cannot be comforted. I set her down, and she just holds onto her thighs, crying harder and harder. I gather the stuff, and usher everyone out. Elizabeth locks her knees together, still holding her thighs, and walks with a shuffle, still crying. And won't go up or down any steps.
Luckily, I remember there is a small store in the building and I desperately promise a treat. Which helps. A little. Sadly, the store does not offer whiskey shooters, and even if it did I still ahve to drive home.
