Yesterday I took Number 4 and Number 7 to the doctor for their yearly checkups.
It was not fun.
Number 7, who just turned one year old, is at that stage where she does not want to be held. She also has a bit of a temper.
And Number 4 is… Well… She’s Number 4.
We were in the office for an hour and a half. It’s not easy to hold a child who does not want to be held for 5 minutes. It’s really not easy to do it for 90 minutes. Especially when needles are involved. And it’s even harder when you are trying to do that with a 6-year-old who can barely control herself in the room with you.
At least the nurse was nice enough to prick Number 7’s finger and squeeze 10 gallons of blood out of it at the very beginning of the appointment.
I mean, waiting until the end wouldn’t have made any sense at all.
They do some sort of fancy eye test now. A nurse comes in with what looks like a Lite-Brite in a box, turns off the light, and your child is supposed to look directly at it for about 30 seconds.
30 seconds in one-year-old time is like 7 hours in adult time.
It’s a good thing they pricked Number 7’s finger right before she was required to sit still and stare directly at a box for an extended period of time.
So they basically tested the vision in her right ear. And she failed her vision test.
Shocker.
Now I have to take her to an eye doctor. Awesome.
The nurses finished up all their anger-inducing tests, and then one of them handed Number 4 a size XXXXXXXXXL paper gown.
“Take off all your clothes except for your underpants and put this on,” said the nurse.
Number 4 just looked at me.
I think you probably know where this is going.
I just looked at the floor. “You’re not wearing any underpants, are you.”
“No.”
“Just leave your pants on,” I told her. All remaining energy was quickly draining from my body.
We had a good 25 minutes in that room after the nurses left.
Number 7, in several fits of rage, kept ripping the band-aid off of the finger that had been pricked.
Each time she managed to remove it, I would wait to see if we could do without the band-aid, but that finger was like Old Faithful.
By the time the physician’s assistant finally came in to check out the girls, we had gone through 2 nurses, 4 band-aids, 5 lollipops, 4 tongue depressors, 3 pamphlets on bedwetting, every single picture, video, and app on my phone, and about 47 feet of that white paper on the table.
I had given Number 6 a pen to draw on the paper on the table while we were waiting.
So when the PA entered the room, Number 4’s paper gown was basically shredded, she had black pen all over the side of her face, and there was so much blood in the room it looked like the Sopranos had just put out a hit on somebody.
There was literally blood on the walls.
Then the PA started with her questions.
“Number 4, your’e still in a car seat, right?”
Number 4 looked at me and then back at the doctor. “NO-OOOOH! Duh! I’m in a booster seat. Car seats are for BABIES!”
The PA looked at me. “She’s supposed to be in a car seat until she’s 7.”
Number 4 is in the 97 percentile for height. She’s like 12 feet tall.
If I strapped her into a car seat, she’d look like Shaq.
In a go kart.
The doctor continued her line of questioning. “Do you eat a lot of foods? Do you eat meat?”
What the hell? Did she look malnourished?
“No. I don’t like meat. When I eat chicken I gag.
And then I throw up.”
Great.
“How about school? Do you have any problems in school?”
Number 4, save yourself and plead the 5th.
Doctor Feelgood moved onto Number 7.
“Have you taken Number 7 to the dentist yet?”
Um, she’s only 1. Are you kidding me?
“No?” I said. I was starting to sweat.
“Do you brush her teeth every night?”
“No?
I mean yes???
I don’t know!
Okay. Yes. I confess!!! It was me!!! I DID IT!!!
PLEASE, JUST MAKE THE QUESTIONS STOP!!!”
Number 7 was not the only one who had to deal with a prick yesterday.
The next checkup I go to, I’m bringing a lawyer with me…
Check out and “like” the not-your-average-mom.com facebook page!
I completely feel your pain. I took my two-year twins for their two year check-up a few weeks ago. They hated being naked, screamed to get weighed and measured, and bled all over the floor when their fingers were pricked. They screamed even more when they got their shots. At the end of the visit the nurse gives them a pretzel and sticker. Forget the pretzel and sticker…give the me a stiff drink on the way out the door!
I think I should have a drink before I go to the appt…
Thank you. I have been having a rough day after an even rougher night and I laughed and then snorted and then due to a chest cold I began choking while laughing and then make up covered tears started rolling down my face . But my day has been considerably brightened. You and your kids are all so charming and bright and I love reading your stories about them. Thank you for sharing the good, the bad and the ugly of parenting so many kids. You inspire me often.
All my best
Just reading this now – we had the “Oh, what are you kidding me? You have no underwear on?!” incident. The doctor tried to use it as a teachable moment for my then 7 year old boy as to why we should wear underwear. “Especially boys”, she said, “so you don’t hurt yourself on your zipper”. “Well, he only wears pull on pants, so that probably won’t scare him” I told her. (At 11, he STILL only wears pull on pants except on concert nights & holidays (maybe). Our doctor doesn’t even ask about car seats, which I actually think they should, but until 7 is ridiculous! And dentist by 1 – please! Oh – and that stupid eye test (TORTURE for parents!), I don’t even think our doctors do it anymore. Honestly, I think it is an insurance rip-off! I have two pediatrician visits coming up. Wish me well!
Awesome. You nailed it with “I’m starting to sweat”.