The Well Visits

Oh, doctor visits, how I loathe thee. Seriously. Loathe. I know. I know. Doctors are good. They are there to keep us healthy. Blah. Blah. I get it. I got your healthy. Still, I strongly dislike a doctors' office. This is probably just me, but there's something ominous about a place that has scales to tell me how fat I am, needles that suck blood, and slides and tubes to runs tests. I have a hard time with the fact that those tests could go one of two ways, and one of those ways isn't good.

Regardless, when it's time to take my kids to see their pediatrician, we go. Since I'm somewhat of an obsessive compulsive hypochondriac, sometimes we go when we don't really need to go. I'm not gonna let anything slide when it comes to my babies. Not surprisingly, when visiting the doctor day is upon us, I should take a valium (okay, several of them) to get inside. My problem is that the friendly little pills impede my ability to function at the gym (or be on top of the mommy business), so I go forth without them, and I just suffer through the nervous ticks and sweaty palms that accompany my anxiety of visiting the doctor.

So, yesterday afternoon was set aside for my Ella and Summit's annual well visits at Palmetto Pediatrics. Since Matt had some work business to tend to, my mother took a half day from teaching second graders (happily, I might add) to help me out with the double check-up. This was mainly for Summit, as the 4-year appointment isn't an easy road to hoe alone. He had an eye exam, hearing test, and 4 wonderful booster shots to endure, 2 in each arm. Thank goodness Babi was there to help hold him down, because after the first 2, he was like a caged tiger, writhing and kicking and yelling howling screeching. I am almost certain that some people left the office because of his screams of bloody murder. And on our way out, you could see the fear in the eyes of the children whose parents made them remain in the evil doctors' office. They knew their fates, and they were deathly afraid of what was to come. Ohhh, that was fun. And I remembered Ella's 4-year check-up like it was yesterday. She was way worse than her brother could have ever dreamt of being.

Needless to say, the girl's visit was far easier than the boy's on this occasion. It was a little embarrassing when she told the doctor she doesn't brush her teeth every day. Seriously, Ella? First of all, that's gross. You should know better by now. And second of all, if you don't brush your teeth every day, don't admit it to people. Other than that, everything went alright with my sweet, albeit stinky-breathed, little lady. Well, unless you count the part where she peed on my hand when I was trying to help her leave a sample in the cup. That was pretty nasty. Ah, the firsts of growing up. From first steps to first time peeing in a cup.

With the go ahead to leave, we peaced out of that pediatricians' parking lot as quickly as we could. Traumatized from the immunizations, Summit promised, "I am never going back to see that doctor ever again!" (Ha! If he only knew.) We stopped at Rush's for rootbeer floats to reward the kids for enduring the torment of being poked and prodded. Wait, is that healthy? Whatever. It got Summit to quit that awful, painful crying. And truly, I couldn't be more happy to know that my babies are developing well. I couldn't be more thankful and relieved for their good health.