They say things come in threes, so does this mean we have another doctor's visit awaiting us in the next couple of days? Yesterday it was me: I've been feeling kind of lousy and stuffy for 3 months; not a big deal, really, but I thought I'd just see if we couldn't get a handle on this. After all, it would be nice to breathe again. Turns out I have sinusitis, plus the doctor asked me if my ears were hurting or popping a lot. With all the noise around me, I suppose they pop a lot and maybe hurt some. I don't know. Hasn't really been on my mind. Why? Turns out there's a big fluid build-up in there. Hmmmm....could be why I've been saying "Huh? What did you say?" a lot. I mean a lot. Even Mark has commented on my near-deaf condition.
This morning it was Audrey's turn. She's had a fever for two days. That, coupled with the snotty nose and grumpies, spurred the decision to take her in on a Saturday. Not to mention the fact that Mark leaves on Monday, which would mean that I'd end up having to go in with all four...not fun. Of course Audrey, having received a dose of Motrin prior to the visit is all giggles and smiles when we get there. When the doctor walks in, Audrey flashes her one of her best adorable, charming, princess-like smiles. The doc looks at me skeptically. "She's sick, she really is," I insist as Audrey points at one of the comic frogs on the wall, babbles about something, and laughs. Otherwise I wouldn't be wasting your Saturday or my $20, now would I? Thankfully, she has an ear infection. Yes, I said thankfully because the diagnosis makes the visit and the $20 worth it. Most importantly, it confirms that as a mother I know when something is wrong with my baby. See, Doc? Told ya she was sick!
On the trip back, my mind wanders to our last doctor's trip back in February. It was pouring down rain that day. I had all four kids. Two of them had regular check-ups. I think the rain just threw me off because I made two crucial mistakes that day; well, actually, 3, but one was a mistake I had apparently been making all year. The first mistake I made was that I forgot to review with the kids the Rules and Regulations for Entering a Public Place. Before we go to a store, a restaurant, or someone's house, we always review these rules, you see. Generally, I ask, "Now how are we supposed to act when we are in (place)?" They are not allowed to just say "Good." They must define good, and then I expect them to be the definition of good in said (place). Well, I forgot to do that. They were wild, especially my energetic one (you know who it is)! I'm sure the doctor was about to call DFCS.
And it didn't help when the doctor asked the question that highlighted the mistake I had apparently made from the get-go. "So, Michael, what grade are you in?" Michael gives him a blank stare. Oops! Did I never teach him that he's in Kindergarten this year? Say something! Alex jumps in with, "We don't go to school." Oh no! "We're homeschooled," she quickly adds. That helped, but I needed to say something, so I come up with, "He knows how to read!" And I have a degree in Education, I want to add, but that would just sound odd. The moment passes, although the kids don't settle down at all.
And it gets worse. My third mistake. I promised Michael with all my heart that he would not get a shot at this visit. I forgot...about the finger prick. I tried to reason with Michael and explain all of the very scientific differences between a shot and a finger prick. See? It doesn't even really have a needle. But a needle is a needle, and if it has a needle, it's a shot. He felt betrayed by his own mother. Plus now he had to have a "shot". He screamed. I don't mean a few tears, I mean all out screaming. After the nurse and I finally wrestled him on to the table, the finger prick was over in a matter of seconds. His screaming was not, however. After the paperwork was delivered and I was told the appointment was over, I stayed in the little exam room, screams echoing off the little walls and tried to wait him out a bit. I didn't want to spank him in the doctor's office (they really could sic DFCS on me, you know). He didn't stop, so I finally just sucked it up and walked right out to pay, head hung low and apologizing to everyone in the waiting room who was witness to this fiasco.
Should I change doctors? Well, hopefully, Dr. Onal won't remember us when he sees us again. Either way, though, you better believe that Drama Boy will get a serious talking to before the next appointment! AND he will certainly know what grade he's in!