Day 10- A Prison of My Own Making

Why is it that ideas that seemed so bright and shiny when you conceived them, often turn out more like “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day?”

When I stood at the cut-out window with the sliding plexiglass at the pediatrician’s office, it seemed brilliant to make two appointments in one day.

Not two consecutive appointments, no, no. no. That would mean each boy would have to suffer through not only his visit but his brother’s as well.

I mean, I’m not some amateur.

They were hours apart; plenty of time. Perfect, if you think about it
.
Except, I wasn’t thinking at all. See, the appointments themselves were not back to back but by the time the first one was over, it was almost time to grab the second kid, throw him in the shower and get in the car.
Annual physicals take a really long time. And years off of your life.

They are a total time suck because teenagers don’t cough up any information. The pediatrician, no rookie, just repeats each question with a twist, hoping to elicit better answers. I am left to fumble through the process of glaring at my child while filling in the blanks after every lame response.

You know the glare that says, “There’s a Slurpee in it for you if you just talk. I don’t even care if you fess up that you never eat fish and often make a meal out of Pringles, JUST SPEAK!!”

That look.
We muddled through the routine stuff.

Hearing and vision. Check.

Safety questionnaire. Check.

Immunizations. Ugh.

When they brought in a snack for Drew before his shot, my perfectly timed window between appointments slammed shut.

Drew looked like Gulliver as he shifted uncomfortably on the Lilliputian table and waited for the snack to hit his bloodstream. And then again for 15 minutes after they applied the band aid.
What did my mother do at the doctor’s office with no cell phone? It was the most productive 90-minutes I’ve had in weeks.

Now onto Reed’s appointment, which was pretty mundane. The only problem was he looked at me each time the doctor asked a question which made us look very shady. We didn’t have anything to hide, so I willed him to just answer the questions so we could get out of there.

Did he not get the memo about the Slurpee?

The worst moment of any visit with teens is the talk. Words like testicles, urges and hormones turn me into a caged animal. There has to be an escape hatch here somewhere, right? I can’t even make eye contact with my poor children.

How did I end up with all these boys anyway? And to think I arranged this hell for myself twice in one day. Maybe I should have them check my head while I’m here.

Everyone is declared healthy, which is wonderful news. Both boys are told they have perfect hearing, giving me ammunition for a later date. I had papers for schools, prescriptions, reminder magnet for boosters and pamphlets.

As I checked out, they asked if I wanted to make appointments for next year.

I told them to go ahead but only if they saved me from myself and made them on separate days. No matter how brilliant I made it sound.

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Magnificence in the Mundane

Finding humor in kids and chaos

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Magnificence in the Mundane

Finding humor in kids and chaos

WordPress.com

WordPress.com is the best place for your personal blog or business site.

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