When you have four preschoolers, you spend a lot of time at the pediatrician's office. With just well baby visits, I am hauling someone to the doctor 8 or 9 times a year. Throw in a few illnesses, and that puts me in the waiting room almost once a month.
So, I see my pedi more than I see most of my relatives. Heck, most of my friends. Which is why it was very important for me to find one who is not just a good doctor with a real degree from a real med school and all that, but is also nice, and funny, with whom I can compare great shoe finds, who has tips on local tailors, and with whom I can pass on the best Flight of the Conchords youtubes. I spent the first year of Shep's life trying different doctors and finally, was blessed to find all that and more in Dr. W. I actually look forward to going to see her. She is way cool. She is cute and single too, and if my husband hadn't stopped me, I would have tried to set her up a couple of times by now.
Due to immunization schedules, she sees the little ones much more than the big ones. (When Ike outgrows her, I hope I don't go Munchausen just so I can say hi.) Today was the annual trek for Shepherd and Eva Rose. I was just there last week for Ingram's 6 month checkup, and two weeks before that for Eva Rose's ear infection. But Shep had not been in a good six months (after being banned from preschool for impetigo - the day after I had rushed Maggie in with a busted frenulum from falling out of her high chair. Then Eva Rose got hives that afternoon. See, it is important to love Dr. Yee).
By the way, at Ingram's appointment, she remarked that he was "the buffest baby" she had ever seen. It's gotta be the truth.
Today fabulous Mimi took us to get fabulous Mexican food, then stayed home with the babies while we headed out on what they thought was to be a great adventure. First the weighing and measuring - on the big scale, not a baby scale, which was a first for Eva Rose. They're huge. Shep is taller than 85% of four year old boys on the planet. Eva Rose is taller than 97% of three year old girls on the planet. I am 5'1, shorter than 97% of grown women on the planet, so it never ceases to amaze me that I have tall kids.
Next they had them put on robes, which was hysterical. Then as the doctor and I were discussing developmental milestones or was it shoes, Dr. Shepherd got to down to business.
Listening to tummies is fun but not nearly as fun as whacking your sister in the knee with no reprove. How did he know that is what the hammer was for? I really should monitor their TV more.
There are times when a mom is really glad she tossed her camera in her purse.
Dr. W giggled when she asked Shep to follow her finger with his eyes, and he did this weird up and down thing with his eyebrows the whole time, so it looked like a cheesy guy trying to pick her up at a bar or something. They were so good, they were so cute and funny. I was so relieved.
After the physical exams, a couple of new experiences for us. Shepherd took his eye exam, which in case you were wondering, consists of having a very squirmy little boy stand 20 feet from an eye chart made up of stars and moons and various other shapes and hoping he will cooperate well enough to determine if he inherited his parents blind-as-a-bat genes. The verdict? We're taking contributions for the LASIK fund. 20/40 already.
The hearing test was next. This consists of putting said squirmy boy into headphones and a booth a la a Miss America contestant, repeatedly opening the door and asking him to please raise his hand if he hears a beep, wondering when he sits motionless if maybe he has a hearing problem and maybe that's why he doesn't obey! what if I have been punishing him and he really has a hearing problem! meanwhile holding a very jealous 97th percentile sibling on your lap trying to convince her that it really is not fun in there and yes, she will get to do it too when she is in PreK. Finally, the verdict: no slack for Shep. His selective hearing is pure disobedience.
While we were in the hallway doing the eye exam, Eva Rose indignantly cried out "Dat wady called me a Cheeto head!" and I had ignored her as I typically do when she spews absurd statements. Well, turns out a nurse had walked by and commented the outfit she had on - described by Dr W as "biker chic" -
and called her a Cheetah Girl, which Eva Rose interpreted Cheeto Head. Of course. We're still debating that one around here.
Fortunately they had not clued in that this fun visit would end with s-h-o-t-s, codeword Immunizations. We went back into the exam room and while one sibling got sent away to pick out stickers, the other was summarily tortured. Eva Rose only needed one but poor Shep got three! I am not sure if it is harder to hold your four month old or your four year old while they cry pitifully. No fun.
But you know what? Dr W said he was done with shots. Doesn't need to come back till he's ten. As in, pre-pubescent.
Wow. It's kind of a rite of passage, growing out of your baby immunizations. My little boy is turning into a big boy. Sniff.
Once when Shep was a baby, I was at Dr W's and there was a mom there with her 13 year old son. He had some kind of, um, male problem. While he was examined she stood in the hallway, looking sad and pensive. I thought maybe it was something serious, but no. "I have to wait out here," she said. "It seems like I was just changing his diapers, and now he's too old for his mom to see him with his pants down. He's still my baby to me...I know you can't imagine that, but it'll be here before you know it." We both got a little teary eyed and I snuggled Shepherd close.
I'm going to appreciate seeing his cute little heinie for a little while longer. And thank goodness I have another baby boy er, bringing up the rear. (Sorry.) Coming up behind?