Every time we take the boys to the doctor’s office for a check-up, I feel like we have to step up our game. I imagine that the doctor is going to give us some sort of award for being the best parents ever and having it together. When we leave, I want them to think that these parents know exactly what they’re doing.
The reality of the doctor’s office is much different. I leave work and walk over to meet Jeff and the boys at the appointment. My favorite part of this visit is the fact that my husband let Jett pick out one toy to bring with him to his check-up and Jett chose a toy syringe from his doctor’s kit. Hilarious foreshadowing.
Jett, my youngest, usually needs to be wrestled to get his clothes off because heaven forbid we weigh the kid with a onesie on. Down to the diaper! So I lay him on the exam table and he squirms everywhere and rolls himself up in the crinkly paper while I continue to wrestle him. Any other time he would love to be naked, but not now. As soon as the doctor comes in he just starts to cry. It’s as if he already knows that shots are in his future.
Dr. B is super-nice, but Jett is convinced that his hands are made of razors and his eyes are daggers. If Dr. B glances in Jett’s direction, he cries. If he touches Jett to exam him, he wails. No shots have been administered yet. My kid isn’t even sick – it’s just a routine check-up. I should also mention that JJ, my three-year-old, is looking in the trash can, opening drawers, and generally just helping himself to various medical supplies in the room while this is going on. Jeff and I are trying to have a conversation with the doctor while preventing JJ from manhandling the exam room. (side note: When JJ goes for check-ups, it’s like that scene from ‘Elf’ when Buddy eats cotton balls and asks the doctor to explain what everything is.)
Once Jett receives his shots the game is over. We can’t do anything to calm him down. Then I notice that JJ has taken his shoes and socks off for who knows what reason. So now I must have another crinkle paper wrestling match with Jett to put his clothes back on while trying to calm him down. Then I need to put socks and shoes back on JJ but I can’t let go of Jett to do so because he has a death grip on my neck. Jeff and I switch kids and he attempts to calm Jett down while I take care of JJ.
I almost told the receptionist to bill me the co-pay rather than paying it there just so I could make a beeline for the nearest Dunkin Donuts (I have to find an incentive to make it through these things and coffee donuts do the trick). Suddenly Jett stops crying and I realize he has spotted the giant tub of lollipops on the counter. He digs in and grabs a massive handful. At this point, he can put them all in his mouth at once for all I care. He’s been screaming for what feels like several hours. It’s like a switch has been flipped and he no longer remembers why he was upset. Food is his love language.
We make our way to the car and everyone is happy. We start to drive away and another blood-curdling scream comes from Jett. JJ has reached over and grabbed several lollipops out of his hand. As it turns out, the screams for this infraction are way worse than they were for the shots.
My husband surprised me and had a Dunkin Donuts coffee waiting for me in the car (woohoo!). They drop me off at work and the boys go home as I wonder if the doctor will give us an award the next time.