Further Proof That I've Lost My Mind

So there I was in the pediatrician's office. All three boys. Sanity lost, I tell ya.

First, we had to wait in the waiting room for an hour. In all my history of pediatricians (this move makes a 5th doctor for 8 year old A) I always have to wait an hour in the waiting room. I'm not clear why this is true, but it is. It seems to me that an office manager would be able to book appointments so that they didn't consistently overlap. She could also probably leave a few openings for those sick kids needing an appointment right now. But, hey, I am not an office manager and I have zero experience with doctors' offices. Working in them, anyway.

Back to the waiting part. It was brilliant. I'm polishing my fingernails on my chest right now just remembering how prepared I was for this part. I had GameBoys and I-pods for the first part of the waiting since I knew I would be signing away any chances at a lawsuit and copying my phone number 33 times.

I brought a deck of cards for when I was finished with all the paperwork. We played a few rounds of Go Fish! while waiting. I tell ya the whole waiting room was in on the Go Fish! action. I guess I'd never realized how many adults had never played the fun kids' game.

In the middle of round three of the card playing they called us in the back. Now, I was preparing myself for the quick height/weight/blood pressure thing followed by another half an hour wait in the 4x4 cell. I was pleasantly surprised! The doctor spoke to me in his office while the boys were taken one by one into a 4x4 cell for the assessments. Then we moved to the exam. And the doctor was great.

In the past I've been told to bring all three boys at once, but the doctors couldn't always swing it. Many of them could not carry on a conversation with me while the boys did what it is that three boys do together after an hour of waiting room boredom...touch each other... poke, stick, punch, pinch, gouge, tousle, flick, slap, hit, rub, tap...

Anyway, this doctor could do it! He even could talk to me and answer their questions... What's this? What do you use this for? Can I have this? Do you like Spiderman or Superman?

So, we're outta here, right? Sure. D just needs a shot and all three will need lab work- the peeinacup and some blood drawn. (I had assured them that this was a "meet the doc" visit and I thought they were all up to date on shots. In SC they were.) 8(

Alright, then. D gets his shot and that was cool. Cooler than anticipated. Go, Nurse!

We move on to the Peeinacup. Now, A had already taken care of this. While in the waiting room he had to use the washroom, so a nurse took him back and got his sample. Done.

A waits in the hallway while I take two cups and D and S into the bathroom. Deep breath. There are no labels, pens, tape, markers. Just two cups and two lids. Okay. I can handle this.

D pees everywhere. Cup, shorts, toilet, floor, leg, shoes.

Being the prepared mother I am I actually have another pair of his shorts in my bag. I back out the door (I didn't have it shut all the way since A was in the hallway) and ask A to hand me the spare shorts.

He spies the cup in my hand and says, "Hey, Mom. It feels hot like when you bring Dad a cup of coffee, doesn't it?" Yeah, right, give me the shorts.

I give D the fresh shorts, but he can't move since he is in a, well, it isn't actually a puddle of pee, but you know what I mean. I reach for paper towels. None. Fancy hand blowers. I guess people put paper towels in the toilet and we just can't have that anymore. I venture out into the hall for help, with my two cups of unlabeled pee. I'm repeating to myself, "S in the left, D in the right."

The children are now miles behind me stuck in a pee mess discussing why pee is as hot as coffee while I traipse around with two cups of pee unable to find anyone to help me. Just peachy. My hair is all over the place, I have sweat on my upper lip, my left eye won't open all the way and my shirt has ridden up in the back. S in the left, D in the right.

Finally. Some help. She takes paper towels and starts the cleanup. D gets changed and we make our way to the lab. S in the left, D in the right.

The boys plop down while I stand holding our lab offering. S in the left, D in the right. The lab lady comes around and gets the stuff ready for sticking the boys. Can I put these down? Sure. S in the left, D in the right. Phew. I feel my blood pressure ease a bit. My left eye opens. I straighten my shirt.

The calm before the storm...

A has his finger stuck and then the little tube of blood filled. Not a huge deal. He does beautifully, for which I am thankful because that isn't always his style.

The other two, however, quickly decide that this is the scariest thing they've ever seen and begin to protest (loudly) and run for cover.

I'm pulling them from under the chairs, rubbing their backs, pushing them closer to the lab chair, lying profusely/encouraging them (it only takes a moment, you'll be okay, it only hurts a little bit, you'll live...) to no avail. I eventually wind up doing my best to restrain them while the lab lady does what it is she does.

The screaming and gnashing of teeth continues. The howling and crying carries on. D moans, "Why do they need all this bloooooooood for one little testtttttttttttt?" People stop and stare. The lady who helped D fan out his cards in the waiting room stops by to console him. Children stop to show their own "war scars" and I begin to wonder how much ice cream is actually in a container of Haagan Daaz.

Okay. We're done. Bedazzled in band aids we leave.

The doctor's office called. They didn't get enough blood from D.