A doctor's visit causes pain for this momWhat makes a mom think they can be efficient with more than one child in tow? I know I cannot be the only one!
Just last week I took both my children -- my 4-year-old daughter and 17-month-old son -- to the pediatrician for their regular check ups. Having suffered a nagging sore throat for more than two weeks before that, I thought "Why not get checked out while you're aalready at the doctor's office?" and scheduled an appointment for myself.
The morning started smoothly enough with very little traffic and plentiful parking spaces at Kaiser. My children were patient on the elevator ride to the third floor and even as I wandered from one end of the corridor to the other trying to figure out which adult medicine clinic I was supposed to report to. Holding my son on my lap while the physician flashed a light at my tonsils and took a throat culture seemed a piece of cake at the time. Little did I know what was brewing.
The trouble all started when my daughter began to repeat "Mommy, I want a snack" like a ritualistic chant while I attempted to describe my symptoms to the patient doctor. Afterward, when I tried to put my son back in his stroller, he screamed and carried on in the way that is only embarrassing to a child's mother.
Soon we were in the elevator again and on our way to the first floor cafeteria where the pickings were slim thanks to a holiday weekend. I snatched up donuts, the last two bottles of strawberry milk, and sang songs to the little ones while they ate their snack and flirted with passerbys. I made myself an ice coffee and thought, "Now, this isn't so bad."
Less than 30 minutes later we were back on the elevator, this time headed to the second floor pediatrics department. We registered without incident and the children played quietly while I filled out their paperwork.
But when the medical assistant called our names, my son melted down again and my daughter shifted from the social butterfly she normally is into a scared little girl. It took some effort to get them both weighed, measured and undressed. All the while I promised my daughter a sticker if she was a good girl while I kissed my little guy on the top of the head in hopes love would somehow quash his toddler tendencies to wreck havoc.
The exam room -- decorated in a tropical fish theme -- was a hit. For about five minutes. My son got bored climbing in and out of his stroller and graduated to using a chair to make his way atop of the exam table. Suddenly, my daughter declared she had to "go potty."
Imagine me, navigating two near-naked children through narrow corridors to a bathroom from which my son kept trying to escape. After several minutes of trying, my daughter decided she did not have to go after all and back we paraded to the tiny exam room.
Thank goodness, Dr. Fitzpatrick showed up when he did because leftover strawberry milk and donut remnants were no longer keeping the troops at bay. Pleasantries were cut short (for obvious reasons) and it was down to the business of checking out the kids. My daughter shifted back to scared little girl, my son grabbed the doctor's pen and promptly started scribbling on himself.
As quickly as I could, I ticked off my list of questions for the pediatrician while he peered into my children's eyes, ears and mouths. He listened to hearts and lungs as well as my long-winded, parental concerns while my son and daughter fought over whether or not to open the exam room door.
The doctor succeeded in placating the children and reassuring me that everything about my them was normal in a way that was almost comical.
"I can see Berkeley's fine motor skills are right on target," referring to my son's little legs covered in scribbles. "No problem with gross motor development" as my son again climbed onto the exam table and my daughter showed off one of her dance moves. "They're both coming along fine in the talking department" added over the shouts of "no! no! no!" at the door.
We talked about shots and decided Barcelona was current for another year and Berkeley's would wait until another day when I could bring him in alone. "A wise decision," I told my husband later. As was the one I made on our final elevator ride that day -- to never take them both for their checkups at the same time again.
So much for efficiently, a mom must keep her sanity!
Mommy Time Column ~ July 2005
