Doctors = No More Please
Phew! I made it through our medical marathon with nary a tardy on the family chart. In the past 2 weeks, we’ve been to the pediatrician 6 times, the ER twice, and a little visit with my therapist, just for a boost.
I also got a boost in the form of an Immunity Boost at Jamba Juice. When they asked me which type of “free” boost I wanted (I love when they call something free when you just paid $4 for some whipped bananas and pineapple sherbet), I asked myself the same question I always ask when faced with a major decision in life – What would I do if I were on Survivor?
Fiber? Protien? I don’t think so. Immunity please.
Well, they can take their Immunity Boost and gently place it where the wheat grass don’t grow because I’ve been fighting a raging head and chest cold for three days. (I was actually sick when I got the Jamba Juice and sort of hoping it would act as a life restoring elixir so I do not blame Jamba Juice or any of their subsidiaries for the large chunks of phlegm currently lodged in my body cavity.)
You’ve already heard about the ER visits and subsequent checkups so let’s give the HIPAA people a heart attack and divulge the rest of our medical history online.
Magoo’s 9 month checkup went well. He was so crazy, 90th percentile-like, and mobile during the visit that when the doctor left, she said “I’ll see you at his 15-month checkup.” I said, “Don’t you want to see us when he turns one in June?” She said she had completely forgotten that this wasn’t his 1 year checkup.
She recommended a book that she said contains a list of age-appropriate stages for boys, things that are annoying but "normal" because they’re male. It’s called The Wonder of Boys and I scored parenting brownie points by telling her I’d already picked it up at a garage sale for 50 cents but hadn’t gotten around to reading it yet. I think it’s time to start.
My therapist told me it was fine to bring Magoo to my appointment this week. I haven’t been in to see her in months and either he’s changed a lot or she’s recently filled her office with objects of chaos and destruction.
He pretty much ransacked the place, eating dirt from her plants, finding an old balloon to suck on, smacking a small fan on the ground, turning on the fan, unplugging the fan, turning the lights off and on by unplugging them and plugging them back in, drooling on furniture, emptying trashcans, etc. She was very sweet and said it didn’t bother her but that our sessions might be more productive without him. I would be less distracted. Um, yeah.
Today we finally had Laylee’s 3 year checkup. She weighs exactly 30 lbs and is just over 3 feet tall. She appears to like the number 3. She did not like the shot quite so much, so we went for some consolation ice cream.
It was at the beloved DQ where I gathered evidence for why I would be the best person to replace Shannon as the Blogger Who Most Makes You Want To Have Kids should she be unable to fulfill her obligations for any reason.
Laylee was dressed as the Snow White (named in part for her white beard and mustache of ice cream) with bright orange psychedelic-print stretch pants underneath and pink clogs. Magoo was an avacado-encrusted-melon-headed-jail-breakin’ specimen of the “wonder of boyhood”, knocking over ice cream and lunging repeatedly towards Laylee just to see if he could make her cry and drop her cone. I looked like a SAHM cliché, wet hair in a mommy-tail, no makeup and clothes just one step above pajamas (I seriously considered wearing the PJs and claiming The Plague as my excuse).
With all of this going on at our table, the DQ employee still could not get enough of Laylee and Magoo. She even went so far as to say, “MAN! I wanna have a baby so bad.”
Disclaimer: DQ offers no “immunity boosts” of any kind, free or unemancipated.