Before I forget. . .

I need to write down Katie's very dramatic trip to the doctor for her dreaded "Kindergarten shots".  She has been worried about getting these shots for an entire year.  She would often tell me that she wasn't going to go to Kindergarten if she had to get shots--she'd just stay at Miss Heidi's (her preschool) forever.  I calmed her by saying that she could talk to the doctor about if she needed the shots and see what he said.  The morning of her appointment, Brad happened to mention to her at breakfast that she needed to drink a lot so that she could pee in a cup. . . ."PEE in a CUP!!" she screamed.  It was all over.  She did NOT want to pee in a cup.  Finally, I got her to get in the car by taking the training potty with us so that she could sit and pee in that and then I'd dump it into the cup.  I was very pleased with myself for that brilliant idea. 

So, here I come into the doctor's office with my three young ones and my training potty in hand.  Things went very well in the peeing department, and now, on to the vitals.  Blood pressure, temperature, and when it came time for the finger prick, the nurse started talking about her magic wand.  "Are you going to poke me with that?" Katie asked the nurse.  Oh no, she assured her, this is just my magic wand. . . . then, JAB.  That was it.  Katie was undone.  She could hardly believe that the nurse kept squeezing and scooping up blood from her thumb when she was clearly in pain.  This was a bad place. 

After that, she wouldn't let the doctor near her.  He tried to merely listen to her heart with me holding her in my lap, but she screamed and hit him away.  Nothing, no bribes or promises from me, would calm her.  I gave up on the physical exam and said let's just do the shots.  Turns out she needed 5 separate shots.  Two nurses came in to help and I try to pull down her jeans in between kicks and hits and scratches.  As a nurse and I are carrying her to the table and I'm getting her jeans down, poor, bewildered Katie screams out, "Mom, that's embarrassing!"  We are holding her down on the table and I feel like a traitor to my child.  While thrashing, she yells, "I have to pee!", which she actually often does when she's really crazy and upset.  I didn't want her to have to wet herself, so, I tell them I'd better take her.  Again, things go well in the peeing department, but as we are leaving the restroom, Katie sees her opportunity and bolts.  In nothing but her shirt and underwear, she runs in total panic through the halls and the waiting rooms and the front office.  The other children and parents are looking at us with big eyes and open mouths and I can't help but start laughing because of how ridiculous we look. 

I lost Katie for a second and when I find her she is in the arms of a very compassionate looking nurse, pouring her heart out.  "They want to give me shots. . .hiccup, hiccup. .  .but they already poked me."  Then Kate sees me coming and tells the nurse very pointedly, "I want to go home. . .TO MY DAD!"  The nurse is nodding and consoling her but then starts walking toward the exam room while explaining to Katie that she needs to get the shots.  Kate looks at her in horror and gasps, "You're MEAN!"  Then she starts flailing and hitting the nurse with all she's got.  So, now four of us (three nurses and I) are holding Katie down for the shots.  She is in what seems like a torture chamber and is screaming bloody murder.  This is a girl with lungs.  I feel terrible.  All Katie understands is that it hurts and she is being forced.  Annie and then Caleb are laughing, if you can believe it, because it's all so over the top. 

When we're done, Katie alternates between telling me I'm the meanest mom in the world and wrapping her arms around my neck and clinging to me while sobbing.  We went and got some ice cream at the BYU Creamery and that seemed to soften the blow.  It was quite enjoyable actually, sitting on the grass and relishing my cute, happy kids, licking up their melting ice cream.                

Spring Birthdays

Caleb asked if he could be Batman for his b-day picture.  Hence, the jumping off the stool.  Annie had a friend party and seriously I was busy trying to manage 8 seven-year-olds (most of whom were boys)and Brad was not there to help me.  I'm wimpy.