"Raising a kid is part joy and part guerrilla warfare."
~Ed Asner

Saturday, August 29, 2009

Would you like a helmet to go with that football under your arm...

Oh, Wait...That's not a football. That's my daughter tucked under my arm, her body flailing, her screaming vocals protesting leaving the germ infested toys at the doctors office that are so much better than the toys at home she doesn't play with. Let me back up. The kids had their checkup on Monday. Izzy went first and she did great. Aside from eczema, she's healthy and she didn't have to have shots which was awesome. When she wasn't being examined by the doctor her focus was to get out of that room. I brought back up with me a.ka. Julie. She was a huge help. Noah didn't like his examination so much. He is a strong little man. He had to have four shots and I felt so bad for him. The babies handle their shots in different ways. Izzy sobs and is really sad, and Noah screams and has a pissed up off look on his face like, "Mom, this nurse just shot me up, what are you going to do about it!" They both give the nurses dirty looks, but the nurses to do such a great job. They're fast and so nice.

While I was waiting to check out, Julie took Izzy out to the waiting room to play with the toys. When it was time to go, Izzy wasn't ready. Let me just say, I'm not one of those parents who gets embarrassed when their child throws a temper tantrum or acts up in public. First I talked to her nicely, then I took the you have lots of toys to play with at home approach, and I even offered a treat if she ate her lunch well. When all of that was met with a defiant "NO!" I knew I was going to have to help her leave. I scooped her up, tucked her under my arm, and walked out of the office to the car, all the while taking care not to get whacked in the face with a leg or arm.

Maybe I will take that helmet.

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