For my friend, Jennifer, who is expecting her first child. These are the things that they can't tell you in books. I give you HRH's six-year check up.
The initial aspects of the physical are going pretty well; height - check, weight - check, eyes/ears/nose/mouth -check. The pediatrician has HRH stand up, touch his nose, touch his toes, pull down his pants - wha? What was that last thing?? HRH is awash in shyness and confusion while I'm doing the "Doctors, Mommy and Daddy" privacy song and dance.
Eventually, HRH mans up and pulls down his boxers. The doctor gets enough of a glance to note that everything is where it should be. Aaaand now it's time for three immunizations, a blood test and a urine test.
We got him on the first shot with the sneak attack. For the second and third, I'm half-lying across the exam table with his legs in a scissor hold between mine, while pinning his hands against my body, exposing one bicep as he screaches in my left ear.
Next, we're off to the lab for blood work. HRH is still hyperventilating when he realizes we're not headed to the car and starts running. I catch up, grab him, and drag him into the lab. More pinning, more screaming ensues but eventually 0.001 cc of blood is drawn from his index finger. The tech then hands me a sample cup. Like I could ever coerce him into peeing into it. I give her the 'you gotta be kidding me' look and she agrees that perhaps I can take it with us and get a sample later. Better plan.
By the time I'm carrying my 45 pound 'baby' out of the building, he is literally speaking in tongues. I don't know what he was saying but it was not English. The only thing to comfort and quiet him? A special occasion (Strawberries and Cream Frapuccino) drink from Starbucks. That's my boy.
Motherhood: A full-contact sport.
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