Diary of a Twins Doctor Appointment.
Having twins is lots of fun (okay, not really, but I wanted to start on a positive note) –except when you have to take them both to the pediatrician. And even more especially when you’re trying to avoid Swine Flu like the plague (so to speak). About the last place you want to be is ground zero –and by that I don’t mean Mexico, I mean the inside of any health care facility. Today was a “well baby” check up. I put “well baby” in quotes because rarely, if ever, are both babies well at the same time and today was no exception. Both of them have a mild cold but I couldn’t let that stop me from taking them in or they’d never go. When you have three kids, one of whom is in preschool, there is pretty much zero chance of all family members being healthy at the same time ever. I see my pediatrician more than I see my husband. Luckily he’s a really great guy who knows how to work slacks and a tie like nobody’s business. But I digress (I blame the sleep deprivation). Today’s appointment was for 11:30 which for 17-month olds is not exactly the golden hour. They nap at approximately 12:30 give or take four hours so I knew they’d be cranky by the end.
11:10 – I load the babies into the car and manage to remember to grab an extra diaper for each and some Pediasure for only one. A sad straw cup of apple juice/water is left behind on the kitchen counter. It will be sorely missed.
11:20 – I begin unloading my precious cargo in the pediatrician’s parking lot.
11:40 – I struggle my way into the door of the actual office, sweat trickling down my brow, having repeatedly dropped and retrieved approximately forty-five items on the way in- including but not limited to the babies’ up-until-now clean taggy blankets.
11:55 – we’re called into the office where I must strip both babies for the weigh-in. As I’ve mentioned, I always get nervous for Sadie’s weight results and today she manages to lose an ounce from her last weight check with her nutritionist. But hey, different scales right? Mattie, on the other hand, is only five pounds from needing to use the adult scale. She’s more like livestock than a baby –a fact that seems to make everyone involved very cheery.
12:10 – The doctor comes in to chat. All is fine for a few moments until Sadie squirms out of my arms and insists on crawling around on the floor of the doctor’s office which I’m sure would test positive for about fourteen different strains of influenza including Swine Flu in a heartbeat. I chase her around while simultaneously trying to make Matilda keep her diaper on. This goes on for what seems like an hour.
12:15 – It is pronounced that Sadie needs speech therapy. This I know. The doctor also tells me I shouldn’t worry about her because she’s growing and developing at her own special pace. Too late.