if you stick a needle in each of my legs i will not be your friend
Miss Baby Girly Girl had her eighteen month check up this fine morning. We hopped out of our warm cozy beds at 7:40 and raced into our cold cold kitchen to let the kids gobble up their bran flakes before dashing out the door.
Note to self, please make all future appointments for later in the day.
It is bitch ass cold out there. Even for here. It's ugly cold. It's cold like you're stupid enough to be living and the North Friggin' Pole. I am so not loving it. At all. Not one bit.
Anyway!
Miss Baby Girly Girl was all innocence as she frolicked about the doctor's examination room in her diaper and pretty pink sweater. She knew not what would come, what injustice would be perpetrated upon her. She is not like her older brother, who never flinched when being seen or stuck by the doctor at this age.
Miss Baby Girly Girl screamed her head off at the sight of the stethoscope. She vibrated and called Mama Mama Mama throughout the very basic examination of her chest and ears. There was no doubt, whatever friendship this new pediatrician of ours had hoped to form with my youngest wee one was forever a dream not to be realized.
Before he got the needle out. Before he gave her the shots. I say shots because she was to have two.
Oh Horrid Unfair World.
The screaming and general histrionics which ensued during the actual poking of her prescious tender skin were justified if nevertheless the tiniest bit dramatic.
I'm not saying she's a drama queen. I'm saying some day she will be and she will be very very good at it. Stellar. Exemplary. Dare I say Drama Queen Award Winning material.
I was, why shouldn't she be. I will accept nothing less. Average will not do.
It isn't easy for a mommy to sit by as her Miss Baby Girly Girl is assaulted with sharp implements in the name of future health and well being. It takes a level of mommy maturity to not run screaming from the building, babe in arms, delcaring that no one shall ever poke this child so go to hell, sir!
Gosh, I thought about it.
But didn't do it.
I'm a seasoned and certainly mature professional mother and so not to be swayed from the purpose at hand.
Gosh, I thought about it.
Moments after the odeal she was fine, though, I am thrilled to report. Once the doctor, Oh Evil Man, left she sighed and jumped off my lap. Both legs in remarkable working order despite a small hole having just been punctured in each.
She is all bravery and goodness, my girl.
By the time we were getting jackets on she seemed to have forgotten the entire affair, oh good, and walked on her own two legs out to the truck where she was appropriately rewarded with gushers for having tolerated what she was just asked to tolerate.
Like she had a choice.
Poor bunny.
Rest utterly assured that this man, this twenty six year old fresh from medical school pediatrician, will never win the affections of my young lass. The fire in her eyes as he stabbed her tiny thighs is not likely to burn out before she is old enough to find a doctor of her own choosing. There will forever be animosity between them. I'm sad to say it, but it's true. My child holds a grudge against anyone who causes her physical harm and harm her he did.
Oh Evil Man.
Think how it will go when we return in a month for the follow up shot. Yes another. Oh Heaven Help The Evil Man. He'd best wear ear plugs for the screeching is bound to be shrill. I take no responsibilty for where her small fists land when she takes to flailing them. She has every right to protect herself, after all.
Poor Bunny.
posted by Style Me Organized at
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
