So there we were. All of us at the doctor's office on Friday afternoon. Four kids aged 3-8 years, one of who is clutching her tootie because she can't tinkle. We are called to the triage area by the nice nurse. I know they are all cringing seeing us coming down the hall because last time we were there #4 crapped on their floor. I try to expedite the process. Everyone wants to stand on the scale. I usher them to the seats with threats of shots for all if they don't shutup and sit down. We are ushered down another hall to a windowless room. Trapped like a rat with four kids, one of which is still clutching her tootie.
There's an adjoining bathroom. EVERY SINGLE CHILD WITH ME NOW HAS TO POOP. One by one they take their turns. #4 comes out mid poop, pants down to his ankles to announce there is also a shower in the bathroom. "Not to worry, we can shower at home", I say, "please finish your business."
We learn all about the stirrups on the pelvic exam table. We learn how the blood pressure cuff inflates. We read a book on asthma. We turn the lights off and on. We spin on the doctor's stool. We clutch out tooties because we still can't tinkle. OMG. Has it really only been 20 minutes?????
The door opens and in walks the NP....oh my dear Lord.....with a big plastic cast boot on her foot. She is immediately barraged with questions by #4. He has to examine this thing and touch it ALOT.
She tries to nicely tell him to not step on her broken leg. He pulls her pant leg up to get a closer look. They finally quiet down enough to let her ask why we are there. #4 announces that his "sister's butt hurts" and even turns and points to the appropriate area. He is helped to a seat. After finally examining the real patient, it is determined she has a bladder infection and needs a shot. The door opens and two nurses come in. It takes all three of us to pin her to the exam table to administer the medicine as her siblings cringe behind the privacy curtain, looks of horror on their little faces. She smacks me when it's all over. Everyone gets a glowstick. #4 hugs and kisses the nurse practitioner. I deserve a beer.
They usher us to the waiting room to wait some more for any horrible allergic reaction #4 begins running back and forth while #2 power punches him. #4 then begins catapaulting off the furniture. The nurse at the reception windows looks out as I shoot myself in the head with my imaginary finger gun. She slides the little glass window that protects her from the chaos open and says to me "Are they all yours?" "Yes, yes they are." I reply. Like I'd go pick up other people's kids and take them all to the doctor's office. "I drink alot of wine." I say. She gives me the thumbs up and slides the window closed. I know she is talking smack about me because I am obviously pregnant and my other children are running amok like a pack of banshee's in the waiting area.
My only consolation was that I didn't have to pay today. Somehow I had a credit to my account. I think they were lying though. I think they just wanted me to leave.