What's "interesting" is that I haven't banged my head against the wall. Yet. Give it time, probably.
My Abigail has about as much love of needles as I do. This makes it unfortunate when she goes in for her annual exam and comes out with a list of shots and boosters she needs throughout the year. It's hard enough to get her to the doctor's office ONCE A YEAR. Add another visit or two on top of that, and we've pretty much just got anarchy on our hands.
This morning she had an orthodontist appointment, bright and early, just the way we like it. (Get yourself back to school, child!) The appointment was quick and painless, and she's ever so pleased with the new bands they put in her mouth--black and teal, which is terribly darling.
But she knew what was coming afterwards: Shots. I should have kept my mouth shut, but sometimes I think that knowledge is power. Get yourself mentally prepared and all of that. Mostly, though, this just made Abby feel sick to her stomach.
So we drive to the doctor's office, and my very talkative child is very quiet. We go inside. The staff is in a meeting. We wait ten minutes for the meeting to be over. Then we wait another twenty minutes to get paperwork and whatnots sorted out. And then we might have waited another ten to fifteen minutes just for kicks.
Say what you will about my poser iPad, but it came in handy during the wait. I've got some sort of free whiteboard app on that thing, so Abby spent her time drawing sad faces with captions that read, "Please, Mommy!" and "Nooooooo!"
(This is an unhappy mushroom.)
At some point, because she is 12 and likes to push the envelope, she asked if she could write swear words. Now, I know I should have said no and all, but honestly, I'm all for whatever is going to be distracting. After a few minutes of writing hell and damn and shit, she got tired of it and handed the iPad back to me. Perhaps if I'd have been a little more shocked, it would have been a little more fun.
Nonetheless, I'm sure my Mother of the Year award has been delayed. Again.
So after the swearing lost its glimmer, Abby began making up escape scenarios. They were quite impressive, actually: She was going to run downhill (because running uphill would be too hard) and find a phone and have Grandma come pick her up. Then somehow she was going to lock me in Grandma's attic and dope me up on morphine so I'd be knocked out, and then she was going to do something very clever to my car to make it stop working, and work in a drop kick on Johanna (just for spite, the brat), and lock Daddy up in the attic too (so I wouldn't be lonely, I guess) and live in our house all by herself and use her savings to buy everything in the mini-mart and never have to get shots again.
"I could just walk out of here, Mom," she said, and I was like, dude, you could TOTALLY take me, and probably most of the doctors, too. But she stayed put. What can I say? She's a firstborn. We're all very obedient that way.
We finally get ushered into the back to the BABY ROOM. We hadn't been in there for a while, so it was sort of fun to see the cute little scale and mobiles and whatnots. Abby sat down and rolled up her shirt. Which is when she saw the needle. And she was all, I'm going to FAINT. And the nurse (who was there for my fainting shame of last month) was like, lay down! And Abby was like, no, I'll be okay. I took her face in my hands and talked about bribes. What do you want? YOU CAN HAVE THAT.
This is a great nurse, though, and she was like, okay, Abby, count to ten and it will be all over. Abby got to two and the nurse was putting on the bandage, and Abby was like, hey, I didn't get to ten! And I was like, uh, you didn't even get to three. And the nurse was like, yay me!
Abby is on a high as we leave the office. She decides her arm hurts enough to stay home from school, so that pink hairspray she wanted? She doesn't want now. But I had to stop by a pharmacy anyway and pick up some Omeprazole (thanks for the hyper-acidic genes, Dad!) and then Abby saw this:
And I'm all, whaaaaat? That sucker is $20! And Abby was like, I need a new pillow! And I slept on Johanna's that one time and it was so comfortable! And you won't have to buy me ANYTHING ELSE for my next three shots!
And I was like, make it five AND go to school, and you've got yourself a deal. This thing is cuter in real life, by the way, lest you question my judgement (you should question it, certainly, just not on the cuteness factor is all I'm saying).
I think it looks like a George, but Abby named it Carl. Ah, well.
UPDATE: Carl is now Jorge. Not that it's any of my business, but that is awesome.
This is quite enough activity for one day, thank you very much, but! Now I get to go to Johanna's school and work at the book fair for an hour! And then go to work!
Motherhood. I tell you what, it ain't for sissies.
Saliva, "Never Gonna Change." Because that's what shuffled up on iTunes when I started writing this ordeal. I don't make the rules, people, I just follow them. When they serve my purpose. "You know you are quite the actress, but I'm just not that dumb." Ouch there, Saliva!