Monday, November 1, 2010

The Brave Little Soldier

Today was LO's two month well baby check up.  We were due at the pediatrician at 10 am, but it was touch and go in terms of getting there on time.  (Not since college have I had trouble being punctual for a 10 am appointment.)  But, LO, who had gotten into a predictable routine, decided to throw me a curve ball last night.  Normally he's up around 2:30ish for his midnight snack/smorgasbord, and then again at 5:30 or so for his first breakfast buffet.  So I'm usually up at 5:30.  Last night, LO skipped his 2 am feeding and slept all the way through until 4:30 (about which I am most definitely NOT complaining), and this set off a chain reaction of lateness that led to me jogging into the doctor's office at 10:06 am.  According to my personal laws of time, anything up until five minutes after the appointment time is still on time.  I round down.  Once you are six minutes late, you're actually 10 minutes late, and people have the right to be legitimately annoyed at you.

So, after his 4:30 feeding, LO was hungry again at 6:30, which is when I'm normally getting ready for the day.  And this was a Y swimming morning, so that added an extra wrench to the works.  For breakfast, I grabbed a slice of the quiche I'd made on Friday, and I hoped that I had accurately packed LO's diaper bag for the morning day care.  (Are there diapers in there?  Did I pack a burp cloth?  Is there a baby in the car seat or am I stowing an empty carrier in the car?)  We were only 10 minutes late to day care, and I was grateful to LO for forcing me to get him there, late or no.  In the past, if I'd been running as late as I was this morning, I would have decided to just bag swimming for the day.  But since I have to give day care an hour notice about canceling, I'm forced to do what's good for me.

I swam with my girlfriends and gossiped, and was 10 minutes late picking LO up from day care.  (So it all evened out!)  I found an exasperated day care worker rocking LO in a little swing.  She told me he got mad if she stopped.  That's my son, ladies and gentlemen.  At this point, it was 9:20, and I seriously considered going straight to the doc's.  But I knew LO and I would both be more comfortable with meal #3 at home.  So we got settled at home and LO ate his fill.  And kept eating.  And eating.  He finally unlatched at 9:56.  (We live literally three minutes from the pediatrician, or I'd never have made it).

So, off to the doctor's we go.  They graciously overlooked our tardiness and put us in a room to get LO's height, weight and head circumference.  (21 and a half inches long, 9 pounds, 6.6 ounces, and 39 and a quarter centimeters around).  LO was grumpy at this point.  Usually I've put him in his swing for a morning nap at that time in the morning, and he would have been much happier in that situation.  Also, he's not a huge fan of naked, so removing his onesie and diaper was not what he had in mind for a fun morning.  He expressed his disapproval in the only way he could--getting me square in the chest with a stream of baby piss.  (I still haven't learned to cover him up when he gets changed in public).  I knew that it would get worse before it got better.

That's because today was the day LO had to get vaccinated.  Three separate shots were injected into his little thighs.  The sweet nurse told me how beautiful my son was, and we talked about the insane length of his eyelashes.  But then, with each needle prick LO screamed bloody murder and my heart hurt a little.  His face scrunched up in sadness, pain and anger, and I wished there was a way I could explain to him why we were putting him through this torture.

Like his mother, I think LO is a stress sleeper.  When I was three years old and crashed my mother's car--it's a long story, but suffice it to say, just because you're playing "Mommy goes to work" does not mean it's a good idea to put down the emergency brake when the car is parked on a hill--I curled up in bed and went to sleep after the tree at the bottom of the hill provided a sudden auxiliary braking system.  LO, too fell asleep moments after the nurse handed me a sheet of information about all the terrible diseases my child will now *not* be getting.  Unfortunately, it was then my turn to cry.  Because it turns out that our fershtunkiner health insurance doesn't cover vaccinations.  I'll rant about this in another blog post, but I'd like to know why in hell the insurance company would prefer to pay for LO to have Polio.  Luckily, Indiana offers state-sponsored vaccinations for reduced cost.

LO slept the sleep of the weary, put-upon, and just until about 2:00 this afternoon.  My brave little soldier seems to have survived his ordeal, and I suspect he won't even remember why ladies dressed in scrubs frighten him a little.  I'm just glad to know that LO is protected against some of the big uglies out there, whether my insurance carrier approves or not.


  1. I believe the long eye lashes run in the family! Madison was blessed with them also! And the heart wrenching pain of shots that you felt, you will still feel the same even @ 4 years old.

  2. Must be "bitch about health insurance" day - I posted about OUR fershtunkiner health insurance on my blog today ;)