playing catch up

I do not enjoy going to the doctor, whether it is for me or for my kids. If I have to go to the doctor that means finding a sitter for my boys or even worse taking them with me. And if I have to take one of my boys to the doctor, I usually end up taking all three of my boys- it's easier than finding a sitter on short notice. Now since I don't take my kids very often to their well checkups they are a "little" behind in their shots. Today I decided to take Beau and Blue to catch up. Oh, what fun we had! It was rather amusing when the nurse took us back to the room because both my boys were hacking up a storm. She wanted to confirm that they were there for their well checkups and not because they were sick. I am so glad that we had another reason for coming other than their coughs because the doctor agreed with my Dr. Mom diagnosis of "just a cough that will pass". Between the two of them, ten shots were needed. Plus, they had to prick Blue's finger for some blood work. I think that was the worst part of all of it- he started wailing the minute he saw blood and it didn't help that the nurse put a barbie bandaid on his finger. Come on, everyone knows not to put a pink barbie bandaid on a little boy. I hate that my boys are still too young and that I have to hold them down while the nurse gives the shots. Why is it mothers are called the nurturers? I didn't feel so nurturing as I am trying to keep my boys hands and legs under control. Colby refuses to take the kids to get shots because he says he would have a hard time not knocking out the nurse because she made his kid cry. So, to avoid more commotion (I'm pretty sure Colby would probably follow through on this instinct) than necessary, I continue to take my kids by myself. I'm sure I was quite the sight to see when we left. All of us bundled up in our marshmallow jackets, I was struggling to carry my bag, the information papers the office handed to me as we walked out, and Beau, squirming and crying; and then trying to gently drag Blue, who was also crying, to get to our car in a parking lot that was covered in abundant slush and pot holes. What a work out for me!