Not-So-Glamour Shots

Yesterday, right after walking Mauri to school, I took Lex and Shi to the doctor.  Not for illness or injury, but for a good ol' physical.  (Or as the doctor's office refers to it, a "well-child check".)  Have I mentioned how many times I've been to a doctor's office for some reason or another lately?  Let's just say, PLENTY.

Lexee and Shilo prefer to have physicals together.  They appreciate the support.  Despite the occasional embarrassing questions, it gives them comfort to know they are not alone.  I, on the other hand, am becoming less and less welcome.  Not because I make them uncomfortable, but because I have kept a mother's log (in my mind, which means I may or may not remember what's in there) about every health question or concern that has come up over the past year.  Questions about changing moles, allergy medications, and the possibility of exercise-induced-asthma.  And I talk.  Too much.  When questions are asked (like, "What sports do you participate in?"), I'm too impatient to wait for the delayed, hesitant response of those girls, so I offer up the answers.  Often with long explanations or too many details.  The girls pretty much just want to get it over with, and there I am, jabbering away about this, that, and the other.

As our favorite PA-C, Kettie, was reviewing immunizations, she told us that the girls were up-to-date and legal to attend school.  All required shots had been given.  That's where Lex and Shi wished the conversation would have ended.  Then she asked if we would be interested in the meningitis vaccine.  And what about the Hepatitis A for Lex?  For some reason, Shilo had already been given that series back in 2002, so she didn't need it.  It's also the shot that Britta is still waiting to get her booster for.  Since there had been recent cases of meningitis in our area (okay, state), and since it seemed like a more convenient time to get that HepA for Lex (instead of right before she heads to college), I decided we should do it.
Git 'er done (my mantra as of late).

Boy, oh boy.  Waiting for the nurse to appear with those shots was torture.  For Lexee.  The next few minutes were filled with,

"Wait, I have to get shots today?"

"I would rather get them next week."

"I'll go first."  

"No, you go first."

"Why do I have to get two shots?"

"I would rather just get these right before I go to college."

"I hate shots."

"Pinch me when I get the shots... hard."

She had herself mentally psyched out and her knickers in a twist in a matter of minutes.

Lucky for her, two nurses came in, so she could get both shots at once.  I dutifully pinched her leg until I heard, "Mom, you can stop pinching now."

(A mini Syddall I-spy... can you spot the half-eaten cinnamon roll, the math workbook, the pink eraser, and the needing-to-be-replaced sun-faded purple-toned out-dated family picture?)

Shilo was unfazed.  No shot anxiety.  No stressing.  No big deal.