The Pediatrician's Office
I have mentioned before that SJ isn't talking so I made him a doctor's appointment.
The first slot they had open was 2:45 in the afternoon. Oh no. That meant A. would be out of school and going with us.
I hate taking A. to the doctor's office at any time, because she will not shut up and let me talk to the doctor. I hate taking her to my appointments. I hate taking her to her brother's appointments. I even hate taking her to her own appointments.
A. has been talking for as long as I can remember. You can't be alone with your own thoughts. She is like a battering ram on your consciousness. You can be reading, driving or on the computer - it doesn't matter. A. is in the background-"blah, blah, blah."
If she is playing with her toys, she talks in an annoying high-pitched voice that grates on the nerves. I've often wondered (seriously) if she has Tourette's. She's talking and she can't shut up!
We got to the office. I couldn't sit down in the waiting room as SJ kept trying to open every door in sight. (I can't even sit down at the park.)
It wasn't too long before SJ had to be weighed. He decided to shriek and wouldn't step on the scales. So I had to get weighed holding him and then without him. Thanks SJ, you little turd.
Next we were shown to the exam room. It was painted to look like a movie theatre with a big popcorn on the wall.
Here goes A. "Here, pretend that I'm buying popcorn and you have to give it to me. Throw me some popcorn. What does that sign say? Pretend we're watching the movie. What does that other sign say? Blah, blah, blah."
I told her she could not talk when the doctor came. That is like telling her not to breathe.
Why, you may ask, am I taking one to the doctor who doesn't talk - so that he can talk? Because I am a damn idiotic glutton for punishment, that's why!
The doctor and I talked about SJ in between my shushing of A. Then the doctor brought in the specter detector or whatever the machine was called. She had to put it in his ears to check his hearing. Of course he screamed and writhed. I had to hold him in my best WWF hold.
On the second ear, A managed to stumble over the cord and unplug it.
"Oh that was nice," said the pediatrician. Even the pediatrician wanted to choke her.
So we finished the test. His ears are fine. The doctor thinks perhaps he is just stubborn, but we will be getting one more evaluation.
I'm so happy that his ears are fine. Now about my poor ears...blah, blah, blah.
The first slot they had open was 2:45 in the afternoon. Oh no. That meant A. would be out of school and going with us.
I hate taking A. to the doctor's office at any time, because she will not shut up and let me talk to the doctor. I hate taking her to my appointments. I hate taking her to her brother's appointments. I even hate taking her to her own appointments.
A. has been talking for as long as I can remember. You can't be alone with your own thoughts. She is like a battering ram on your consciousness. You can be reading, driving or on the computer - it doesn't matter. A. is in the background-"blah, blah, blah."
If she is playing with her toys, she talks in an annoying high-pitched voice that grates on the nerves. I've often wondered (seriously) if she has Tourette's. She's talking and she can't shut up!
We got to the office. I couldn't sit down in the waiting room as SJ kept trying to open every door in sight. (I can't even sit down at the park.)
It wasn't too long before SJ had to be weighed. He decided to shriek and wouldn't step on the scales. So I had to get weighed holding him and then without him. Thanks SJ, you little turd.
Next we were shown to the exam room. It was painted to look like a movie theatre with a big popcorn on the wall.
Here goes A. "Here, pretend that I'm buying popcorn and you have to give it to me. Throw me some popcorn. What does that sign say? Pretend we're watching the movie. What does that other sign say? Blah, blah, blah."
I told her she could not talk when the doctor came. That is like telling her not to breathe.
Why, you may ask, am I taking one to the doctor who doesn't talk - so that he can talk? Because I am a damn idiotic glutton for punishment, that's why!
The doctor and I talked about SJ in between my shushing of A. Then the doctor brought in the specter detector or whatever the machine was called. She had to put it in his ears to check his hearing. Of course he screamed and writhed. I had to hold him in my best WWF hold.
On the second ear, A managed to stumble over the cord and unplug it.
"Oh that was nice," said the pediatrician. Even the pediatrician wanted to choke her.
So we finished the test. His ears are fine. The doctor thinks perhaps he is just stubborn, but we will be getting one more evaluation.
I'm so happy that his ears are fine. Now about my poor ears...blah, blah, blah.
posted by Caro at 7:52 PM
7 Comments:
I feel your pain. My son started talking at NINE MONTHS, and I swear he hasn't shut up since. He talks in his sleep. He talks and talks and talks and talks. I should have named him Heymum.
He'll do anything to get me to talk back, and his favorite way to get me to interact is Which is Your Favorite? Do you know this game? "Which is your favorite _________?" "Why?" This can go on and on and on and on . . .
I love my son more than anything in the world, but I have often been tempted to yell, "Will you shut the hell up?!?!?!" I'd never do it, though--the GUILT!
I often remind myself that soon enough I'll be lucky to get any words out of him at all. In the meantime, though, I'M TRYING TO READ!
I have said (albeit quietly and with gritted teeth so as to not make the neighbors hear)"Will you PLEASE shut the FUCK up?" See how the please negates the fuck? For the record, it didn't work.
I feel like you were describing my life with my older son, Carolyn. He is absolutely physically incapable of being silent. If he's not talking, he's singing or humming or making up nonsense words. As I've mentioned, I have some auditory overload issues, and man, I can only see this as God's idea of a practical joke on me for some sin I committed long ago.
I confess that sometimes I get mad enough at my kids that bad words escape my mouth too. Sorry kids.
How you manage to turn something so frustrating into something so funny is beyond me. I think you ought to go into stand-up comedy.
The worst thing you girls did was say "Mom" and then I had to answer before you would say whatever you wanted to say. For example, you would never say "Mom, can I have a hot dog?". You would say "Mom", then I had to answer, then you would say "can I have a hot dog?".
It was like an extra step in every conversation plus you both insisted I be looking right at you when I said "what". It kind of drove me nuts.
Maybe all of your kids should have a play date...they would either talk each other to death OR fall asleep out of bored of listening to one another OR get REALLY frusterated...
TeChIe
Yes! YES! My boys do that too!
"Mom?"
wait...wait...wait...
Me, finally: "What?"
Them: "Can we have....whatever"
WHY oh why do children do that? It makess me NUTS! I thought mine were just weird or trying to make me go bonkers...but no,it's a kid thing. Whew. What a sort-of relief.
And Jennie, just what would you do with a talking horse? Trust me, you'd be telling it to shut up within the week.
Horse: Jennie?
You, through gritted teeth: WHAT?!
Horse: Can I have a hot dog?
You could always put a muzzle on a horse...too bad they don't make those for kids too...
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