Yesterday, we all made a not-so-fun trip to the doctor’s office for Nathan’s two month well-child checkup. It didn’t start out well since it was right during Nathan’s nap time (and we all know how he responds when it’s nap time!). But it went WAY downhill and fast when the poor nurse came at him with a needle!

Jon met us at the doctor’s office when he got off work and called as I was driving there. “I’m so excited for this!” he says.

I had been worrying over this appointment for weeks and was barely eating most of the day because I was dreading him getting his shots so much. I went to the grocery store in the morning and stocked up the essentials (bread, milk, cereal, diapers and a cantaloupe the size of a basketball) just in case Nathan was an invalid for the next few days and we couldn’t leave the house.

I know not who I married. God has a definite sense of humor. We got to the office about the same time and Jon was all smiling, grinning at me and Nathan and I’m almost shaking as I’m putting his insurance card back in my wallet because I know I just sentenced my child to unbearable Pain and Agony.

And all Jon can talk about is being so curious about what Nathan weighs and how long he is now.

Nathan was just getting to sleep when we got called back and he woke up just in time to smile at the nurse as she was getting ready to measure him.

On the plus side, I love Nathan’s doctor. She’s just one of the sweetest ladies I’ve ever met and she’s so encouraging. Plus, she really takes the time to sit and talk to us about all of our questions.

Nathan now weighs 11 pounds, 5.5 ounces and is 24 inches long. That puts him in the 90th percentile for height and the 50th percentile for weight. No shock about the height – his 0-3 month clothes are starting to get too short (SO sad!!). It was so good to hear that he’s gaining weight and growing, though, since we had so many issues right at the beginning with the nursing!

So he got measured and weighed and our doctor came in and chatted and then the nurse came back in with the tray full of Pain and Agony.

Apparently this child has inherited his mother’s flair for the dramatic, because he was smiling and cooing on the table, the nurse poked him and he got so MAD and screamed so hard that his face turned bright purple and he stopped breathing. Meanwhile, I’m crouched over the table, cupping his head and yelling, “Breathe, Nathan! Breathe!”

He finally breathed. The millisecond the nurse finished with his shots, I ripped him up off that table and both of us just cried while I paced the floor. Jon just stood there shaking his head.

That poor, poor nurse. She left looking about ten years older than when she came in.

So, we’re preparing to raise a high maintenance, dramatic, tall, knobby-kneed child. I’m all ready for a kid who thinks they are dying whenever they get bitten by a mosquito, panics when their arms get stuck in a shirt in the dressing room and can’t see a camera without posing for it.

I know my own mother is laughing as she reads this. She claims she never wished for me to have a child like myself.

I’m not sure I believe her.

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