Maribelle had her 18-month checkup today, and to put it mildly, it didn't go swimmingly. In fact, I'm already feeling anxiety about future doctor's visits with Maribelle in tow. It was bad, people ... bad with a capital B-A-D.
The minute we entered the pediatrician's office, Maribelle started to lose it. She clung to my legs, wouldn't say her usual "hi!" to anyone around us, and started clutching and whining uncontrollably. Then, when they called her name and we headed to the exam room, she completely flipped her little toddler lid. Com-plete-ly. We're talking back arching, head shaking, crying so hard and uncontrollably that it sounded like she was hyperventilating, and literally CLINGING to me for dear life. And she just kept wailing "mommy, mommy, mommy!!!!!!!!!!!!" This was all before the nurse could even attempt to take her temperature! The weight and height they recorded for her are a complete joke. Maribelle wouldn't even let me place her on the scale, let alone let go of her, and pinning her down on her back for a height measurement was basically a midget wrestling match (which probably explains why she slipped from the 50th to 25th percentile in weight, and climbed from the 50th to 75th-90th percentile in height. There's no way they got an accurate reading). I, my friends? Was heartbroken, and all I wanted to do was bolt out the door and whisk away my little babe, especially knowing that the minute she calmed down, someone would be right around the corner waiting to stick her with a needle. I had never in my life seen Maribelle react that way -- so hysterical and genuinely scared.
She eventually calmed down once the nurse left the room and I whipped out some crayons and started drawing Yo Gabba Gabba characters (thank the Lord for her Brobee obsession and the fact taht he's easy to draw). The consultation with the doctor was uneventful and pretty straight forward, and when it came time for Maribelle to get her shot, it wasn't all that bad (in comparison to the hysterics she just displayed 10 minutes earlier, mind you. Not much could be worse than that). I dread the fact that our pediatrician recommended we take her to an allergist to follow up on the reaction she has to tofu (basically, vomit city for two hours after eating it) because I can just imagine how that's going to go. Blood draws? Prick tests? Sounds delightful.
After the doctor's visit from hell, the Belle and I headed straight to Target for a little retail therapy. I figured if anything was going to soothe my soul, it would be the $1 aisle at Target (cute back-to-school supplies? Yes, please!) After a snack of crackers and apple juice for Bells and some Starbucks relief for moi, we filled up our cart with stuff we really didn't need and headed home happy campers. Thankfully, the very bad, no-good, rotten morning that we had was really nothing that a new Yo Gabba Gabba book couldn't fix.