Just (Don’t) Do It

I believe that we have come to the place where the boys’ shenanigans in public make me extremely reluctant to bring them along anywhere.  At least, to appointments where it’s maybe important to hear what the doctor is telling you.

This was the situation today:  I was at the Podiatrist trying to figure out why on earth I am having so many foot problems while running (or as a result of running).  In the (tiny) exam room I have crammed Berry Baby in his stroller and Berry Boy onto a chair.  As I try to listen and understand what the doctor is telling me about my feet trouble, Berry Boy is panicking that he is going to puke and Berry Baby is shrieking at the top of his lungs.  Piercingly.  And enduringly.  The juice box that I asked Berry Boy to share with Berry Baby is now leaking bright orange juice all over the hardwood floor.  And Berry Boy has to find the bathroom.  And Berry Baby will not play with anything, not even my cell phone. 

Total. Mayhem.

The night before, I was going to cave in and ask someone to take them for me, even though I would have had to drop them off early in the morning, but I looked at my two beautiful boys and thought, nah, they’ll be fine.  They’re usually fine.

Apparently, I had amnesia.

Because the last time when I saw my family doctor, the situation wasn’t much better.  As we waited for the doctor in the (tiny) exam room, both the boys were quite literally bouncing from wall to wall to wall.  It was like watching human pinball.  And Berry Baby kept trying to dig in the garbage.  And Berry Boy wouldn’t set a good example and just sit.  And Berry Baby kept banging on the door because it sounded neat.  And none of this improved while I talked to the doctor.

These are not relaxing times.

Someone tell me, next time I plan to take the boys with me to an appointment…

Just. Don’t. Do it.