Dorks at the Doctor's Office

The twins had a checkup at the doctor’s office today. Amazingly, they behaved rather well. Maybe those crazy Mayans really are onto something.

Our first order of business was to pee in a cup. Well, two cups. Both girls decided this was a strange request and after a lot of begging (and a little bribing), Mac obliged and did her duty.

Stevie refused. Homegirl is still convinced someone drinks it and she went so far as to tell her doctor one time that this is the reason she will not pee in a cup.

“Do doctors pee in cups, Mama?” she asked.

“Yes, Steve. We all have to pee in cups at some point. Just do it and get it over with.”

“No, thank you,” she said.

Ya gotta give a girl props for using manners only when she feels it might excuse her from something that isn’t really a request, but rather an obligation. Stevie is what we call our strong-willed child. (Read: stubborn as a goat.)



We started with the ceremonial Weighing of the Babies. Since their slightly-premature birth, we anticipate this part of any doctor visit like a lottery junkie waits for winning numbers. As the nurse slides the scale to the right, we wait with baited breath, fingers crossed and eyes fixed. The further to the right she goes, the more we rise up onto our toes. In my head, I’m a contestant on Wheel of Fortune clapping and screaming “BIG MONEY! BIG MONEY! BIG MONEY!” Only the money, in this case, is weight. And the winners are the ones at the top of the growth chart.

“Stephanie is 39 pounds, two ounces,” the nurse says dryly. I’m slightly disappointed, as the scale at home put her at 43 pounds last week. It crossed my mind to stick my big toe on the scale as Nurse Boring fidgeted with the slider-thingy up top.



Mac’s turn. I pull Stevie back to my side, and fix my eyes on the slider-thingy. BIG MONEY! BIG MONEY! BIG MONEY! Nurse Boring taps it with her finger and starts to make a notation on my girl’s chart. “McKenna is 38 pounds, 4 ounces and 45 and a quarter inches tall.”

Now this is big news. For seven years, the girls have passed each other on height and weight, always fluctuating between who was taller, and who was heavier. When they were born, Mac was heavier, weighing in at a whopping 5 pounds, 4 ounces. Steph didn’t break the 5-pound mark when she was born. They were both 19 inches long, and looked like skinny spaghetti noodles. The first time Stevie passed Mac on weight the phones lit up like a switchboard. We called our moms. We called our sisters, our friends, our neighbors, and every nurse we could think of at the hospital in El Paso where they were born. It was big news.



Then the waiting game started in the examination room. The girls have a Christmas concert later this afternoon at school, so they were dressed in frilly dresses with perfectly-coiffed hair.



I expect by the time the concert starts this afternoon, one or both girls will look like they put their head in a blender.

The girls’ pediatrician came in rather quickly and did her routine eye exams, spinal checks, reflex tapping and overall poking and prodding. Both girls are pretty much perfect, aside from some ear wax we need to tend to with peroxide and water. Grody.

We were out of there in no time and made it to school only a little tardy. Both girls were stressed out their friends were going to think they were absent and therefore unable to deliver their lines in the Christmas performance. I’m sure Stevie was worried that someone was going to pull the rug out from under her and steal her part. She’s pretty territorial. (Read: possessive like a dog on a hydrant.)

Happy Thursday, everyone. Keep your fingers crossed the hair stays in place and out of the blender.