Not Much News

I don't really have anything to say today, but I hate leaving the same blog post up for too long. Tomorrow we have to take the kids to the Dr. By WE I mean ME. Allan will be at school. It should be great fun, since GraceAnne is due for 4 shots. She hates the Dr. already and she's going to be fit to be tied when she realizes what's going on there. Which will probably be immediately upon entering the vehicle. The conversation will go something like this:

"Where are we going, Mommy?"
"To Waxahachie to get some papers and to Corsicana to see the Dr."
"Baby Violet has to see the Dr?"
"yes."
"Will she get shots?"
"no" (we're delaying Vi's vaccines)
"Do I have to see the Dr?"
"yes."
"I'm not getting shots, am I?"
"hmmm...yes."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

At which point she will scream and cry and kick and then calm down for a second and ask if she can have Starbucks afterwards, (a cream drink, don't freak out people!), and I'll tell her yes and then she'll start sobbing as though her heart has been broken.

Even more fun--when I get to be the one to hold her down, all 3 1/2 feet of her, by myself so they can stick her 4 times in the legs. I used to think I could never be more sad than when they poke babies. I was wrong. It's MUCH WORSE when they poke big kids. At least babies go to sleep afterward. Big, dramatic kids limp around and cry and tell you they are sad at you because you made them get poked. Big kids also can't be nursed to comfort afterward and though Starbucks is quite tasty, it just doesn't seem to have the soothing effect that the breast does.

BUT! Tomorrow I'll have the stats on the girls and that will make for a much more interesting blog post.

over and out.