Animal Doctor

My wife has been dropping hints about having another baby.  With her working full time, she doesn't get to spend as much time with our newborn as she did with our other two children.  I don't believe she's serious about having another one so much as she is sad to think about missing out on our littlest (and hopefully last) one growing up and us moving out of the baby making business.  I, on the other hand, have no burning desire to procreate again, nor are there any doubts about my decision to close the doors on the old baby making factory.  And, today's trip to our Veterinarian, or animal doctor, as Caleb calls him, only further cemented my decision.

I feel like I have a pretty good handle on the three kids by themselves, but for some reason, adding our dog Jetta into the mix completely threw me off my game.  I usually have no problem getting all of the kids into the van, but the added excitement of our dog going along for the ride raised the childrens' normal excitement level from "Let's Make Daddy Cuss" to "Let's Make Daddy Drink".  It was near impossible to get these kids strapped into their seats.  Kids thrive on routine and my children are probably borderline obsessive-compulsive about their routines, so a dog in the van blew their minds.

Once everyone finally calmed down and got strapped in we were ready to roll.  Once we arrived at the vet, I'm sure I made a few peoples' day as I must have been quite a sight to see.  I wish I would have had somebody to take a picture (and perhaps lend a hand).  Imagine the baby in one arm, diaper bag over the shoulder, a leashed dog in one hand, my oldest daughter trying to help hold Jetta's leash and my son running around all four of us in his normal ADHD induced marathon.

Inside wasn't much better.  Our dog seems to have the same anxiety as my children do.  It's bad enough that she was panting and shaking during the van ride to the animal doctor, but once we finally arrived, she seemed to let go of all that pent up anxiety on the other dogs and their respective owners by jumping up on the furniture, up on the dog owners, and trying to eat one poor little Yorkie.

This, of course, sent my children into another frenzy.  It's as if they were Jetta's own personal cheerleaders, laughing hysterically and screaming as she performed her Dance of Doom.  All the excitement of the older kids, sent the baby into a tear-drenched squeal fest.  So, I'm yelling at the kids to settle down, yelling at the dog to settle down, and trying to calm the baby down.  Fourth kid?  Not likely.

There was one high note to the day's festivities though.  We did get called into the exam room about fifteen minutes early.  I'm not so sure they were that far ahead of schedule as I am that they just wanted some peace and quiet in the waiting room.  Maybe a fourth kid would have it's advantages.