Off to the gynecologist. Or, adventures in babysitting

When Benjamin sees me he gets all smiley cutey flirty. And then I get all delighted. Maude says he has a crush on me. This really makes me happy, because as I've said before, I'm not really a baby person.

Benjamin and I have mostly been having a great time together.

I had a very brief impulse to take a picture of him and, much like LOLCAT, do a LOLBABY.

In the photo he'd be looking at me with his smiley face saying, "Oh, hai! UR prity!"

It would totally amuse me. I, of course, would stoop to this. But I didn't want to stoop little Benjo to it.

The other morning I headed toward the kitchen, then realized Maude was at the sink and Benjamin was on the floor in his bouncy chair. And so instead of walking in, I crawled, making snort noises, until I got to the chair, at which point I stuck my nose in his neck and snuffled. And then of course looked up and said, "Oh, hi Maude."

She hadn't even turned around to see what the snurfly snorting was. She really knows me.

So. I say Benjamin and I have been having mostly a great time, because yesterday we went on a big outing to the gynecologist, and we had a very bad time.

I know you're thinking, Lis, the gynecologist is never a good time. But Maude was the one with the appointment. And I have to say, I'd much rather have had my legs up in stirrups on an examining table that my not great time in the waiting room.

We took the bus to the hospital where he was delivered, which is where Maude had a checkup. She asked if I'd go along to hang out with him while she was in with the doctor. I'm really just here to spend time with them, so of course I was happy to go along. I brought a book. When really I should've brought hard liquor.

Maude had timed it all perfectly with Benjamin and the appointment time - he nursed, he went down for his nap. She'd go in, he'd nap, and I was just going to sit there and read. She'd be out when he was just waking up. Except they were running behind. Way behind. Way way way behind.

And so he was waking up just as they called her. We'd not thought to bring a bottle. Big mistake. He started to fuss a little and she handed him to me. And I said, "Aaagh! What do I do?"

And she said something like, "Do your best!" as she headed through the swinging doors.

So there we were, my pal Benjamin and me and a waiting room full of people. He fussed a little, and I reminded him that we were having a no-fuss afternoon, and rocked him a little, and he smiled and quieted down.

You know, like my cute little Benjamin pal.

And this worked for a good, oh, 90 seconds. And then the gates of Hell opened up in my arms.

He was all, "I'm hungry! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! FUUUUUUUUCK YOOUUUUUUUU! WAAAAAAH! WAAAAH! WAAAAAAH! WAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Like, if you could bottle these screams, W's cohorts would definitely have used them in places like Abu Ghraib.

So picture us, this little three month old boy screaming bloody murder - WAAAAAAAHH! WAAAA FUUUUUCK YOUUUU FEEEEED MEEE! WAAAAAAAH! - and me, thinking holy mother of god, what on earth do I do? So I headed off down the hallway, figuring at least the waiting room full of people didn't have to be subjected to this. And maybe the walking would help.

No such luck. We walk down a hallway.

WWAAAAAAHH! WAAAAH! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

And I'm jiggling him and cuddling him and saying things like, "Pumpkin! I know this sucks ass. It sucks for me too. I know. Terrible. Absolutely terrible. Life is terrible." I'm commiserating, sort of, and hoping the words will soothe him, no matter what they are, since he doesn't actually talk yet. And I'm praying that the doctor will hurry up and I can give this little Satan's minion back to his mother.

WAAAAAAHH! WAAHAAH! WAAAAAAAHH WAAAAAAH! FUUUUCK YOOUUUU! WAAAAAH!

A nurse comes out of doors and glares at us. "There's a clinic in here! We need quiet!"

I notice that it's a prenatal clinic, and consider telling her, over the deafening roar formerly known as Benjamin, that the women in there might as well have some realistic idea of what they're in for.

But instead I head back to Gynecology, all the while talking about how I know this supersucks and I know he's hungry and we just need to find his mother. I accost the nurse at the front desk. I ask if we can bring him back to Maude. We have to yell at each other to be heard over the screams.

She goes in back and checks and says Maude is about to come out. And so we wait. And I decide to do a lap down the hallway. And he bellows. And bellows. And bellows. I finally return to the desk, scaring her as I round the corner with how loud the screaming is.

WAAAAAH! WHAAAHHHH! WAAAAAAANHH!

I hold him out to her. I yell to be heard, "He's starving!"

She takes off at a good clip. And runs back through the doors with Maude. Who has heard him screaming this whole time. And thinking, holy shit, that's my son! Through the double doors, through the hallways. All the way into the far examining room.

She takes him, and is then whisked by the nurse off to The Quiet Room.

I sink into a chair and pick up my book. I'm exhausted from the adrenaline generated by the hysteria.

And then a nurse comes over and asks if I'm Maude's friend. Yes. Would I like to come back to the Quiet Room? I flinch. Because the truth is: not really. She says Maude has asked for me. And so, very reluctantly, I do.

He's still screaming like a banshee. He's too worked up to eat. Eventually Maude calms him down.

We sit there panting like two marathon runners at the end of a grueling race. She says when she asked the nurse to get me, the nurse said, "Do you think she really wants to come back here?"

Maude said, "Well, I'm kind of worried."

And the nurse said, "Oh, he'll be fine. Just a little upset."

Maude replied, "Yes, I know he'll be fine. It's my friend I'm worried about!"