You know, after 3 years in Germany, I really thought I had gotten the hang of things around here. No unnecessary smiling at strangers, no excess tipping, always say Guten Tag and Tschuess, dress nicely for the mall, don’t laugh too loud in public. Check check. Got all that. (well ok, I still laugh too loud…) But then, we took little Sophie to the doctor for her checkup and vaccinations, and I discovered that I was still wayyyy back on the Deutsch learning curve.

Having left the diaper bag in the car by accident, I found myself alone in the waiting room while Soenke hiked back to fetch the bag (you never, EVER venture out with a baby, sans diaper bag, unless you wish to tempt the cruel Poo Poo Explosion gods). So here we are, three mothers and three babies, all sitting around staring at each other while we wait our turn with the doc. I notice the other babies are in long-sleeve bodysuits (“onesies”) and nothing else, which alerts me that something strange is afoot – a German mother would NEVER allow her infant to be in such a stage of undress in public. But I am distracted from the hidden meaning in this when the nurse pops in briefly and asks me (and I paraphrase here) to “ausziehen” my baby. Not wishing to look uncool in front of the other moms, I smile and nod, then am left to sit and contemplate the word “ausziehen”. Let’s see…… Aus…“out”. Ziehen.. “to pull”. I should pull out my baby. Like, out of what? The womb? She’s already out. Out of the car seat? Also out. Maybe she meant she would come back to pull my baby out of the waiting room. Yup, that’s gotta be it. But the other moms are looking at me expectantly. #$&* What now? Where is SOENKE? Help.

Ten minutes later the other nurse comes in, sees me sitting there in the same position, and says in somewhat condescending English “you must undress your baby”. Ok. Got it. Pull the baby out of the CLOTHES. I’m cool. I just, uh, FORGOT.

But now, I am realizing that the other babies are already undressed – but wearing just their onesie, since in Germany the onesie is considered underwear. They are expecting me to do the same. However, being a warm day, I didn’t put a onesie on under Sophie’s outfit. She just has a t-shirt and diaper to undress too. Is this a total faux pas? Will they think we have a white-trash baby? I’m so embarrassed. I never knew doctor’s visits could be so stressful. At least she’s wearing Pampers diapers instead of some cheap plain-wrap brand. Phew.

Soenke has since returned but is off doing something else when I realize I should freshen up Sophie’s diaper before her big doctor debut (how bad would THAT be to present her in an unclean state?!). I now have noticed that there are 4 adjacent changing tables in the waiting room, and you are supposed to claim one as your own when you first come in. That is where you do the undressing, diaper changing, etc, and you leave all your stuff on it. Aha. The other gals were using some identical disposable changing pads, and so I smoothly ask one of the other moms where the pads are stored. She looks at me peculiarly, and says “what do you mean? Didn’t you bring one?” Oh NO. So uncool. I mean, YES of course I have a pad – it’s not disposable , it’s portable – but now I have disclosed that I really obviously do NOT know the protocol. Having lost all mother credibility, I sheepishly change Sophie’s diaper with our own supplies and pray there are no other surprises in store.

Thank goodness, there weren’t. The nurse came in and weighed Sophie (7,130g) and stretched her out in a somewhat primitive wooden drawer to measure her (62 cm). Then we visited the Doc. Doctor Drunkenmoelle is the totally NICEST guy you’ll ever meet (and, I know what you’re thinking… no, there are not bottles of whiskey lining his wall… he just has an unfortunate name for a man of his profession…) He’s gentle, wonderful with babies, and very open-minded when it comes to the parents’ ideas about baby’s health. Sophie looked up at him curiously and didn’t fuss when he gently poked and prodded her a little.

The one hitch in this happy doctor meeting was the VACCINATION. I was absolutely terrified (beginning weeks before the appointment). I started to get teary-eyed when he prepared her for it. Perhaps it was my own traumatic vaccination experiences as a child that fired me up, and I thought about leaving the room. But HOW could I abandon my girl in her time of need? I pulled myself together and set about distracting her with Soenke. No dummy, my girl, she KNEW something was afoot and started to look very afraid for about a second – then doc pulled out this tiny little needle (no more than an inch long) and gave her the juice. It was all over in a flash, and Sophie didn’t even cry. What a stud. You go, Soph.

We rewarded ourselves afterwards with ice cream, and Sophie took a long nap.

May I say for the record that at the NEXT appointment, the Soph will be tricked out in her finest Le Petit Bateau onesie, I will be prepared with a stock of disposable changing pads, and all the other moms will be begging me for advice on how to navigate the doctor’s office. You’ll see…

Photos of this red-letter day:

Our destination:

Soenke loiters in the waiting room with the Soph:

She definitely measures up!

The doc checks Sophie’s operating system…

AND OTHER CUTE PHOTOS, JUST FOR THE HECK OF IT…

Our brilliant daughter is already reading:

Always the orator…

Fashion-conscious baby sports a chic hat from Klaudia & Mehmet:

And finally, not the most riveting video but the grandparents will love it: