Breathe.

Matthew has been sick with a nasty cough and cold for about a week. It didn't seem to be improving, so we headed to the pediatrician's office this morning. In the waiting room, Matthew put his mouth on the children's table (insert gagging noise here) before I could stop him. He ran to the door and entreatied me, "Up, up!" When I didn't comply, he attempted to drag a kiddie chair to the door while explaining helpfully, "I climb." When they called us back for our appointment, I heaved a sigh of relief -- it would definitely be easier to contain him in the exam room, right? Once in the room, he ran about opening drawer after drawer as I frantically followed behind him, closing drawers and trying to block his progress. Finally, the doctor arrived. A peek in Matthew's ears -- infected. A listen to his chest -- wheezy and crackly. A script for antibiotics and an inhaler and, oh, one more thing . . . a nebulizer treatment before you go.

The doctor lugged the nebulizer into the room and, to my surprise, turned to Cameron. "Don't be scared," she said. "This isn't going to hurt Matthew, it's going to make him feel better." (I love our pediatrician, by the way.) As the nebulizer began puffing away, I held the mask to Matthew's face. He didn't move a muscle, just sat there inhaling the medicine. The doctor headed out of the room and I congratulated myself on having such a compliant little patient.

Seconds later, Matthew began screaming, "All done, all done!" He tore the tube out of the mask. I reattached it and held his arms down. He thrashed and pulled the tube out of the nebulizer, shrieking, "Help! Help!"

Cameron began to sob hysterically, while I held Matthew's arms down with one arm, wrapped by legs over his and clamped the mask over his face. "We're OK!" I shouted. "We're all OK! Everybody stay calm!"

I can only imagine what the patient in the next room was thinking -- two sobbing kids, a tiny muffled voice calling for help, me screaming that we all need to stay calm. It was a traumatic ten minutes. When the doctor returned, both kids were red-eyed and snotty nosed, I was sweating and panting and the tube was, once again, disconnected from the nebulizer. She has clearly seen it all, as she barely batted an eye.

Now, finally, all is calm. Cameron's at school, Matthew is napping and I have a little while before I have to hold Matthew down to give him a few puffs of the inhaler. Repeat to self: "We're OK. We're all OK."