Well Baby Visits. Even the name sounds warm and friendly.

Your baby is healthy and well! We're just going to visit a bit and you can brag about him.

Except for the vaccinations, isn't that the most important purpose of the well baby visit? The bragging? Of course there are the important stats: head circumference, weight, length, body temperature, and pulse rate.

But then the doctor would start asking me all those questions: Is she sitting up? Holding her own cup? Can he crawl/hold a pencil/wink/whistle/balance on one foot?

I would immediately go into Braggy Mom Mode. I was the number one fan of my children, memorizing everything about them from how many teeth they had to how quickly they could crawl across the kitchen floor (there may have been a stopwatch involved). I am pretty sure the doctor needed a sedative after I left the appointments.

When my kids were little, I couldn't wait to go to their well visits. I was a bit obsessive about scheduling them on the exact day they would be three weeks/six months/one year old. I even remember calling to check for cancellations one time, because our appointment was for the day afterthe exact day.

I am so over that now.

Just today, my 13 year-old daughter asked me, "Was I supposed to have a check up or something?"

Uh oh.

I know she's been to the doctor at some point in the past year, but for the life of me I can't remember whether it was a chest cold or minor surgery. At some point along the way, the doctor's visits just slipped off my radar. Maybe it's because I've been lucky, and for the most part my kids have been healthy?

The last time she had a well visit she was 12, going in for the supposed-to-be-elevenwell visit.

Oops.

And after the height and weight and measuring of limbs and earlobes, I was ushered out to the hallway. Alone. While the doctor asked my daughter who-knows-whatquestions that didn't need my meddling.

I imagined the questions to be things like, "Does your mother ever serve you grocery store rotisserie chicken for dinner? How often does she vacuum? Are you clothes regularly laundered? Has the milk in your refrigerator ever looked lumpy?"

To which I imagine my daughter would reply, "Oh, you should see my mom! Her homemade chili, hand knit socks, and crocheted toilet seat covers are the talk of the neighborhood!"

Finally, the tables would be turned.

I think I'll go schedule that visit right now.

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Sherri Kuhn is a wife and mother, writer, lover of wine and cheese, coffee fanatic, and sometimes exerciser.  She writes at Old Tweener, a place that’s sometimes funny, often sarcastic, and requires tissues once in a while. She writes about raising teenagers, the craziness of being a middle-aged woman, the perils of a clean home, wistfulness over babies, and anything else that makes her laugh (or cry) in the years between changing diapers and wearing them. Find her on Twitter and Facebook.