The pediatrician's office

I took Sarah to the pediatrician's office for an unbloggable reason.  I very rarely go there, so it seems that whenever I do, they've just upgraded to some new "system" that requires me to fill out new forms and/or answer a slew of questions when we arrive. I signed in with the receptionist, and she started clicking on her keyboard and asking the questions.

"Are you still married to Michael?"
"Yes."
"And does he live with you?"
"Yes." That's an odd question.
"Does he still work at CEFCU?"
"Yes."
"Which one?"
"The one by the airport in Peoria." Why does that matter?
"And do you work?"
What is this weird feeling washing over me?  Shame?  I know I have an important job, and I love it, so why am I ashamed to admit to this woman that I don't receive a paycheck or contribute to Social Security?  Maybe it's because I haven't brushed my hair today.  Come to think of it, I don't think I've even brushed my teeth...
"DO YOU WORK, MA'AM?" she asks, louder this time.
"No," I mutter.  The woman behind me is well put together, looks like a high powered executive on her lunch break.  She's probably brushed her teeth twice already today. 
"Race?"
"No."  I race my kids to the car when we come out of Walmart, but I haven't run a 5K or anything.
"I mean, nationality?" 
"Oh. Caucasian."
She glances down at Sarah, who is swinging her leg around like a monkey and picking her nose, obviously bored silly. "I mean SARAH'S nationality."
"Oh.  Right.  She's Korean."
Several questions later, the interrogation was finally over.

After waiting in the play area with five kids coughing all over mine, we were called to the exam room.  When the nurse came in, Noah and Sarah were both unusually quiet.  The nurse must have gotten the impression that they were shy, so she tried to draw them out with a small-talk question.  The poor woman wasn't aware that you don't ask Sarah a question if you don't have 30 minutes to listen to her rambling response, most of which will have nothing to do with the question.
"Have you been playing in the snow?" was all it took to get them started talking, both at the same time.  Noah answered the question with a few details, but Sarah went off on a long tangent that I had to cut short.

Having learned her lesson, the nurse got to the point:  "Does anything hurt?"  Sarah thought for a second and then held up her pinky finger, pointed at absolutely nothing on it, and said, "I have a little cut on this finger.  I don't really remember how I got it, but it hurts really bad, and when we get home, I'm going to ask Mom for a bandaid, because it could start gushing blood and then...."
I cut her off again.

Eventually I had to take her down the hall to extract a urine sample.  I left Noah in the exam room, and held the cup under Sarah while she peed all over me.  I don't work??  I'm working harder than I ever did when I "worked"!