You know it's a bad day when the highlight is having your son give a urine sample
Have you brought your child to their 5-year wellness check up yet? Let me warn you now. Shots! Lots and lots of shots. Four of them to be exact. And then they draw some blood. Oh and the lovely urine sample. And I am not kidding in the least when I tell you the highlight really was the whole urine sample thing--he wasn't crying.
I thought the newborn immunization shots were horrible to suffer through. And then you had to suffer through the 2-month immunizations (there were four then too). But no one (and I mean no one) prepared me for today.
The Kiddo turned five yesterday. We had tons of fun--pizza, presents, party, and well the Eye-Clops (great fun toy for a 5 year old. Or at least mine who has a mine of fun things waiting to magnify tomorrow). Fun way to start the weekend early and enjoy my last few days of freedom before starting up the full-time day job again next week. But then... yes, we have the 5 year wellness check up.
All was well and good when we arrived. The Peanut had fallen asleep along the way, we were in round 7 of a game of I Spy in the waiting room, and then we were called back to the examination room. Normally, the whole examination thing is painless. The Kiddo entertains the doctor, and the doctor makes The Kiddo laugh while getting his job done. But today, my kid's inquisition took over---he asked about shots. The dreaded shots. And I am not one for lying to my kids, so we told him. He's need four. Four. Shots.
It didn't quite go over well with him either. Immediately--as if his world had ended--he broke into sobs. Sobs that only a mother could bear to look at without cringing. The ugly sobs continued as he tried to negotiate out of them.
"Mom, I'll sleep in my big bed all night long every night...." Sob.
"If we just do one shot, I'll be good forever!" Sob.
"I'll clean my room whenever you ask me too..." More sobs. This time with a little bit more of those hiccup-I-can't-catch-my-breath-I-am-crying-too-much sobs.
And believe you me--all those promises, I'd have taken them over the shots if I could. Only they are required for day care. And kindergarten, which starts next year. We didn't have a choice. So the wailing continued.
I'd like to tell you that he calmed down by the time the nurse re-entered to administer the nasty things, but it only intensified. So much so--well, I don't want to relive the moment. I've never seem my kid this bent out of shape. Nor has my sweater that was completely covered in snot, spit, and tears from the left shoulder all the way down to my waist (because when I stood up to then comfort The Peanut who also became to wail because Big Brother had worried her so much he then leeched onto my waist in even more tears about how awful I was for letting them do that to him). And I did feel awful. We still had to go to the lab.
Revisit the previous paragraph. The wailing and the crying? Yep, again. This time when they had to draw two vials of blood. And I got to hold him on my lap again for this one. Rinse. And Repeat. The Kiddo wailed. The baby cried. I got snot, spit, and tears on my right side this time.
Put the baby back into her carrier, shuffle The Kiddo who was barely walking half speed due to the original 4-shots (2 in each thigh) and holding me stiff armed out of the way (due to the band-aid resting squarely in his elbow joint) to the restroom. Time to explain the technical--he had to pee in a cup.
This might freak out some kids, but mine apparently find it hilarious. Especially when a few months ago, he witnessed me doing this very thing at my last OB appointment. One would never thing that having an audience while you pee--or pee in a cup for that matter--could work to their advantage. But this time it did. The Kiddo cracked up. It was either he couldn't take any more pain, had lost all sense of himself, or because he'd finally give in to being poked so many times, peeing in a cup really was painless. Maybe even fun.
And fun it was. Hand washing, cleaning with toilette wet wipe thingies, peeing, laughing at the pee in the cup. More hand washing. Writing name on sample. Getting jackets on everyone--and off we go. I barely made it out of the doctor's office alive.
That is til I got to the car and climbing in and buckling seat belts caused a bout of pain in legs and in The Kiddo's arm. This time, I lost myself in a few tears too. I mean, I'm programmed to like when my kids are in pain. Especially when I have two of them crying. I have two circular milk leaks on my shirt to prove it. Along with a front side of snot, spit and tears.
Mom badge for today? Earned. Twice.
I thought the newborn immunization shots were horrible to suffer through. And then you had to suffer through the 2-month immunizations (there were four then too). But no one (and I mean no one) prepared me for today.
The Kiddo turned five yesterday. We had tons of fun--pizza, presents, party, and well the Eye-Clops (great fun toy for a 5 year old. Or at least mine who has a mine of fun things waiting to magnify tomorrow). Fun way to start the weekend early and enjoy my last few days of freedom before starting up the full-time day job again next week. But then... yes, we have the 5 year wellness check up.
All was well and good when we arrived. The Peanut had fallen asleep along the way, we were in round 7 of a game of I Spy in the waiting room, and then we were called back to the examination room. Normally, the whole examination thing is painless. The Kiddo entertains the doctor, and the doctor makes The Kiddo laugh while getting his job done. But today, my kid's inquisition took over---he asked about shots. The dreaded shots. And I am not one for lying to my kids, so we told him. He's need four. Four. Shots.
It didn't quite go over well with him either. Immediately--as if his world had ended--he broke into sobs. Sobs that only a mother could bear to look at without cringing. The ugly sobs continued as he tried to negotiate out of them.
"Mom, I'll sleep in my big bed all night long every night...." Sob.
"If we just do one shot, I'll be good forever!" Sob.
"I'll clean my room whenever you ask me too..." More sobs. This time with a little bit more of those hiccup-I-can't-catch-my-breath-I-am-crying-too-much sobs.
And believe you me--all those promises, I'd have taken them over the shots if I could. Only they are required for day care. And kindergarten, which starts next year. We didn't have a choice. So the wailing continued.
I'd like to tell you that he calmed down by the time the nurse re-entered to administer the nasty things, but it only intensified. So much so--well, I don't want to relive the moment. I've never seem my kid this bent out of shape. Nor has my sweater that was completely covered in snot, spit, and tears from the left shoulder all the way down to my waist (because when I stood up to then comfort The Peanut who also became to wail because Big Brother had worried her so much he then leeched onto my waist in even more tears about how awful I was for letting them do that to him). And I did feel awful. We still had to go to the lab.
Revisit the previous paragraph. The wailing and the crying? Yep, again. This time when they had to draw two vials of blood. And I got to hold him on my lap again for this one. Rinse. And Repeat. The Kiddo wailed. The baby cried. I got snot, spit, and tears on my right side this time.
Put the baby back into her carrier, shuffle The Kiddo who was barely walking half speed due to the original 4-shots (2 in each thigh) and holding me stiff armed out of the way (due to the band-aid resting squarely in his elbow joint) to the restroom. Time to explain the technical--he had to pee in a cup.
This might freak out some kids, but mine apparently find it hilarious. Especially when a few months ago, he witnessed me doing this very thing at my last OB appointment. One would never thing that having an audience while you pee--or pee in a cup for that matter--could work to their advantage. But this time it did. The Kiddo cracked up. It was either he couldn't take any more pain, had lost all sense of himself, or because he'd finally give in to being poked so many times, peeing in a cup really was painless. Maybe even fun.
And fun it was. Hand washing, cleaning with toilette wet wipe thingies, peeing, laughing at the pee in the cup. More hand washing. Writing name on sample. Getting jackets on everyone--and off we go. I barely made it out of the doctor's office alive.
That is til I got to the car and climbing in and buckling seat belts caused a bout of pain in legs and in The Kiddo's arm. This time, I lost myself in a few tears too. I mean, I'm programmed to like when my kids are in pain. Especially when I have two of them crying. I have two circular milk leaks on my shirt to prove it. Along with a front side of snot, spit and tears.
Mom badge for today? Earned. Twice.
Labels: health, motherhood, parenting, The Kiddo, The Peanut
