Well, that went well. I was optimistic going into today. Sure, I had to take my children to get flu shots. Sure, I was outnumbered 3 to 1, but I am the parent. I had my purse stocked:
I also didn’t tell them where we were going. Some parents believe you should be honest with your kids. I believe it is in everyone’s best interest not to have children screaming before we even walk into the doctors office. My 12-year-old new the deal. My 5-year-old figured it out the minute we sat down. I would love to tell you he handled himself with dignity and grace. I would be lying. He held his hand in his face and began to sob. It was at that moment, when I needed to be a nurturing mother, my daughter announced to the entire waiting room, “I have to poop!” I had lost all control. She sat on the toilet counting “1,2,3,4,6” while her brother wailed outside the door. “You missed 5,” I said.
It got worse when we went into the exam room. The needles were neatly laid out on the counter as if to say “I’m coming for you.” My son, never one to be subtle, dropped to his knees, “Noooooo!” I was sweating. I tried to encourage him with my positive, motherly voice. I wanted to scream too.
I had to physically hold him down in a chair while the nurse injected the flu vaccine. When my first born sobbed at the doctor’s office I cried too. After a few years you realize they will be okay. The only thing you can do is comfort them. Oh, and hand out Ring Pops afterward. Like I’ve said before, my kids would cut a bitch for a Ring Pop.