Shots. Plural.

It's been two days, and I knew I needed to write about this, but I really also needed to sit and have a glass of wine and be sure that Sebastian has actually forgiven me.  I also may have blocked out the experience, and only now do I feel like I'm at a point that I can talk about it.

Sebastian got his four-year-old shots the other day.  It was horrible.

Holding kids down for shots is, bar-none, the worst experience for a parent.  It's just wrong.  You bring your kid to the doctor, talk about his development, strip him down for the physical, hold him tight because it's cold in there, and then you hold his hands and look directly in his face as some nurse sticks a big needle in his thigh, right there in the fatty part.  Or several big needles.  And then at the end you're all like "Hey look!  A sticker!" to distract him from the wave of betrayal that is taking over his entire being.

The worst for both of the kids were the first shots, when they were infants.  Aaron and I were their entire world, and we had to hold them on this cold paper-covered table, watching the little baby eyes fill with love and relax to fall asleep.  The nurse took her sweet time - enough time for me to look at her, watch her stick in the needle and think "That's not so bad, he didn't even make a sound!'  Then I looked back at his face and saw the terror and the pain, frozen in silence before that horrible scream filled the office.  In my memory, all the windows shattered from the force of it and car alarms went off three parking lots away and the nurse's devil horns broke free as she pursed her lips and shook her head.  Happened with both kids if I recall, and I think Aaron and I both attended this first horrid act of torture.

If you want to keep teenagers from having kids, make them hold down a baby while it gets a shot.  It will scare them straight.

Aaron took Sebastian for his shots for his first year, then I did for his second, and then we traded off for Audrey.  Whenever one of us attends a shot, we come home and say "You owe me."


As I posted earlier, the kids were looking forward to the doctor, and to their shots because of Daniel Tiger.  There was a bit of miscommunication about the shots, and somehow I got the impression that only one of the kids needed one.  I tried to manage expectations, keep disappointment to a minimum, and prepare each child for a reality without shots.  It was kind of weird.

We went to the appointment, the kids washed their hands in the exam room sink like four times, both of them are in good health, Sebastian told the doctor about the Rescue Bots "wolling to the wescue," and I found out that they both needed shots.  Audrey could get hers that day, but since Sebastian was only a day shy of four, he would have to come back as a "walk-in" the following week to get his shots.  Apparently the difference between 3 years, 364 days and precisely 4 years is enough to render him ineligible for daycare or something.  I thought about pointing out that, since 2012 was a Leap Year, Sebastian was actually 3 years, 365 days and should be considered 4, but I didn't.  It all turned out to be a little easier on me, since I only had to hold down one kid for one shot.  When I brought Sebastian back, Audrey's sense of betrayal would subside so she might not get roped into the Great Shot Revolt of 2013.  It sounded like it would work out.

Audrey took her shot like a champ.  There was some screaming, a little crying, but she's two and she loves stickers and hugs and any "owie" gets resolved with a kiss.  She spent a good hour telling me "Mommy, my hurt!  My leg owie!" but she also has a good chunky baby leg that absorbed the pain.  One shot, she's pretty chill, and Sebastian could wait a few days for his one shot.  All I had to do was figure out which day.

Aaron said to get it done ASAP, but I wouldn't take Sebastian on his birthday.  He might forget a shot by lunchtime, but I would not be able to forgive myself.  I forgot on Monday, was busy on Tuesday, and prepped the kids for Wednesday.  Then Sebastian woke up and said "Mom, I'm so happy today" and I decided I didn't want him to lose that big smile.  What's one more day, right?

Thursday morning dawned, a completely different Thursday from the one before.  Sebastian woke up, crossed his arms, and told me that he couldn't get a shot, he wouldn't get a shot, he didn't need a shot, and it wasn't his job to get a shot, so we should just go buy the Heatwave Rescue Bot at the store.  Cut out that ridiculous middle man.  This is how I got started telling the kids that we would go to the doctor and the toy store, like they were both on my errand list in the morning.

We got to the doctor at 10 - late enough to miss the busy walk-in time, but early enough to have the rest of the day to play.  We brought his Bumblebee Transformer because Bumblebee always saves the day, and I reminded him that, just like on Daniel Tiger, it would be one shot that would hurt for a minute and we would go to the toy store.

I approached the reception desk, gave her the name, and told her we were here for a walk-in shot as a follow-up to our appointment.
"Which shot does he need?"
"Oh, just his four-year-old shot."
"Has he had any yet?"
"Any what?"
"Of the four-year-old shots?"
"Um... no..."
"Oh, so he needs all four then."
"WHAT?"
"Yeah, four is the worst.  Four shots at once.  Mmm, Mmm, Mmmm..."
"Okay then, I'd also like to request a sedative."
"A what?"
"For me.  If I'm going to have to hold him down for four shots, I'll need one, thanks."

She laughed.  She laughed!  What the hell?  FOUR shots?  I was beginning to think Sebastian was right - I had half a mind to turn around and go straight to the toy store.  Then I would probably tour a winery, stop by the liquor store, and find a cab to drive me back for this craziness.  Scratch that, I wouldn't tell the cab where to go.  I would need someone to kidnap me, throw me in the car with Sebastian, and bring us to the doctor where Sebastian could see that I wasn't a willing participant in this.

And anyway, where was Aaron?  Hadn't I been on the last shot detail?  Holding Audrey down for a second suddenly seemed like an awful ordeal, and he really owed me.  I mean, he didn't really  need to be in training at work today.  I could call his instructor to send him out of class and immediately to the doctor!  If his instructor had a kid over four, I could probably finagle an excused absence.

The receptionist told me that a nurse would be right with me.  I sat down and searched my purse for a treat.  My mouth was dry, I avoided Sebastian's eyes while he played in the waiting area.  I handed out pink and purple Nerds to both kids to pass the time, then fought Audrey three times for control of the box.  The nurse called us back with a sympathetic smile.  She had her devil horns tucked in for the rest of the patients, but I knew...

My ears were ringing as the door closed behind us.  Audrey went for the purse the moment I put it down, so I put the Nerds on a high shelf.  She cried.  The nurse pulled me aside to talk game plan, mouthing/whispering critical words: it would be (four) (shots), (two) in (each) (leg).  She was asking me to (hold) his (arms) so he wouldn't (grab) the (needle).  She could (control) his (legs) as long as I (held) his (arms). She would go (as fast as she could), but she needed me to (hold him tight) to (get it over with).  We would have to wait about 15 minutes for his shot records, but then we could go.

I realized then that she hadn't brought me a sedative, or a hand to hold, or a glass of wine, or Aaron.  I was on my own, but this woman was an expert.  We both took a deep breath, broke the huddle and I picked Sebastian up and gently laid him down on the table, murmuring about Daniel Tiger.

As I laid him back, Audrey cried louder about the box of Nerds, unjustly placed out of her reach.  Sebastian heard her screams, felt the table, saw the nurse... his face turned a bright red as he realized what was happening.  He started to scream.  Audrey screamed louder - "Can't reach!  Can't reach!  NUDS!" - and grabbed my thighs while I tried desperately to hold on to Sebastian's moving hands.  The nurse was barking instructions in a calm, kind voice.  I felt the heat coming from Sebastian's sweaty head while he screamed in my face.  I looked into his eyes, shushing him and promising the entire toy store and ice cream and a visit from Optimus Prime himself and I don't remember what else.  I regretted bringing the Nerds, that was for sure, and the nurse went as quickly as she could, shaking each leg and muttering soothing sounds as she went.

Two minutes later, we were back in the waiting room, completely back to normal.  Sebastian remarked about his band-aids, but mostly showed Audrey how the waiting room toys worked and reminded her about our impending trip to the toy store.  I stopped shaking about 10 minutes later, but could still feel his hot breath and hear his screams when the nurse came out with the post-shot paperwork.

A few hours later, Aaron came home from work to find Sebastian playing with his new Rescue Bots Fire Station and Audrey pushing her dolls in a new stroller.  I was in the living room putting together the coordinating crib.  Aaron stepped in front of me and waited.  I didn't even look at him.

"Sebastian got his shots today.  ShotSSSSS.  Plural.  Four shots.  Two in each leg.  We went to the toy store."  Aaron let a slight chuckle with a half smile.

"I had to hold him down," I said, looking directly into his eyes.  I let it sit for a moment.  He stopped smiling and gulped, his eyes widening with repressed parental shot memories.

"You owe me."