Get Me Outta Here!!

Since the kids recently turned four, we also recently had our four-year checkups. Now, my kids have been LOOKING FORWARD to these checkups for ages, begging me to take them TODAY to get their shots. Can I get my shots NOW? PLEEEEASE? I'm not kidding. BEGGING FOR SHOTS.


Why in the world are my kids begging for shots? Two reasons: the treasure box and a convenient forgetting of how much shots hurt. Mostly the treasure box.


Finally the kids turned four. Time for checkups and shots! Yea! Jonathan and Zachary went first. (I may be a supermom, but I'm not super enough to take all four at the same time, especially if shots are involved. They may not remember that shots hurt, but I do!) Most of the checkup was great! The kids are healthy, etc, etc, I'll post more about the checkups later. This post is about SHOTS. Zachary got his first, and when the first needle went into his leg (there were three total BTW) he looked at me with total shock. He DID NOT expect the shots to HURT!!! And then he started wailing. Jonathan, in the meantime, scrunched himself as far into the corner as he could go and refused to come out. After consoling and calming Zachary, I literally had to pry Jonathan out of the corner with him begging me the whole time not to make him get the shots.


But as awful as it was, it was nothing compared to taking Reagan and Thomas. Reagan cheerfully volunteered to go first. (Yea, shots!) I really tried to prepare her for the fact that the shots WOULD hurt. She was undeterred. And then she got poked and started crying. I don't want the shots! I don't want the shots! Too late. But the worst part was that she wouldn't stop crying. Thomas was so scared that I had to hold both of them after her shots, and she starts begging me, "Don't do it to Thomas! Don't do it to Thomas, Mommy!" So sweet of her to be thinking about her brother, but NOT HELPING TO CALM THOMAS. She continues to beg for Thomas' life while I help the poor nurse prepare for T's shots. As soon as the first needle goes in, he starts screaming, "Get me outta here! Get me outta here!"


I had to turn my head away. Not because I couldn't bear to look at the fear and pain on his face, but because I was afraid I was going to start laughing. Isn't that awful? Now don't get me wrong. I do not enjoy seeing my kids scared and in pain. IT WAS AWFUL. The whole experience was excruciating for all of us. But Get me outta here! was just too much for me. I composed myself quickly and turned back to him with a face full of concern, and was overjoyed when the experience was over, but the memory remains, and I think I will enjoy telling him all about it when he's old enough to understand the humor of it.


Get me outta here!