What Was I Thinking Taking Both Kids for Flu Shots?

If you were shopping in the fruit section of a grocery store, you'd use a bag to carry your apples around, right? And if there weren't any more bags left, you'd ask the store manager for one. And if somehow the manager didn't have any, you'd probably just go home without the apples, because no one in their right mind would carry more than their hands could handle, right? Well, apparently I don't subscribe to this philosophy, as I brought both my apples (kids) to the doctor at the same time to get flu shots.

When the pressure's on, I either shine or fail miserably. To make a sports analogy out of this, when I'm bowling and facing a 10th frame where I need to get two strikes to win, I will either get the two strikes or roll a gutter on my first ball, extinguishing all hope. No in between. And within the span of an hour with both boys, I display both types of behavior. When Sonia flew to Michigan for a funeral and left me in charge of our sons, there were moments of pure hell where I'm sure they questioned my parental abilities as much as I did (the dual bath, for instance). But then within an hour, I'd be reading them books, kissing them goodnight and successfully putting both to sleep simultaneously. And when those types of things happen, you feel like an unstoppable bad-ass.

So when my wife asked me to take both our boys to the pediatrician for their flu shots, I conjured up my inner bad-ass, took a deep breath and slung my anything-but-manly diaper bag over my shoulder and ventured forward. It's always slightly alarming to be the one person solely responsible for two children's well-being. You always expect the absolute worst. That way, you're prepared for as big a mess as possible. It's like bringing a portable toilet when you're watching a Lord of the Rings movie. Same concept.

In general, this whole flu shot visit was going quite well. Antonio and Nate were playing in the waiting room without fighting, and Antonio was still clinging to the praise bestowed upon him for not crying when he got his last shot. I'd even commissioned him to console Nate after he'd gotten his shot, instilling a trust in him that he was taking quite seriously. He was the rock here, and he knew it. Within ten minutes, the nurse called us into the smaller waiting room, and we were on our way. Everything up to this point was perfect.

 The "Before" Picture

Then, it happened. Things were going so well, I felt invincible. So I let my guard down. When it was time for the doctor to administer the shots, Nate was the one sitting closest to her. So I figured, "He's closest, do him first." As soon as the needle pierced his skin, the blood-curdling scream resonated in my sympathetic ears. I knew I'd done something stupid. No sooner was the Band-Aid stretched across Nate's thigh when Antonio frantically shook his head and darted in the opposite direction. Since he was already standing on the padded area with the butcher paper, he didn't have far to run. I then had the unenviable task of trying to prevent Antonio from escaping the room while consoling a traumatized Nate at the same time. I realized in that chaotic moment how idiotic that decision was. It was like having him watch Friday the 13th, then standing over his bed wearing a goalie mask. It also didn't help that the doctor giving the shot had the bedside manner of Ben Stein on downers, but I digress.

The next deed to overcome was somehow pulling Antonio's shirt off while he flailed his arms like E-Honda in Street Fighter. At this point, a backup nurse came in to hold a crying Nate while I held Antonio's arms AND legs down to get the shot in. I truly felt like an evil human being. Five minutes earlier, they were hugging and kissing me. Then suddenly I'm constricting their limbs and letting people stick needles in them. How could they not think I'm a jerk? I would.

There was this awkward in between period where I was trying to dress both boys at the same time, while both had tears streaming down their faces, with a look of fear mixed with unadulterated anger. The backup nurse was still reluctantly holding Nate as he wriggled away into my arms. Antonio, while fending off sobs, looked at me while sniffling and asked, "Now when do I get my sticker?" It was the cutest thing I'd ever seen in my life.

Before I knew it, both boys were smiling again. It truly is remarkable the effect a sticker (and the promise of ice cream) can have on kids.And for those wondering where the "after shot" was, I simply didn't have the heart (or the hand) to snap one.

Thanks for reading, and pass it along if you think others would enjoy.

-Joe DeProspero
jdeprospero@gmail.com
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