Monday, February 27, 2012
Today has turned sour on the parenting front, so I'm focusing instead on something I need to do while one child screams in his crib (YOU CAN'T MAKE ME NAP!) and the other yells at me from her time-out (I'M NEVER GOING TO STOP YELLING!) Fine. Stay in time-out.
Here's the routine for shots...
At some point in the evening I remember it's shot night and I whine about it.
Put kids to bed. At this rate I'm thinking 4:00 instead of the usual 7:00. That may change. I'm a little bitter right now.
Take my pile of Rebif-related stuff from the top shelf of the pantry and narrowly miss knocking the red biohazard bin. It's only a bin full of used needles that could come tumbling down onto my face. No big deal. And yet I still haven't moved it. Playing with fire here, I tell you...
Rebifers get a shot journal to record injection sites (we have to rotate), days / times, and reactions. I scan to find a place I haven't done in a while (as if the red splotches on my body aren't telling enough) and place a little x on the drawing of a person. Right thigh. Ugh.
Side note: The yelling has switched to a relationship status update. Apparently we're not friends anymore. (Sigh)
Back to shots... Heat (warm washcloth), prep the auto-injector, insert the syringe, clean the site with an alcohol pad, grab one of Jason's hands or the counter for a death squeeze, inject the medicine with my other hand, hold the needle in place for the longest 10 seconds of my life, swear like a sailor, remove needle, massage the area with a cotton pad to disperse the meds, continue swearing because it burns and I'm a baby.
Jacob had a flu shot last week and didn't even flinch. Who is this kid? You're making me look bad, Baby. At least give it a whimper! Even Emily remembered that shots hurt and was sure to confirm she was NOT getting a shot before entering the exam room. She reiterated this point with the nurse when she arrived. "Just Jacob. Not me today." That's my girl... She gets her control freak gene from me, of course.
I do the shots myself. Even the awkward left-handed-hip-at-a-weird-angle shot because I can't handle having someone else do it. See? Control freak.
Aaaahhhh... No more crying. Sleeping baby. Thank you, Jacob. Wait... It's too quiet. Time to go check on the toddler time-out:
"Em, Are you ready to be sweet?"
"NOTHING! I'm not doing anything!"
That can't be good... At this rate my shot may not be the low point of the day. 6:00 bedtime for sure!