Flu shot failure

Just when you think you’ve moved into a comfortable stage of life when no one is likely to start shrieking in the mall or make a sudden pee-puddle on the floor of the grocery store, a whopping dose of parental embarrassment will smack you in the face.

At this point, I don’t think there is anything more mortifying or unexpected than The Older Kid Tantrum.

We were going for our annual family flu shot date last week, and it’s always gone pretty smoothly. Our doctor is friendly and everyone chats as we roll up our sleeves, and then we get the needles one after another — from oldest to youngest. The littles get to choose a treat on the way out, and then it’s done. No biggie.

This year, though, I was nervous it wasn’t going to be so easy. You see, our eldest had a major freak-out — and that’s an understatement — when I’d taken him to get his five-year needles in June. I hadn’t expected it to be a problem, since he’d been fine with flu shots. But apparently needles are much scarier when your entire family isn’t also getting one, because he absolutely lost it.

There was kicking and flailing and, oh God, there was screaming. So much screaming. The doctor and I had tried to reason with him, and then eventually I held him down — with great difficulty — for the shots. I was horrified by his behaviour and the doctor didn’t seem all that impressed, either. He had just turned five, and I’d thought we were past tantrums!

I did the Walk of Shame through the waiting room as quickly as I could, hissing threats as I dragged the little screamer back to the minivan. I felt like Papa Bear in Berenstain Bears Get the Gimmies. “No treats or TV for a week! For a month! FOR A YEAR!”

We had a very long talk when we got home (once I’d calmed down and my cheeks were no longer burning), and I felt like I’d gotten through to him. I’d reminded him that vaccinations are an important part of keeping us healthy and strong, and that, yes, normally we all get them as a family. But sometimes we have to get individual vaccines when we reach a certain age.

When October rolled around, I felt semi-confident that we’d avoid another meltdown. We stayed upbeat and casually mentioned we’d all be getting flu shots that afternoon. We reminded the kids about choosing a treat from the doctor’s basket, and even upped the ante by offering them each a chocolate bar if they were really, really good. Bribery is usually the ticket, and the kids were pumped.

Our son started to feel nervous when we reached the doctor’s office, but we hugged him and tried to stay positive. We greeted our doctor and my husband stepped forward to take the first shot, and that’s when the hysterics started up again (er, with our son — not my husband).

He screamed while we got our flu shots, and that made our daughter start to tear up. We tried distractions and reasoning with him, but in the end we held his arm in place as he thrashed and cried. We felt like terrible parents, setting our child up for a lifelong phobia of needles and doctors and who knows what else.

There is something really awful about a tantrum when it’s coming from a child who’s too big to scoop up easily under one arm and allow you to hightail it quickly out of the curtain rod aisle at Zellers (um, not that I’ve ever been in exactly that situation).

They’re much stronger than the average tantruming two-year-old, and there’s the added shame of feeling like they’re too old for this kind of behaviour. People stare! There is judgement! People have much more sympathy for a parent with a screaming one-year-old than they do for a parent with a school-aged child who’s throwing a fit.

I once watched an eight-year-old girl throw an epic tantrum on the sidewalk in front of our house with a mixture of fascination and dismay. Now I know how that parent felt, and it’s not a good feeling.

Our daughter bravely got her flu shot and selected a sucker from the basket while we apologized profusely to our doctor. Once again, I did the Walk of Shame through the waiting room — at least my husband got to share the embarrassment this time — and angrily slid open the doors of the minivan.

Our son was confined to his room until dinner and given a lengthy discussion about the proper way to act in a doctor’s office. But I still don’t feel good about how we handled what happened. Would it have been better to leave the office without getting him the flu shot? Spend more time trying to reason with him? Try again another day? I have no idea.

I do know that I miss the days when I could tuck him under one arm and hustle him easily back to the van.

Heather Laura Clarke is a freelance journalist who married her high-school sweetheart. They moved from the city to the country, where they spend their days chasing their spirited five-year-old son and sassy three-year-old daughter. Follow their family’s adventures over at at: www.LaptopstoLullabies.com.