The Dread and the Tactics of Immunization Day

When our children were small, they didn’t much like the doctor’s office.  Thankfully they were healthy kids with only the occasional ear infection, cold, or stomach virus.

The pediatrician’s office was decorated with animals and cartoon characters. Toys and books were scattered about. No amount of window dressing deterred mine from not wanting to be there.  

They knew an office visit would include a lollipop and stickers. The stickers were cool!  Big, square, shiny stickers of the latest kid fare – princesses, superheroes, puppies and kittens! 

But they always wanted to know if the office visit was going to include shots. Every parent’s battle.

Before child 2 and 3 were old enough to reject the idea that shots were good for them, I had the first born convinced of the following: “Shots are good for me. They help me stay healthy and strong. They keep sick germs away from me...and besides they only hurt for a little minute.”  

I can hear her sweet voice in song-like rhythm.

But as things would go, child 2 would have nothing of that sentiment. Shots hurt and she wasn’t having any part of it.

When the nurse brought in the syringes, she clamped up and melted down. The screams were piercing. That little body was far stronger than it seemed and holding her down took every ounce of strength I had.

The nurses were so kind…bless their hearts. As the years unfolded, I would begin my apology as soon as we arrived for the appointment. I knew she wasn’t the only child that kicked and screamed, but it was epic!

Child 3 tried to be brave. He would stoically fold up his shirt sleeve as his eyes welled with tears. He would reach for my hand and I would cover his eyes as he laid his head on my shoulder. He tensed up and winced when the needle punctured his skin.    

I scheduled an appointment for all three of the kids to get their annual flu shots. Although I was dreading it, I thought I’d put a positive spin on things.

I decided to bribe them. Yes, bribe. Indeed it had come to that.

As I loaded them into their car seats, I announced that we had two errands to run. We were going to the store and they were allowed to choose any candy they wanted. Cheers erupted from the back seat with each child proclaiming their favorites.

Then, I foiled their plans. I told them we had to make one stop first. It wouldn’t take long, but afterwards the candy was theirs.

Silence as we pulled into the doctor’s office parking lot.   

"You tricked us! Why would you do this? That’s not fair!"

These were just a few of their sentiments when they realized that our first errand was to get their flu shots. The cheers and excitement turned to disbelief. I thought I was clever, they considered it betrayal.

Child 2 would not speak to me. She vented through comments to her older sister.  “Don’t talk to her. She did this to us. It’s not okay. She tricked us.” 

My clever plot was unraveling.  

The oldest went along with it. She always does. She didn’t really like my method, but as she still does, she keeps her thoughts to herself and complies.

The youngest cautioned that maybe this wasn’t the best idea. So often when he was little I felt I was talking to an adult. Well, when he wasn’t repelling the bedroom wall with his sister’s bathrobe ties, that is.    

Band aids across their arms, lollipops unwrapped in their hands and stickers reluctantly clinging to their clothing, the appointment was over. It was time for the payoff.

I convinced myself that the bright colored wrappers of the candy aisle would perk them up.  

They trudged into the store to select their candy. It was the first time they made it seem like a chore. The ride home was rather quiet with just the faint crinkling of candy wrappers in the back seat.  

Author’s Note:
I read this story to child 1 & 2 who happened to be home the day I was editing it for the blog. Both are now in their twenties.

You would think the appointment was yesterday the way they went on about it. Child 2 would like all of you to know that she still stands by her statements and will never, ever trick her children like that.   

Okay.

Pity Party - Table for One

Just gonna put it out there.

I feel sorry for myself.

There.  I said it.  

Poor me.

Life has rendered its share of ups and downs lately. No one really needs guidance to deal with the up side. We can all get behind that. It’s the struggle…disappointment…heartache that we need help with.

Some things really are unfair. And it seems like when it rains, it pours.    

Sometimes, it’s dust from the past stirring up in a new day. Who hasn’t been there?

Perhaps something we thought we had worked through, needs more attention. Maybe our loved ones have been distant when we need their support.

Maybe we’re left out by a group of friends, lose a job, feel the sting of rejection, or get a serious diagnosis.

And then, some stuff is of our own choosing. Ouch. Yeah. We choose. A misery of our own making.

It’s in those times we choose to point the finger at circumstance…a safe place for blame that requires little personal responsibility. Ouch again.

We’re quick to assign our unhappiness to someone or something else, recruiting others to validate our feelings.

And a look in the mirror after a good cry aides in feeling sorry for ourselves….our puffy eyed, blotchy faced selves.

But pity is risky business.

It begins with a thought.

And then another.

Before you know it, there is a nest making its home in your mind.

It didn’t just happen. Just as a nest is assembled twig by twig, each selfish thought has made its contribution to pity.

If not properly dealt with, it gives way to a negative attitude and a hardened heart.

Please friend, don’t go there.

Things will get better…even if it’s only your perspective that changes.  

The surest way I know how to move forward is by reaching out. Talk to a trusted friend. Not one who will trash and bash with you, but someone who loves you enough to tell you the truth…

...even if it means telling you that you are wrong.

Sing, dance, pray, take a walk, get coffee, buy flowers, rearrange furniture, wear bold lipstick, try a new hair style, read a book. Do something on purpose that replaces pity with a positive.

Perhaps neglecting yourself has given way to feeling sorry for yourself. A healthy balance is just that. Healthy.

Focus on someone else. There is always, always, always someone who is going through something far more challenging who could use a kind gesture.

You’ll be amazed at what taking your eyes off of yourself will do for you. Smile, send a card, hold a door, make a casserole.

Then fill your mind and heart with good things. Someone else has traveled the road you’re on and they have a story to share. It will help you.

Words of Gold is a great place to find just that. The young, the old, and the in between sharing, encouraging one another.

We are not alone. A hand is waiting. Take hold.

The To Do List

She thanked me profusely for taking her along.

Errands. I was running errands.

All day.

And she was thrilled to go!

Two different grocery stores, Target, home to serve lunch and then back out to a wholesale supply store.

Alone, my list would have been knocked out in 2 ½ - 3 hours tops.  Almost seven hours later I rolled into the driveway.

I have to be honest...I didn’t really want to take her with me.

Everything takes so much longer with an elderly person and on errand day, I like to conquer.

Nobody conquers at a snail’s pace and nobody gets through a “to do” list by admiring every single thing on the store’s shelf. But none the less, there we were. 

I wrestled with my thoughts that morning.

I knew inviting her along would mean an all day excursion but I was in get it done mode, and getting her out of the house was long over due.

I felt I owed her.

After all, when the kids were little, she went on errands with me. Back then I needed someone to push the extra cart so that I could contain three toddlers. At least one or two of said toddlers would fall asleep at some point, so she’d stay in the car with them while I ran in and out of stores quickly.

And she babysat.

Made us soup when we were sick.

Gave the kids Easter baskets for years and even let them have peanuts in the shell. Oh how they loved the surprise of peanuts cradled neatly inside! 

So, I drove over to pick her up. Even the short drive was irritating.

There are railroad tracks a couple blocks from her home and I was sure that the longest train in the history of ever would be crossing just as I approached. It wasn’t. No train in sight. 

She was dressed up. Black slacks, fine knit sweater, knee high nylons and patent leather flats. 

Me? Full on errand attire. Faded jeans, long sleeved T-shirt, comfy tennies and a cross body bag.

To her it was an occasion. To me it was a chore. And I felt guilty. 

Conversation was pleasant at first. She’s always been interested in what the kids are up to and like most Moms, I love to brag about my children. 

I loved it, that is, until she asked the same question for the third or fourth time. Likewise, she shared about her granddaughter’s birthday celebration at least that many times if not more. Sometimes she wasn’t sure who the girl was, but it sure was a nice party. Agonizing!  

I wish I could wrap up this post with a warm, fuzzy ending. 

But it was a flat out irritating day. However, she is not the one with whom I am irritated. It’s me. 

Though my intentions seemed sincere, they were self-serving. Spending time with her was just another thing I could check off of my list that day. Owning that realization is not a proud moment. 

So, where’s the lesson? How can I do better? How can we all do better? 

I guess recognizing my selfish impatience is a good first step. 

Knowing that I’m not too far away from the golden years is a decent second step. 

How would I feel if someone offered to spend time with me just to check me off their list? Ouch. Not very special, I’m sure. 

It was an internal struggle. She was quite pleased with the day. She was almost embarrassingly grateful. And I genuinely hope that’s how she felt. I would not want to leave her with the stain of my indifference. 

So, I’ll try again. 

Next time I will give her my undivided attention. Fully present! And honestly, she might not be the only one I need to focus on. I mean really focus…all in. 

No errands, no clothes folding, no Instagram scrolling, no dinner making while I’m supposed to be “listening”.

In the Bible we’re taught that love is patient. The very first definition of love in First Corinthians, is patience. I suppose it’s first because it’s so important. And difficult. 

I’ve got some work to do in this area. Do you?  

The Comparison Trap - A Conversation with Jenna

“I think the comparison trap starts when we’re young.

We’re raising two little boys right now. I’m trying to avoid comparing them to each other. I see how much my husband appreciates an encouraging word of praise and so I’m trying to do that with our boys. Simple little things like, ‘wow, you have a really good dinosaur roar.’

I had a lot of good things happen all the way through high school. I was driven to accomplish as much as possible for my family, my team, and for my disabled sister. But then in college, I went through trial by fire. Even though I couldn’t control my circumstances, I was hard on myself.

I know what I’m capable of and expect a lot of myself, so when things don’t go right I tend to lean towards negative thinking. Thoughts like ‘why didn’t you do better at this or that, or how come you can’t be like so and so.’

Women have such unrealistic standards for themselves.

For my generation, I think we tend to compare ourselves to the posts on social media that represent perfect circumstances. We want others to see our best moments on Instagram or Facebook, but what we don’t post is the raw stuff that isn’t so great.

It’s easy to say, ‘if I just had her marriage, her job, her kids, her (whatever) then my situation would be better. When in reality, changing our circumstances won’t ever make the situation better unless we take care of our own emotional well-being.

So when my mind is leading me down the wrong path, there are three words that a good friend taught me to say and to pray. God is good. When I pray with the mindset that God is good and then repeat it to myself, it really helps.

I’ve also heard that it’s a good idea to make an Awesome List with all the things you’re good at. I plan on getting to that.”