Blood test

I am completely phobic about needles. I make Tom take the kids anytime they need blood work or a shot. That was my plan for this crazy test but Sam insisted that I go. Without hesitation I said that I’d love to and for a moment I swear I could hear the applause and cheers of  “selfless mommy.”

We wake Sam and direct him to pee in a cup. The whining has been non-stop since he woke up. His throat hurts. His stomach is bothering him. He can’t get out of bed. He needs to stay home. He can’t make it to school. And there definitely will be no blood test.  For some naive reason, I didn’t think this would be so hard. Silly me.

While driving, I am peppy and try to minimize what’s going to happen. It’ll be ok. It barely hurts. By the time you count to three, it’ll be done. On and on I try to reassure him. Lies all lies. Getting blood taken is truly one of the worst things that could happen to his sweet, little arm. Did I mention that I hate needles?

I park, we brave the wind and the cold and find the lab. Luckily (or not?) there’s no wait and they take him right away. Sam sits on my lap and screams. And screams. And cries.  He’s so freaked out that they only get one vial of blood from his left arm so they have to stick his right arm too. By the time we’re done we both look like we’ve run a marathon and it’s not even 8 o’clock. We pass all the terrified and shocked old people in the waiting room and head home.

Once in the car, I put on his Brain Balance music. It’s six pieces of classical music plus some heartbeats, wind and waves. He needs to listen to it 3-4 times each day. It can be listened to with headphones (left ear only) or we can play it in the car or at home on the stereo. He doesn’t like the music. It’s boring. Where’s Maroon 5? Or Taylor Swift?  Why are we listening to this? I explain that it’s for Brain Balance. In addition to going there, we have to listen to this music. He is annoyed but decides it’s not worth the battle. When we get home he asks for Pop Tarts for breakfast. Sure I say, knowing as I hand them over that I have to include them in my Food Journal and that this may be his last one for a while. Yikes. Why couldn’t he have been in the mood for Kix or Cheerios?