Germ mongers know best

I believe in flu shots, even when they don't get it right. I understand that while there is a lot of science involved in predicting - a year in advance - which viruses will be the most problematic, a certain amount of crystal ball gazing, or maybe even Magic 8-ball activity is also involved in creating the final potion. It's not easy to be a fortune teller.

I haven't been sick with the flu for years - ever since I started getting the shot. I don't even get many colds - probably due to the placebo effect of believing I'm protected. I'm a believer.

We've been getting the Germ Mongers, AKA Les Girls, their flu shots ever since they were old enough to qualify.

They hate it.

Whenever it's time to go for the shot they have to be pinned down - literally: I hold whichever girl on my lap, facing me (this immobilizes her kung fu master legs) then I make her fold one arm into my chest and the other one goes around my neck. I hug her tightly to my chest, arms wrapped around, holding on to the arm that will get the shot so she can't move and accidentally get hurt. The shot itself doesn't hurt, unless you are flailing your arms and legs and you get it through your arm, it's really the anticipation that hurts. The crying starts when we're standing in line (at the clinic) or waiting for our appointment at the doctor's office. Sniffling turns to sobbing turns to wailing with Real Tears (TM). You would think they were being auctioned off to live with the gypsies, such is the scene they make. No, I don't ever threaten to do that, whatever gave you the idea? Other mothers look on with sympathy - at me.

Xav gets his shot by himself at the supermarket. They can't give shots to kids under 9 there, so while I was able to get mine done (along with a little banking and some groceries - vive the modern supermarket), I had to make a doctor's appointment for the girls.

Once Cassandre realized what was up, she went to work: "Mama, we don't have to get a shot, we can get it up our noses!" This turned out to be true. Yesterday we went in for the appointment.

The night before I told some work friends about the shot up the nose vaccine and they were rather alarmed. It sounded a little like torture to them. How awful, they said. I insisted that it was all the girls' idea and, once convinced, the conversation turned into a discussion about how this up the nose thing could either become a valuable "just say no to drugs" experience, or the opposite. The consensus was that it would depend on how unpleasant the experience was. "Maybe" said one "they could add something in there that makes it sting." Or perhaps not.

The next day the conversation continued with someone else. "Up the nose? That sounds a lot like water boarding." Yes! I said, But at least we know that technically this is not considered torture, so it's all good, no need to call child protective services.

Fast forward to the appointment. We arrived ridiculously early, for once highway 101 didn't just cooperate, it aided and abetted a speedy run from san jose to the kids' schools. A quick shakedown of the receptionist resulted in lollipops, then we went outside to play on the play structure. Shaped like a ship, it is much nicer than what you find in most playgrounds.

The nurse brought us into the room 30 minutes before our appointment (that's right, I said 30 minutes BEFORE our appointment) and I quickly reviewed the paperwork that acknowledges that giving shots can be dangerous. That while only minor side effects are likely, "life-threatening allergic reactions" are (remotely) possible. I always read these documents and I always sign them. To be honest they scare the shit out of me and for a very short moment after Cassandre was born I thought about not vaccinating her. Then I realized that this was foolish. Not only is vaccination good for my kids but it is also good for the public health. There is something to be said for the public good, you know? Personally I prefer to live in a world that doesn't have smallpox, polio etc. in it and if people like me stop vaccinating our kids we will lose what little control we have over these diseases.

Cassandre went first. She sat in the chair, tilted her head back and waited for the nurse to do her thing. The nurse took two small nasal syringes and inserted one up into her nose. Squirt. Over. She did the same to the other side. The whole thing took maybe 10 seconds. Cassandre was smiling with the satisfaction that comes from being right.

Juju sat down without hesitation. One and two and over. They were done before I'd even finished signing the paperwork.

Protected.

For one more year.