Mother of All Guilt Trips

Today was McCarthy's 4-year well appointment.  I had successfully endeavoured through McManus and McCann's appointments earlier in the week with a little cry, a little harumph, and no major hooplah.


Well, today sucked.  Bigtime sucked.  Mother-of-all-suckage sucked.  When they went to give her the first of her two shots (Editor's Note: DON'T even think of flaming me for vaccinating my kids.  I would love a target at this point in my day.  Personal Choice.  You've been warned...), she jumped a mile high (even though the role of holder-downer was supposed to be played by Mommy), and the needle broke off.


Screaming. Blood.  2 nurses + aforementioned Mommy to hold her down so they could make it all right.  And she's looking at me with this "how could you let this happen?" type of look.  


I cried.   The nurse cried.  The lady with the alligator purse cried.  It was just the ultimate in suckage.


And now she's seemingly fine.  She's proudly showing off her war wound bandage and extra stickers.  After all, they emptied out the 'prize' closet for her (I didn't even protest when she grabbed the whistle!), and offered her an extra poppy.  


I asked if they could get me an extra T-box.  And in all fairness, I did offer to share it with the nurse, who was very upset too.  And yes, Nurse Buffy, she did jump a mile high unexpectedly, and she is freakishly strong for a four-year old.  We've been training her to be the first female Iron Cross rings' champion.  So I don't blame you.  Entirely. 


But I feel like shiz and would love a reason to open a can of wupass on someone right now, hence my vaccination debate warning.

I truly do think the only thing worse than Mommy Brain Rot is Mommy Guilt Trip.  

Now how long until Hughes gets home, and where is that T-box...