Friday, December 11, 2009

Blueberry Pancakes Were the Sled

This morning I made whole wheat blueberry pancakes from scratch and the world imploded into a vortex of fire and noise.

I wasn't aware that I'd committed an unforgivable offense against my son by making something so delicious and nutritious. Why don't I just let him eat Cheetos again? I may have reminded him about children that have no homes, no beds, and no food. He took in all my suggestions and still refused to eat.

When we picked El Guille up from school, he pressed me on where we were going. I refused to answer until he was in the car. "The doctor."
"They're just going to weigh, measure, and make sure you're healthy."
"I can, and I will, and there will be no shots."

He gave the nurse a hard time about taking his blood pressure, his pulse-ox, and refused to have his temperature taken with the ear monitor.

The doctor was greeted with a scowl. I brought up the pancakes. I've been bringing up the pancakes to everyone. Who freaks over homemade blueberry pancakes? I think people should know. Strangers should know how awesome I am and how ungrateful my child is for all his mothering. I should have a shirt made.

Then the doctor suggested a round of flu shots for all. I agreed. Two birds.
"Right, I know. I'm sorry, but, there is a bug going around that makes you very sick, like, you have to stay in bed for two weeks with no friends, school, TV, or games."
"There is?"
The nurse piped in, "I was in bed for a month."
"See? A month! Now, do you want it in the leg or the arm?"
"NO SHOT!" he screamed as he crawled under the counter and into the corner underneath the computer cords.
"Don't make me come under there and get you."
I caught him when he tried to go lateral and put him onto the table. "Arm or leg?"
"You can choose. Leg hurts less, arm hurts more."
He got them in the leg and shrieked as if he'd gotten them caught in a combine. His little brother cried for two minutes and needed a hug, that was it. We walked out of the office, El Guille visibly dragging his leg, you know, with the sudden onset of polio and all. "We're meeting Cousin M and you're going to say some stuff in a microphone for her."
"It's just like in Rock Band when you sing into the microphone. It's for her movie. You just have to say a few things into a microphone."
"No, you're not, " I declared as we parked on the BYU campus.
He dragged his leg and whimpered down the HFAC hallways until we got to the sound booth. I explained that he would sit inside and say things into a microphone. This was how his favorite movies were made! Wall-E, Cars, all of them, people sat in a booth, said some words, and then they would draw the pictures. He visibly brightened. He almost didn't need the four Starburst M slipped him.
He perched on his chair, put the headphones on his head, and repeated the dialogue that M fed him through the microphone. He started smiling for the first time all day.

And then we had to walk back to the car with the wounded leg dragging behind us. It's a good thing we were in the HFAC, because this kid was putting on a performance like you wouldn't believe. I felt like all the acting students could see the pathos he exuded, and envied his commitment. I, personally, was done. His craft is exhausting me. I'm calling James Lipton in the morning. I can't wait to see the career retrospective.


b. said...

Oldest used to act the same way in the healthcare clinic. Embarrassing.

I've seen the kid do Rock Band...he is destined to be a star. If he makes it to see his next birthday.

Kalli Ko said...

I know a good agent, but I want a cut.

Sparks said...

You sure this shotcapade isn't about me? I feel for the little fella. I am 27 years old and I cry at the sight of a needle. Think of what it woulda' been like without the pancakes. Horror.

Susan Petersen said...

i love the leg drag. was he consistent with the wounded leg? or did it change at all.

ps. you can make me blueberry pancakes any time. for that matter, i am pretty positive that you could make dirt taste good. if you made it, i would eat it.

Rachie said...

That's pretty much how I behave when I have to get a shot.


FoxyJ said...

I thought my kids were the only ones insane enough to refuse homemade baked goods. I make them all kinds of healthy, tempting muffins and things and they always refuse to eat them. Sigh.

jennie w. said...

I don't care what people say--boys can be drama queens just as much as girls. If there is somebody crying at my house, chances are it's one of my sons.

jennie w. said...

Also, my kids told me last week they didn't want my homemade from scratch with actual buttermilk pancakes; they wanted Krusteaz.


Why don't they just stab the knife in a little deeper?!

AzĂșcar said...

Jennie, they are trying to kill us. They are trying to take our love and turn it into an ugly, dark thing. I don't like.

Geo said...

Krusteaz, what a name. Conjures up all sorts of stuff that a leg-drag shot probably prevents.

Andreared said...

We went in to get the H1N1 vaccine -- the flu mist in which no needles are involved, and my son screamed from the parking lot, to the waiting area, to the little room -- a total of about 15 LONG minutes. Even better was that it was at the Wal-Mart health clinic because it was the only place in town with the vaccine, so everyone at Wal-Mart thinks I abuse my kids.

La Yen said...

One time my brother and I faked limps and hobbled after my mom at the grocery store yelling "Mom! Don't leave us! Please! Don't leave us!" It was awesome. We were 9.

Anonymous said...

Once I tried to surprise my kids with homemade waffles and sauteed apples in a brown sugar sauce. You'd have thought I was trying to poison them! Spoiled rotten by cereal, no doubt! :(

Marianne & Clayton said...

Don't eat the pancakes? You will be stabbed. Lesson learned I say.

Amber Lynae said...

It makes it hard to slave over a meal when the intended recipients are less than enthusiastic about eating your masterpiece.

I miss the HFAC. I love how you wrote this post.

Cafe Johnsonia said...

The most common phrases overheard at our dinner table:

"Not everyone gets to eat food like this you know. This is better than restaurant food! AND some kids are eating chicken nuggets for dinner! You don't know how lucky you are!"

At least my kids will eat homemade pancakes--hold the blueberries. The rest of it, well, if I hadn't been there to witness their births, I would wonder whose children they were.

Camels East said...


Monkey Boy asked for a wheelchair after shots once.

I'm totally guilty of food-dropping in front of our doctors... "Oh noooo, Dr. BlahBloo, my children wouldn't deign to touch a McAnything. All organic for us!"

Then after I shock the kids with the shots, we go and buy happy meals. With milkshakes.

At least I make the healthy food, even if I'm the only one who eats it.

You brighten my day. I too miss the HFAC.

Clyde said...

That boy of yours seem to be very determined... My guess is that he has a great amount of your genes. :) (It is my humble point of view since I don't know you personally, just thru your frequent posts. But I might added that your blog keep me smiling for a couple years now.)

BTW, did you already picked the winner of your Christmas Giveaway Giveaway? I couldn't find the results post and/or comment.

jeri said...

Good. Golly. How is it that we had this exact experience, complete with checkup and surprise H1N1 shot? People 3 counties over heard Minnie's shrieks. I didn't have to pull her out from under the table, but I did have to hold her in a scissor lock - prompting the nurse to ask if I'd ever considered a career in UHF wrestling. True story.

Polly said...

My favorite patients are the ones who drag their legs after shots! In graduate school I did a set of shots and the little girl gave her mom the stink eye and then asked me to cuddle her. She knew who brought her there.

Recently we had a patient who talked in a scary gravel voice after the shot and kept saying- see what you have done to me! His mom made him write us a letter of apolgy later- which was equally funny.

Natalie | The Bobby Pin said...

Read the first sentence and now we're making pancakes...

You are an amazing mom.

Jillybean said...

My kids are old enough that they make their own pancakes. However, it seems that they are not old enough to clean up the mess in the kitchen after they make their own pancakes.
Someday your son will complain to his wife about the fact that she doesn't make blueberry pancakes for him like his mother did.