Does it hurt Mommy?

We did round two of the H1N1 Flu shots with the boys this week. They were out of the nasal, and although Matthew thought the shot was going to be a piece of cake, he found out a little differently. He jumped so hard, the needle came out, and he had to get stuck a 2nd time. Daniel did bravely, holding my hand, but both boys had tears of indignation that someone would even think to do such a thing to their little bodies. After some smarties, Matthew declared that his no longer hurt, saying he was sure it was the smarties that 'fixed' it.

Later that day, Matthew and Daniel were talking between themselves about their shot experience, while I was busy making dinner. I wasn't fully listening, until Matthew caught my attention. He looked at me, and once he got my attention I could tell that there was a serious question coming. I thought it would be about more shots for them, but in his own unique way of communicating, he was asking me something he was curious about. He said "Mommy, when you get the cotton puffs under your band aids, does it hurt?" This statement made me pause, since I couldn't figure out what he was talking about. Quickly, though, I realized he meant the times when I forget to take the band aid off my infusion site on the days I have a treatment, and the boys always ask why there is a band aid with a cotton ball under it on my hand. At those times, I just say I had my treatment, and there is a little boo boo under there. During this moment though, they were asking a question that was more relevant to them. They had just been hurt, and they wanted to know if that meant I was being hurt too. That connection in their brains astounded me, and I got down close to them and said that yes, when I have a treatment it is possible that it can hurt, but that I have a very good nurse who tries hard to not hurt me, and since I am a grown-up there are lots of things that don't hurt me so much any more.

It reminded me of a time years ago when Daniel was younger than Matthew is now. I'd had a treatment, and the IV didn't go in very easily, I was still quite dehydrated. It created a massive ugly bruise about 3 inches long and wide on my inner arm, where the skin is pale anyway, and showed up lovely yellows, blues and greens after about a day. Since it was spring, I wore a shorter sleeved shirt, and Daniel caught a peek at it as we were playing with toys on the carpet. Not long before this, Daniel had found markers make lovely interesting colors on skin, and since he always called them 'colored crayon's' he became alarmed that it appeared I had gotten some 'color crayon' on my arm, and tried to wipe it off.

Watching their brains make connections is one of the top reasons I love being a parent. They are so smart, so clever, I fear it will be very soon before they are smarter and more clever than I am.

Here's Daniel after experimenting with markers, aka: colored crayons

And here's an example of why it might be better to keep the band aid on after a treatment: