Mama Hari Strikes Again

As a child, I was more afraid of tetanus shots than, for example, Dracula. ~ Dave Barry

Last week, my little baby Sausage had his first birthday. It was lovely, with presents, and guests, and a rather chic green tutu. Sausage determined that birthdays are, in fact, the bomb diggity (I try to keep him hip with the righteous lingo, man).

But along with celebrations and cupcakes, Sausage’s birthday brought — cue Jaws music — his twelve-month well-baby visit. At the doctor. The one with the needles.

Not this Doctor.

Things went pretty well right up until we got to the ‘poking with sharp objects’ part of the visit.

For your entertainment and edification, here is a dramatic recounting of that day’s events. All of Sausage’s lines have been painstakingly translated from Babytalk by yours truly. Every effort has been made to ensure accuracy.



Dramatis personae:

NURSE — the one with the pointy needles

MAMA — the dirty betrayer

SAUSAGE — the innocent victim of torture

LADY — a kind stranger in the doctor’s office waiting room


(Lights up. SAUSAGE lies upon the table in a doctor’s exam room. He is naked except for his diaper. MAMA is holding his upper body and making faces at him in an attempt to distract him from the goings on.)

NURSE: (to Mama) Okay, if you could just hold his arms … good. The first shot shouldn’t be a big deal, but the second and third will burn. Are you ready?

MAMA: (taking a deep, bracing breath) Yes. Let’s do it. (Sings) Hush little baby, don’t say a word, Mama’s gonna buy you a mockingbird …

SAUSAGE: Hi, Mama! I love that song. Hey, why can’t I move my arms? I want to grab your face, Mama! (First shot is given.) Ouch! Oh, but the song is so soothing … Mama, you wouldn’t keep singing if something was wrong, right? I love you, Mama. (Second shot is given. This one burns.) M*********er! THAT HURT! Mama, why don’t you stop the mean lady? SHE’S HURTING ME! Let go of my arms! I want to flail! (Third shot is given. This one also burns.) AAAAARRRRGGGGHHHHH! F***! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME? YOU F***ING C***! YOU B**** A** M*********ING FEMALE BENEDICT ARNOLD! You knew she was going to do that! You held down my f***ing arms on purpose! NO! DON’T YOU DARE SING THAT F***ING SONG TO ME! I will never, never forgive you! YOU ARE DEAD TO ME, MAMA!

(Since the third shot, NURSE has left. MAMA has continued singing and making calming sounds while quickly getting SAUSAGE back into his clothes and his stroller.)


(SAUSAGE continues to scream as MAMA wheels him out to the front desk, where she needs to make his next appointment. As MAMA talks to the receptionist, a kindly middle-aged LADY starts cooing at SAUSAGE sympathetically. She does not understand what he is saying.)

LADY: Aw, yes sweetie. Did you get some shots? Were you a big, brave boy? I bet those hurt, didn’t they? Poor thing. Yes. I understand. (She continues in this vein.)

SAUSAGE: (Scream-babbling) And then my F***ING MAMA held down my F***ING ARMS and they F***ING STUCK me with F***ING NEEDLES and it HUU-UUU-UUURT! Please, will you take me home with you? Because my F***ING MAMA is a F***ING TRAITOR and I don’t TRUST her anymore! SHE HELD ME DOWN SO THAT THEY COULD F***ING HURT ME! She could be capable of anything! PLEASE SAVE ME. I promise to be good! Take me home and be my mama and take me away from this horrible awful M********ING TRAITOR! G*****N HER! SOMEDAY I’LL HOLD DOWN HER F***ING ARMS WHILE PEOPLE STICK HER WITH POINTY F***ING OBJECTS. WE’LL SEE HOW SHE LIKES IT THEN.

LADY: Oh, you’re just so cute!


MAMA: Okay, little one. Let’s get you out of here.


(MAMA and SAUSAGE exit, with SAUSAGE cursing violently the entire way. Lights down.)

It’s Mama Hari! (aka, Fun With Public Domain Photos)

I should maybe point out that Sausage has since forgiven me. Or maybe he just forgot. Either way, he likes me again. But can I forgive myself for such a wretched betrayal of his innocent little trust? That is another question entirely.

What sorts of things do you do to make doctor visits easier on your little ones?

28 responses to “Mama Hari Strikes Again

  1. This is friggin’ hilarious. Love it. Always wondered what those kids were screaming about. Now I know. They should have included this scene in “Look Who’s Talking.” Remember that movie? My fave line may be: “Fury is not cute.” You, my dear, are a true storyteller.

    Also, why in the heck did you nickname your kid, Sausage? It’s hysterically funny, but it’s bring to mind images that creep me out.

  2. I sing the same song when Baguette gets shots! It’s the only lullaby that reliably calms her down. And she has very strong shot memories–she starts to cry and pull back when the nurse just walks in the room.

    • The only other song that works for Sausage is singing him his own name over and over to the tune of Barney’s “I love you, you love me” song. Anything else just seems to enrage him further.

  3. Cannot come up with a more accurate term than hilarious – oh wait, more apropos: F***ing Hilarious!!! As for the shots – they give them stickers and books as distractions but I think my kids (1.5, 2.5, 3.5 then 16 & 17 – YIPPEE!!!) probably think the same thing: “What, a-hole with your wretched neon cartoon-kittie splashed button-up top, you think ’50 First Words’ with its photos of trucks and kittens makes up for sticking a f***ing NEEDLE into my tender virgin flesh? I already have that f***cking book!!!!” I just ‘keep it real’ & hold them down & apologize profusely in my best mommy-loves-you, the-sadist-will-go-soon-i-promise voice, cooing “I know baby, almost over & then we’ll have ice cream down stairs”. Then I pick them up & cuddle them & bop about the room for 30 seconds & they’re just like “WTF was THAT all about?” And they stop complaining. And then ice cream. Works for me, but your theatrical experience sounds much more fun 🙂

    • It’s fun in retrospect, but at the time it was a WHOLE LOT of not-fun. And I love that: “my best mommy-loves-you, the-sadist-will-go-soon-i-promise voice”. Epic.

  4. haha! I remember those days… haven’t had to deal with it in awhile though, thank heavens! My littlest octopus is difficult to pin down long enough for a needle.

    BTW, I’ve nominated you for the Versatile Blogger Award. I don’t think you win anything other than the warm glow of being nominated (as far as I can tell).

  5. Dear Kathy,

    Hilariously funny! I laughed my head off.

    But poor little Sausage.

    Love Dotty xxx

    P.S. I’m probably going to kick myself and then die of shame for not recognising a swear word, but what does ‘G*****N’ represent? Is it an English word?

    • It’s ‘goddamn’. I know, it’s barely a swear word. I think I was just getting a little bit too excited with the asterisks. I enjoy bleeping swear words almost as much as I enjoy saying them.

  6. I found your blog after I saw the “like” you left on mine. Thanks for visiting! I am glad I found you. This was funny. I think that you and I seem to have similar experiences. I will be back!

    • Yay! I left your blog open in a tab overnight so that I can check out more of it today. I only found you yesterday — how have I not discovered you before? You’re awesome. Stupid Internets, being all huge and all. Thanks for coming over!

      • You’re funny! I’m going to add you to my blogroll. I try to endorse other blogs that are similar to mine so that people can discover all of the disgruntled, swearing mommies out there.

      • Are there any mommies who aren’t disgruntled and swearing? I suspect that some people are just a lot better at hiding it than others. Or they take the really good happy pills. Either or.

      • What a refreshing way of looking at it!

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  8. Really freaking funny. This, by the way, is a pretty accurate translation of what my son said to me when he got his shots. My daughter was much more forgiving.

  9. Oh. My. Word. That is hysterically accurate and tragic all at the same moment.

    I keep talking to my little man. I feel like I need to explain to him why I’m letting him be tortured. I don’t know if it does anything but distract me…but I give it a go every doctor’s visit.

    • I think next time I’ll walk to the doctor, so that I can do the whole thing slightly inebriated. Nothing I do can really make it better for him, so I might as well look to myself.

      • Best plan yet. You might want to employ a designated baby walker…you know, so you can fun it up hard core.

        I have friends that send the grandmothers with the kids. At first, I raised an eyebrow. Now I think it makes perfect sense. Let them be the bad guys. Then you get to be the hero.

  10. When my son was two, he stuck his middle finger (it had to be the middle one) in a metal dustpan. It became stuck. He ripped it out. It was skinned. As in, I seriously thought we were looking at grafts. No, just twenty two stitches that had to be done sooner than they could sedate a person who just ate. So they strapped him to a backboard and five nurses, Scott and I held him down. They injected lidocane. It turns out he’s immune to that. It worked, but kept wearing off. So the doctor was basically irrigating the wound with lidocane, and poor little Sam was saying, “Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.” The whole time.

    And I was singing, “Bye, Baby Bunting” over and over like a record with a giant scratch. And then he fell asleep.

    • Wow. Let me guess — he slept the deep and impenetrable slumber of the exhausted child, and you had nightmares about it for weeks, yes? And seriously. Even I hate lidocaine, and I’m a (technical) grown-up. If it has to hurt like a bee sting in order to prevent the bee sting pain of stitches, I believe we may have to rethink the whole system.

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