The angry eye & the time I didn’t let the baby have a lollipop
Back in March or early April, we had to plan out our summer and block off the dates we wanted for our lake house since it was already filling up with reservations. We didn’t want to miss out on the fun. And in my enthusiasm to get down there and kick off the summer in high style, I blocked off the first week after school got out. The plan was for me and the boys to go down and for Simon to join us for the weekend. We would return home the following Tuesday.
Sounds easy, right? Erm, not exactly. Bottom line: it’s freaking hard to have two kids and be the sole parent. Somebody ALWAYS needs SOMETHING.
Oh, and then to add to the fun? I came down with pink eye. AFTER Simon went home. I woke up in the middle of the night and my eye was red and nasty. I seriously thought to myself, “OMG. He’s going to have to come back down here to get me. There’s no way I’ll be able to drive home.”
In the morning, I texted my friend who’s an MD. “I think I have pink eye.” And after some back and forth it was determined that yes, it was in fact pink eye. She called in a prescription for me with fair warning that the local pharmacy is not exactly the definition of quick.
So I loaded the kidlets up in the car and layered my sunglasses over my regular glasses (now that’s a look) and realized I was squinting like Popeye. Truth be told, I pretty much drove w/ one eye closed to the darn pharmacy (SO BRIGHT! IT HURTS MY EYES!). We arrived and fell out of the car like the Clampitts, with the baby under one arm, a bottle in the other, and the diaper bag dangling from my arm, all while trying to remove the first layer of glasses from my face.
As we approach the door, the baby grins at a one-toothed man approaching us, asking about said adorable baby. We then heard a delightful monologue about the episode of Dog the Bounty Hunter the gentleman had watched that very morning. All the while I’m squinting Popeye style out of my one good eye and thinking “OMG, sir. LET MY PEOPLE GO.”
Finally we were freed. We entered the pharmacy, bedraggled. And I kid you not, not ten seconds later Jude was being offered a lollipop from the kind pharmacy worker. Why yes, he absolutely can have a lollipop.
And then? She legitimately offered Archer one too. Four month old Archer. I laughed at first. And then I realized she was serious so I declined politely and she says very concernedly, “Are you sure? He’s going to love it.” I was like, uhhh yes ma’am, I am absolutely positively sure that he would adore it but he’s a baby? Also, did you see my raging red/pink eye? HELP MEEEEE I AM JUST HERE FOR LIQUID ANTIBIOTICS.
I’m thinking, clearly my raging angry eye is not deterring anyone today, much to my obvious surprise.
So then the sainted prescription was delivered into my hand, and again it was a three-ring circus to get the baby, the bottle, the bag, the other child, and the precious Antibiotic Liquid of Promise wrangled. So much so, that an elderly gentleman said, “Ma’am, just give me the baby.”
And I did just that. Because I am not an octopus and I HAVE NO MORE HANDS SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME MY EYE IS SO ANGRY.
We were finally back in our house in no time at all and I spent the rest of the day with the baby huddled inside away from the light like some kind of vampire, turning down all the invitations for fun and dinner and swimming. Jude returned home properly sunburnt (OF COURSE HE IS SUNBURNT WHERE WAS HIS MOTHERRRRR – this is the voice in my head hissing at me) and I only bothered to come out of the house after dark, again, Twilight-style.
So the moral of this story is obvious: don’t ever get pink eye when you’re solo-parenting. The End.
::runs to medicate eye again every 3 hours on the dot::
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