Monday, May 19, 2008

I Wear Bifocals

I got my first pair of bifocals when Olivia was about 18 months old. I realized something wasn't right with my vision when one morning I couldn’t read the crawling text at the bottom of the morning newscast. After about 10 minutes of straining to focus, I had to admit something was up and I high-tailed it right to the eye doctor that very day.

Vanity aside, I just wasn’t ready to hear I needed bifocals. I was just beginning to see myself as somebody’s mother, now according to this optometrist-- I had old-ass eyes that needed the assistance of bifocals. After picking out some new frames, and being assured that no one would be able to detect I was wearing bifocals, I headed home to sulk in my bed under my covers like a little old Southern lady. Bifocals are just not sexy.

So, now I’ve had bifocals for almost eight years and I’m completely dependent on them. I can’t read a damn thing without them and so last night when I noticed I didn’t have them on when I went to give Yannick a dose of Bennedryl before he went to bed, I should have taken a moment to grab my glasses.

Yannick’s been suffering from a runny nose; sneezing and watery eyes and we can’t decide whether he’s dealing with allergies or a spring cold. I got the Bennedryl from the medicine cabinet, poured what I thought was the correct dosage and handed him the dosage cup. Just as the boy swallowed the last drop, I got the sinking suspicion I mindlessly measured one tablespoon, not one teaspoon. After a few moments of absolute panic, I got my glasses from the nightstand and studied the dosage cup, looking for some indication confirming I hadn’t made such a dreadful mistake. Hell, I couldn’t tell. I tried to quiet my brain and said silent prayers as I put the kids to bed. I then went to my bedroom, read the entire Bennedryl label and found a poison control hotline number in case of overdose. I was too scared to call, but I did go find Loverman downstairs to let him know what I might have done. In his usual laid back fashion he assured me that more than likely I didn’t make a mistake, but my gut told me otherwise.

I went back upstairs to check on Yannick and in less than 10 minutes, the boy was snoring like a sailor. He never falls asleep that fast so my suspicions were confirmed. I felt terrible and didn’t know what to do. I picked the boy up and put him in my bed to keep an eye on him and that’s where he stayed for the remainder of the night, enjoying what seemed like an extremely restful night of sleep, and me, his neglectful mama didn’t get a wink of sleep because I kept a watchful eye(s) on him--- all night.

Thankfully, the boy got up this morning good as new. I am so grateful. I should have called the poison control hotline, followed their directions and today, instead of feeling both exhausted and crappy about the mistake I made, I would have spent today simply feeling crappy.

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