Boomerang

After dinner, Sabrina was playing happily, or so I thought, when she came running toward me, hand to the right side of her face, complaining of an Ear Owie. And a shock of dread rocketed up my spine.

Please, please, please, please, no, not an ear infection.

My worry meter shot to 11 for 2 reasons. 1 is that we have a lot of experience with ear trouble, to the tune of 4 surgeries (and let’s not think adding the word “and counting” is necessary here). Even though Sammy never really had infections – he seems to be in the small minority of people who have asymptomatic chronic somethingorotherearitis – and it’s been an all-but-the-pain situation with him, it’s the All part that’s the problem. I hope hope hope Sabrina avoids a similar auditory path (and all signs point to yes, judging from the words and sentences she puts together All. The. Time). But if someone so much as raises a finger to itch something in the vicinity of his face, and a little part of me freaks out. Not again.

The second is that our health insurance policy changed rather significantly this year, making doctor visits (much less anything more complex) a much, much pricier affair. I hate that cost has become a factor in getting my kids medical attention when needed, and needless to say kid well being wins out, but it’s part of the thought process now of how sick is sick enough. It’s ugly, but I can’t deny it.

I really wish I could get amoxicillin over the counter.

Anyway, I figured that, since I had no medicine for her ear, I could at least treat her chronically runny nose (dosage specified by her doctor, of course) and hope that maybe the little medicine army might feel like sharing the love and do something for the rest of her as well. And bonus for knocking her right out.

But, like other military, my medicine army tried an end run around the hay fever, and in doing so, threw us all for a loop. I sat down to snuggle with Sabrina for a little bit, as is our nightly ritual, and she fell asleep within 1 minute. Oh, yeah. But as soon as she hit the crib (figuratively, I didn’t drop her), she popped up scream-whining. Round 2 of snuggle rocking. Lather, rinse, repeat. Chris tried. Chris got fed up. Chris decided to lay with her on the bed in her room, and I got some blessed peace for awhile.

Until I saw a tiny head pop around the corner. Followed by a hand waving and a cheery, “Hi, Mommy!”

At 10 o’clock at night.

Initially, she plopped herself down in front of the TV and took over like she owns the place (which, basically, she does, but we don’t tell her that).

But then. Oh, then.

I can only describe her as a crazed jack rabbit. She ran and bounced around the room, stopping short to quickly hug a flabbergasted parent or 2, as if I’d just fed her a pan of brownies. That I made with triple the sugar. This performance capped off a day that started well before dawn, and included only a cursory nap at best and a good dose of allergy juice. She should have been comatose. But here he was, prancing. Literally, prancing. I didn’t know she knew how to do that.

This was the point when Chris said he was going to bed and ran off like a scared chicken. Thanks, Hon.

It took an hour, but I finally caught the little greased piglet and immobilized her long enough (3 minutes) to induce slumber. I deposited her in her crib, crossed my fingers for good measure, and prayed she’d stay unconscious until after sunrise. She did, mostly (save a couple of whimpers and a cuddle around 3 AM).

This morning, it was like none of this happened. She was a shiny, happy, and probably not even aware she has ears, much less complained of pain the night before. I, on the other hand, remember vividly and bare the battle wounds. Youth is truly wasted.

My mom reminded me of a story about my brother and sister as toddlers. She had dosed them with allergy meds, and awoke to much giggling at 2 AM to discover the 2 of them throwing themselves down their play slide, repeatedly, with much energy and glee. Seems they had an adverse reaction that resulted in the opposite effect to what the medicine was supposed to do. I’d heard all this before, of course. But this time, I learned something new. This situation didn’t happen the first time they’d taken the medication – it was the result of their bodies adapting to the medication over time. Gee, sure would have been nice my kids were predisposed to long term hyper-nuttiness when I stood in the allergy aisle at the pharmacy. I’m fairly certain she withheld that little tidbit as payback for something.

I’ll be ear deep in a vat of coffee today.