Yesterday evening I rushed home with the girls to help them get into costume for the fall festival at their daycare (7 to 9 on a weeknight—what were they thinking?) I was enjoying dolling them up, joking around while I put makeup on my rockstar 5 year old.
When they were dressed, I decided I had better give 3 year old her medicine before we left. I reached into the cupboard and gave her a Singulair, then started preparing the Kepra. “Momma—don’ like it!” she said. I looked down, and she was sticking out a tongue with bits of what was clearly not her yummy cherry Singulair. “My God,” I though, “what did I give her?” I looked in the cupboard and there was a bottle of my husband’s Elavil. I wiped as much out of her mouth as I could and made her rinse and spit. Then I was back and forth with poison control, while they tried to sort out body weight and dosage. Meanwhile rockstar was agitating to leave for the festival. Poison control thought we would be okay, but should be alert to any unusual drowsiness.
So we get to KinderCare and are no sooner out of the car than poison control calls back and says they would highly recommend I take 3 year old to the ER for observation, since Elavil can cause seizures and heart problems. I drag Dear Husband from work to take care of 5 year old rockstar and off I go to the local ER, a place I am all too familiar with. Small children who have eaten medicine get pushed to the front of the queue, so we were soon in a cramped little room with a narrow bed and a TV playing an endless loop of children’s videos. The highlight of our visit was the administration of activated charcoal. Imagine encouraging a small child to drink an 8 oz glass of soda mixed with black grit. I could overhear our nurse speaking with someone who said, “You need to put a top on the cup. If she sees it’s black, she’s not gonna drink it.” Of course, my nurse completely ignored this advice and I had to hold down screaming 3 year old while the nurse syringed black gunk into her mouth. Nurse was ready to use a nasal tube, but by this time I’m thinking For Pete’s sake it wasn’t even a whole tablet! Happily, the doctor vetoed a nasal tube. Which is a good thing, because by this time I was pretty weepy and felt like I had this big label on me: “BAD IRRESPONSIBLE MOM.”
We were released at 1 AM. 3 year old was exhausted but healthy.
This incident brings to mind an old superstition of mine: Whenever I’m happy and excited, I should prepare for something bad to happen. Being exhilarated and happy makes me uneasy, because I have this underlying fear that payback is coming.
But for now I’m paid up.