I absolutely won the Mean Mommy of the Year Award last Sunday. We had a fun-filled morning at the beach with my mother-in-law in New Hampshire. It was a bit chilly out, but the kids didn’t care one whit (although it made me cranky. As I said to Adam, “We have a word for this kind of day at the beach back home [in Miami Beach]. The word is February.” They had a blast. Pie searched for shells and just stood at the ocean’s edge. Doodles had a blast making a “castle” (otherwise known as one big mound of sand) and then digging a moat around it. Adam ran interference with whichever kid my MIL wasn’t watching and I had a great time sitting in a beach chair reading a book just for fun. Yeah!
Except that at one point, Doodles somehow got some sand in his eye. He cried and cried, which I encouraged to get the sand out. We beat a retreat from the beach and he seemed fine so we went out for a delightful lunch (note to self: Next time I plan on getting back on the healthy eating track, consider not ordering fried oysters, fried mushrooms, French fries, and a S’mores Sundae). Periodically he’d complain about his eye, but he had fun.
On the way home, the munchkin passed out in the car. So tired! (Did his sister, who we wanted to nap, fall asleep? I’m guessing I don’t even have to answer that one for you!) We transfered him to the couch when we got home. At about 3:30, I shook him awake. “Hey Doodles. Hey Doodles! Do you want to go to a carnival with your friend Grape?”
Doodles doesn’t wake up well from naps, but he does okay when he has an incentive. I had made plans with Grape’s mom to meet at the carnival in the neighboring town, but I hadn’t told Doodles because I didn’t want him to get all worked up.
“Do you want to go.”
“Yes!” he shrieked. “Can I go on rides?” Then he starts rubbing his eyes. “My eyes hurt!” he complains.
I take a look and sand is still coming out of them. I peer into his eyes and see globs of sand inside.
“Oh, sweetie,” I tell him. “I’m sorry. I’m not going to take you to the carnival. I’m going to take you to the emergency room.”
I’m sorry, no matter how you paint it, the emergency room is just not as fun as a carnival, even when your mom says things like, “Aren’t you lucky getting to watch this completely age-inappropriate film in the waiting room?” and “My, isn’t this an adventure?”
He was actually somewhat game for the adventure part until the pediatrician came at him with the eye irrigation.
Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. And it was the last day of the carnival and by the time we left the ER (two and a half hours later), the carnival was over. I let him rent a movie but it just wasn’t the same. This is definitely one for this therapist when he’s grown.
sounds both spent some time in the ER…found you via littlemonkies. i like it here…
oops meant to say..”sounds like we both..”