Perchance Her Next Word Will Be Yo-Ho

My readers may remember my husband started a new job about two months ago, which rendered us insurance-less for a short period of time. He is a month out from the end of his probationary period, so we are still in that “short period of time” time. I knew that it would be practically useless to hope that we could make it through without a visit or two to the doctor. I’m quite sure that there is a terrible sort of chuckle coming from the final resting place of Mr. Murphy at the prospect of so much fun to be had at my expense.

A few weeks ago, my daughter awoke with a suspicious looking bump on each of her eyelids. I have been keeping one of my eyes on them, and while they haven’t gotten any larger they haven’t disappeared either. Being overcome with tiredness yesterday afternoon, the little munchkin stretched out upon a pillow and succumbed to what is known in mommydom as the wonderful “nap.” With smiling eyes I gazed down upon my lovely little bug.

It startled me to notice that her right eyelid was swollen and covered in a purplish-bruisy sort of color. Not being a panicky sort of mommy, but a cautious one nonetheless when it comes to eyes and things of that nature, I called up the pediatrician’s office to see what could be done. Of course, with it being an eye and all, they wanted to see her.

I wasn’t ready to have my pocketbook plundered over what was likely an allergy related problem, and I thought it would be nice to be able to purchase some other necessities, like food, this week, so I purposed to put off the visit for a day and see how things were looking in the morning.

It was a nice sort of morning. The kids slept until the unheard of hour of 8:30am and I was feeling pretty cozy in my pajamas. I plucked the baby from the bed and was about to plant a smooch on her cheek when I noticed that she was looking out of her right eye through a slit. I considered the fact that she could be practicing her pirate impression, but given the redness and the swelling I thought this was unlikely.

At this point there was a smidgen of alarm present in my visage. That’s it! I’ve blinded my poor baby for life because I didn’t call for an ambulance to rush her and her puffy eyelid to the doctor yesterday! She’ll grow up only being able to enjoy the turning of the leaves with one eye and we’ll have to buy her an eye patch and a parrot for Christmas!

The swelling quickly abated to a more manageable degree of inflammation, but I feared that putting off a visit to the doctor for one more day might prove to be imprudent. It just wouldn’t do for a teeny little girl to have an eyelid as big as her whole face, so I called up the office and flew into warp speed to get everybody ready and out of the house in time to make the appointment.

A very wise woman once told me that sometimes peace of mind is worth paying for. Actually, she tells me that a lot. She’s my mom. And not being able to see the afflicted eyelid herself, she settled for giving me that nugget of wisdom again. She’s right. Even though it can be expensive at times, peace of mind is really priceless.

The doctor couldn’t say for sure why the eyelid is swollen, but it’s not infected and it doesn’t look to be causing any harm or discomfort. Now that a professional has examined it, I am positive the eyelid will be back to its normal size by morning. If I’m wrong and the baby wakes up with a monstrosity of a lid tomorrow then at least I know it’s nothing to worry about and I can get to work on that eye patch with a clear conscious.

Slimy Fluid of Doom

On Tuesday I shared some slightly irrational fears. On Wednesday Big Brother came down with a raging cold and Little Sister exhibited signs of a seriously clogged colon. The latter came out okay, but every time the little man sneezed ropes of snot flew every which and where; he had a fever and runny eyeballs. My nasal spray is pretty much gone and my ears still pain me from time to time. The baby either gets kicks out of watching my eyes dilate from anxiety or she still has some discomfort in her ears as well because she has really been at them again.

This morning my baby girl is showing signs of congestion, and her skin is warm to the touch. I’m pooped from lack of sleep the last two nights: I had to heed cries of “need a tissue!” and wipe the little man’s nose about every thirty minutes. This is becoming somewhat of a challenge since his nose is already chapped. I don’t believe I have ever seen a nose become cracked and red in less than twelve hours before. I suppose that comes from insisting it be wiped every two-point-five seconds during the daytime hours. Needless to say, I got little else done; not much housework can be accomplished in segments lasting less than three seconds.

It’s times like these when I almost believe in jinxes. Like typing those words the other day somehow summoned all of the bacteria within a ten-mile radius and caused it to beset our home or something. Darn that Murphy and his law; if I could find him I would command my child to sneeze, blowing snot and microscopic green germs of pestilence onto Mr. Murphy. If the man were within ten yards of us I bet my son could nail him with his projectile snot rockets.

Party Manners

This past weekend a friend of mine had a birthday party for her youngest who had just turned one year old. She decided to have the get together at the home of her husband’s grandparents; dependent on the weather the party was to be held out of doors. It had rained the night prior, and not being sure how that would affect the set-up I decided to put my son in wind pants and a long-sleeved tee just in case the kids would still be playing outside.

I did consider dressing him in good clothes, but I was pretty confidant that if I did then he would most certainly be outside and rolling around in the mud. So, as I said, I took what I thought was the safer road. We piled the kids into the car and began the thirty-minute drive.

When we exited the highway and made the few turns that took us closer and closer to our destination, the homes became larger and larger and larger still. A glance into the rearview mirror confirmed that BoBeans was still wearing the windpants. Not only that, but his shirt was still too big and his bed-mussed hair stubbornly stuck up in places even though I had tried to force it into submission with a comb and some water.

When my husband stopped the car in front of the biggest house mansion I have ever laid eyes on I just knew that the kids would not be playing outside. I’m not sure what emotion I was feeling, but it was pretty close to mortification. God uses all kinds of situations to keep a person humble. At least my little guy behaved himself admirably. I’d rather belong to a messy looking child with good manners, than a fashionable toddler who throws himself screaming onto the floor when he doesn’t get his way. However, next time I think I will aim for nice clothes, freshly cut hair, and good manners. It never hurts to try.

Murphy Strikes Again

I don’t know anything about the person who drafted Murphy’s Law, but I suppose I wouldn’t be partial to him or her. It seems to me that if the notion that “anything that can go wrong will” weren’t floating around out there in the atmosphere circumstances wouldn’t feel they were at liberty to wheedle a person’s nerves. There are few things that have the ability to work me up into a frothing frenzy faster than problematic bills and issues with our medical insurance. More often than not, these bills or insurance statements that claim “THIS IS NOT A BILL”, which they may as well be, arrive in the mailbox on weekends. Murphy knows well and good that my insurance company does not field phone calls on weekends. That means I have to wait until Monday to straighten out the problem that looms over my head like a giant black anvil or a sleek grand-piano waiting to smoosh my cartoonish form into a flat pancake. I really find it that stressful. On the brighter side, my little boy had a raging fever for one day and then it magically disappeared. Thank the Lord. So far no one else has exhibited any signs of sickness. I’m having myself fitted for laser beam eyes just in case that darn Murphy tries to show up to wave his magic wand and cause the rest of the family to become ill with typhoid fever or something; that way I can blast him and hopefully put an end to his maniacal dealings once and for all.