Every time I am at my mom’s we pay a visit to our good friends at the ye olde expensive walk-in clinic on good hope road. We’ve visited for UTIs and strep and ear infections and pink eye.
I knew it was coming.
of course. because we were in a groove. finally. The kids were liking camp. I was finally getting ready to get some actual work done. I was learning to use my phone. I had taken my mom on her very first trip to Target ever. Emily’s meltdowns were starting to wane. I got a good headstart on the three blankets my mom ordered (yay! spending money for blogher!) I was finally feeling unexhausted, settled, good. and then, this:
head-to-toe. top to bottom. right to left. and THIS is the good arm.
apparently, little miss thing is allergic to amoxicillin. so, she didn’t go to camp today. she itched, so she scratched. she whined, so we made chalk drawings on the sidewalk and did melty beads and ate 100 cherries (well, I didn’t. because ever since I saw The Witches of Eastwick I swore off cherries for all time) (psa: if you watch that clip, do not get distracted by all the hair) and had very important conversations about the song “it’s raining it’s pouring” and what we should color next.
(psa: if you watch this clip, do not get distracted by all the hair) (heh)
and now, some children’s benedryl (which, ps, does not make my child drowsy. in fact, she’s awake, at 9:22, bouncing off the walls. drowsy, my awake-since-4-in-the-morning ass.) and some hydrocortisone cream later, we are hoping to get back on track tomorrow.
but you know, I’m fully expecting a curveball. or eight.