1. Leave Kid #1’s ADHD meds in an accessible place. Preferably the Intuniv, because it was developed as a blood pressure medication and will cause the most uncertainty with Poison Control and the ER doc.
Yup – she’s tall enough to reach. Dang it. Now I have to move all the crap backwards away from the edge.
2. Call Poison Control after Kid #4 returns Sunday’s empty pillbox and tells you, “I took my meds, Mommy.”
3. After Poison Control tells you they aren’t really sure what will happen because not many kids have taken this med accidentally, agree to go to the ER for the child to be “observed for a while.”
4. Rush around the house throwing on clean (hopefully) clothes, yelling at Kid #3 to brush her teeth and get her backpack for school (Kids #1 and 2 were already gone).
5. Grab the Kindle Fire, the phone, the iXL, and the scarf you started knitting the night before. Do not, I repeat: DO NOT take any chargers for the electronics because you will only be there for “a while.”
6. Deliver #3 to school and head to the ER.
7. Notice at the admitting desk of the ER that one of #4’s earrings is missing. It must have gotten pulled out when you hastily yanked her hot-pink leopard-print fleece sweatshirt over her head. Take other earring out and stash it in your purse because you don’t want to look like a bad mom.
8. In ER room, take picture of child watching “Jake and the Neverland Pirates” to post on your blog later.
Happy as a clam.
9. Feed child via syringe 1/2 c. of sludge consisting of liquid activated charcoal (to stop absorption of the meds into her system) and chocolate syrup. It was a gooey black mess.
10. Move up to a regular room – or in the case of our tiny hospital, ICU room #5. Watch more Disney Junior while child is hooked up to various computers to monitor her heart rate, blood pressure, and respiration.
11. Email hubs, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and Tardie Sue’s bestie with an update. Wonder how long the battery on the phone will last, because now “a while” has turned into “at least 7 more hours.”
12. Eat an average lunch with Kid #4 and Hubs, who has walked over from work to check on us.
13. Make Hubs stay until after the Big 3 Kids get home from their half-day of school (12:45) so he can call them on his cell. Your phone’s battery is now down to 40% and there’s no phone in the room. (What?) You aren’t allowed to switch phones with Hubs, either, because he has an employer-issued phone with a super-secret passcode to get into it.
14. After issuing orders to the Big 3 that they can watch TV and NOT ARGUE, bid Hubs goodbye and hunker down for a long afternoon of inane kids’ cable programming.
15. Get in the bed with the kid because you are afraid that if you don’t have some kind of hold on her, she’ll try to walk out of the room while you’re asleep, despite the fact that she has 6 different cables attached to her little body.
16. Have a brief wrestling match with the child as you assert your parental right to take a stinking nap. Express your feeling of ambivalence regarding her own state of consciousness, but assert your need for 40 winks. Keep a (semi) death grip on her to prevent her from slipping out of the bed.
17. Wake up 20 minutes later to find the child asleep.
Notice she’s hogging the bed – sleeping right in the middle.
18. Find yourself unable to go back to sleep, so bust out the Kindle Fire for some entertainment.
19. Get hungry and make too much noise getting your chocolate croissant out of the bag an hour later and wake up the kid.
20. Give the kid the Kindle Fire and try to “help” her play various games – most of which are way too old for her anyway.
21. Realize the phone’s battery is down to 30% with at least 3 hours to go.
23. Fight with the kid (for the 37th time) about how she needs to keep the pulse/ox monitor on her big toe.
24. Realize the phone’s battery is down to 20% with 2 1/2 hours to go.
25. Knit more as you watch NCIS because now the kid is watching “Go, Diego, Go” on the Kindle. Wonder how long the battery will last.
26. Feel slight panic as you text a reply back to your friend because now the phone’s battery is at 15% with 2 hours to go. Turn the phone to sleep mode, not realizing that you will receive NO texts or calls while it’s in that state.
27. Knit more as the kid begins another episode of Diego. Think thankful thoughts for Leroy Jethro Gibbs and Anthony DiNozzo.
28. Manage a minor crisis when the Kindle battery craps out. Pull out the iXL.
29. Realize that the “at least” part of the time estimate is no longer in effect because the kid’s blood pressure is back to normal. Wonder if the hospital will get us dinner before our paperwork is ready.
30. See the doctor one last time. Get released.
31. Decide to go to Sonic for tots because the food services guy came 30 minutes earlier and skipped our room.
32. Twenty-four hours later, laugh as Hubs changes the 4th black-as-tar poopy diaper since you got home and says to Kid #4 (who is perfectly fine, thankyouverymuch), “You know, if you get constipated right now, you could make a diamond!”