Confessions of a Parent, Part Deux

First confession:

This was merely a close call, not an actual mistake – so don’t freak out when you read this.  Did you know that Flexeril and Focalin pills look very similar? Flexeril is an awesome muscle relaxer prescribed to me after a month of dealing with an annoying pulled neck muscle (which, btw, is the worst place to pull a muscle. You have no idea how heavy your freakin head is until it hurts to hold it up.). Focalin, on the other hand,  is an ADHD medication intended for my 6 year old. Let’s just say someone in our home, who is above the age of 35, may have gotten the bottles mixed up and handed our 6 year old a Flexeril. Thank GOD this kid is the most detail oriented person on the planet. He pauses, looks at the pill quizzically, and says, “This is different from my other pills.” At first, we are both like, “No it’s the usual one, go ahead and take it.” Then a pause followed by, “WAIT, DON’T TAKE THAT PILL!!!” Good thing he notices the little things eh?

SIDENOTE: Zyrtec and Xanax are also similarly shaped, but those are just for me, and either way, I’m feeling pretty good, so no harm done right? Can’t say Xanax has ever helped with my allergies, but then if I take the Xanax by mistake, what the fuck do I care?

Next confession:

“Mom!  This milk is gross!”  What?  I just bought it.  It smells fine.  Crazy kid.  “Grace, quit being dramatic, it’s fine, just drink it.”  “But MOM, it’s gross!!!”  Sigh. “Here let me try it.”  Huge swig out of her sippy cup and insert whatever the noise is for spitting out milk and gagging here.  “What the???”    Note to Self:  Always disassemble sippy cup components.  If left intact, milk and other debris tends to get trapped between the plastic insert and the cap.  I had just let my daughter drink old, dishwashed, moldy milk leavings.

Confession #3:

This is an oldie, but goodie.  Back in our single kid days, when Will was just starting to really walk around and we were new to the whole wearing shoes all the time business.  While baby shoes are adorable, I was far too lazy of a parent to actually put them on just for looks.   My kids wore socks only until they set their own feet on the ground.  So much for those adorable booties I spent a fortune on before I had children because they were totally NEVER worn.  Anywho, my babysitter calls me up one day at work about mid-morning saying Will is limping and he won’t put any weight on one foot.  So, as I have shown in previous posts, I am completely calm and rationale in my train of thought.  Did he break his foot?  Are his leg muscles growing wrong?  Am I walking him too much on one side?  Is that even possible?  Is one leg growing faster than the other?  Is it shorter than the other, just like my self-diagnosed one short leg syndrome?  So, I call the doctor to see what might be the problem and they are running the gamut of questions when I hear my call waiting beep.  It’s my sitter saying she found the problem.  My loving cat had left Will a present in his shoe.  No!  It’s not that!  Eww.  She’s a good cat, she wouldn’t do that…it was one of her tiny toy catnip mouses (mice, meeces?) that she was playing with and had jammed up into the toe of his shoe.  So – that morning in my rush to get us out of the house on time, I unknowingly shoved my poor kid’s foot into a shoe crammed with mice, tied them up and ran out the door.

Last one:  This is borrowed from a friend, but I can guarantee most of us have almost done it.  The names have been rhymed to protect the guilty.

After visiting with my parents on Sunday, I was driving back home with the kids and rhymes-with-Hobie decides that he needs to go to the bathroom.  Of course, we are nowhere near a rest stop, so I have to get off the turnpike in the middle of nowhere. I asked the attendant where the nearest gas station was and he pointed in that direction. The station was under construction and had no indoor plumbing, so we had to settle for the porta potty around the back.  So in the dark and cold, we run around the back of the building coatless, and he hurries into the porta potty.   While he is going, I am huddling with rhymes-with-Lenzie to keep her warm and Hobie asks if I have extra toilet paper because he pooped and there wasn’t any in there. I dig through my purse, sightless in the dark.  I grab hold of a package thinking it’s tissues and grab one to hand to him. Hobie asks me why it’s wet and I say it is a moist towelette and to just use it. I then go to grab Lenzie and smell bleach for some reason. Ummm yeah I made my son wipe his butt with Clorox wipes!!!!

Thanks Megan Ann Leigh for the story.  Cracked me up!  In my opinion, at least you know you killed all the germs!  No need for hand sanitizer after that poop!

That’s it for tonight!  Say goodnight Gracie.

PS – I totally woo’d Toledo Area Parent (check them out here).  I will be submitting some stuff by the end of the month, where they will hopefully take my sad writing skills and turn it into literary genius.  Or they’ll just shake their heads and go, “Nice try kid.”  Either way, I gave it my best shot.  I’ll keep you posted.  Thanks for all the support.  KF – I owe you big for suggesting it to me!