I went to Walgreen’s last night to get an Amoxicillin prescription filled for the Circus.
I handed the pharmacy tech the prescription and she asked if the Circus liked the bubble gum flavor in that medicine.
I had to think for a second.
I thought, I should know the answer to this, right?! Come on, Jenna. Think.
And then the answer was finally clear as day.
“I don’t know.”
The tech gave me a puzzled look. One of those, you’re her mom, you should know whether or not she likes bubble gum flavored Amoxicillin.
I mean, I’ve had to use all my extremities sans one hand to hold her down on multiple occasions just so I can squirt a syringe of grape flavored children’s Tylenol in her mouth, while at the same time asking the good lord to please let her swallow it and not spit it right back in my face and hair, but that’s it. Amoxicillin was a new rodeo for me and the kid. Who knows if she likes the bubble gum flavor or not?
Seeing as how the tech was still a little questionable about this, I shrugged my shoulders and said, “She’s never had it before or any other antibiotic in her life until this point. I don’t know if she’ll like it or not.”
Then a wide smile spread across that tech’s face, her eyes got big and she looked at me like I was the freakin’ mom of the year. She said, “How did you do that?! You must have breast-fed her.”
On the contrary, my friend.
While I have nothing against moms who breastfeed, that was not anything I had the time for.
“No, ma’am. She’s never had a drop of breast milk.”
“Well, how did you do it then?”
I thought about that on the ride home. This is what I came up with:
Basically, I did everything you’re not supposed to do.
I never sterilized a thing of hers. She played with dog poop a few times. She doesn’t drink enough milk or eat enough fruit and vegetables. I don’t make her wash her hands anywhere near enough and Lord knows, she doesn’t get regular baths. On top of all that, her living conditions consist of dirty floors and dusty furniture. And sometimes we pull dirty clothes out of the hamper to wear.
But if that’s the price I have to pay for antibiotics only once every five years, then a dirty, smelly child she’ll be.
Cheers to all us moms who set the rule book on fire.