It wasn’t the day I had planned.
You see, it was supposed to go like this. I was going to the dentist, where I would be sedated in a sort of zoned out twilight “sleep” so I wouldn’t freak out about having gum surgery. And then I would be driven home to rest for the rest of the day. Because apparently it’s not recommended to function in the regular world high on Halcion and Xanax.
I even had a note from the doctor excusing me from being Mom for that one day.
That’s what was “supposed” to happen.
Here’s what actually happened.
After my dental procedure I was still feeling groggy and kinda out of it. The very nice boyfriend was waiting in the lobby to drive me home. The nurse walked me out to meet him and said, “Now remember. Don’t leave her alone. She may act and seem normal, but she’s not.”
And with that, we left.
I remember asking, “Everything OK?”
That was my first mistake.
Because what followed was this.
“Actually….no. Your mom called and said Ethan is having an asthma attack is currently at the house giving him a breathing treatment, and also….the school nurse has Harley in her office. Lice. Again.”
It must have been the drugs playing tricks on me because surely he didn’t just tell me that a shit storm had blown into town.
I asked him to repeat what he just said. Surely this time the words asthma and lice wouldn’t cross his lips, yes?
Once we got home he walked me inside where hell was in the middle of breaking loose.
There was Ethan seated at the kitchen table, wheezing and coughing and strapped to a nebulizer.
Harley ran to me and wrapped her arms around my waist and said, “Mommy, it happened again.”
Yeah, I know. And at that very second I knew my plans had changed. This wasn’t how this day was supposed to go.
The boyfriend had an appointment he couldn’t reschedule, but he assured me he’d be gone less than one hour. Would I be OK without him for an hour?
Sure. I got this.
The last words he said to me were, “Don’t go anywhere.”
Just as Ethan finished his breathing treatment I picked up the phone and dialed some service called The Lice Doctor. For one hundred and fifty dollars you too can have someone come into your house and rid the place of bugs once and for all.
I have no recollection of talking to the lady. Or how I even heard about. Did I google it? Who knows.
But forty five minutes later she showed up at my front door in scrubs, ready to work. She asked for a bottle of olive oil. I gave it to her. And then I watched as she poured it on Harley’s head, saying something about olive oil smothering lice.
All I remember thinking about was how expensive olive oil was. There’s one dollar, two dollars, three dollars. Seriously, she poured five dollars worth of olive oil on my nine year old’s scalp.
And then she informed me I would need to repeat this for three weeks. THREE WEEKS. Do you know how much money that would cost me? Olive oil doesn’t grow on trees you know. And also, aren’t YOU here to do this? Because I thought I just gave you a hundred and fifty dollars. PLUS an eleven dollar bottle of olive oil.
Three weeks my ass.
Just then, Ethan appeared and announced he was hungry. So I did what every parent does in this situation. I drove to McDonald’s.
About the time it was my turn to order my phone rang. “Where are you?” Was what I heard when I answered.
“Hey! I’m at McDonald’s. You want anything?”
It was the boyfriend on the other end and he didn’t sound too pleased with me. “You’re not supposed to be driving!”
“Oh, right. Well too late.”
“Come straight back.”
Seriously, I was totally fine. The sedative had completely worn off and I was hungry. I mean my mouth was totally numb but my stomach was thinking FOOD.
Five minutes later I was back at home, attempting to bite into and chew a Big Mac.
I think I was supposed to eat soup or have a milkshake or something like that. I can’t remember.
I *do* however, remember biting into my right cheek and lower lip. It didn’t hurt, naturally, because my whole face was numb from the anesthesia. The only reason I knew I had bit myself was because Ethan pointed at me and said, “You’re bleeding.”
I jumped up and ran to the hall mirror. Yep. That’s a gash. And that’s blood. I looked like I’d been in a fight. I guess you could say I kicked my own ass.
The next part of the day is fuzzy. I’m told I called some guy at the bank and talked to him about a home equity loan…for a pool I’m not building.
And then I’m pretty sure I ordered a leather recliner from Pottery Barn. I know this because someone from the delivery service called about thirty minutes ago and asked, “What time on the 16th is good for you?”
Looks like we’re getting a new chair.
Like I said in the beginning, it wasn’t the day I had planned.