Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Calgon, Take Her Away . . .

Last night, an actual hunk o' wood fell into Merrick's eye! This was about the size of a pinky nail; the offending item came from Stryker's loft bed, under which Merrick was playing.

It took about two minutes for her to calm the weeping child and one mirror for him to see his own problem. He stood bravely while the Matron swiped out the wood with a q-tip.

The entire ordeal took less than 10 minutes.

Let's compare this with the six hour Shakespearan tragedy that unfolded today after something got in Scarlett's eye -- an invisible, intangible something that nobody actually identified or discovered, but required a trip to the doctor and not one, but two runs to a pharmacy.

Throughout, imagine Scarlett, weeping. The entire time.

Matroon: "I don't see anything in your eye, at all."

Scarlett: "THERE IS THERE IS THERE IS."

Matron (she's only about an hour in): "Good heavens, Scarlett. Last night Merrick had a piece of WOOD in his eye and that only lasted ten minutes."

Scarlett: "THIS IS WORSE!"

After an hour of rinsing, soothing and squinting while Scarlett wept, the Matron tossed in the towel and brought the diva to the doctor, who also found ABSOLUTELY NOTHING in that child's eye -- and he had the benefit of illuminating drops and special lighting.

Doctor: "There's a little bit of inflammation in the area where it hurts. Maybe the gnat or eyelash or whatever was in there irritated the tissue. We'll give her some antibiotic drops."

Matron to self: or q-tips, fingers, t-shirts and cotton balls exploring for the invisible non-existent created that inflammation. Grrrrrr.

Scarlett was all groovy and happy and without wail the whole way home because the good doctor deployed magic numbing drops

which wore off the minute they returned home.

Scarlett: "This is agony!"

The Matron called the doctor who assured her that the antibiotic drops would help the pain, a statement the Matron immediately viewed with great suspicion. But she rushed to the pharmacy in the face of Scarlett weeping: "What about my audition tonight? I can't move. I'm in such pain! My audition, my audition!!"

Rush, rush, rush back home with the antibiotic drops. Two teaspoons of tyelnol.

Scarlett: "MY EYE! MY EYE." This while on the floor with a wash cloth on her face. "My audition! How can I go onstage!?"

Yes, an audition looms ahead -- 6:30 pm.

So the Matron calls the doctor who faxes the pharmacy and the Matron says to the children: "If we're going to make that audition and get the prescription, we've gotta go!"

Children as in plural and not all hers, because Scarlett conveniently has two friends over for a playdate, company for the trip to the doctor and witness to the drama. Of course, everything is better with an audience. Now company for the audition.

While roaring to the pharmacy with Scarlett languishing on her friends' shoulders (really, she is ready to play the role of the consumptive 19th century woman, fading), the cell phone rings.

Pharmacy: "We don't have the medication. We have to order it for tomorrow."

Scarlett: "MY AUDITION! How can I audition?"

Matron to Pharmacy: "Can we get this somewhere else?"

So the Pharmacist calls all the numbers in his arsenol, including two hospital pharmacies. Nobody has that damn medication. The pharmacy has to order it so it won't be avaliable until 10 am tomorrow. Mind you, the last half hour of pain negotation as taken place in rush hour traffic. They are halfway to the audition, which is in a western suburb.

Matron: "Scarlett, are you going to be okay to do this?"

Scarlett: "I don't want to go. I don't want to audition."

The Matron has spent the past three hours trying trying to get her daughter to feel good enough for this audition, in direct response to her daughter's panic about said audition. Three hours.

Matron: "Is this because you're eye hurts or because you really don't want to do the show?"

Scarlett (sighs -- instantly without pain, as if suddenly bored or nearly asleep): "I don't want to do the show. I'm not interested."

They are 20 minutes into a 30 minute drive to get there. The Matron thought she just might pull over and die. Or kill someone.

Matron: "Why didn't you tell me this sooner? Like an hour ago? Or yesterday?"

Scarlett: "I just decided."

Friends, the Stage Mother that says 'follow the child' without comment wanted to say 'okay,' turn around and go home. The manic furious mama who just spent her entire afternoon catering to the needs of this child wanted to shame her (yes, make her feel BAD), toss AN ENORMOUS tantrum and drink an entire bottle of wine. The third part of her wanted to show her daughter that when one draws other people into a commitment, that commitment must be kept.

She kept driving.

Matron: "Scarlett, we're on our way and it would be rude to waste my time by not going."

No comment from the netherlands, where Scarlett continued to hold her eye and moan. A few minutes later. . . .

Matron: "We're here."

Scarlett: "I was just telling these guys that I really hope I get this role. It's a great role."

Matron: "I thought you didn't want to audition."

Scarlett: "I changed my mind when I saw the building. It's a cool building."

Here, the Matron experienced the tantrum-bottle of wine-sensation again-- a not unpleasant out of body event that turns her several lovely shades of greenish red. Yes, a color that is greenish red really does exist but you have to be one of Scarlett's parents to see this.

Scarlett auditioned for a stage production of this while the Matron and Scarlett's friends waited, not unlike the captive audience they'd been all afternoon. Oh - and were soon to become again, as there was an entire anguished drive home.

The consumptive is currently in bed, munching on popcorn and reading a book-- with a garish eye patch oinvolving lots of tape across her entire face -- her idea, a visual reminder for her family that she is in PAIN and must be coddled. Scarlett self-reports that she may very well not survive until the pain medication arrives, 10 am tomorrow. For the item in the eye that nobody actually saw or that quite possibly really existed.

Yesterday, Merrick had a piece of WOOD in his eye. Ten minutes.

The Matron is working on that wine.

17 comments:

smalltownmom said...

I'm glad didn't have to deal with that. I just don't get girls. Even though I must have been one at some time.

But in a few years you'll be hearing, "I'd like to thank the Academy" and I will still be hearing "Mom, I'm playing World of Warcraft."

I raise my wine glass to you.

Cherish said...

You're a far better mama than I.

The Green Stone Woman said...

Lord, woman, have mercy on you!

witchypoo said...

Clearly, you will be replaced by an entourage at some point. One which will cater to her every whim.

Mary Alice said...

One day she will thank you as she holds an Oscar aloft!

Amy said...

Just wait until the hormones kick in. My non-drama queen has become the biggest one ever. I am so sorry.

Jenn @ Juggling Life said...

To echo Mary Alice's comment, she'd BETTER thank you when she holds the Oscar aloft.

Cheri @ Blog This Mom! said...

I have it the other way. I spot a piece of skin hanging from Laura's bloody toe, and I really want to smear it with antibiotic ointment. "Mom, just leave it alone! I'm fine," she says. And I'm thinking infection, all that. And she? Won't let me near it. At least I have a hot toe doctor in my little black book.

I love Scarlett Tales.

Jill said...

I loved this story, only because I lived one similar to it yesterday. My oldest daughter, who is 18 and way too old to be throwing dramatic tantrums, was complaining of having something in her eye. Much like Scarlett there was nothing there but she wasn't buying it. After everyone in the family dutifully checked her eye and came up with nothing she resorted to the internet. In a few short minutes she decided that she had cornea eating parasites.I'm not kidding. When I laughed (sorry, I couldn't help it) she told me I was going to be sorry when they had to surgically remove her eyeball. So it was off to the doctor where she was certain he would confirm her grim diagnosis. Well, not quite. Her contact had a small tear on the edge and it was scratching her eye.

Do you have any of that wine left or should I go get my own bottle?

MJ said...

Just think: in a few years, she can drive herself to her auditions and/or rehearsals, tape and patch over 1 eye but all by herself or she can recruit a friend to drive her! The time is coming! Meanwhile, you are an incredibly supportive mom!

Miss Grace said...

Wine. Stat.

kmkat said...

Yup. Good thing you are her mom. I would have murdered her right there in the car.

Minnesota Matron said...

Jill, I am totally cracking up. And handing you the wine glass. But please don't tell me this continues at 18 --and gets worse. We didn't have parasites.

Daisy said...

I'll bring my wine glass - no, wait. You deserve to drink that entire bottle without sharing.

racheld said...

I am not her parent, but I can totally see that greenish-red. From here.

I don't like wine, and even if I did, you may have my bottle, as well.

Karen ~ said...

remind her calmly "the show must go on" and reward yourself for not slapping her silly! I could tell how upset you were by the "you're" where there should have been a "your" !!

Minnesota Matron said...

Oh my God! I can't believe I did you're instead of your. Head. Hanging. I'm becoming a student. .