Claire has another double ear infection, or as she calls it, "ear infrection." In a move that will likely land me the title of Mother of the Year, I ignored Claire when she told me last Thursday that she couldn't hear because her ear hurt. I assumed it was a ploy to get permission to turn the volume up on her DVD headphones. On Friday when she told me she wanted to take a nap, I was so busy reveling in the thought of two hours to myself that it didn't occur to me that Claire never voluntarily naps. And on Saturday when we took her to the neighborhood pool and she refused to get in past the top step, I just thought she was scared of the water.
What finally got my attention was the pitiful three year old who burst into my room at midnight, burning up with fever and sobbing because her ears hurt. Jason got kicked to the couch and Claire "slept" with me for the rest of the night. Before you go and start feeling sorry for Jason, let me assure you that sleeping on the couch was the better end of the deal that night. Claire and I were up most of the night and just as I was falling asleep, I heard my other sweet girl waking up. I looked at the clock, sure it was still the middle of the night, and was both relieved and saddened that it was 5:00 in the morning. Relieved because the night was over, but sad because the day had begun and I was exhausted.
Claire had a double ear infection a month ago, so I knew right away (well, like after three days of symptoms) that this was the same thing. But since I'm not a doctor and since it was Sunday and our pediatrician was obviously closed, Claire and I had the joy of visiting the local Urgent Care clinic. In my 31 years, I've never been to one of these. If you've never been to one, believe me, you're not missing out. I'll spare you the details about how I made Claire stay in my lap, sprayed the potty with Lysol (why does this child have to visit every bathroom in every building we enter?), and basically bathed both Claire and myself in GermX when we got back to the car.
After nearly an hour of waiting and being exposed to who knows what, we finally saw the doctor who agreed with my diagnosis. He then let me chose what antibiotic to use and told us to follow up after Claire finishes her medication. Um, yeah, only if by "follow-up," you mean with our beloved Dr. Jackson.
It's really too bad that being a mom doesn't qualify you for prescription writing privileges. It sure would eliminate a lot of doctor visits and trips to the Urgent Care clinic. But what do I know? I let my kid walk around with a double ear infrection (as Claire is quick to point out) for three days before I realized it.