The Eye Doctor

2 Nov

Baby has an eye infection. Which means I now have one too. And so does the sitter. Free eye infection handout! Woohoo! Come and get them while they’re gross and slimey.

After a visit to the family doctor and ten days of drops (you try putting drops in the eyes of a cranky achey five-month-old for ten days) we’re sent to see a specialist.

One hour drive in bad traffic, non-stop crying, can’t find parking, shit, we’re going to be late, blahhh, fine I’ll park ten minutes walk away from the doctor, haaa we’re here, great, there’re five people in line before us, oh, thank you tantrumous five-year-old for screaming your lungs out for 30 minutes and making all the other kids in the waiting room cry, including my baby.

It’s days like this that doin it on ma own seems less than glamorous. I’m not really a hard-ass-hot-mama who don’t need no man. I’m really just a fragile, frustrated person, with an unwanted twist in her life story, doing the shush-pat, trying to get my baby to stop crying, trying to get myself to pull it together.

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