Poor Baby

Joey got off the bus yesterday and didn't look right. I asked him if he was okay and he replied... I have a headache. (Mommy hair raises... oh no! The last time he had a headache he was in a ton of pain.) As soon as we walk through the door I give him Tylenol. Now... everyone makes mistakes, but you should always check the dosage and ask your kids how much he weighs (My kids love to weigh themselves, so they always know.) Everyone is hungry... no one wants a snack, they just want gum. Okay, gum it is.

After a while I can't find Joey... finally locate him on the landing of the stairs, curled up in a ball. He refuses to move... he's fine right there. Joe comes home... um, why is Joey on the stairs. I explain. He tries to get him to move and decides to leave him there as well.

Being that I happened to have my act together on Monday morning, dinner was in the crockpot (Chicken, onions and Apples... very good). We sit down to eat without Joey. He's not moving off the stairs. Molly comes down and carefully walks over him. After dinner, I see Joey sitting on the couch with Stefan... do you want to eat? how do you feel? He gets up and goes back to the stairs... finally accepts a pillow for his head.

I head out for meeting... wish Joe luck and tell him Joey is on the stairs.

An hour and a half later, I return from the BOND meeting. I give Joey more Tylenol. (Again, always check the back.) He goes upstairs. I get him to eat a piece of bread with butter and drink some water. Then the screaming begins. Controlled at first, then full throttle. I get an ice pack. Doesn't work. Rub his back. Doesn't work. Finally, he settles down and Joe and I convince him to let the medicine put him to sleep. Joe and I settle in to watch some TV and Joey appears. I snuggle with him... he jumps up and starts running to the bathroom. OH NO! I go after him. No puke... but close. You know what I mean. What a big kid... both hand son the throne, poised and ready to let loose. Back to the couch... moans, tries to sleep... up running to the bathroom. Back to the couch. Joe says... maybe you should give him one more Tylenol. This is an extreme case. So I go to get one... I turn the box over to check the dosage... I should have been giving him 3 Tylenol all along... the kid has grown! Aaggh. What a bad mom. Maybe I could have prevented the severity of it. I'll never know. I give him the extra Tylenol. After 15 minutes, he's finally out on the couch. Joe and I hate watching our kids suffer. It is the worst thing for a parent.