I was a rotten mother yesterday.
I forgot to give my son his allergy medicine yesterday. It's nothing prescription or anything, just 12 hour Claritan, but this time of year, he really needs it.
And I was rushing out the door to work and just plain forgot. He was fine for most of the day, but by about six o'clock he was in bad shape. He was sneezing almost constantly, nose running uncontrollably, and worst of all, his eyes were swollen almost shut. I would have noticed it sooner, but he'd been out riding his bike around and it wasn't until he nearly rode into my car pulling into the driveway that I realized something was wrong.
I got him inside, gave him his Claritan, made him take a shower to get any pollen or mold off and set him down on the couch with a cold compress on his eyes. It took about forty minutes before he started feeling any noticeable relief, and I felt good and crummy about it, let me tell you.
"I'm sorry, Bubby," I apologized, stroking my fingers through his hair. "Mommy forgot your medicine. I am so sorry. You should be feeling better soon."
He nodded, holding the compress to his eyes and letting out a big sigh.
I kissed his forehead. "I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have forgotten," I said again. I started to get up from where I'd been sitting next to him, but his hand came out, squeezing mine.
"It's okay, Mom," he said. "You have a lot to remember about me."
You have a lot to remember about me.
He's right, of course. I have to remember to pack his lunch for camp. I have to remember they're having water sports today and make sure he's wearing his slinky nylon shorts that'll dry out quicker than the cotton ones and not chafe him. I have to remember to tell the sitter that he needs to practice his reading and run his times-tables. I need to remember to make him waffles instead of pancakes for breakfast, because he asked for them specifically. I need to remember to remind him to brush his teeth, otherwise he'll forget. I need to remember to give him his medicine.
And I need to do it all right as I'm trying to get ready and get out the door to get to work, where I have to remember a thousand other things before it's time to come home and remember to cook dinner and remember to throw that load of laundry in so he has clothes for tomorrow and remember to get him to pick up his Legos and remember to read with him.
That's just him. I have to remember a bunch of stuff for his sister, too. If I'm lucky, I'll remember everything I need to do for me, but it's usually an afterthought.
So maybe, just maybe, I need to remember to listen to him, when he has the grace to squeeze my hand and reassure me, as he lays there with his swollen eyes and clogged up sinuses, that it's okay, Mom.
It's okay. I've got a lot to remember with him.
Today is another day, and I'll just keep moving on.
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