Jeepers, Creepers, Shut Up About Them Peepers!

Yesterday was quite a day. At 10:30 the elementary school nurse
called to tell me that #1 son had been sitting outside her office for
30 minutes complaining that his eye hurt. Fine. I can't just jump up
and go get him. I had to wait until lunch, which I might or might not
have mentioned before, comes at 10 freakin' 40 am.

My Hillbilly Mama, our emergency plan, our personal shopper,
our surrogate caregiver, our indispensable go-to gal, had driven
to another county with her old lady friend to get a load of wood.
Because apparently the wood in our county isn't good enough for
them. And it is worth spending more on gas than on the price of
the wood.

So I had to pick up my own child from school, and bring him with
me for an hour, and then HM could get him and take him to the
doctor. After much squirting of the orange drops and rolling back
of the upper eyelid, the doctor discovered that there wasn't really
anything wrong. No scratched cornea. No conjunctivitis. But just
in case, she would give him two prescriptions: an antibiotic, and
an antihistamine. One is 3 drops four times a day. That means I
get to drive to the elementary during my lunch and torture the boy.

Oh, I might not have mentioned that I saw #1's eye was swelled
halfway shut when I took him to school. But hey, it wasn't red,
and it wasn't crusty. I thought maybe he whacked it on my fist, or
had something in it. And he did say that it felt like something was
in it. I figured the nurse could take a look at it. And when I accosted
her getting out of her car that morning, I said that if she needed to
send him home, I'd take him now, or need to know by 9:30.

Well, this morning, #2 son got up with a very small corner of his
eye looking kind of bloodshot. Since he hadn't been on a bender
the night before, I thought he must have rubbed it. I took him to
school, and it looked OK. What did stupid Hillbilly Mom tell the
boy? Let's say it together now: "Don't rub your eye." Of course,
the minute he climbed out of the car, he was rubbing a knuckle
into the eye socket.

That's right. The nurse called at 10:15 today about #2. Seems
that both eyes are red. Did I notice it this morning? You bet I
did. But I have duty selling tickets at the Middle School volleyball
game after school, and I can't be taking off to run him to the doctor.
Hillbilly Mama pulled through for me. She got him an appointment
after school, and picked him up. HooRah! Hillbilly Mama! I don't
know what I'd do without you. Probably raise my own family.

The doctor said #2 has an allergic reaction. The cure? Eyedrops.
So now I have whiny watery-eyed kids. I preferred them swollen
and red, without the whining.

Two doctor's visits: $40. Three prescriptions: $58. The assistance
of my Hillbilly Mama: a value far above rubies or pearls. In fact, I
could almost forgive her for only filling half of my pain prescription
when I had knee surgery. Almost.