Tates E.R. Saga

When I said Tate survived his first trip to the E.R. I meant mentally not physically, and I really meant myself for the most part. E.R. visits drain me. I'm telling the long versions so you all don't think I am just one of those weird Moms who takes their children to the E.R. for any random reason, and because I really have nothing else to do right now. On Wednesday Tate poked his eye with a straw. He was learning to drink from one. When he took it out, and was biting it. I was worried that he would gag himself more than anything. Turns out I was wrong. Minus 1 for me. I turned my head for half a second, and he poked his eye. He was screaming, and wouldn't open it for me to look at it. After about 4 hours he still wouldn't open it, and he was very sensitive to light. If we were in a room with the light on he would just bury his head in my chest. If we were in the dark he would just snuggle to me. It also would not stop watering. I knew this was no little poke. So I called the doctors office. The on call nurse told me they were closed till Monday. But that I should take him to the E.R. to make sure he didn't scratch it. If he did he would need antibiotics, stat. Okay, I added stat. Anyways, I gave him some tylenol because I could tell it was really hurting him, and we left. When we got there it was poring rain. So now my pants were soaking wet. We waited for 2 1/2 hours. I was freezing, and my arms ached for wrestling with Tate the whole time. I wasn't going to put him down, gross. Then we saw the P.A. for all of... I don't know... maybe 10 minutes. Then he put burning drops in my babies eyes. Seriously, he told me it burned. Then he put dye in it before he looked at it through a florescent light. This is how they can see if their are any scratches. I had to hold him down, of coarse he was screaming. The doctor showed me the scratch. I was shocked how huge it was. He said giving him the tylenol was the best thing I could do for him. Because more than anything it just hurt. Plus 1 for me. But that he needed antibiotics, because that would be bad news if it got infected.

Anyways, I know I sound like the bigger baby. I don't care. I absolutely loath hospitals. Kind of ironic, huh? Plus if you were keeping track. I am back to zero on the good Mom meter. That's how I role. Not negative, because that would mean I'm a bad mom. Not positive, because that's just to much to live up to.