Hide The Medicines

This past Thursday, Jack (Yitzchak’s brother) came for a short visit: He came Wednesday night and left Thursday morning for an appointment; then came back to get his bag, and left.

In the  meantime, I had a deja-vu.   Back two weeks exactly – to that Thursday.

I got in the shower, thinking everything was fine (that Thursday I was on the toilet when it happened).  In the middle, it gets a little too quiet.  I called Shlomo over, but he didn’t listen.  So I stuck my head out and saw that he was playing nicely.  Great.

When I got out, though, I saw that he had made a mess.  And as I clean the mess – I realize that he had gotten into Jack’s bag . . . and pulled out a ziploc bag of medicine.

Seriously?!?!  You left a ZIPLOC BAG with MEDICINE in your bag, didn’t tell me, and left it in Shlomo’s reach??  Are you NUTS?  (He also had a container of Tylenol, but at least it had a “childproof” lock on it – as if that helps anything . . . it certainly didn’t help last week.)

Great.  Just great.

Do I go back to the emergency room?  What will they think?  Two weeks in a row, a mother comes in with a toddler who might have swallowed medicine?  Isn’t that kind of suspicious?  I think it is.  Why didn’t this mother learn her lesson the first time?

But this time, it’s not my fault.  All of our medicines are out of reach – including my travel pack of Tylenol, that used to sit in my backpack, in its “childproof” container.  Jack said he was leaving his bag.  Fine, okay.  I don’t go through other people’s stuff.  He should’ve said something, or put the bag out of reach, or taken it with him.

I called Yitzchak, really mad.  As it happened, Jack was right next to him.

And what did Jack say?  “Well, you should’ve been watching him.”

I said, “Yeah, I’m not allowed to go to the bathroom?   I can’t watch him every single minute – that’s why we childproof the house.  Usually, when I’m in the shower, he plays with his toys.”

“You should’ve put him somewhere safe.  He can’t climb out of his bed, right?  So put him in there.”

“That’s not really fair . . .”

“He won’t like it, but too bad – you need to either watch him or put him in his bed so he can’t get into things.”

You’re telling me how to take care of my son?

That he should go in time-out every time I need the bathroom?

That I should interrupt his play sessions to put him in his crib?

Are you serious?

Now, to his credit, he is single.  And the youngest.  He hasn’t – ever – had to deal with a toddler on a regular basis.  I am the eldest.  My youngest sibling is thirteen years younger than me.  The second youngest – ten years younger.  The middle sibling – eight.  So, I kind of grew up with this.  And Jack didn’t.

Okay, fine.  It’s my fault – I should’ve put the bag away.

But it’s also your fault – you should’ve alerted me.

You didn’t.  That’s okay.  I understand.  But at least take responsibility for your own mistakes.

I hate it when people blame their mistakes on others, or simply don’t take responsibility for them.  It’s just . . . immature and irresponsible.

And after Jack told me how I should be dealing with Shlomo – he asks about his Kindle.  Is his Kindle okay?  Why do I not care about that, only about the medicine?

Yitzchak spoke to him.  My MIL spoke to him – or rather, he called her about the medicine, and complained that I was mad at him for leaving medicine in his bag, instead of keeping Shlomo in his crib.  And MIL told him off.

It just bugs me.

And about the ER?  We didn’t go.  I remembered last week, when the doctor asked if Shlomo usually puts stuff in his mouth.  No, he doesn’t, thank G-d – he’s learned that foreign objects in his mouth mean that we stick our fingers in by force.  I asked Shlomo if he’d eaten it.  He just grunted.  I showed it to him – and he turned his face away.  Since I was going to the walk-in clinic anyways, for myself, I figured I’d just watch Shlomo and take him along.

And in the end, everything was fine – he hadn’t eaten any of it.  Thank G-d.  MIL (former pediatrician) also said that if he put it in his mouth, he probably chewed it.  If there aren’t any pieces stuck to his teeth, he probably didn’t eat it.  Well, thank G-d.

But please, please, please – take responsibility for your own actions.

Yes, this was my fault.  I should’ve asked Jack.  But it was also his fault – he should’ve said something.

Lesson: Think before you pee – or shower.