My oldest child got braces yesterday.
I knew it would hurt, so I premedicated him with some Tylenol, before we went for the appointment.
Just like I'd do before I took him in for well-check pediatrician visit. Which are really a thinly disguised excuse for the two, or twenty, vaccinations recommended by the American Academy of Blah, Blah, Blah. I'm a good Mom. I'm thorough. Turn the kid into a pincushion, for the greater good? Sure.
Anyway. Back to braces.
The boy was brave, the appointment quick and relatively painless. For him. He wasn't signing any checks.
No, the pain for him hit him later in the evening. And I'm a good Mom. I don't like to see my kids suffer.
I was concerned, though, that my campaign of Tylenol and Advil wasn't doing any good.
So, let's just say I made a trip down to a seedy part of town...
I'm just kidding. I made a trip down the memory lane of our medicine cabinet. Where, surprise, surprise, I found an old pain pill, not wrapped in lint, and not too far away from an expiration date.
Moral dilemma #1.
I pondered, to halve or not to halve? Give it or toss it?
"Owch, it hurts, Mom."
"Here, mijo. This will make you feel better, but you will feel sleepy."
As this morning has worn on, he hasn't stirred. I was just checking to make sure he was still breathing about an hour ago. Ack! Bad parenting decision #2?
Perhaps I should've just rubbed his aching gums with some spirit. Like our grandmothers used to do, instead of delving into 'Better Living through Chemicals, 101'.
He got up at noon.
I don't know about me, but he's fine.