A single mom friend of mine called last night in a bit of a panic. Her oldest son had cut his finger, and she wasn't sure if she sould head to the Emergency Room -- with her two, tired younger sons in tow.
It's one of the bigger hassles of being a single mom: the late night emergency. I have great neighbors who on more than one occasion have met me in the middle of the street at midnight bearing Sprite and crackers for my sick child.
But sometimes it's not that easy. Last Christmas Eve was one of those "nothing's ever easy" nights. I put Cole to bed with what I declared was a slight toothache. By 10:30 p.m. he was still wide awake, wimpering in pain and apologizing for "messing up" our Christmas Eve. The guilt. He had been having toothaches for the previous few weeks which I had been basically ignoring. I am totally irresponsible when it comes to all things dental.
So I threw Cole in the car, and we joined the small but determined pack of people wandering from drug store to drug store on Christmas Eve in a desperate attempt to solve our very inconvenient emergencies. Let me tell you, we were a pitiful group, pressing our faces to the glass and rattling the locked doors in hopes that the guy sweeping the floor would show some mercy and let us in. No such luck. We found no mercy from him at the CVS or from the lady closing out the register at Walgreen's or the creepy looking guy at Walmart.
A bit crazed at this point, I threw sense (and caution - literally) to the wind, and pulled into a not-very-safe (i.e. gang members wandering the parking lot on Christmas Eve) 7-11. Lo and behold, 7-11 has a small section of dental paraphrenalia - including Orajel! Oh thank heaven for 7-11!
We raced home, slathered Orajel all over Cole's teeth and were asleep by midnight. Who knew that I'd find my own little Christmas miracle tucked between the beef jerky and semi-pornographic playing cards at 7-11?
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