BREASTMILK IS MAGIC IN A BOOBIE

So, finally, after 6 years, he got an ear infection. Not "finally!" like I wanted it to come. I mean, I'm crazy, but not sadistic. Well, not about my children, anyway. But I did keep thinking, every winter, and once they started swimming, that it was coming, had to be coming. Every child gets an ear infection. Ours were coming.

But nothing.

For either one of them.

For 6 whole years.

And, man, I just don't think I realized how lucky we were. And am thinking now that I really really need to bottle and sell my breastmilk with a big giant "S" on the label for SUPERLECHE!!!

Well, that is, if I still had breastmilk. Or had thought about it at the time. Or even had the time, for crissakes. Between the double feedings, the double pumping, the bitten and cracked nipples, the no caffeine and no wine and no chocolate for three effing years...

Yeah.

Soooo not gonna happen.

ANYway...

He'd been complaining about the ear for a while, and increasingly holding his nose to pop it. And I was using some homeopathic eardrops on him for a bit, thinking it was just swimmer's ear or something, but then he came down with fever.

And as much as he drives us all absolutely bonkers with his incessant story telling and the guess-what-animal-i-am-today and the constant squirreling and ants-in-the-pants, we all, every single one of us, just hate it when he's down for the count.

So, Saia's nurturing side kicked in automatically, and she helped me soothe, and comfort, and feed the ailing boy. At least long enough to get him to the doctor, get the official "eh...yep...that's an ear infection alright," and the scrip for the antibiotics. Which, honestly, I still don't understand, and can someone please explain to me how you can get things like Sudafed and Nyquil and all the ingredients for Meth right over the counter, but you have to make and appointment, wait in a germ-infested lobby, see a grumpy doctor to get the prescription for the drug you were pretty sure you were gonna have to get anyway, pay a ridiculous bill for the "service," stand in the geriatric line-up at Rite Aid for an hour and a half, and, yes, pay another ridiculous bill so that someone in a lab coat can personally hand-mix the medicine that could've been sitting on the shelf already and in my baby's system two days ago.

Say it with me, people:

FREE OUR MEDS! FREE OUR MEDS! FREE OUR MEDS!

[Okay, obviously waaaaaay too much caffeine today, folks.]

Anyway...2 days later, boy was healed, 8 days after that, all the "yucky pink stuff" was gone, and now the monsters are back to tearing each other apart and driving Mama straight to her daily venti-8-pump-no-water-no-foam-extra-hot chais.