Mr. Magoo

Adjusting to the new laptop has been an ongoing struggle since it arrived in the mail. I've already mentioned my inability to print until we buy a new printer. My frustration with documents opening, well, not opening continues. But I'm also experiencing a lack of coordination with the keypad.

It seems the edge of my thumb has either grown, or the way my hand is placed on the pad it consistently hits a mysterious button that pretty much wipes away everything I typed. In the last week or so, the number of blogs that I have begun to only have it erased by my wayward thumb will make a person do what I did, stop blogging for a bit. This particular keypad is not for lazy hands such as mine. Turns out you actually have to hold your hands up and off the board and type lightly with your fingertips, as opposed to resting your weary digits and palms like tired, old mountain dogs on a hot summer afternoon.

When we were shopping for our new laptop, I found myself scrolling through the pages and clicking on a number of perfectly good laptops, but Mark's interest wasn't really peaked until I found the 17.3" screen.

I need a big screen, he commented, tapping on the picture with his finger. After the arrival of our newer and bigger television, this came as no surprise. But the need for a large-as-life look at social media has brought me to one interesting conclusion: Mark needs glasses. Desperately.

And it's not just the in your face screens that has led me to believe this to be true, but a combination of clues over the past couple of weeks, namely an incident that occurred during my Blogging Break. I'll call it, The Ear Infection Incident.

One afternoon, most definitely out of the blue, Stella began to wander around the house saying, Ear hurting. This phrase was accompanied by typical tugging, pulling, and pressing the ear in question into her beloved Beanky for comfort. For an hour it continued, and feeling so very sorry for her, I decided to call the pediatrician for advice and a possible appointment. They insisted she come in and told me to give her a dose of ibuprofen in the meantime. I did as I was instructed, put her down for a nap, and spent much of her snoozing time feeling like a turkey-lurkey for jumping to ear infection when it was more likely sinus pressure from a cold, and debated whether or not to cancel the appointment.

But nap time concluded with immediate whines of ear hurting, and the telltale tugging and pulling commenced. So I took her to our scheduled appointment. Yep, she's got herself an ear infection, was the final verdict. We returned home with our ten day supply of Amoxicillin and a renewed sense of trusting my instincts.

About an hour post-dinner and post-first dose of meds, Mark had the kiddies in the bathtub, while I hurriedly tried to get it together and get out the door to meet some friends. Just as I was reaching for my coat, Mark called from the bathroom. Uh, can you come look at this?

I've heard that come from Mark's lips a handful of times before. Uh, can you come look at this? It's a simple request, even given with a marked calmness. But the undertone says, Something bad has happened and I am pretending that it hasn't, for the children's sake, and so you and I can compose ourselves in order to deal with the disaster that has befallen us.

And so I've learned when I hear, Uh, can you come look at this?, it's best that I take a deep breath and know I am getting ready to see something that is going to require immediate medical attention, and I, too, better go into calm mode. So when I popped around the corner and found Stella standing in the tub, clawing at giant red welts all over her little body, I slowly respond, Oh, looks like she's having an allergic reaction to the medicine. I'll call the night duty nurse and see what she suggests.

Benadryl and an antibiotic that isn't in the Penicillin family was the suggestion.

When I returned from a fast trip to Walgreens with Benadryl (we'll never be without that again) and a new antibiotic, I handed it all over to Mark to measure doses. I checked on Stella who has fortunately found something else to do besides rip at her own flesh. I, then, decided measuring a teaspoon of Benadryl should never take that long, so I head back to the bathroom to find Mark standing by the light, holding the bottle of Benadryl and the measuring spoon at various distances from his face, trying to tap into just the right spacing that allows him to see. The time for inaccuracy was not at that moment, so I suggested he go check the kids and I could take care of the medicine doling.

Stella's great. Ear infection long gone, and now when someone asks, Is she allergic to anything that you're aware of?, the answer is yes. Penicillin. And it's really not a shocker. So is Mark. We still don't know about Heath. Knock wood, he's yet to have an antibiotic.

Now to just get Mark to have an eye exam. At least before our next computer. This one already runneth over my lap. I don't think I can accommodate anything bigger.