Dr. Ruth's Daughter

So it’s early February, and if you have children you’ve definitely already knocked either rsv, stomach virus, flu or strep off your bingo card this year. We’ve hit 3/4 and I’m hanging on by a thread. Spent a few days managing vomit from son and husband, then a spontaneous early morning puke from the 2 year, coupled with a kind of scary catatonic state, led to a quick pediatrician trip to see if we would hit 4/4 and get a positive flu swab.

We didn’t, instead it was our second double ear infection in as many months. Now if you’ve read the previous posts you’ll realize my mom guilt well as mostly dried up in the last decade, helped by lexapro and my job trying to help others manage their mom guilt. But nothing can squeeze out those last few drops by realizing you’ve been ignoring a little human telling you how bad they feel, to the point where they are oozing infection.

Desperate to make things right, I hop to Target pharmacy, and will wait for twenty minutes with a now extremely grumpy toddler. In my haste I have not brought my wallet but do have my phone, which holds my tech Target wallet. How convenient!

I look down at the phone and we are at 5% power. Probably a result of my near-constant Redditing to see if the DOGE overlords will allow me to keep my job past next week. Desperate I start approaching Target employees, one who says they indeed have a charger at the store, likely for these kinds of situations.

Grateful to them and the gods, I leave the phone and start grabbing dinosaur toys to calm my toddler , and also eggs, cause I haven’t been able to find those in weeks. They are $8 each dozen.

I return to the charger grateful for the helpers, in time for the helpers to tell me the charger actually doesn’t work at all “because we can’t plug it in.” Ever the optimist I ask if there is another charger somewhere that I could borrow for two minute. “No there are none.” Suddenly aware of the literally hundreds of iPhones happily buzzing away in the pockets of employees I go desk to desk, but no, there is seemingly no charger to be lent.

Miraculously, I’m able to pay for the antibiotics with my phone, but right as I approach the check out, the phone powers down just after I’m done ringing everything up at the self-pay station.

The eggs sit idle as I make one last quick whispered plea for a charger to the Target Starbucks, but alas they too seemingly charge their phones from the ether.

In desperation, I apologize as I back away towards the door, toddler now screaming and spewing snot as she tries to exit the cart, where she sat excitedly waiting for her dinosaurs.

I leave the store in a state that I haven’t been in a while. Clearly this has been an epic failure on my part.

The thoughts begin. I shouldn’t just leave my groceries, I should’ve known she had an ear infection again. I should’ve brought my wallet. I should’ve charged my phone. I shouldn’t be on my phone so much. I’m a horrible, uncaring mother. I’m a terrible waste of a human.

My face feels hots as tears break through the Lexapro/CBT shield. We are now both crying outside Target.

My internal monologue almost drowns out the voice. First I can just tell it’s an Irish brogue, which I’m notoriously awful at deciphering. I say “sorry?” to him, but really to everyone, as I look up and see a man, with very kind eyes, his own cart filled with a toddler. “Is there something I can get for you?” he says, with deep concern.

Startled, I pause, and then, over my still screaming toddler, I say to him, but mostly myself: “oh thanks so much. We got our medicine, and that’s what we needed, and I think we are going to be ok, and call it a day.”

He smiles and waves.

I walk away, my despair slowly replaced by my gratitude to him, to his kindness, to his ability to break through all the forces that keep us from checking on others who are clearly distressed. To my growing ability to understand beautifully strong Irish accents. To Ireland. Anyways, a lot of gratitude.

I take down two Panera cookies in 45 seconds. We start the day again.