trippin’.
Monday. It’s my favorite day of the week. Started out great. House was quiet, baked a pie, prepped dinner, did some laundry. The biggest problem before noon was a broken Christmas tree bulb. Sweet! I’ll take it.
As I’m curling my hair the phone rings and I see the school calling. Oh come on! Ok universe can I get a day off from the ridiculous? On the other end, the school medical aide tells me that Daytime Emmy Nominee had gotten herself some THC, (aka: pot if you’re old school), and seemed to be having a bit of a reaction. Neat. Bad pot, check that off the list of new adventures for my house. I’m becoming super efficient at this new adventures thing! Way to go me.
I pick up Daytime Emmy Nominee and am advised not to bring her back to school the next day. Super. I requested the medical aide to have the Dean call me and not the associate principal. I don’t want to talk to him any more than I’d guess he wants you to talk to me. As of right that moment, I’m not sure I have the emotional fortitude to even entertain a call from him. Anyway, I’m sure we are adding suspended to what will now be the rest of Monday afternoon in the ER with Daytime Emmy Nominee, (who at this point would be best nicknamed fruity pebbles).
We make our way to the ER and update caseworkers from the car. For the sake of speed in explaining, I just went with, “It’s well, what I’d best describe as a bad trip… for lack of better words.” Having never done a drug in my life, I struggled to come up with something that summed it up without sounded like I had channeled something out of a Cheech and Chong movie. (For you non old school people, check YouTube. I’m told everything can be found on YouTube. You’re welcome.) I’ve been on this ride with these workers for so long now that I’m not sure anyone is genuinely shocked at what goes down with all my little ducklings.
Not like I have not explained this a million times before, but, newsflash, laced pot is a real thing. When you walk into a bathroom and take whatever is handed to you and then put it in your mouth, crap like this happens. Again, we’ve talked about this at least 100 times before this incident. No one ever listens to me. Glass half full here, maybe this we scare the crap out of her and she won’t do it again. Or, at the very least be unpleasant enough that she won’t want to do it again. Unlikely, but a mom can dream.
The plan in the ER? A urine and blood donation, fluids, Benadryl, Pepcid and a long wait. Meanwhile, Hubby gets to head an hour and a half from home to pick up Sneaky Sweet Tooth. I’m sure he is thrilled. I did offer to switch places with him so he could take advantage of this bonding moment with Daytime Emmy Nominee. I declined.
I hope someone at home enjoyed the pie.
