Pills in Applesauce

My little guy is sick. All day, I thought he just seemed "off". Kinda lazy, a little clingy, a bit teary-eyed at times, just not quite himself. I kept feeling his forehead and then telling myself that it felt warm just because the weather was warm.

But I knew.
It's a Mom Thing.

My mother could always tell when I was sick, no matter how hard I tried to hide it. She said it was my eyes that always gave me away. They got droopy and just looked sick. I didn't like being ill, but I didn't like taking piles even more. I was never given nice, little tasty tablets. I was always given nasty, big, bitter pills.

Penicillin crushed and mixed in applesauce. Blech.
Aspirin disguised in pudding. Yick.

It wouldn't have been so bad if I could have just swallowed the pills whole. But I couldn't, I just couldn't. I would hold that pill in my mouth, look up at the ceiling and take a big gulp of water. That pill just stayed on my tongue, dissolving into a bitter, grainy pile of horribleness. My mom would get so frustrated and pill-taking time became a battle. The idea of swallowing a pill as big as an apple just made me almost panic. I would gag and I was sure I would choke, or the pill would get lodged in my throat forever.

Why, oh why, couldn't they just prescribe the yummy, sticky pink medicine? All liquid and easy to swallow. Or chewable tablets that tasted of grape or cherry? Maybe they cost more, I don't know, but I was doomed to be stuck with horse pills.

I used to pretend to take them. When we were finishing our house, my mom found where I had dropped pills between the wall joists, thinking no one would ever find them. Or hidden in the deep crevasses of the couch. You would think I would have learned to flush them down the drain, but I never did. I'll blame that on the fevers and sore throats that seemed to just not get any better. Hmmm, I wonder why. . .

There is a reason why you are supposed to take the full course of prescribed antibiotics. It's simple really. Take the medication as ordered and get better. Hide the pills, pretend to take them, and never quite get over being sick.

I had my tonsils out April 1, 1980.

My children were blessed with a variety of tasty (at least to me they were tasty!) tylenols, cuisine-like cold and cough syrups, and the sticky pink antibiotic. One would think that they alway took their medicine with delight. Not so. In fact, I got a taste of what I put my mother through every time someone was sick.

I would mix the offending elixir in soda pop, hoping the fizz would disguise the taste.
I would try mixing a crushed Tylenol in ice-cream.
I begged, I pleaded, I bribed.
Eventually, they started swallowing pills and sick-time became simpler.

Who were these children? Swallowing pills without a moment's hesitation?
Believe me, they get that from Leo, who can swallow a pill without even taking a drink.

Ryan takes medicine about the best of any of my kids and I am thankful. He did have a fever of 101F and now I am going to offer him his choice of either a chewable fruit flavor, a liquid fruit flavor or one teeny tiny caplet he can swallow. Ice-cream optional.

Love,
Dianne