I handled it. Me.

Sarah invited us to The King and I at the Children's Musical Theater of San Jose today. I hesitated, and then she said she'd jump at the chance to show her kid live theater, and I went for it.

So there we were, settling in at the theater, and G starts in with "My tummy hurts"... over and over and over again. Several times, I said, "Then we need to go out. OK?" and he said no, he'd be quiet. It crescendo'd and we ended up out in the hall, with him lying on the carpet (ick) and me wondering what to do. Finally, I darted back into the theater, whispered to Sarah, grabbed my purse and we set off in search of kid-friendly tummyache meds.

Now, my first instinct with something like this is to call Kaiser, or take him in. When he's moaning and crying from pain (and he even barfed a tiny bit outside the theater), I just feel thrown, or like I need him to be seen to rule out something serious. I hate this helpless feeling.

But today, I asked the gal in the lobby, and she pointed me to the next-door Marriott, that they might have a mini-drugstore. Seemed a good bet, so we went there, with poor G lying down on the floor of the Marriott's deli/drugstore/magazine store as I perused their slim pickin's. They only had Imodium, which is apparently just for diarrhea, not stomach upset; and Tums, which seemed like the thing, but had no child dosage information (but rather a serious sounding "keep out of reach of children"). sigh.

So I asked their wonderful Guest Services guy, and he directed me to the nearest drugstore: a Walgreen's, 4 city blocks away. In hindsight, despite Sue's virtual glaring that I can already feel (no carseat!), I wish we'd taken a taxi. As it was, we walked, whined, I carried for a bit, and we walked some more, with G collapsing down into a miserable ball at each stoplight. We finally made it there, and as I'm frantically looking for Children's Tylenol (for the pain of the tummyache) and some sort of kid's Pepto-Bismol (the adult type has aspirin, which isn't OK for kids, to soothe the tummy itself), G decides he is going to barf. Thankfully, I had borrowed a receiving blanket from Sarah, and had it ready. Now, I'm done being a good patron, and I grab Children's Tylenol off the shelf, rip it open and pour out a dose for G. Stuff the rest of the bottle into my purse, park him on the empty pharmacy-waiting chairs, and head down to the Pepto area, which is of course like a mile away from the analgesics. Turns out they make a kids' Pepto, which, I tell you what, is just Tums with smaller amount per pill and children-dosing labeling. Oh, and watermelon flavor (hurk). But I was glad to buy it, and he took one with no complaints.

I dose up the kid, and we head back, with him on my back, piggy-back. The whole time, I'm thinking, I'm a sitting duck with my purse barely on my arm; anyone could come along, grab it, and sayonara. But no problem. As we approach the theater, I realize he hasn't moved nor talked in a while. I put him down at the last stoplight, and he gleefully informs me he was "pretending" to sleep (yeah, right) to fool me, and as we pass a radio station's promotion tent, he starts dancing wildly and happily to the music. I warn him not to get too wild and upset his stomach all over again, and he complies; but his stomach is fine the rest of the day and night.

I did it. It cost like $10, but who gives a crap? Dr. visit would've been $25. We're good.