Tuesday, March 12, 2013

Paging a Guardian Angel, stat!

One of the nice things about being from an Irish Catholic family is the way we curse. We call on everybody: saints, Jesus, Holy Mother, God, et al. We have no problem with the shout outs. We'll call on Christ while he's on the Cross. Like he has nothing better to do or something. Today was Jesus-Christ-on-a-cracker-are-you-kidding-me?! kind of a day. Less exalted maybe, but still colorful. Husband-cat's white Baptist family would probably just keep the cracker and drop the Christ. Midwesterners just don't have a flair for language. 

The reason Jesus had to be brought up was down to Toddler Flails-a-lot. She's almost well enough to visit daycare, but in my attempt to get her as healthy as possible I kept her home today. She retaliated by trying to kill herself multiple times.

Attempt 1: Came up to me, happy as shit after sneaking into our room (off-limits) and opens her mouth. A goddamned throat lozenge is nestled there. I mentally scream "choking!!!" and want to jam my hand into her mouth but I refrain. I calmly hold out my hand for it. She spits it into my palm. I ransack our bedroom looking for others that had escaped their babyproof home. Find nothing.

Attempt 2: She's rolling around with me and keeps working her mouth funny. I make her open her mouth and there's a little white thing. Takes a little more to convince her to give it up. It is a tiny white pellet that looks suspiciously like the tiny pills the cat gets to settle her stomach. Freak out, curse, call vet. They assure me it is a simple over the counter antacid and a two year old could have a whole one with no effect instead of the fragment she had.

When my heart stops racing, I realize this means the baby has put something in her mouth that was last in the damn cat's mouth. Try not to vomit. Wonder how the cat managed not to swallow it since we kind of shove as far down her throat as we can get. Decide cat is getting smarter for the first time ever and comb floors for other cat pills. Find nothing.

Attempt 3: Toddler Flails-a-lot runs up to me waving a baby fork and tiny dish, excess liquid spilling out of her mouth. Knowing I just put her nasty water cup in the sink, I search for source of water. Then I realize there's white crap on the fork that looks suspiciously like dishwasher detergent, a substance she has never heretofore showed any interest in. I inspect her mouth again and smell it. No evidence of soap but that doesn't mean she didn't eat it and is now swimming in toxic soap.

Me, pointing at the leftover clump of dishwasher soap: "Did you eat that?!"
Her: "Yaaas"
Me: "Did you do that?"
Her: "Yaaas"
Me, realizing she'll answer yes to anything, "What did you do?"
Her: "I eat!"
Me: "Holy Mary Mother of God!"
Her: "Yaaas!"

I still don't know if she's eaten it because her answers are only loosely related to reality and I kinda led the witness. I call poison control and they assure me the concerns are stomach upsets, vomiting, and burns from the alkaline nature of the soap sitting in her mouth for an extended period of time. Toddler Flails-a-lot shows no symptoms of distaste and unhappiness, but I feed her water and spend the next hour watching her closely for any symptoms. Nothing happens.

I don't even know if the water pouring out of her mouth was evidence of her finding some water that had collected in a dish during the last dishwasher cycle or was some reaction to her eating soap. Drinking pooled dishwasher water is still gross but a lot less so. These attempts don't even cover her spectacular spills today -- pee, coconut water, milk, soup AND regular water.

By the end of the day I was laid out on the filthy carpet, just like yesterday.
dust bunny 1
Even the dust bunnies have turned on me.

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  1. Dust bunnies reminds me of Stephen King's Delores Claiborne. In movie, Kathy Bates watches an old lady who's befuddled brain thinks the dust bunnies are coming to get her.
    I am lucky I didn't have a child who put things in his mouth. But there's a second chance over there sleeping in a basket. More daycare, less stress, that was my motto.
    Love and thoughts of Zen and Xanax to you,

    1. I should consider myself lucky that my dust bunnies just want to give me super obvious health advice. I'm so impressed with your post-birth functionality. You are both online, blogging and able to complete a full sentence. What?! Crazy pants!

      Zen and Xanax needs to be a band name.

  2. You see the value of day care?! You don't have to see all the things she does!

    1. God, so true! She comes home with scraped knees and I'm like, well, that's too bad. Then I go on with my day.

  3. This is nice. Thanks for sharing with us. Good to know
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