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Archive for 11. February 2009

Boy Eats Dog…

11. February 2009 by PB Rippey.

For the third night in a row T threw up in his crib. Midnight. On the phone to first the 24/7 nurse, then T’s doctor, my husband explained and explained our son’s situation in his deep, uber-clear, frightened-parent voice. Finally our doctor told him to zip it. Her rapid-fire diagnosis:

Slight rash on body, flushed cheeks and knees = possible MMR reaction (Gahhhhhh!!!)

Vomiting = virus that’s going around

RX = BRATY diet, but amputate the “Y” for yogurt because definitely no way no-how nuh-uh give T any cow’s milk.

We crept to T’s crib, watched him snooze as we ran the doctor’s diagnoses through our minds. Little guy, we thought, his hair still damp from us sponging out the barf, his pj’s clean and cozy, his crib sheets changed, a barf-free blankie in his little arms. Little guy. Then we crawled, shakily, mouths slack, 1,000 years old, into bed.

Next morning: Poop more solid! Healthy BRAT-for- breakfast appetite! No MMR rash! Crisis over! Everything back to normal! (whatever normal is…)

Then: Nappptimmmme

After 20 minutes of annoyed sounds, frisky coos, more annoyed sounds, then total silence, I peeked on T in his crib, assuming he had finally succumbed to the afternoon nap, confident my frolicking-naked-in-the-Oasis time could begin.

Peeeeeeeek.

T’s eyes met mine. Whoops! Wait a minute–why is he holding his stuffed dog like—OMG! Eating doggy’s paw! Eating doggy’s paw!

I dashed to the crib and snatched doggy from baby, by doing so raining a hail of pellets on T’s head, to his delight.

Doggy was not filled with pillowy cotton-candy-type stuffing. Doggy’s paw, wet from my son’s “Alien”-like saliva was wide open and leaking millions of tiny plastic pellets. I looked at my son. A pellet was on his way to his mouth.

On the phone to poison control AGAIN , I explained and explained the situation in my deep, uber-clear, frightened-parent voice.

Poison control laughed: Ho, ho, he said, those pellets will poop right through him. However, he added, suddenly serious, Is the child currently choking?

I called Blood Sister. She told me not to worry, that the pellets would pass through T. Apparently Blood Sister’s son once swallowed the gel pellets found in those squarish packets that come in shoes and vitamin bottles. He pooped them out, she said.

I emailed Dubya-Mommy in Thousand Oaks. She wrote back about her 5 year old: I have never had to call poison control. I want her life!!! (plus, she has a swimming pool…)

I called my husband. Call the doctor!!! he said. I called the doctor and was transferred to the nurse’s voicemail. She never called back.

Evening: Three pellets in the diaper! Okay, okay, I told my husband. He only ate a few. I got there in time. Ha, ha. We’re okay.

That night: No vomit. We’re back to normal! my husband and I whooped joyfully. (whatever normal is…)

Morning diaper: Holy smokes!!! (my husband said) OMG!!! (me) Pellets! Lots and lots of little plastic pellets.

Afternoon diaper: Bingo!!! (I said, chokingly). More pellets. Little bugger worked fast on that doggy’s paw. How can a toy store sell doggies stuffed in pellets and get away with it? Why weren’t “pellets” listed in the doggy’s ingredients? Bastards! Why?

Why ask why?

Next poop will be interesting to examine. Reminds me of guessing the number of jellybeans in a jar…

And on to the next!

UPDATE: 1 more diaper bearing pooped pellets. 3 nighttime vomiting episodes, then 1 night off, then 1 night of 2 vomiting episodes, then 1 night off of vomiting, but diarrhea kicks in, the all-the-Great-Lakes-bled-into-one of exploding diapers. 1 Dr. visit where I was told, sternly, STOP IT after confessing to Googling nighttime vomiting and coming up with horrific scenarios. 1 tsp Benadryl before bed 2 nights running = no nighttime vomiting. Diarrhea persisting, but hopefully BRAT will help. Where’s my tropical island interlude! No, no, it’s okay, it’s okay. What a trooper (pooper!), this little guy. Little guy! zzzzzzzzz.

www.pbrippey.com

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