I had a rough day today. Not as bad as many, but bad enough for me. I have a cold which has given me laryngitis which I, of course, HATE. Not having a voice is like...huh. I can't think of an analogy. It just sucks, that's all.
The worst thing that happened today occurred around 4 this afternoon. Jax, my little guy, had been playing with my daughters in their room.
I heard the girls gagging and yelling - apparently Jax had filled his diaper with an odiferous pile. I went upstairs and smelled IMMEDIATELY what they were upset about. And then I remembered, vaguely, that Jax had indeed had chili for dinner last night. That'll show me.
So I picked him up and put him on the diaper changer in his room. Peeling back his used diaper was as heroic as anything I've ever done in my life. Kind of like throwing myself on top of a land mine. At any rate, I did my duty and was about half way done scraping the shit off of him when he surprised me by dropping a Chuck E. Cheese coin into his mouth. I heard it enter his throat and then I heard the air stop. His arms began to flail and there was no noise coming from his mouth.
When he was born he had trouble breathing and spent 5 days in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) at Northside Hospital. A condition of us taking him home was that we complete an infant CPR class. At the time it seemed like something of an imposition as I was tired (from giving birth) and we were stressed from having had our infant son so sick. But we took the class so that we could take our baby home.
The instructions I learned that day came rushing back to me as I flipped my son upside down and inverted him, head down, while striking his back. At first there was no noise other than me slapping his back. Finally I heard the coin give way. It came shooting out of his mouth, followed by a surprisingly large amount of vomit. After carefully checking him over I pulled him to my breast for an indeterminate amount of time, just feeling him breathe and his heart beating against mine. Relief is too small a word.
This happened 6 hours ago and my legs still feel funny.
After several minutes I put him down (he was anxious to continue playing) and I began to inspect the pile of yak that was now in the middle of his bedroom. Impressive. I began to formulate my plan of attack. I had a box of baby wipes at my disposal. I decided to scrape it up with them and then to return, later, with my never failing OxyClean potion to get any colorful spots. I plucked two wipes out of the box and turned to face my nemesis du jour - the yak. Unbeknownst to me the puppy had somehow gotten upstairs and had already eaten pretty much ALL of the yak. At first I was pissed - who the hell let the dog up here?! But then I thought, "Well...that's not the worst thing. My kid lived, I have a smaller mess to clean up. Everyone wins!" It's not like I was going to be kissing the pup on the mouth regardless, you know?
I'll tell you what, though. This has given me ONE MORE reason to hate Chuck E. Cheese.
The worst thing that happened today occurred around 4 this afternoon. Jax, my little guy, had been playing with my daughters in their room.
I heard the girls gagging and yelling - apparently Jax had filled his diaper with an odiferous pile. I went upstairs and smelled IMMEDIATELY what they were upset about. And then I remembered, vaguely, that Jax had indeed had chili for dinner last night. That'll show me.
So I picked him up and put him on the diaper changer in his room. Peeling back his used diaper was as heroic as anything I've ever done in my life. Kind of like throwing myself on top of a land mine. At any rate, I did my duty and was about half way done scraping the shit off of him when he surprised me by dropping a Chuck E. Cheese coin into his mouth. I heard it enter his throat and then I heard the air stop. His arms began to flail and there was no noise coming from his mouth.
When he was born he had trouble breathing and spent 5 days in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) at Northside Hospital. A condition of us taking him home was that we complete an infant CPR class. At the time it seemed like something of an imposition as I was tired (from giving birth) and we were stressed from having had our infant son so sick. But we took the class so that we could take our baby home.
The instructions I learned that day came rushing back to me as I flipped my son upside down and inverted him, head down, while striking his back. At first there was no noise other than me slapping his back. Finally I heard the coin give way. It came shooting out of his mouth, followed by a surprisingly large amount of vomit. After carefully checking him over I pulled him to my breast for an indeterminate amount of time, just feeling him breathe and his heart beating against mine. Relief is too small a word.
This happened 6 hours ago and my legs still feel funny.
After several minutes I put him down (he was anxious to continue playing) and I began to inspect the pile of yak that was now in the middle of his bedroom. Impressive. I began to formulate my plan of attack. I had a box of baby wipes at my disposal. I decided to scrape it up with them and then to return, later, with my never failing OxyClean potion to get any colorful spots. I plucked two wipes out of the box and turned to face my nemesis du jour - the yak. Unbeknownst to me the puppy had somehow gotten upstairs and had already eaten pretty much ALL of the yak. At first I was pissed - who the hell let the dog up here?! But then I thought, "Well...that's not the worst thing. My kid lived, I have a smaller mess to clean up. Everyone wins!" It's not like I was going to be kissing the pup on the mouth regardless, you know?
I'll tell you what, though. This has given me ONE MORE reason to hate Chuck E. Cheese.
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