Wall Nails & Other Diets posted 6/23/2007 8:46:38 PM | 3 kudos what's this?     report abuse tagged: family, kids, eating, love, emergency

MonkeyWoman29

Today has been a day from hades. Did I spell that right? Anyway, no matter.

This morning I was sitting at my computer doing my checkbook when my three year old wandered into the kitchen and said "Mom, I'm hungry". I told her to hang on just one second and I would get her a snack. This was around eleven thirty or so.

I looked up at her and noticed she had something in her mouth. It looked a bit shiny so I asked her what it was. At this point I wasn't too worried because she's previously dined on bottles of glitter glue and the like so I waited for her answer. "It's a nail", she said. Very calmly I stuck out my hand and said "Spit it out in Mamma's hand, baby?" To which she replied, with her new favorite phrase, "NO!". Then she took off running. I chased her into the hallway and I said "Turn around and spit that nail out NOW!" and she swung 'round with the reply "I swallowed it".

Bloody hell. Even though I knew the answer, I asked her, "What kind of nail was it, dear? A fingernail?."

"Nope, it was a wall nail".

My new favorite phrase, BLOODY HELL, comes to mind again. I called the pediatrician and they confirmed I needed to go to the ER and get her X-rayed. I tried and tried to get in contact with someone at my insurance company because as of late they have been reluctant to pay for ER visits, even when they are necessary. They denied our claims on two seperate occasions when they were EMERGENCIES. I can only imagine that I will have another four hundred dollar hospital bill after this fiasco. No one at the insurance company on Saturdays. Well, now, isn't that nice? What if I had gone into labor? Ehe? I guess they assume that no one gets sick or has emergencies on Saturdays!

I took her anyway, because I had to take her at her word that she had swallowed a flippin' nail. I searched the entire hallway to see if by chance she had spit it out and no dice. We spent an hour in the waiting room and three hours waiting on the doctor to come in and tell us that she didn't see any nails that showed up on the X-ray films, just some other foreign body that would eventually pass in her movements. Great, I wonder what THAT was? The hair barette I'd been looking for, for a week? A plum pit? Who knew. That child is so slick that she could eat a box of Oreos with me in the same room and I'd be none the wiser as to what the hell she was doing behind her dollhouse. I felt like a bad mother but I had several people tell me their horror stories on my way to the end of this ER fiasco.

The X-ray tech told me his daughter swallowed a battery. The receptionist told me her son swallowed a micro machine car. One of the nurses told me their daughter stuffed four peanuts up her nose and let them rot. She just couldn't figure out why her little girl stunk so bad.

After the doctor gave us the all clear, I stopped on the way home to get fixings for taco salad for dinner. As Dan took our little nail nibbler outside to blow some bubbles. I began to chop the tomatoes and onions for our supper. And I nearly lopped my freaking finger off. Well, ok, it was only a little cut, but I was cutting an ONION and Oh My HIGHER POWER, it hurt. Not to mention that supossedly sweet, "Vidalia" onion was not at all what I expected. It was bitter and STRONG. So I just let the tears go with the blood and the onion air freshener and stood over the sink sobbing the days troubles away. I got through dinner and cleanup alright, and Dan even helped a little, which is rare. I talked him into giving our little metal muncher a bath and I told them both I'd fix them some home made popcorn for a snack.

What was I thinking? I got the oil hot enough but I hadn't opened the bag enough to pour the popcorn in. So when the one kernel went off, I had to frantically tear at the bag to get the rest of the layer of popcorn in in time. Of course, popcorn went everywhere. Of course. All over the stove, sink, and the freshly swept kitchen floor.

I told myself it was no big deal. But my pregnancy hormones threatened to make me cry again as I shook the pan of popcorn to near perfection.

Then my three year old little girl came into the kitchen wrapped up in her towel and said "Oh, Mommy! You fixed me popcorn! Oh, CANK YOU MOMMY!" (Thank You, Mommy).

And today... melted away. And my nail nibbling metal muncher became a popcorn princess sitting at the foot of her bed with her Daddy, watch the Heffalump movie.

Today wasn't the day from hades. Today was the day for popcorn and Heffalumps.

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