Okay, so before everyone starts in with the "What were you doing while he was doing that? How could you leave him unattended for that long?" First of all, my kid is like The Flash carrying a jackhammer. He's quick. He's loud. He's full of energy. And he destroys whatever in his path. (RIP Christmas Tree.)
Enter Exhibit A. He did this to my laptop while I was transferring a load of laundry from the washing machine to the dryer.
Enter Exhibit B. I caught him trying to fool me into thinking he had jaundice while I was washing my hands after changing a diaper.
I was very pregnant with Jackson when The Degree Debacle took place. It was late one night, and in an effort to get more than 30 minutes of uninterrupted sleep, I waddled from our bed to the couch. I had finally achieved my blissful slumber and was lying on a secluded beach somewhere tanning my no-longer pregnant physique and being served blackberry mojitos by a cabana boy that was probably gay, but still fun to look it nonetheless.
"Mmm. Thank you, Cabana Boy. Yes, keep 'em coming." This cabana boy smells familiar. And I swear, the ocean waves sound like they're saying "Mom."
Where do I know that smell from? It's kinda feminine. Aha! You are gay, Cabana Boy. My God, man! Do you have a glandular problem? Lay off the women's deodorant, buddy. I know that smell.
"WHAT!?!" My eyes sprung open to find my 2 year old standing in front of with his face about an inch from mine, whispering.
"I'm sleeping. Why are you up? What are you do- What is that smell? What is that?" I rolled off the couch (that's the only way I could get upright) and stumbled/waddled for the nearest light source. Once I got the light on, I saw chunks of white chalky matter leading from my bedroom to the living room where my toddler was standing.
Oh my God. He has gotten into my deodora--
And then, before he could answer my battery of questions, I heard the most horrid, revolting, odious sound known to man. It was the retching of my son.
He was blowing chunks. Literally. Chunks of my deodorant. Naturally, I FREAKED. I screamed. I awoke my husband, who was probably sleeping better than he had in months since there wasn't a person next to him kicking or getting up every 15 minutes to pee or munching on Tums.
As Grayson heaved, I found what was left of the deodorant and immediately turned it over hoping there was instructions for idiots that needed instructions on what to do if it was ingested. There it was, but my eyes focused on two words: POISON CONTROL.
I made it to the computer where frantically typed in "Poison control phone number" into my Google search bar. I know I should have already the number for Poison Control posted somewhere - but I didn't. And let's face it, Google is much faster than me digging through the junk drawer (because everything in the free world ends up in our junk drawer. Lost something? Ask me. I bet it's there.) at 3 in the morning searching for a scrap piece of paper with a phone number on it.
After being put on HOLD for one of the longest three minute stretches in my life, the lady at the other end of the line spoke.
"Hi, yeah, my kid just ate deodorant."
"Deodorant. My kid. He ate it."
"How much did he eat?"
"The whole thing."
"The whole thing!?"
"Yes. It was a new stick. I was asleep. He ate it. All of it And now he's vomitting."
"Okay, hang on just a second," she clicked. *Insert really bad hold/elevator music here.*
"He'll be fine." Is she laughing? "He might have dry mouth for a few days, but it shouldn't hurt him."
She IS laughing. Seriously, this can't be that funny or weird. I mean, this is Poison Control. NATIONAL Poison Control. People must be eating bizarre stuff all the time. And she's laughing at DEODORANT?!
My thoughts drowned her out, but I caught "If he's not himself in 24 hours, you should take him to the nearest emergency room."
We watched him the rest of the night, and of course he was fine. And he never experienced any dry mouth.
So, you know that thing that your kid did that's kinda funny but you're ashamed to tell anybody what they did for fear of looking like a bad parent? Well, just remember - my kid ate an entire stick of Degree for Women Powder Fresh Deodorant. And the Poison Control woman laughed at me.
Yeah, I'll go ahead and take that Mother of the Year Award now, thanks.