There are days when you nail the parenting thing. And by nail I mean you avoid physical injuries and everyone is fed and loved. They may not be clean. If they were fed and loved, there’s a REALLY good chance your house won’t be clean. But whatevs. We nailed it.
The day I am writing about was not one of those days.
There is an unwritten, but deeply understood, law of parenting that says you may have any two of the following, but never all at the same time:
- A clean house
- Happy children who aren’t whining
- Three balanced, healthy meals
- Children who are generally free from filth and other messiness
- Your sanity
You may only pick two.
Then there are days where you get none. Just none. This was one of those days.
My house was (almost) clean, and I was feeling good about the whole place looking nice. Smush decides to “play a game” in her room, and I’m all, “Yes! Finish all the cleaning!”
Smush played happily for a little while.
I AM SO DUMB. Smush does not play quietly. Not unless she’s plotting how to dismantle my bedroom furniture when I’m not looking.
That game she was playing? This:
HOW HAVE I NOT LEARNED YET?
Anyway. I cleaned her up.
Side note: That hot mess was made with play makeup. Do you know what’s interesting about play makeup? IT WAS MADE BY THE DEVIL HIMSELF. It doesn’t come off. With anything. Ever. I full-on bathed her and scrubbed her face with 4 different types of soap/cream/cleanser, and she still looked like she got punched in the face. Sigh.
I dried her off, got her dressed, and told her to get ready for nap time and hop into bed while I got her a drink.
I came back to find a small, sticky puddle on her dresser. And then I saw the children’s Benadryl bottle, opened, next to the medicine cup, lined with pink residue.
“Smush, did you drink that?”
“You need to tell me the truth. Now. DID. YOU. DRINK. THIS?”
“Well, yeah, a little.”
“Can you show me how much? Did you pour it into the cup before you drank it?”
“Yeah. It was a little bit. Like you give Goo.”
(Benadryl is given to cancer patients as an anti-nausea medicine.)
I immediately called Poison Control, estimating that she probably didn’t swallow more than a tablespoon because she used the cup it came with for measuring out the right dosage. Thank God in heaven.
Just in case, I had to monitor her. Her heart rate could be affected, and since I’m good at finding pulses on little people thanks to Goo’s heart condition at birth, I monitor her heart rate.
Every ten minutes.
For two hours.
Oh, and the whole time I’m checking the pulse of my precocious and slightly rainbow-colored child? She’s sleeping peacefully. Because Benadryl.
I am now juggling a myriad of emotions:
I am irritated that she smeared play makeup all over herself and I can’t get it off. But she’s super cute.
I am LIVID that she got into the medicine cabinet and opened a “child-proof” cap. Oh, and “child-proof?” HA! Both my littles figured out how to open them by the time they were 3.
I am terrified that she swallowed too much and praying that she’ll be okay.
I am SUPER HAPPY that the side effect of Benadryl is drowsiness. Let’s just be honest. It was a day. And my little terror was napping. Once I knew she was safe, I was all, “Well, if you’re going to take a medicine you’re not supposed to, it might as well be the one that lets me get a few minutes of peace and quiet after you NEARLY MADE ME LOSE MY MIND.”
But really. Rainbow skin and a potential overdose in the same afternoon?
I give up.