Holy shit, you guys. Hooooleeee sheeeeet.
And the day started off so well. I got up early to have coffee and read blogs unencumbered by toddler and infant, but they both got up early too. They loves me.
But, that was fine. Lots of nursing and playing and breakfasting. On to napping and nursing and then lunch and ransacking the house. But the tears were few and far between, so ransack away, I say.
Miles spit up in the most epic way. EPIC. It was seriously about three or four ounces - a whole feeding. It covered and soaked through my sweater, my jeans, Miles' outfit and onesie, and left a softball sized stain on my couch. We both needed a full change of clothes.
But he was cooing and grinning away and Oscar was being a prince so even though I reeked of my own curdled bodily fluids I was okay with that. Puke away, little man, just keep on grinning.
I was making dinner so that it would be ready when Nelson got home. I had Miles in the carrier and Oscar tooling around, playing with measuring cups and baking pans and laughing and yelling, "Yeah! Yeah, yeah, yeah! HAHAHAHAHA!" (Yeah is his new word - he's actually responding in the affirmative these days!)
So, the (frozen) enchiladas are in the oven, the (frozen) rice is on the stove and I'm feeling good. The baby is stinky, so I take him in the living room for a change. Oscar is tooling around. Somewhere in the middle of the diaper change, it gets quite. Parents, you know this quite. Scary quiet.
Oscar comes toddling in. He's holding the Windex, smiling his ass off. He spraying the Windex onto his sweater, up by his shoulder. Shit. I left the pantry open. I take away the Windex with one hand while diapering Miles with the other. "That's a 'no' Oscar. No cleaning products."
Then, I notice his face, his mouth, is wet.
I swipe my hand over his lips and smell it - Windex. I abandon the diaper change and grab Oscar and pin him down on the couch to examine his face in the light. It was clear he'd sprayed Windex into his mouth. He starts coughing. He ingested Windex. Windex.
I put him down and grab Miles and begin searching for the phone.
"Where the f--- is the phone?" I'm yelling, and I find it and Oscar is GONE.
I run into the kitchen, where the number for Poison Control is on the fridge and there's Oscar, in the pantry, trying to find another tasty treat.
"What are you doing? Get the HELL out of there! I have to call poison control so you don't DIE" and I'm dragging him out and he bolts, laughing hysterically with the Endust in his hands.
I wrestle away the Endust and call Poison Control. And Miles is screaming in my ear because he's cold and the timer is going off and the rice is starting to burn and Oscar is running around like an insane person literally pounding a spoon on a pan and screaming, "YEAH! Yeah, yeah, yeah! HAHAHAHA!"
The, the most soft spoken person in the world answers the phone and I'm screaming (just to be heard over the din in my home), "My kid sprayed Windex in his mouth and I don't know how much! I was just changing the baby and I forgot to lock the cabinet!"
She's asks how old he is, and is it regular Windex (it is.)
"It's fine. Windex is mostly water. It tastes a little vinegary and has a little ammonia in it, but just give him plenty of juice and water and he'll be fine," and she's so calm I'm actually convinced that Oscar will not die because of my negligence.
She asked if I think it's in his eyes and I say no. She's asks how he's doing and I tell her he's laughing and playing and she says that's good! She says her name and tells me someone will call tomorrow to check on how Oscar is doing. She tells me someone is there 24/7 if I ever need them.
I hang up and sob with relief.