Before last week I thought the three things every boy mom needed in her purse were:
1) band-aids. (I’ve been tempted to cart around a cooler of ice too and a small medic kit, but I think that is excessive.)
2) a cup. (The hubby wonders why I have all these old coffee cups in the car all the time. I am not lazy. When a boy has to pee, he has to pee. These cups are car-savers.)
3) chocolate. (self-explanatory)
But last week we had a morning where band-aids and the cup were both used before noon and I was one frazzled momma. By nap time, which miraculously happened when I coerced/negotiated the duo to sleep in a fort we built,
I was so totally desperate for chocolate but the one piece of chocolate stashed in my purse had melted slightly into a kind of flattened unappetizing ball. I didn’t dare move because I didn’t want to wake the boys so I ate it anyways. (Yes, we do gross and disgusting things sometimes as stay at home moms. Please don’t judge. I was absolutely desperate.) And then I was in chocolate heaven until I bit down on something hard. A little round ball. How did that make it through the factory inspection?
A couple minutes later the the panic set in. Something in my gut told me the little ball came from a packet of those little “DO NOT EAT” packets that had fallen apart in my purse a week before and I totally forgot to clean it out. I rummaged through my purse and sure enough, there it was. All of sudden I was on the verge of dying. Why can’t you eat these things? Was I going to lose consciousness? Should I call 911? (Remember this was an overly crazy day and I am a bit dramatic.)
I frantically googled “Silica Powder” and “poison” and poison control came up. I dialed the number and frantically told my story.
“How long ago did this happen? The packet is a choking hazard. Did someone swallow the packet?” said a calm voice on the other end (let’s call him the “Voice of God”)
No, I just almost ate one of the little balls but spit it out. Is it bad? (crossed fingers, crossed chest, waited for choking feeling in throat to start caving in.)
“How old are you miss? Or did a child eat it?” The calm voice asked again.
Um. Not a child. me. 29. (or a number close to that number. I might have lied a little.)
“I think you’ll be fine. Drink lots of water. Can I help you with anything else?”
Light at the end of the tunnel. Glorious light.
No, that was all. And then I remembered all the other times why I’ve ever called poison control. The berries in the front yard-no the boys haven’t eaten them yet- but I was curious if they were poison just in case they did. The diaper cream that I accidentally brushed my teeth with because we left it on the bathroom counter. And a few other things I’m too embarrassed to reveal but oh so thankful for the help poison control gave.
So I’ve now removed #3 chocolate(blech! ruined!) and added this number: 1-800-222-1222 to my list of things boy moms definitely need. All this amazing knowledge a phone call away and it’s way too important to wait for google to find it. ( FYI they do take your name, number and address. Or maybe that’s just for me.)
(PS The boys slept through the whole ordeal. So thankfully this was truly not one of those poison/choking/dying situations because there would be no 3-year-olds saving momma with a miraculous 911 call.)
(PPS there’s also another fabulous number/resource you can use in Seattle for non-emergency things but things you want to know about. It’s the Ask a Librarian number/email and it’s 24/7!)