I was getting ready to take The Boy to school so I could go to work. His bags/bottles/packnplay/toys were packed to spend the night at my dad's. I was on a tight schedule to make everything happen in time for the event. I got him dressed and put him down to play in the floor in my room while I got ready. Of course I had to take a quick picture to send to The Husband at work before I went in the next room to get my shoes. I was gone for about a minute.
When I came back in he was spitting and had a straw from the broom in his hand. I figured he had one in his mouth but a quick finger sweep didn't produce anything. I put my shoes on and scooped him up and he started gagging. Maybe the broom straw was in the back of his throat? I resolved not to sweep as often. I fixed him a bottle of juice, which he promptly swatted away, all the while alternating between sputtering and being fine. Thinking quick, I remembered a trick my friend Heather's mom used to do with her dog. I poured the juice into a cup and pretended I was drinking it and suddenly he was interested. He grabbed the cup and drank some, spilling it all over him. "You okay?" I asked. More sputtering, dry heaving, turning a tad red. I decided to call Heather since she has a little boy and she always answers her phone. She didn't answer. He continued to alternate between being fine and gagging like he was trying to cough it up. I would think he was okay, and then we'd start again. Surprisingly I think the fact that I had such a busy, pressure-filled day kept me calm in the face of this potential emergency.
I decided to walk to our neighbor's house. Tom and Faye have grandchildren and Faye would certainly know what to do. On the way over, he coughed and then threw up. "You okay now?" I asked. His vomit landed in the grass so I couldn't discern whether there was a broom straw in it or not, but I assumed there was. (Bonus, I didn't have to clean it up). I turned to go back toward our house and he threw up again. "Now that must have gotten it" I told him. Relieved that our crisis was thwarted, I went to put him in the car. I grabbed the car seat and put him in it. Not one to be confined, he started fussing. When he opened his mouth to complain about the car seat I saw a shiny piece of plastic on the very back of his tongue. I reached my finger in to get it but he turned his head away and clamped his mouth shut. I tried again and again, but the jaws of life couldn't have opened that determined little mouth. I yanked him back out of the seat and headed back over to Tom and Faye's, my internal alarm sounding again. He continued to sputter and gag.
I knocked on their door and Tom answered. The Boy is smiling to show Tom that this is no emergency and that I'm clearly overreacting. I explained to Tom that he is holding a piece of plastic hostage in his mouth, hoping he would volunteer Faye to assist. Instead he said "Faye's in Mobile. You want a flash light?" I explained that I could see it but that stubborn little mouth just wouldn't open for me to get it. Tom was very concerned that The Boy would be upset with him, so he spent some time in small talk. I didn't mention that he had been choking or we were in a hurry or that The Boy wouldn't remember any of this. Tom apologized to my little man several times then pinched and pried his jaw open so my finger could navigate inside. I retrieved a clear round plastic sticker, like the kind that sticks to clothes or shoes with a size printed on it. The perfect size for blocking a tiny air passageway. He must've gotten it from under the bed. I resolved to sweep things further under the bed.
We loaded up the car again and I took him to school. On the way to school I told him I was glad he was okay and that he couldn't put trash in his mouth. Mrs. Judy, his teacher, has been teaching the baby class for 30 years so she knows what she's doing. She's seen it all and sometimes she acts like I'm an overanxious new mom that worries too much. I gave him a kiss, handed him over, and as I was leaving said "by the way, he choked on some plastic this morning so if he coughs, check for debris in his mouth."Obviously proud, he grinned.
Lesson learned today:
We're going to have to start cleaning our house a little better. Or a little worse.
And here's a little gem from the Mardi Gras event, which was a success. After all the stresses of the day, I needed to let loose a little.
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