I don't think I've told you, dear readers, that my arm has been in a sling for almost two weeks. I have a shoulder injury that isn't healing because I keep using it, so I'm in a sling to force it to rest and heal. Now certainly this in no way compares to people with lifelong disabilities. I'm grateful it's temporary as it has made my regular routines a little trickier. I have one regular arm, which The Boy is often in, and one arm pinned to my chest so I can only use the hand but not the arm. I can't complain, but I feel a little like a T-Rex on that side.
I hold The Boy on my hip and use my T-Rex arm to hold his diaper bag. That's fine as long as I don't need to do anything else, like laundry or cooking or cleaning or errands. Getting in and out of the car seat is particularly challenging, and God forbid I need to carry a purchase out of a store. It's made me quite thankful for my two arms that work normally the rest of the time.
On Friday we were getting ready for a busy wedding weekend. The Boy and I had to run some errands before I went to work, and I had to get all our stuff ready for the rehearsal dinner because his Pammie was going to bring him there to meet us. I needed about 5 minutes to make sure we had everything and load the car. I put The Boy, now 20 months, in his high chair with his color wonder paper and markers so that I could get all our stuff together. He was in my sight but I wasn't watching him closely.
I was packing snacks in his bag when I heard him crying. I went to him
"Uh oh!" he cried, in a panic. "Draw!"
Me: Yep, you're drawing! Can you color the car? (Why was he crying about this?)
The Boy: Uh oh! Draw!
Me: What happened?
The Boy: (panic escalating) UH OH! DRAW! He was pointing to his nose. Did he draw on his nose?
I noticed he had bitten off the end of one of his markers. Awesome. I made a note not to leave him unsupervised with these anymore.
The Boy: UH OH! DRAW!! NOSE!! He cried.
That's when it hit me. Not only did he bite off the end of his marker, he shoved it up his nose. He was screaming. "UH OH! NOSE!!" I could see the marker up in his nose. I grabbed a wipe and tried to get him to blow his nose but nothing happened. He was in full on panic mode, screaming. I grabbed his nose and squished it like I was milking a cow (I have never milked a cow) but nothing happened.
I called the pediatrician's office.
Office: Hello, Martin and Martin?
Me: Hey. It's Leigh Ellen. The Boy has stuck something up his nose, what do you suggest for that?
Office: Hold on, let me get the nurse.
Nurse Brandy: Hey, it's Brandy (Can you tell they know us there?) Is it hurting him?
The Boy: NOOOOOOSSSSSSE! UH OH!
Me: I'd say so. He's screaming.
Brandy: And what is it that's up there?
Me: The end of a marker that he bit off.
Brandy: You're going to need to go to the ER.
Me: No.
Brandy: Yes.
Me: Are you kidding me? UH OH NOSE DRAW UH OH!
Brandy: Nope. If you try to get it out you're going to shove it further up there. It can damage his little nose, and they have a special tool to dig in there and get it out without damaging him. You can try urgent care, but I'm not sure they have it. I'd call ahead first. NOOOSSSSE!
Me: (Getting louder over the screaming) SIGH. OKAY. THANKS, BRANDY!
Brandy: Call us anytime.
Me: You know I do.
I hung up from Brandy and knelt back down to look up The Boy's snotty nose. He was pacing and crying. "NOSE!" I tried to comfort him. "It's okay, buddy. We're going to get it out of your nose." I talked him into putting his jacket on, and used my one good arm to help him. I picked up his diaper bag with my T-Rex arm and grabbed the keys. Though I dreaded the prospect of someone having to hold him down and fish up his nose, I was strangely calm. I gave him a hug and we headed out the door. As we got just onto the porch he stopped. I looked down at him just as he sneezed the best sneeze I've ever heard. The marker tip shot out like a Romanian from a circus cannon. Hooray!!
The Boy cried. NOSE! I'm sure it hurt, but I was rejoicing. "Oh Buddy!", I said "You just saved us half a day and $100 at the ER! Thank you, thank you, thank you!!" After that I gave him a lecture (yes, they're great and effective for one year olds) about not putting anything up his nose. "No no, nose" he said, as though his nose had done it.
I called The Husband and told him the saga, right up until the part Brandy said we needed to go to the ER. Then I waited for his response. When he asked me which ER we were headed to so he could meet us, I threw in the sneeze at the last minute. After all, if I had to experience all the trauma and drama, he could have just an ounce of it.
I didn't take a picture of the trauma, so instead I'm giving you one from when he ate crayon tonight. You think we'd start supervising his art projects, huh?
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