Keepin' it real...

Milo, in 2005, smashing his pea-holding nose against the sliding glass door.

Season asked for a "naughty kids" story. :) Here's one for you...

Anyone recall The Great Pea Incident of '06? No, well, let me 'splain it to you.

In the fall of '06 when Milo was just starting to really spiral into his worst period of illness/hospitalizations/ER Visits. One afternoon, he and Isabel were in their booster seats eating lunch. Milo was really showing off his pincer grasp, picking up one pea at a time and eating them. While I was flitting around the kitchen, cleaning up and putting away dishes, I noticed that all of his peas were gone...and that his nose looked a little strange. I stared at him for about 1.2 seconds before realizing that the peas that had previously been on his tray were now LODGED SOMEWHERE NEAR HIS BRAIN!!! Good grief. After borrowing a flashlight from a neighbor and cursing the idiot (me) that thought it was a good idea to by $2 flashlights from the grocery store when our MagLight died, I used giant tweezers to delicately remove the peas while trying not to injure my screaming/flailing child. I was completely freaked out and convinced that some rogue pea was definitely, absolutely lodged in his sinus or dangerously close to being aspirated. We quickly made a visit to our pediatrician's office for confirmation of full pea evacuation and soon became a legendary story in their office. Great. Just what I wanted: to be known as a frequent flyer AND as the kid who stuck 8 peas up his nose. Milo ended up in the ER that night and spent two nights in the hospital for respiratory issues totally unrelated to the peas. Not our best week ever.

Flash to last week. We're driving home when I hear Milo gasp loudly (in shock/preparation for a serious tattling). He then yells at the top of his lungs, "Mom!!! Issy just stuck a wrapper up her nose!!!!!" Ack. The Panic of '06 from The Pea Event of '06 nearly drove me off the road. I (sort of) calmly told her NOT TO TOUCH HER NOSE. Just as I'm saying that, I look in my rearview mirror to see her shoving her finger up her nose to, ooohhh, midbrain level. I repeat, "DO NOT STICK YOUR FINGER IN YOUR NOSE. GET IT OUT!" I am ever-so-slighly more calm once the finger is removed. Then I hear, "SNIFFFFFF. SNIFFFFFFFF." from the backseat. Now it's, "DO NOT DO THAT!! DO NOT SNIFF!! DO NOT BREATH THROUGH YOUR NOSE. ISABEL, PLEASE. BREATH. THROUGH. YOUR. MOUTH." Trying desperately to remain or at least sound calm, I somehow drive the rest of the way home whilst watching my daughter and the road. Be glad you were not behind me.

Once we got home, I whisked (ripped?) her out of her carseat and into the house. I layed her flat on her back on the table and instructed her to continue breathing through her nose. I gathered my instruments (tweezers and the same crappy flashlight), cursed myself for STILL not having a good flashlight, thought about the potential embarassment of having to borrow a flashlight from the same neighbor for the same reason nearly 18 months later, and opted to go in under the guidance of the dining room light instead. Luckily the wrapper was removed in one fail swoop. PHEW.

The end right? Wrong.

Isabel consequently had a runny nose. Apparently, a persons body does not like having foreign objects lodged up its nose and will start rebelling. Exhausted and relieved, I sent her into the bathroom to wipe her nose. A mere nanosecond later, I hear "UH OH" and the toilet running. You guessed it: the toilet was clogged. In a panic, I reached for the water main and scramble to turn it off. Too late. The toilet started overflowing and soaked my foot. I jumped in disgust and SLAMMED my head into the edge of our slate counter, saw stars, got teary, took a deep breath and plunged the heck out of the toilet.

The end. (Sort of. My head hurt so bad that I couldn't sleep on that side of it for 5 days!!)