Well, I finally did it. I called Poison Control.
My Pediatrician gave me the number on a sticker ages ago and I placed it near our phone. But, knowing myself (and knowing my children) I decided it would be a better idea to simply memorize it.
Which turned out to be quite a convenience yesterday evening.
I'm brushing Luke's teeth in the bathroom (which happens to take every ounce of patience and concentration in my body) when Evie comes walking up to me. I distractedly glance down at her, then nearly gag Luke with his toothbrush when my brain catches up with my eyes.
Evie is standing there, gulping down a bottle of bubble-bath soap like some hobo with a paper bag.
As I reach over to snatch it away, I reason with myself that the cap is probably in the closed position and aren't I being silly for over-reacting?
I yank it from her mouth and see that the cap is open wide.
Oh, crud.
I look at Evie in horror as she swallows the final mouthful and grins up at me.
Oh sure, the kid won't touch ninety percent of the food I put in front of her but she thinks bath soap is delicious? I can see I've been going at this all wrong. I've been serving her things that taste salty or sweet when clearly she prefers bitter and sickening with a subtle aftertaste of rotten.
After a few seconds, I snap out of my shock and yell for Chris (who is right down the hall in our bedroom) while yanking off Evie's diaper and throwing her in the tub....don't ask me why, she doesn't have a bit of soap on her body. I turn on the water and splash it up into her mouth...foolishly thinking she will take a sip, swish it around and spit it out.
It's a little disturbing how often I forget that my daughter is only 18 months old.
Of course she gulps the soapy water right down and then sputters and chokes when I get slightly frantic with my splashing. Meanwhile, Luke is still standing at the sink looking at me like I've lost my mind.
And where the heck is my husband, anyway?
"Chris!!"
No answer....which, for some reason, makes me unreasonably furious.
"CHRIS!!!!!!!!!!" My bellow reverberates through the small bathroom and the kids flinch.
Finally, the man comes bursting in looking breathless and slightly panicked.
"What?! What happened?"
"Evie just swallowed a bunch of bath soap."
"Oh no!" (blinks a couple of times) "That's...bad, right?"
"I don't know! Maybe!"
I look at the label on the back of the bottle...
Keep Out of Reach of Children.
Who wrote this? Frankenstein!? Why not add a couple of words to make it an actual sentence? No, snap out if it, Steph! Your daughter needs you!
So, I keep reading and...nothing. No warnings about accidental ingestion or eye contact or anything else untoward. So why bother keeping out of reach of children? Sounds like a jolly good time to me!
I sigh and figure the best thing to do is call Poison Control. It's toll free so what could it hurt, right? Who knows, it might even be fun.
So I leave the kids with Chris and head downstairs, dialing the number from the intricate recesses of my superior memory.
1-800-222-1222.
Let me tell you, this girl did not take one whole year of college for nothing. No, sir.
The person that answers seems very pleasant and attentive as I tell her what just happened.
"And what was it again?"
"Bath soap.....you know, bubble bath?"
"Oh, that should be fine. How much did she ingest?"
I pause and panic a little. I'm supposed to know how much?
"Um, it was coming out pretty fast but I think I stopped her before she drank too much."
"Okay. Hold on a second while I transfer you."
(silence for a few moments)
"Hi, how can I help you?"
What's this? A second person? What did I just get through, the pawns? Some first line of defense that separates the people who really need help from the people that took a sip of expired milk?
"Uh, my daughter just drank some bath soap. It's hypo-allergenic," I add pathetically.
"How much did she ingest?"
Again with the details! Gee, I'm not sure. I guess I should have asked her to use a measuring cup.
"I don't know. A couple of swallows?"
"That's pretty harmless. Go ahead and brush her teeth and give her some fluids."
"Uh, brush her teeth?" That seems a little unnecessary. Her breath is lavender scented, for crying out loud. It's never smelled better!
"To remove the taste."
"Oh." I resist the urge to point out that if she didn't like the taste, she probably wouldn't have chugged the stuff to begin with.
"If she drank a significant amount, you might see some loose stools over the next few days."
Hey, that's great! Evie's been a little plugged up lately so maybe this will help. In fact, I think we may be on to something here. If the stuff is so harmless, why not use it as a home remedy for constipation. Other parents use fruit juice or medications, but why bother with all that when relief is just a few feet away, sitting on the rim of the bathtub!
"Okay, that's great. Thanks so much."
"No problem. Now, what's your name, your child's name, your zip code and home phone number?"
I stutter for a few moments, stalling for time as I debate on whether or not to answer. I can just imagine her computer screen...filled with a blank CPS report, the cursor blinking patiently.
In the end, I cave in and give her my info. I'd make a lousy criminal.
She tells me she'll call back in an hour to check on Evie and we hang up. Wait a minute, I thought she said it was harmless?!
Well, I'm happy to report that Evie drank down her bottle of milk and went right to sleep (another benefit of this miracle soap, perhaps?). Her stools are normal and her innards are squeaky clean and lightly fragranced.
All's well that ends well, as they say.
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