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A Grasshopper walks into a bar…
You know how some situations are so surreal that time seems to move in slow motion? Those moments in life where you think, “Gosh, this could be a sitcom I’m living in, because this can’t possibly be how real people behave?” I’m talking about stories that are so ridiculous you couldn’t possibly make them up because no one would believe you? It’s like a bad joke: a pediatrician, and ER doctor and a senior paramedic were sitting in a kitchen when a toddler started to choke. And no one moved. Ha ha!
Okay, so “choke” rhymes with “joke” but it’s not really funny. Although in retrospect the situation was like a B movie script. I had two great friends over last week, one of whom is a senior ER doctor just outside of London and the other was the first paramedic in Wales. These guys are two of the most seasoned emergency responders you will ever find. The ones you actually want sitting in your kitchen when your child chokes. And then there was little old me. I count for something, no? Here’s what happened:
I served the girls some dinner. Roast vegetables and hamburger, all cut into little bite size pieces. Oh and some ketchup. Everyone loves ketchup.
A couple of minutes later Eva started to cough. Or sort of wheeze and choke. She was still making noises, however, so I didn’t really rush to do anything, reasoning that she was still exchanging air. When she turned purple, I calmly undid her safety straps and picked her up, patting her on the back. And when she went a little blue, I flipped her upside down and gave her several firm whacks across the back. In the meantime I sort of wandered over to the door where my friends were sitting on the back porch.
“Just a little choking,” I said, as they looked up. And neither of them moved, calmly sipping their drinks and watching me. A few seconds later one of them said, “Well, isn’t she blue?” and finally stood up. Right about then Eva caught her breath and began to cry, completely pink again.
When a little one is choking, we in the medical profession often advise that you not move or disturb a child who is still making noise, because that means she is still moving air and if you upset her, she could close off her airway all together. On the other hand, when she didn’t recover quickly and the fact that she was turning blue was a sign that she wasn’t getting enough oxygen. And as for a kid who is truly choking, I won’t go into the details here because I don’t have room, but every parent, sitter and Grandparent should know basic choking first aid for both infants and toddler. Even though Eva is 19 months old, she’s still smaller than a 1 year old and that is why I treated her like an infant and administered back blows.
The funny part of this story is how unbelievably calm we all were, right up until the situation had resolved. I guess the three of us are so used to seeing emergencies and knowing we have to remain in our right minds in order to be of any help and so not used to these kinds of scenes outside the hospital that we were probably a little slower to react than anyone else would be. I will admit that once she was smiling again, my heart rate caught up to reality and I had a little moment of “what if!” And Eva sure wasn’t interested in any more hamburger that evening. We told her father later what had happened and he declared that he isn’t giving her any more meals until he’s had a first aid course. Which is probably a good idea. Unless, of course, his intention is to get out of cleaning the high chair…
Helmet Hair
Sorry for the silence. Do you know how many bank holidays they have in the months of April and May in the UK? And you know what a bank holiday means in terms of finding time (and freedom) to work, don’t you? But on a good note, it also means lots of playtime with the girls. The weather here has been gorgeous lately and we’ve been taking advantage of every second. Which means using our new bikes. And that means, yes you know it, our new bike helmets.
I am fully aware that it is moderately insane to think that two toddlers could actually fall off their little riding toys and sustain a serious head injury. But with their new Easter bikes came two cute little pink helmets. Because at this point, it’s not as much about protection is it is about the message: want to sit on wheels? Then there is a helmet on your head. I’m trying to instill good habits here, not prevent an acute subdural bleed. And it’s not like Zoe has enough hair to worry about what it will do to her coif.
Yes, this does mean that people look at my funny when we’re at the park. Especially when they spend as much time off their bikes as on them. Or the fact that they love their helmets so much (and who wouldn’t?) that they often insist on keeping them on, even in the stroller. (Which makes me look really paranoid.)
But the best comment I got was actually on my personal Facebook page. I’m going to repost the photo on my Lara Zibners, MD fan page. Because in it, Zoe is wearing her helmet in the park, no bike in sight. And I captioned it, explaining that there was a new bike, hence the new helmet. And one of my friends left a comment: “thanks for explaining that. I thought that now we were supposed to make them wear helmets all the time, even when playing in a fountain.”
So yes, Dr. Zibners is a crazy lady who forces her toddlers to wear bike helmets when sitting on 8 inch high riding toys. But no, you don’t need to protect their heads when they are playing on the grass. That would be insane. Even for me.
Overheard at the Zibners’ House
“Hurry! Hurry! Help! Quick!”
“What the H*&# is that?”
“An undigested blueberry. And some corn. Quick. The elastic on her ankle is holding it all in!”
“Undigested blueberry? Where’d that come from?”
“I just told you it was undigested, thereby implying that it had gone somewhere with the intention to do just that. Now reach in here and help me!”
As you can read, we’ve been having our ups and downs lately around here. Or is that “ins and outs?” You get the point. While the girls love, love, love their fruits and vegetables, Eva had gotten herself a little, how should I put this, backed up. I personally couldn’t care less if she pooped once a week; that isn’t constipation, by definition. However, watching her turn various shades of purple and then finding a lonely little pebble in her diapers met the medical criteria.
So, I cut back on the cheese and upped the peas. And bought a can of peaches in their juices (no sugar added, thanks. We’ll save that for our M&Ms.) And some prunes. I figured that sticking to my “foods that start with “P” make poop” line would do the trick. And it did. A little too well.
Turns out that Zoe loves peaches. And prunes. And she wasn’t having any trouble before hand. And Eva, well, yes, we’ve got things moving again. Perhaps faster than necessary.
My husband obviously freaked out at the collection of undigested meals that leaked through her diaper and into her PJ’s last night. “Is that normal?!” he screamed, as he flushed that morning’s breakfast down the toilet and I tried to wipe her clean with one hand while restraining Zoe from sticking her hand into the mess with my other.
Of course it is. Sometimes stuff goes in one end and comes out the other practically looking no worse for the wear. If she wasn’t gaining weight, her stools were continually very runny, stinky or greasy, or anything else was weird, I’d be worried. But the occasional “total Pamper blow out” isn’t anything to worry about. Unless, of course, you are my washing machine, my carpet, my diaper pail, my nose or my husband’s delicate constitution. Then it could be a minor inconvenience.
Home Decorating, Toddler Style
Well, just a quick update. I was up in Wales last week teaching trauma management again and had a great time, even though I missed my little monkeys something terrible. But I was only gone for 3 days and when I returned, the two of them seemed to be fed, cleaned and relatively well cared for, so apparently I’m not as vital to their survival as I’d hoped.
Of course, not everything was perfect. I was met at the door by a man with a handful of glass shards. Zoe, it turns out, decided she didn’t like our living room lamp. So she smashed it against the wall 10000 times until it finally shattered. Delightful. Good news is that her father was actually watching her do it, so he was right there to pick up the glass before anyone was hurt. (Again. Delightful.)
It’s apparently my job this week to hunt down the broken piece of our home furnishings and get it replaced. But while I’m at it, my husband would like me to replace the shades in the living room. It’s not enough that I’ve destroyed them by cutting through all the cords and tying the chains to the floor. Now the “favorite game” is to get tangled and twisted up in the slats, which is hilarious until they either get stuck or risk strangulation. Did I add that vertical blinds are safest when they are freely hanging and not attached at the bottom?
So we’re getting curtains. Lovely white linen curtains. That should go well with jam-smeared fingers, don’t you think? Wait. Do you think they make them in some sort of strawberry splatter pattern along the bottom 3 feet? That would be awesome.
Cherry. Cranberry. Whatever.
And the proverbial cherry has been popped. You knew they were going to get juice one day, didn’t you? And you were on the edge of your seat, waiting to see how it happened, weren’t you? Alright. It’s done. But I have to say, I’m not upset. I’m secretly a little proud.
No, it wasn’t apple juice. No, not grape. No, not a fat glass of fresh squeezed orange either. A virgin cranberry mojito. Yes, you read that right. Mint. Lime. Cranberry juice. Ice. Shaken. Served with a straw.
Oma and Opa are visiting this week from Germany and we went out for a nice Sunday lunch. Opa ordered himself said mojito. A few sips later and we were ordering a second one for Opa. Eva had declared it hers. Zoe soon got on board.
Just like a chocolate cupcake, juice is meant to be a very special sometimes treat. With minimal nutritional value and a huge calorie load, it’s too easy for a toddler to develop a taste for the stuff and begin to replace other foods in her diet with sweet drink. In fact, most cases of chronic “toddler diarrhea” are directly related to juice consumption. As are many cases of both childhood obesity and malnutrition. It’s not a cup full of vitamins, as most parents rationalize. It’s empty calories.
But my kids get cupcakes on occasion and I’ve no problem with the occasional sip of juice. I just really, really wanted to establish a good water habit before introducing any and certainly didn’t want it to become an everyday event.
So, I must say, well done, girls. I can’t imagine that they’ll be serving jugs of virgin mojitos at playgroup any time soon. Thus I do believe that we are still innocent when it comes to mainstream juice boxes. Not only will they not be getting any juice at home anytime soon but I now can brag about their exceptional palates.
On a semi-related note (my parenting skills), we’ve been working on our animals. Zoe now stops when she sees a dog and roars like a lion. I think we’d better revisit that lesson. Mother of The Year, right here.
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"WHAT I LIKED: This book is written in a funny, down to earth way that doesn't make you feel like an idiot. I really would have appreciated something like this when my kids were really little and I freaked out over everything they put in their mouths. It has a scenario/question and answer format, with clear answers on when not to panic and when to call 911."
- Chic Book Chick
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