Blame The Chipmunks

Suicidal chipmunks took over our house while we were on vacation. My husband Greg discovered the first dead one after we pulled into the garage. It appeared as though it couldn't figure out which way to run so it just stayed in one place until the tire made contact. The second was found just seconds later when we were inside and looked out the window to see it floating in our three year old son Anderson’s kiddie pool. Numbers 3 and 4 appeared in mouse traps. Once all the little critters were removed and the pool was promptly shocked with bleach I put the toys in a bleach solution and left them sitting in their red bucket on the porch. Call it laziness or avoidance, but we left the pool water and bleach bucket untouched for days.

Today when Greg came home from work we heard some sputtering and crying coming from outside. We both ran out to find Anderson choking. I wanted to console my baby, Greg flew in to panic EMT man and proceeded to inflict the Heimlich maneuver. Anderson vomited to which our dog quickly came to clean up the mess and Anderson continued to gag and cough. The whole situation bizarrely smelled like bleach and we knew right away our curious boy had been playing in our mess.

Hysterically- Greg, not me, I went into ultra calm mother mode using the I’m in control of all this voice, Greg picked up the bucket and threw it half way across the yard yelling something about how stupid we were to leave the stuff hanging out there. Both of us are telling Anderson he’s not in trouble we just want to know if he drank the bucket. “Its ok, you’re not in trouble just tell us what happen. Did you put the water in your mouth?” The whole time his eyes are saucers and he’s insistent that he didn’t put any of the water in his mouth at the same time clawing at his throat and tongue. We quickly threw the kids in the car and headed to the local urgent care clinic.

On the way Greg contacted poison control and was going back and forth with the operator about our address and vital information. "Yes- he’s three, it was about a ½ cup to one gallon solution, yes we’re going to urgent care right now." I’m wondering if they’re going to send child protective services to greet us when we get there.

One hour and an apple juice box later we left assured that Anderson was going to be alright and we should monitor him for any stomach pains. As we drove home the tension slowly started to dissipate and Greg and I take a deep breath knowing that our carelessness could have been serious. The conversation went something along the lines of “That was really stupid, I can’t believe we left that out there. I’m not blaming you hon, I should have emptied the pool days ago. But just promise me this, next time Anderson is choking you won’t try to mother him. I mean we have to deal with him choking, you can’t hold him.”

Now I’m thinking telling me not to hold my child when he’s hurt is slightly irritating and along the same lines as telling a moth to stay away from the light. Some things are instinctual. Instead of saying anything I did an obvious eye roll to which I was informed for the five hundredth time that my husband had First Aid training and he knows what he’s talking about. Like I’m such a newbie that I believe choking can be fixed with a quick hug and pat on the head. But we continue down this line with the kids listening in the back seat.

Stay calm I was thinking- we shouldn’t turn this situation into an argument. I mean look our baby is fine we’ve had a little wake up call. It’s over, child protective services didn't arrested either of us, lets count our blessings.

Greg continues with his lecture, “I have experience I know what I’m talking about. Just promise me that next time Anderson is choking or if he has a head or neck injury you won’t go hold him. If fact that is the last thing you should do. You need to take it very seriously. Now promise me.”

So I conceed and say “I promise.” What happens next changes the course of how we will remember the day. In his very best grade school teacher voice Greg responds with “what do you promise to do?” like I’m some nimwit who doesn’t know right from left. I slam on the breaks swinging the car into a pull out and histarically explode “DON”T TREAT ME LIKE I’M A FUCKING THREE YEAR OLD! You know what I’m saying I promise to. I’m walking home! ” So I storm out the car abandoning my family.

The thing is, I really had to pee and I didn’t want to walk the 2 ½ miles up hill to get home but I meant business and hauled myself up around the corner and out of range of the car. I stood and wondered what to do next because I had options right! I didn’t have to listen to that condescending bullshit. What mother in her right mind would ignore serious life threatening injuries to get in a quick snuggle. But what could I do because I really had to pee.

And so the crazy talk in my head continued until I thought I had spent enough time away to sufficiently make my point or miss my ride, one or the other. I was half way back to the car when I was met by Greg and two kids in tow. He didn’t leave me and in fact he genuinely apologized and we loaded up the car again a family.

At the end of the day I feel blessed beyond belief for the safety of our curious son. The nurse at urgent care told us that you don't really experience parenthood until you find yourself in a situation like this. It's sort of like the time Anderson stuck bb's up his nose and everyone who knew about it could share a similar story of when their child tried it with crayons, peas, rocks, take your pick. As parents we're bonded by these events that scare us and test us, just to make sure were really paying attention. I can also say that I'm relieved that I didn’t walk home or pee my pants. My husband and I can rest assured that our sweet boy will remember his mommy’s eloquent choice of words and use them to tell someone else to stop treating him like a bleeping three year old .