4:00 pm Comes For Us All

 

Too cute to be the source of so much
trouble, right?

     Baby girl came to me with her toothbrush and a small tube of toothpaste. That is where is all started.

     "I want to brush my teeth Mommy."

     Such a sweet simple statement. And 15 minutes later I find myself on the verge of hysterics.

     I should start by saying it was after 4:00 pm. And all the moms say, "Ahhhh..." in that understanding way. That really should have clued me in. Nothing good starts after 4:00 pm. That is when the children go crazy because they are getting tired, hungry and/or bored and they know if they go crazy at 4:00 then all the craziness damage is done and dealt with before Daddy can get home to put a stop to it. It is all part of their plan to take over the world, but that is another post.

     So, as I said it was 4:00 and baby girl wanted to brush her teeth. My little prince often gets the grumps about this time so I had him in the wrap to soothe him while I got a little something done, at least that was my theory until someone wanted to brush their teeth. 

     I pasted up the toothbrush, tightened the lid back on very securely, and sent her to the bathroom to brush to her little hearts content all the while thinking how proud I was of her for making such good choices. The happy mommy moment should have been a clue too.

     My sweet boy runs by to let me know he is using my bathroom because baby girl is in theirs. So far, so good. Nothing to see here. I walk by the bathroom, I no longer remember why, and see that girl child with her mouth around the tube of toothpaste... yes... eating it!

     Let me take a moment to say, ew!

     She pulls it out of her mouth and stands there looking guilty. 

     "Did you eat the toothpaste?" I ask her and she says "noooooo" in that long, I think I'm giving the answer mom wants to hear sort of way.

     I've been a mom long enough to be pretty sure the two year old is lying to me so I ask again after a long pause and she says yes, she ate the toothpaste. Ate it! 

     Why, why, why!!?? 

     Why do I still even ask why?! 

     The tube tells me to call poison control and I keep their number on the fridge, easy access for just such occasions. This is not my first rodeo and at least I don't have them on speed dial... yet.

     So I'm talking to the nice, calm lady a poison control and am giving her all the information from the tube, the concentration of fluoride, what type of fluoride and how much she might have eaten. The tube was mostly empty and travel size to begin with so I was fairly sure that she was fine but when they are so little you never know and I would rather be safe.

     The nice lady begins to tell me that she is fine and would have to eat more than the whole full tube to do any harm but if I give her a glass of milk it will counteract even the harmless but uncomfortable symptoms of eating toothpaste like an upset stomach. 

It's all part of the master plan
mom! When you least
expect it.

     I start pouring the milk as she is telling me this when my sweet boy bursts into the kitchen from the direction of my bedroom. "Mommy! There is a potentially dangerous situation!" he breathlessly tells me. I assume this means there is an ant in the bathroom or my straightener is on the bathroom counter and tell my oldest son that I'm on the phone and it will have to wait. This is his cue to notice that I'm getting his sister some milk, the unfairness of which is far more important, so he abruptly changes tracks and begins to whine for milk. Why? Because it's 4:15 pm.

     The nice lady is still talking and asking a few questions which I am miraculously managing to answer when I hear, as I walk to find the girl to give her the milk, "Mommy! I had an accident!" This is when I think the nice lady started struggling to not laugh at me and once she heard me say "Why are you in your brothers crib?!" she got off the phone with me awfully quickly and her voice had the quirky sound of someone who was about to laugh her head off once she was out of ear shot. 

     So now I have a half naked toddler in the baby's crib, an accident next to the crib (thank goodness!) complete with a little pile of pants and underwear, a kindergartner explaining why it's not fair that his sister is getting milk, and I catch a whiff of spit up from the baby strapped to my front. Why not? I give the toddler the milk, put a towel over the accident, take a deep breath and then ask my sweet boy what he was trying to tell me about while I was on the phone.

"Oh, the toilet won't flush! It just fills and fills and fills with water!" 

...

Of course...

     I walk to my bathroom, check that the toilet has not yet overflowed, close the door, and then just walk away, all the while mumbling things about help me Lord, children, where is your father, it was just 15 minutes, and how I hate 4:30 pm.