Goodbyes and mistakes

6 03 2007

A mere four days after returning from the roadtrip, Jeff, Ethan, and I (really it was just I; Jeff can’t handle more than his own needs (if it were up to him, Ethan would have left with nothing but a suitcase full of onesies that he outgrew 6 months ago and the 360… no offense, Jeff), and Ethan has only mastered the art of unpacking at this point) packed up and headed up to Erie once more late Wednesday night. Sadly, Jeff’s Grandpa Adams died last Tuesday, and we knew we had to be there to support the family and say our goodbyes.



While we were at home, in addition to seeing one of the worst movies I’ve seen since The Breakup (Ghost Rider… not that I had high hopes for it to begin with), and dealing with a diaper overflow in a roadside restroom, and eating at the same restaurant two times (not that bad until you consider that we were only home for three days! Plus I ate there at least three times while there the week before. Looking to make some cash? Open a Valerio’s in the DC area. I could seriously eat my weight in pepperoni balls.), we also experienced a very frightening incident.

I wasn’t planning to post this. Not only is it like having the words “World’s Most Moronic Parents” tattooed on our foreheads, and here I am BROADCASTING my moronocy (moronicness?), but it could have ended in unspeakable tragedy. I realized, though, that it’s worth having everyone know how stupid we are if it means other parents (not that there any other parents who’d be dumb enough to make this mistake) might be a little more careful than we were.

You know how at funeral homes there’s always a well-stocked candy dish? Full of cinnamon disks, butterscotch candies, Werther’s, and my personal favorite, the strawberry flavored ones, in wrappers that actually look like miniature little strawberries, with that liquidey, strawberry, almost cough syrupy goo in the middle. I have yet to attend a funeral without a dish full of these exact candies. I guess someone decided that death can’t be dealt with without tissues and hard candies.

Anyway, after a rough couple of hours of chasing Ethan around the funeral home, I grabbed a few of the candies, and was quickly caught by Ethan’s ever watchful eyes. He started to whine, and Jeff said “Give him one.” To which I responded with The Look.

Not to eat. Just let him hold it.” That I could do. Jeff was holding Ethan, since we were getting ready to leave, and since it had been so long since the family had seen Ethan, everyone was paying attention to him. Plus we didn’t think he’d manage to get it open. We didn’t think there’d be any harm. But minutes later, as I was putting him in his carseat, I realized he still had the candy. “Take that away from him,” I said to Jeff. Why didn’t I just take it away? Who knows. I told Jeff to, and I assumed he heard me.

Jeff didn’t hear me, and a few minutes into the drive, our parental ears became aware of that sound every parent knows means trouble: silence. As we whipped our heads around to the backseat we saw our son, holding the candy wrapper in one hand, the butterscotch candy in the other, licking furiously and determinedly away at the choking hazard, sticky yellow goo oozing down his chin and hands.

When my heart finally dislodged itself from my throat and began to return to a normal pace, we looked at Ethan, the sticky wrapper stuck to his hand, no matter how hard he tried to throw it at me for taking his “treat” away from him, and thanked God for how lucky we’d been. We realize that everyone makes mistakes, but man, what a stupid one that was. We are still hanging our heads in shame.



2 responses

7 03 2007

I’m sure your heart rate has returned to normal by now. I, too, have also learned a hard lesson about watching small objects around the ever-so-ready-to-shove mouth of Lauren. When she first was learning how to crawl I was careful to pick up EVERYTHING off the floor which she could choke on. Being the good mommy that I am, I was making hand impressions with foamy clay and was so involved in making sure it looked like her hand that I neglected to see that she found my wedding band (which I put on the floor so it wouldn’t get gooey) and popped it right into her mouth. Knowing that if I reacted to how I felt, she would swallow it and I’d really be in a world of trouble. Instead, I calmly swiped it out of her tiny mouth and said a million prayers of thanks for her not choking. It took me three days to tell Matt. So, now I’m very cautious and learned a very scary lesson. Don’t worry, you are not alone in the stupidity category.

8 03 2007

Ah, but at least you can take comfort in the fact that you did not HAND OVER THE CHOKING HAZARD TO HER TO PLAY WITH. I think its safe to say I’m in a whole other category of stupid on this one!

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