Today was one of those crazy days where I just wanted to be home, with my son napping and me breathing for a moment. It was crazy.
First my son ate so much son at the beach yesterday that he developed the worst diaper rash I've ever seen. It was out over his thigh even! The diapers were messy, filled with real sand, and just nasty. I had to change him much more frequently to make sure it got better and apply cream after cream on him.
Then out at supper with my family, Owen was excited and loud and hungry and bored and overall being a toddler. The people next to our table didn't quite sign up for that type of night, and thus started the first eye rolls I've seen from neighboring restaurant goers. Then the sighs. Then the pleading looks at the waiter to please, if there is a God, move them to another place in the restaurant. I found it rude. I kept apologizing and trying to distract my son, all the while thinking, "Listen people, sometimes parents of toddlers want to go out to eat, too, and despite how loud we may be or how many times you may possibly get hit by a French fry or crayon, we deserve a night out!" Oh well. They probably forget what it's like. I vow now to never be that person in a restaurant who forgets what it's like to dine with a toddler.
Which is how we got to calling Poison Control for the first time! (Yes, I was very grateful to my husband for having put the phone number on the fridge before we even came home from the hospital with the baby.) Owen ate Butt Cream. Yup, he did. He reached down during one of our many diaper changes and took a lick from the top of the container. I instantly wiped out his mouth and gave him a drink of water, while speed dialing Poison Control, all the while asking myself, "Is this really my life right now?!" Of course he was fine (the operator even put me on hold while she took another call!).
I already wrote this in the baby book. I suppose I'll want to tell my son's girlfriends about this someday.