Where to begin. This past Tuesday won't go down as one of Esme's favorites. Nor mine. Nor Kristopher's. I was getting ready to post here about the girl's first birthday. I could hear her in the hallway, rattling around like she usually does. She had only been away from me mere moments when she came scooting back in the den, all smiles. I noticed something strange around her mouth. Something white and powdery. I immediately rushed to the hall to see what it could be thinking she somehow got a hold of some soap from the linen closet. It wasn't soap. She had managed to find an ancient pill case of mine that I thought had long been thrown away. It held both Advil (candy-coated) and uncoated Excederin. I found a half dissolved Excederin among the debris and could see that her face was decorated with the remnants of both pills. I died a little then picked myself and her up, proceeded to induce vomiting which she endured like a champ while frantically dialing the pediatrician's office. The nurse urged me to call Poison Control which I did immediately.
Let me just say, Poison Control is wonderful. I was immediately connected to a doctor who handled the call with calm and reassurance. Since I was unable to deduce how much she has actually ingested, the doctor left it in my hands to decide the best course of action. His feeling was that it was unlikely she got very far since the amount of time she was alone was minimal. Plus infants aren't natural pill-poppers. They might sample, taste, suck a little, but they aren't as likely to swallow. With that in mind, he thought I could just take a wait and see approach. However, he also suggested that I could take her to the ER and have bloodwork done so that we could know for sure if she ingested more than her little body could handle.
Wanting to be safe rather than potentially sorry, I opted for the ER. We had to wait 4 hours for Esme to metabolize whatever she had taken before reporting to the hospital. That gave us enough time to call Daddy who wanted to come home and join us.
Poor Esme. With veins no larger than strands of hair the nurse had her work cut out for her. After failing to get anything out of her left arm, they had to then attack the right. With both Kristopher and me holding her down, she cried and wiggled and fought. It was just awful. Every bit of good I had accomplished as her mother dissolved that very moment for me.
But she quickly bounced back from the experience. With her snack cup full of cheddar bunnies firmly in her grip she was all smiles again. We waited out the hour for the results watching videos (a novelty for her), playing in the sink and reading books. The results were fine. Not a trace of anything in that hard-won vile of blood.
The nurse was sorry she only had "boy" band-aids available. I wasn't sorry at all. Now more than ever, Esme is my hero...
Hard to believe that another Oktoberfest has come and gone. This year was especially fun. The weather was beautiful. And it was such a nice mix of new and veteran 'festers. I'm also super-appreciative of all the help– from Mom's beloved potato salad to Deb's delicious pie, Steph's sugar cookies and Andrea's sweet treats. Kenny and Jen supplied one very potent case of German porter. And thanks to Tara and Cynthia and their big backyard (it's all relative!), the kids had much more room to frolic about.
Though this was technically Esme's second Oktoberfest, this year she was much more involved in the festivities. Here she is scooting about, eating a hard pretzel like a good kleines mädchen. 
