Tea-bagged

Last Wednesday started out as a challenging one. Someone had woken up on the wrong side of his crib, and it wasn't going to be long until he was back there. We went about our usual routine - diaper change, breakfast, morning run. It was hot, and the sunshine wasn't helping him cheer up much. Upon our return home, the denial of M&M's sent him into a tantrum - that tantrum won him an early nap.
Tate laid down for his nap, giving in easier than I expected - and I sat down with a reheated cup of coffee and the paper. The deafening silence was so welcomed...I was having one of those mom days - what I didn't realize is that the morning wasn't even going to hold a candle to what the afternoon had in store.
I was pleased to find that the nap had served it's purpose. Tate awoke with smiles and conversation - he was in a much better mood and I, thankful for this, was ready to take on the afternoon. Lunch was one of his favorites - macaroni and cheese, although I jazzed it up a little with some ham bits and peas in hopes of adding some much needed nutrition. He devoured a healthy portion and then set off to play with toys while I cleaned up lunch. There is a moment that every parent knows...that moment of silence where there is only one of two possibilities - a full diaper or some type of trouble. As I peeked around the corner, I knew, as usual it was the latter of the two that was about to unfold. In Tate's hands I see two of the gallon size Lipton tea bags - the kind you use to brew sun tea. As I stepped toward him, he gave me that mischievous smile and used all his might to rip them apart. After the tea explosion cleared, my horror began. Tate was looking at me, about ready to explode in panic - I wasn't far behind. Where his eyes were supposed to be, I saw nothing but tea grounds - his nostrils had tea lining the outside and I started to fear that he had inhaled it into his lungs. Common knowledge and having a mother as an EMT has taught me a lot over the years. I knew that it was incredibly important to get the tea out of his eyes, more important that it was done without rubbing, in order to protect them from scratches. Instantly Tate reacted the way you would expect him to, he balled his fists, started the tears, and rubbed. I did the best I could to clean them out using a cold wash rag - I was starting to see the whites of his eyes again, but I knew that they would have to be irrigated. We were the only ones home, and my futile attempts at irrigating left me dialing the number to the doctors office. Luckily for us, they had an opening and if we left now - that meant we could get in. I packed Tate up as fast as I possibly could and flew the 22 miles to New England. Tate was doing alright and that made me think that maybe I had gotten most of it out. Oh how wrong I was.
The next hour and a half of my life was the most horrific I have experienced thus far, and I wouldn't doubt that Tate feels the same way. They had to irrigate both eyes, which meant that I basically had to lay on top of him to hold him down as the saline solution poured over every crevice of his face. He, not understanding what was going on, fought every second of it. After two rounds of irrigation, there was still tea in both eyes - and despite finally getting him calmed down, I was informed we had to do it again.  I had held it together until then, until Tate heard the doctor say one more time, and gave me that begging look - the look of helplessness, that I was the only one that could save him. With tears streaming down my face, I apologized and placed him back down on the table. I felt his body go limp. He was so exhausted from the fight, and from basically being water boarded, that he gave in. Tate was still crying, but his body was no longer working against us - and they were able to get the remaining tea out of his eyes.
After all was said and done, he reluctantly took a sucker from the nurse, and huddled into me for protection. I was still his safety, but oh how I felt like I had failed him.
He fell asleep instantaneous to being placed in his car seat. Tate slept peacefully the whole way home, but I couldn't stop the tears. That night, there was no battle over M&M's and I let him have more Scooby Snacks than any toddler should eat in a week - let alone a day. We snuggled with ice cream, and we didn't even attempt the antibiotic eye drops. He is now scared of the bath - the thought of water on his face sends him into sheer panic. But he can see, and the only lasting damage is the fear he carries with him.
I had looked in that cupboard a million times, and had truly believed that every danger to his health was far out of his reach. Let my experience be a lesson, there is a hidden danger in everything. That doesn't mean we have to be helicopter moms, but give those items a second look. Think outside the box, trust me - you won't regret it....