Last Friday, I was sitting down to begin a training session I was attending all day for work. We had barely gotten started when my phone rang at 9:00am. It was the daycare. Never a call you want to get at work.
The voicemail was so funny that I recorded it:
I was listening to this in the back of the media center where the training was taking place, and by the time the message ended, I was laughing so hard that I had to step outside.
Seriously. My child stuck an EYEBALL up her NOSE.
When I finally stopped laughing, I called the daycare to check on her and her teacher told me that Gracie was now complaining that her nose was hurting. So, I had to leave my training session to go pick up my daughter with the EYEBALL up her NOSE and take her to the doctor.
No one tells you when you are thinking about starting a family that these are the things that will fill your day as a parent. Never heard about this predicament. Sure, I’d heard that kids stick things up their nose, but you don’t really stop to think about what getting it out of their nose will involve.
For Gracie, it involved going to the pediatrician’s office since I couldn’t see the eyeball to get it out myself. When we got to the doctor, she said she could see the eyeball up there, but it was too far for her to get it in their office. Then she did something I’ve never heard of. She gave Gracie a decongestant nasal spray. She said that it would open the nasal passages and, hopefully, the eyeball would go down and come out her mouth. It was too far for there to be hope in it coming back out her nose.
This was the moment in the conversation when I silently screamed inside my head, “WHAT. THE. *insert expletive here*” I mean, really. I was actually talking to a doctor about how to get my child to SWALLOW an EYEBALL that was stuffed up her NOSE.
Parenthood is weird, man.
The downside to this COMPLETELY BIZARRE predicament was that we had to wait for her to swallow the eyeball, which meant coming back to their office every hour to see if the eyeball was still stuck. She was going to give it a couple hours and if Gracie didn’t spit out the eyeball (SPIT OUT THE EYEBALL, Y’ALL!), then she was going to send us to an ENT and they were going to have to “tube her.” I didn’t know that “tubing her” involved, but it didn’t sound pleasant.
So, Gracie and I went out to lunch. And waited.
And still the eyeball was stuck.
So we waited.
And still the eyeball was stuck.
“One more hour,” our doctor warned. “And then it’s to the ENT.” Her major concern was that if we left the eyeball unobserved, Gracie may swallow it in the middle of the night and choke. Definitely not what we wanted. So, we waited.
And we waited.
And lo and behold, Gracie finally yelled out in a store, “MOMMY! THE EYEBALL IS IN MY MOWF!”
“That’s great, Gracie! Can you spit it out?”
“Nope,” she said happily. “I swallowed it.”
Ooooooooooof course she did.
So, for the next few days, we are on the look out for the eyeball to pass. “Keep an EYE on it!” the doctor laughed.
It’s all fun and games, lady, until YOU are the one waiting for an eyeball to stare up at you in a toilet. Laugh it up.
I do have to say that the day was pretty hysterical. Gracie cracked me up the most. She would shake her head and tell me, “Mommy! I feel da eyeball moving!” or she would say randomly, “Mommy, I smell da eyeball!” And when you asked Gracie where her eye was, she would point to her nose. I died laughing every time.
The best was talking to her in the doctor’s office, though…
You can’t make this stuff up, people. You just can’t make it up.