So, the next morning at about 5 to 11 John and I are in the living room and JD is somewhere in either our bedroom or his bedroom. He's being exceptionally quiet, so we figure he's probably getting into something and John calls him out. JD, proudly smiling ear to ear walks in and hands me the empty Diamatab bottle. Thank GOD he handed me the bottle!!! He then promptly began to run his motorcycle up and down the wall and being typical JD.

At this point I'm thinking it's no big deal. However, I thought I'd call our BCBS 1-800 doctor number - it being a Sat. so I know that it could take over an hour to get a hold of JD's doctor. I figure the 1-800 person is going to say, "No problem, give him milk", or at the worst "Give him Ipec syrup and make him throw up." SO I was surprised when that nurse patched me in to poison hotline. Well - imagine my horror when poison control is like, run, don't walk, to the hospital. As the hospital is all of 5 minutes from out house, we just drove right there and the poison hotline called the hospital to let them know we were on our way.

Anyway, we get admitted to the back right away and the doctor is like he has to drink this awful tasting chalk stuff to bond to the medicine so it won't get absorbed into his system. It is not about 11:30. JD has fallen into a deep sleep to the point of almost being unconscience. So then two wonderful nurses (Paul and ??) come back to wake JD up and try to get him to drink the black cup of horrors. Even in this drugged state, JD wants nothing to do with it and fights vigorously spitting this awful black stuff all over me and himself. Then, JD's body goes into overload and he begins violently vomiting everywhere. Paul and the other nurse are really unhappy about this because now they think he drank more than I originally thought, so he thinks the best course of action is to pump JD's stomach - requiring a tube to be put down JD's nose.

I will spare you the gory details.

So, when the ordeal was over and the female nurse who was helping me hold JD down (which he really didn't need, because, for whatever reason, while screaming and unhappy about the tube he actually fought that LESS than the cup of horrors.) was basically in tears and I - me, I couldn't cry as I was looking JD in the eyes and telling him what a big boy he was being. I really thought I was going to die - anyway, I said, "Is this how they usually are?" Meaning, are other kids like this. She and Paul looked at me and said, "He's the first child that wouldn't drink it." Actually, this ended up being a good thing because there was almost a whole bottle in there that was pumped out. I totally had no idea how full the original bottle was. At the time I didn't realize how very well he took the tube until talking later with my buddy Karen whose brother is an MD. Apparently he had a horror story about trying to get a tube down a child's throat and they basically had to put the kid in a head lock to get the head still and had 4 people holding down limbs. JD cried, but didn't really shake his head that much or anything.

Another interesting thing, which ended up being a huge positive, if you ask me, was that for a variety of reason's the doctor never get to stick an IV in JD's arm. The female nurse came in to do it, and I pointed out that if he was going to fight the cup of horrors, did we really want an IV in his arm? And she said that they were going to strap his arm to this green arm splint to keep it straight. I still didn't want a needle in JD's arm if he was going to be fighting things, and luckily when Paul walked in he right away said, we should wait on the IV. Then, after JD vomited, it was decided that they would wait a bit on the IV because they didn't want him to get sick a second time and vomit up the chalk stuff they had just pumped INTO him. Because then we would have to start all over again with the tube in his nose. Anway, JD ended up never getting the IV - basically because Paul didn't want to stick him and they kept putting it off until there was no need.

But I'm ahead of myself. We took off JD's dirty disgusting clothes (I'm still in mine) hooked him up to an EKG machine and I sat there with him sleeping on my lap for the next several hours. John came to the hospital to join me once Katie had her afternoon nap and I was sure that she wasn't going to witness anything that would scar her for life. Eventually at around 3 JD's EKG machine started beeping. John and I were concerned because his heart rate was "way up" around 103. Paul came in and turned the machine off saying this was good news -- as a little kid his heart rate is supposed to be up at 100, when he originally came into the hospital it was down at 80!!! OHMYGOD! Needless to say, they didn't tell me this to start with, which is a good thing as I would have been hysterical.

They kept JD there for another hour for observation and drew blood for a final toxicology report. JD didn't flinch at all and didn't seem to mind. He was awake if not fully alert, but with me sitting beside him and his grime covered bunny in his other arm, he took it like a champ. Proof that he was getting better is that he got hungry and argumentative. So, I figured I deserved a break, and wished to nurse an unbelievable tension headache, so I left John to do the check out procedures and I took Katie home.

End of the story? Had to throw out JD's clothes and my turtleneck; JD is exceptionally proud of his "boo boo" (the spot where they drew blood) and the fact that he "got momma all dirty"; Momma was unbelievably depressed for about 3 days but have now rebounded; Bunny is a bit worse for wear and now has black freckles, (but JD is oblivious). Have moved the baby aspirin and Robitussin even higher, even though that was not the original problem.

JD is fine. Actually, he is getting a lot of milage out of his boo boo. I'm not sure that it actually hurt him that much since he forgets which arm it is on and he goes to show it to you. He's just aware that he was highly praised for his actions during that procedure and is thrilled to death with the little mark. He seems a little sad that he got me all dirty. Which is odd since I never mentioned that aspect of it to him. That night as we went to bed (which was scary! My baby is going to sleep yet again! What if he never wakes up!) we had our usual ritual where I ask him what he did during the day, and that was his big memory. Got momma all dirty.

I have to admit I have had a very hard time coming to grips with my parenting failure. The fact that my child almost died because of my stupidity --- how to you deal with that? These things happen. . . to OTHER people! Not to me, the wonderful attentive mother! Oh dear lord, if something had happened to him I don't know what I would have done. What penance do you do for that? My friend Karen was saying that, knowing me, she would feel secure that I wouldn't kill myself because Katie was around, but that otherwise I would have felt that action to be my moral obligation, the only possible payment for JD's death. It's really weird how well Karen knows me, because that's what I was thinking! Like, what contribution do I give the poison hotline? 100 dollars? That's a lot of money! But shit, you basically saved my kid's life! What amt. of money do you give? Here - here's everything that I have!! Anyway, I have since regained my sanity and have been on the verge of intentionally killing JD about twice in the past week. So all is right with the world.

On, briefly, to happier things. Check out this photo of Katie! Is she not the most adorable kid in the whole world! What enormous eyes, what an enormous smile, what enormous . . .(ahem) cheeks! (Ack!) SO I am just thrilled to death with this photo, as I think it somewhat captures that light in her eyes! She is a huge flirt and a delightful baby. People fall over themselves to smile at her and get a huge smile back. She is now smiling like me - where her entire face squishes up and her eyes become tiny slits. I have to get it on film as she looks like an even rounder version of me, if possible.

Well, some day I want to write about myself - my press release, how it's now confidential (which is stupid); that I may write an overview for the Monthly Labor Review; that I'm creating a web page for the Family that will have birthdays, trip dates, messages, the family tree, video of JD and Katie, etc; that I'm putting these letters online so my mom can get them until John fixes her computer with e-mail; new stuff I'm finding out about my Dad's side of the family; John's parent's trip up to visit the kids; how much fun I'm having on Fridays with Kathleen; my Monday lunch dates with Karen. On and on about my favorite subject. (ME)

Well, I suppose if I start writing now I'll have that letter finished in time for the March 25th due date. I need a cool name for these monthly letters. The Monthly Molleran has a cool ring to it, but doesn't quite fit the mark as I'm a Kenkel. Actually, I'm a Yates. Nothing fits with Yates either.