First the something gross: My sister called me and left me a message that said, "Millie ate something DISGUSTING; guess what it was..." and she left me hanging thinking of all the gross things a one-year-old could potentially eat. Poop came to mind. Gross. So I called her back and she made me guess for a while; poop? no. A bug? Yes. Sure, that's pretty gross, but still, so what? When Kira was one she ate a jar of ladybugs that Sam collected. I didn't believe it when Sam told me that, but sure enough, the little weirdo had a little orange shell on her lip and her breath had that squished-lady-bug smell. So I wasn't that grossed out about a baby eating a bug until she gave me the details.
Millie ate an engorged wood tick. A wood tick like this:
Beth said that she saw something blackish dripping down Millie's chin and couldn't figure out what it was because she said, "I knew it wasn't dirt. I don't have any plants." So, now that she had eliminated dirt, Beth wiped off Millie's chin and thought about what it could be when Millie spit out the flattened, deflated carcass. Beth thought it was a grayish corn kernal and then it dawned on her that Oh My God, that was a disgusting wood tick that must have been attached to the dog, filled itself with dog blood and then her baby ate it.
We wondered how one could call the doctor and ask if dog blood passed through a tick is bad for babies without seeming like a horrible parent. There is no way. But we figured since she spit (most of) the blood out and then also spit out the carcass, she's probably going to be okay. Nevertheless, I'm never touching her again. Gross baby.
I'm not going to go into great detail about the embarrassing thing because it is about me and this is my blog so I don't have to put myself through the wringer like I would if this was someone I knew. Let me just tell you that in a fit of hypochondria I convinced myself I was dying so I went to the doctor and after a thorough, thorough exam she gave me my diagnosis: "You have your period." Yeah, that's right, I'm 41 years old, have had my period for about 30 years and I panicked and went to the doctor only to have her politely tell me that I'm perfectly fine, I'm just menstruating. I was like, "Oh.... heh heh.... better safe than sorry!... lol." and she said, while decidedly not lol-ing, "Do you need a pad?" and then she gave me pamphlet titled, "Congratulations! You're A Woman Now" and sent me on my way. Just kidding. She didn't give me the pamphlet. I would feel better if she had. But hey, I'm not dying! That's something!
Millie ate an engorged wood tick. A wood tick like this:
Beth said that she saw something blackish dripping down Millie's chin and couldn't figure out what it was because she said, "I knew it wasn't dirt. I don't have any plants." So, now that she had eliminated dirt, Beth wiped off Millie's chin and thought about what it could be when Millie spit out the flattened, deflated carcass. Beth thought it was a grayish corn kernal and then it dawned on her that Oh My God, that was a disgusting wood tick that must have been attached to the dog, filled itself with dog blood and then her baby ate it.
We wondered how one could call the doctor and ask if dog blood passed through a tick is bad for babies without seeming like a horrible parent. There is no way. But we figured since she spit (most of) the blood out and then also spit out the carcass, she's probably going to be okay. Nevertheless, I'm never touching her again. Gross baby.
I'm not going to go into great detail about the embarrassing thing because it is about me and this is my blog so I don't have to put myself through the wringer like I would if this was someone I knew. Let me just tell you that in a fit of hypochondria I convinced myself I was dying so I went to the doctor and after a thorough, thorough exam she gave me my diagnosis: "You have your period." Yeah, that's right, I'm 41 years old, have had my period for about 30 years and I panicked and went to the doctor only to have her politely tell me that I'm perfectly fine, I'm just menstruating. I was like, "Oh.... heh heh.... better safe than sorry!... lol." and she said, while decidedly not lol-ing, "Do you need a pad?" and then she gave me pamphlet titled, "Congratulations! You're A Woman Now" and sent me on my way. Just kidding. She didn't give me the pamphlet. I would feel better if she had. But hey, I'm not dying! That's something!
