Monday, November 23, 2009

Calling Poison Control: The Evolution of Motherhood

Want to know where you are on the evolutionary chain of motherhood?* Read the following descriptions, and choose the one that best describes you as a mother. Then, leave a comment and let me know, "Which mom are you?"

Early Neanderthal Mom: (The evolutionary process has barely even begun.)

You're a first-time mom, and your brand-new bundle of joy knocks over an open container of baby powder. Powder goes flying towards your baby's open mouth and you go into full-on mom panic mode. You grab the baby, the powder, and the portable phone and run to the kitchen, where the Poison Control number is taped to your refrigerator. Hearing the hysteria in your first-time mother's voice, the Poison Control operator quickly assures you that the 1/8 tsp. of cornstarch-based powder that your baby just licked off her lips will not adversely affect her in any way.

Still Neanderthal Mom: (You haven't learned much, but there's hope for you yet.)

You're still a first-time mom, and your newly-mobile 7-month old discovers the kitty's cat food. She dumps it out, stirs it around, and then places the food piece by piece back into the bowl... until she gets hungry and decides to help herself to a snack. You pick up the little darling a few minutes later, smell the faint scent of tuna on her breath, and freak out. You run to the junk drawer and frantically dig out the list of emergency numbers. A Poison Control operator soon assures you that food considered safe for kitty consumption is likewise safe for small children (although it is not recommended by the FDA).

Cromagnon Mom: (A big evolutionary leap, but you've still got a ways to go.)

You're suddenly the overworked, under rested mother of four children 3 and under. The bigger house you were forced to upgrade into is mostly baby-proofed, but lately you're noticing a few places that you overlooked - like the kids' changing table. You walk into the bathroom after nursing Baby #4 and see your other three children brushing their teeth. This is not completely traumatic until you realize that they mistook the diaper rash cream for toothpaste. You race downstairs to find a phone, then dial 4-1-1 to get the Poison Control number. The Poison Control operator asks you a series of questions that make you feel increasingly like a bad mother, and then determines that while the zinc oxide might make them a bit nauseous, your children will be generally unharmed by their oral hygiene experiment.

Early Modern Mom: (You're almost there!)

Baby #4 is now walking, and loves to open all of the drawers in your bathroom. Although technically "baby-proofed," most of the cheap plastic child locks have broken off your cabinets and your adventurous baby is having a free-for-all. He locates a bottle of Dramamine in one of the drawers and quickly dispenses with the child-proof cap. You walk in just in time to find him on the floor surrounded by an empty bottle and seven pills. According to the label, the bottle holds eight. You can't remember if you took a pill on your last cruise or not. The boat was a little rocky, but you can't specifically recall any sea-sickness. You wait 15 minutes until the mother-guilt piles up, then walk downstairs and dig through the pantry for last year's phone book. You finally find the number for Poison Control, answer a series of questions that once again remind you what a lousy parent you are, and listen while the operator instructs you to watch for signs of sleepiness. You are just wrapping up the call when Baby #4 goes sprinting by in a monkey mask, with his three sisters in hot pursuit. You remember now that you probably were a tad sea sick during that last cruise, and decide to ignore the operator's advice about waking up Baby #4 every hour or so through the night.

Modern Mom: (Congratulations... I think.)

You have officially given up on the child-proof locks, and now keep cleaning chemicals like Febreeze out in the open and close on hand - because the smell of your kid's dirty diaper is far more deadly than a whiff of "Clean Scent." Unfortunately, Baby #4 is a climber and can usually get at whatever he wants. Plus, he loves to know how things work. You see it coming, but as fast as you sprint up those stairs, he still manages to shoot himself in the face with air freshener. At this point, you're pretty sure that Big Brother has you on a list somewhere, and that yet another call to Poison Control will result in a visit from DFACS. You read the warning labels on the back of the Febreeze canister, acknowledge that perhaps those warning labels really are there to serve an actual purpose, and dunk your kid in the bathtub to both "flush out the affected eye" and rinse the scent of air freshener from his hair. Then you put him to bed, confident that despite your lack of medical knowledge, his vision will not be affected by this little incident.

So tell me, "Which mom are you?"

*The evolutionary chain of motherhood is actually a hoax. In truth, mothers are created by God. And it is only by His grace that my children remained healthy through all five of the above scenarios...

4 comments:

Two Shades of Pink said...

I have had my fingers poised over the keys afraid to admit that I am the last 2 moms...Early Modern and Modern Mom. Being a foster parent forst before having 2 kids did that to me. When it was just Cati I almost went into cardiac arrest when she found the dog diarrhea medicine and knocked it back like some shooter for tots. But my modern mom moment of truth? When I walked into Cati's bedroom to find her spraying her sister with pledge. I was dunking Ella in the tub for a quick wash off of her orangy freshness when my brother calls to tell me they are pregnant with their first baby. Tee Hee.

Andrea said...

I think I married Early Neanderthal Man, because my husband (who shall remain nameless) let me read all of one paragraph of your blog aloud to him before he calmly stated that he had no interest in it b/c it's about children...and we all know that he's not yet ready for that stage. :)

MindyMac said...

Well, I think I've been all of those moms at one time or another, and I probably lean more toward the Modern Mom these days. I don't think we even blinked when we pulled a huge capsule of red yeast rice out of Jack's mouth. But when Molly pulled the top off of the Desitin as a 9 month old and had a little in her mouth, we were in full throttle panic mode. By the way, I laughed out loud at this post!

Jenny said...

shoot... I had poison control's number memorized at one point in time. Guess I'm off to dig through my junk drawer and tape the number to my refrigerator. Because I'm pretty sure that after 4 1/2 years, I've fallen back a few rungs on the evolutionary ladder and will be the panicked mom the first time Miss M pulls a stunt like this.

(You crack me up!!!)