So...Eli ate tar. What's tar, you ask? This is how Encarta Dictionary describes it: "tar-thick black liquid: a thick black liquid obtained through the destructive distillation of an organic substance such as wood or coal." Let me explain.
Our chubby monkey has been cutting a tooth for about three or four days now and has been as cranky as those old men who complain about the cost of milk "nowadays." We went to the beach to wear him out a little while getting us outside in the gorgeous weather we've had lately. We weren't there too long before he needed his milk, and trying to build a sand castle with a ten and a half-month child is difficult, to say the least. We saw earlier that he had a little tar on his thumb as he stuck it into his mouth, but thought he picked it up earlier. Sippy cup in, sippy cup out...tar. There was an amount that both horrified and sickened me at the same time. There was tar on the entirety of the roof of Eli's mouth, yet he cried because he was being restrained from drinking his milk.
Three lifeguards and two EMTs later and we were at the hospital on the inner-coastal. Eventually we made it through triage, and the casual jean-wearing doctor and loose-lipped nurse/technician held Eli down to swab out the nasty black junk in his mouth. We felt so badly for him because they had to restrain him for a few minutes while they got as much out as they could.
In the end we learned a few things: Eli will put ANYTHING in his mouth; Cocoa is a great name for a red rat-looking, homemade bear given to patients; and a hospital isn't the best place for an eighty year-old receptionist when we're frantically trying to find the ER entrance.
All in all, God in all His name's three letters (ironically {but not really} also "I Am") is a God who not only holds up the very universe from collapsing on itself; holds me back from punching out people who push me too far for loving Him; but is also the One who saves, saved us the trouble of a lot of mourning while keeping Eli from harm. Again, and always such a pleasure, I'm humbled and thankful for His mercy.
"The landing" is a place in the stairwell where Cari and I pray and discuss the things of God. Cari actually came up with the name which I really like. It's also a place of solace so not to disturb Eli when he's sleeping.
3 comments:
Felix ate raisins from his poop, Silas we called poisin control three times for eating monkeygrass berries, holly berries, and underarm deodorant. That last one, I couldn't figure out what it was and was crying telling the poisin control lady "his mouth just smells clean!". I found crumbled deodorant on the floor in the bathroom and told the lady and she laughed and told me to get him some milk.
Incidentally, never took Felix to the doctor for the poop raisins - just waited to see if he would get some kind of bacterial infection.
God help the third born!
HAHA, those stories are classic. I guess babies have to go through these things to help strengthen their immune systems? Wow, it's strange being a parent.
Cari, I would love, love for you to come up. That would be fun. I am coming down for two weeks in November before Thanksgiving. Woo hoo! Also, Justin, Quinn had a response to your question so I will let him respond.
Not that we have it perfect, because there are some people who really disagree with doing ANYTHING, but we kind of do a lot of stuff in moderation. The boys know the gospel, and will know the gospel as they get older and Halloween fun will be just that: fun. Moderately spooky stuff (like spider webs and listening to the Monster Mash) and baking pumpkin-shaped cookies are things I love doing. We also do a study on Martin Luther, since October 31 is also Reformation Day.
I hope that, as the boys get older, they see their lives with the gospel woven through everything we do. I hope they never remember a time that they didn't know who Christ was.
I hope that helps.
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