Not one of my finer MOM moments

They say that with your second child things get easier because you've BTDT -- "been there done that." I agree in the case of, I know how to change a cloth diaper in record speed and sling a Moby around my body like I'm tying a shoe. But I'm still stumbling here because my daughter is an entirely different beast baby.

Tops on my "What is up with this kid?" list is the oral fixation. She puts everything in her mouth from crayons to cat food to books to a piece of spaghetti stuck on her foot from lunch an hour ago.

Blue Mouth - probably paint.

 I didn't have this problem with my son -- the only thing he ate was what was on the end of a fork. We gave him crayons at 18 months and a dirt box at 2 years old and I never looked to see if he would put it in his mouth. 

My daughter ... everything is fair game. Not only would she eat the dirt, but she'd come up to me, open wide and show me that she prefers northern Illinois clay soil over my tuna casserole she gagged on the night before. As I write this post she has just turned 21 months old. Aren't we done with this BS yet?

Eating paint is fun.

So this leads me to my story 

One morning before leaving for preschool -- during the segment I call "Playtime" which is really a pseudonym for "Mommy-Time"-- I hear my son calling "She's eating the litterbox!"

Yep. My precious youngin' was eating the cats finest -- and we have 2 cats so there was extra yummy goodness to be had.

It totally beats that beef stew you made last night, Mom.

 After throwing a massive Knip-shit, I cleaned out her mouth, tried to impart on her any words of wisdom knowing it was useless, and then promptly called the doctor in what felt like the walk of shame: the terrible mother who let's her daughter eat cat poop because she wants to sling on some yoga pants and maybe check Facebook.

I was put on hold after I told the operator what happened -- apparently she felt like this warrented immediate attention -- then the nurse got on the line and her first words to me were, "So, you're having a great morning aren't you?"

"Well, it beats the four tantrums my son had yesterday morning over his socks. So is my daughter going to get lockjaw or what?"

So this post may end up being rather informational in case you find yourself or a loved one has fallen face-first mouth-open into a litterbox. It's gross and nasty, but unless you start: vomiting, crapping your brains out, or developing mouth sores, you should be fine.

And she is. Although I'm trying not to take it personal when she spits out my food at dinner.