I Never Thought I'd Google That One!

Ok. I thought my kids had eaten every gross, strange, disgusting thing out there that was (mostly) non-toxic. Was I ever WRONG!!!
Precious Jewel at the ripe old age of 9 months ate a dead fly on the kitchen floor. I was not a germaphobic mother at that time, but I was waaaaaaaay more so than I am now. I shrieked at this sweet happy baby drooling clear wings, snatched her off the floor and nearly drowned her, I'm sure, trying to rinse her mouth out. She flailed wildly and shrieked back and probably thought momma had lost it. (You ain't seen nothin' yet baby).
Then (a very short time later) along came sweet little Mr. Smiles who had this thing for our dog's tail. If he could stuff the tail into his pudgy little mouth before momma could get to him, he would. I had thought flies were gross, but a dog's tail was far worse. I'm convinced he soon began to use his little tail stuffing maneuver just to tease me because he'd rapidly crawl over to our sweet little hound and go to chewing on her tail while watching me leap across the room to try and stop him. My leaping usually involved impaling my foot on a wooden toy or two and hopping and hollering while on my way. He never seemed bothered. It just made him grin and shove the tail in farther.
Our dog. She just sat there soaking up the baby drool and attention.
The little traitor.
Mr. Smiles also ate a few dead bugs, but by then they didn't freak me out as much. What's a few dead bugs compared to a disgusting dog's tail?
I hadn't seen nothin' yet. At the age of one, our very oral Good Lookin' ate the grossest thing yet.
We were outside painting our tornado shelter that we'd just had installed in our backyard and I'd set him in his favorite location, the sandbox, to keep him from crawling off as he was apt to do. It was literally 5 feet from where we were painting and he rarely moved from it when placed there. Should be safe right?
Precious Jewel and Mr. Smiles were each given a paint brush at the ripe age of 3 and 4 and told to commence painting. They happily sloshed away painting everything from the shelter to the grass to themselves and our legs. I looked over to where Good Lookin' was supposed to be playing and saw him trying to dive headfirst over the side of our sandbox. Did I mention that it was a huge old tractor tire? I walked over to help him crawl out and noticed something peculiar on his face that did not look like sand. Then I shrieked my freaked out mother shriek that calls all good father's nearby to come running.
"He ate them! Oh my God! He ate them! Oh help! Princess (our dog) buried one here and he ate them!!! Help me Luke! Call 911 and help!"
Of course, Luke panicked not knowing what I was screaming about. Good Lookin' was spitting and I was still shrieking and causing every small person around me to dissolve into terrified tears. (I don't handle extra grossness to well, but I'm working on that).
Luke grabbed our wailing child from me and ran to the phone. I called poison control in a panic.
"He ate maggots!" I sobbed to the confused operator.
"He ate what?" I'm sure the guy thought I was drunk or something.
"He ate maggots!! Our dog buried a dead chicken in his sandbox. We don't own chickens but our neighbors do and our dog killed one and hid it in his sandbox. He ate maggots!" I blubbered away.
I don't know if the guys was laughing or not or thought I was just one of those highly neglectful mother's. I was too hysterical to care.
He told me to calm down and explain to him what had happened. I gulped (still gagging) and explained that we lived near a chicken farm (not ours) and that our dog loved to catch the chickens that escaped and eat them of course. "She's a good dog really! She just likes to eat them!"
He then asked if Good Lookin' had eaten any of the buried and rancid chicken.
"I don't think so, " was my tearful reply.
The guy kind of choked back (either gagging himself or trying not to laugh) that maggots have never been proven to honestly harm anyone, but dead chickens have. "Just keep an eye on him and maybe chain your dog."
We got rid of her instead much to our true sadness and the children's. They still ask about her and want to go visit her.
Then, this last week was our latest (and hopefully last) disgusting-toddler-eating-an-inedible-food episode.
Cat Poop.
Yes, I said cat poop. Are you nearly ready to pass out with me? I was.
This is the child who is mildly allergic to cats as well.
Nater Mater came to me grabbing at his tongue and spitting, "yucky, Cupcake yucky."
"What cupcake?" I asked wiping his mouth thinking at first that he'd eaten a rock or some dirt.
"Cupcake yucky" he repeated. (Cupcake is our baby kitten)
Where was I you ask when he ate this? About 5 feet away helping to tie his big sister's crazy double-laced shoes that I will never buy again.
I gave him some milk and cleaned him up and brushed his teeth still not realizing just what part of Cupcake he had eaten. I thought he had gotten some fur in his mouth. "Cupcake poop yucky." He stated again.
"Cupcake poop!?!" (insert slightly raised, squeaky, trying-not-to-shame-the-child momma voice).
I have gotten better at my reactions I have to say. I calmly gave him some more milk and then loaded all the kids in the car to head to a friend's house as planned. She was supposed to watch the 3 boys while I took Precious Jewel shopping to find some summer shorts.
He seemed just fine, so I dropped him off and continued on the afternoon as planned.
The I got the call.
My friend oh so sweetly said in my voice-mail that Nater Mater had just thrown up a large amount of whatever. That they'd cleaned him up and he was playing happily as normal. I could come get him or leave him. Whatever I thought best.
I turned around and drove back to pick him up.
He threw up about 6 more times in the course of 24 hours each time stating that "Cupcake bad."
"Yes dear, Cupcake's are not meant to be eaten."
I googled (I kid you not) Help! My child ate cat poop! You would be surprised at how many other children out there have survived this oh-so-disgusting cat poop and kitty litter eating disaster.
We also saw our Pediatrician the next morning who also told us to keep an eye on him over the weekend, but that he would probably be fine once it was all out of his system.
Can I add that these are the stages that I am glad my children have grown out of and are almost grown out of?
Now, if I could just get them to eat vegetables.