I know that we invited you to this wonderful tea party for Thursday. What I thought would be six or seven submissions turned into substantially more which caught me unprepared (but delighted - thank you!) I am working nights all week and falling into bed each morning with a squirming 4 month old. No way, no SIR - MY kid isn't in daycare. He may roll out of bed a few times a day (onto clean hardwood, I assure you) but he's quite resilient and he just LOVES his whiskey coated pacifier.
So friends, please forgive me for postponing this tea party. I promise it will be soon. Instead allow me to share with you one of my more pathetic mothering moments. It helps that you can't contact Child Protective Services because you don't know who I am. A comment to make me feel better might, uh, make me feel better. Tell me about the time your toddler ate the cannabis plants you were growing behind the couch. Trust me, I need it.
Hubs: Junior is still sick and fussy. Should we take him in?
Me: Take him IN?! For what - antibiotics he doesn't need? He's got a VIRUS.
Hubs: But he's just so fussy.
Me: I'm watching Top Design. SHHHHH.
Hubs: Honey - shouldn't someone should look in his ears?
Me: No - poke his ears. They don't hurt him. SHHHHH.
Hubs: You don't dianose an ear infection by poking ears.
Me: Honey....TOP DESIGN. Liquor him up with Tylenol and Benadryl. SHHHHH! OMG, Kelly Wearstler fell off a cliff into a crimping iron factory!!!
One hour later
Hubs: You're right - he's much better. I'm going to give him a bath.
Me: Smug smile
Five minutes later husband comes racing down the stairs
This, my friends, means I win the Pathetic Mother Award yet again. This is why the Don't interrupt me unless you're bleeding school of mothering sometimes backfires. Medically speaking when baby is brought in with incessant crying (and they aren't ill with a fever or teething) there are three things one is supposed to look for:
1. Supraventricular tachycardia (excessively fast heart rate)
2. Corneal abrasion (scraped eyeball)
3. Hair tourniquet...when a string of hair becomes wrapped around a finger, toe or penis. I've hunted for them on babies before but never found one. MY KID HAD SIX. I am such a loser.
I'm submitting this to a medical journal but thought you might like a sneak preview. You know how after you have a baby you lose lots of hair? Well, my hair is everywhere, including, apparently, the bottom of Junior's sleeper. You'd be fussy, too.