It never ceases to amaze me just how little I know about this life. I guess it's exciting and humbling all at the same time. On the one hand it reminds me that there are millions and zillions of things I know NOTHING about that I have a chance to learn of and on the other it proves exactly what I have suspected for some time--I don't know shit! Seems like the less I am willing to admit I know the more I open myself to learn. I am thinking I will stay this course for the duration...
Let's take, for instance, the phone call from my kids' doctor yesterday. She phoned with the lab results stating that both kids' cultures came back positive for Strep...of the BUTT! I didn't even know Booty Strep existed! Who's ever heard of such a thing? Probably you, but not this ditz-o-plenty. Strep of the hiney hole! Are you serious? And OMG talk about sad! My kids have both been telling me their butts have been hurting for almost 3 weeks now. Being that diarrhea and constipation are the only tushy turmoils I am aware of this possibility never crossed my mind. Didn't even enter the "Options" column. Since dia is kind of apparent (to most) I was left with one diagnosis...Sooo, for the past 2+ weeks I've gone nuts with prune juice, grapes, Activia, dried fruit, bran, olive oil, MiraLax, tummy massage--you name it, I tried it.
Ms. Mini embarked on a back end boycott of withholding actually inducing the condition. I thought she was just being controlling and trying to send me to the Freak Farm when in actuality she had a "sore throat caboose" and was dreading anything threatening to make matters worse. When one has Strep throat they hate to swallow. When one has Strep butt they hate to "spit." HOW ON EARTH DID THIS ESCAPE MY KNOWLEDGE BASE? When Hubba Hubba went in for his ails the doc told him that kids under 4 rarely get Strep so he shouldn't worry. What he failed to mention was The Ring of Fire. Was this what Johnny Cash was referring to?...and I digress.
So Mr. Mini with his limited communication had a harder time giving me a dissertation as worded as the Ms. but his grunts were much more direct and to the point and in finality what sent me to the doc. 3 o'clock Monday morning he is howling at the moon. When I went in for calming I could feel his angst and desperation. He had these words on repeat "Butt...hurts...better...PWEEEEESE!" This hard-as-nails one year old was begging me to make it better and I had NOTHIN. The 10 minute console of yore was not in the slightest bit effective in lulling him back this time. An hour later he finally drifted off, alerting me that what we were dealing with was much bigger than bran muffins and prune juice.
How sheepish was I that morning in the ped's office with 2 fire engine hiney's staring her in the face? The phone diagnosis of yeasty beasty for the Ms. was clearly incorrect and my self-analysis of "log jam" was also faulty. When she confirmed that this illness felt like a sore throat of the back barracks I shuddered. Can't even imagine what an ail of this magnitude would feel like.
All this to say is I have 2 public service announcements for those of you unaware as I was. And moreover reminders to myself in writing: #1--Phone diagnosis for nether region issues are ill-advised. There's not enough Lotrimin or MiraLax on the shelves that would have rid the Ms. of her ails and this determination could never have been made sight unseen. #2--Booty Strep exists! This is still hard for me to process. Evidently the germs from the hands of the infected carrier transfer to the bottom with wiping. So if you or your honey have the Strep you're OFF diaper duty/potty patrol for awhile. Please believe you don't want your kids' "starfish" afflicted with this unholy (no pun intended) wrath!
I must say that in this fiasco and time of pain, confusion and late night visits to my baby boy there was a moment. Just him and me. Him, uncomfortable and sad; me, uncomfortable and unable to console. The only "trick" I had left in my bag was the old faithful snuggle and rock. Still erring on the side of "undownloaded material" I continued the tummy rub. After a spell my exhaustion won out and my hand rested on his chubby, warm tummy. As we rocked back and forth he started to doze off. He took his little hand and slid it underneath mine and this is where it rested. For a split second I thought of Al Bundy but in the end will remember the sweet security he felt just being in my arms--having his little hand under mine, sleeping. Somehow knowing that even though I didn't have all the answers he still felt safe and loved. Made me feel like less of a heal and more of a human. As parents we can't always have all the answers. I'm finding more times than not I don't. But if we love our kids and do our best can we really be doing a bad job? I think not. And I will leave you with that!
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