I’ve mentioned several times recently how G and I have been butting heads a little re: The Baby G. It basically boils down to one of us is a hoverer and the other is a little more relaxed. There have been a couple of events this week that have shown this in sharp relief. I actually have a little hope that the hoverer may be about make some small reformation.
What happened? Well, on Monday a certain Mr. Toddler man decided he’d had enough of this crib nonsense and maybe he’d just climb on out. So that was fun. Being a toddler he didn’t give much thought to whether to go head first or feet first or much of anything other than “OUT,” so he flipped right on out onto his noggin. Yay! So, I went to get him, comforted him, made sure the knock was on a sturdier part of his head (over the eye, as opposed to the temple/side), kept him up for a little bit to make sure he wasn’t puking or disoriented and even shined a flashlight in his eyes to make sure his pupils were dilating and contracting properly. Upon concluding he seemed fine… I decided to pretty much watch and make sure nothing changed and (most importantly) not freak the fuck out. Daddy, on the other hand… decided to freak the fuck out. Without having seen him. Without knowing anything at all other than Baby G flipped out of his crib. He demanded a trip to the ER. He was not very nice to me when I tried to calm him down. He really freaked. Really. So, we called the pediatrician’s office, and you know what they said? I did everything right. The nurse said and I quote “You checked everything we’d check, keep an eye for the next couple of days, but sounds like he’s probably fine.” Until Wednesday night, every little fuss was met with “Oh, God, we need to take him to the ER,” and me talking him out of it.
Why until Wednesday? Because Wednesday I broke down and took him to the ER. Not because of the fall. Because, he really is OK from that. No, Wednesday afternoon while I was changing his diaper, Baby G lost his mind. He started screaming and kicking and flailing and having an all out, balls out, fit. It lasted literally like 15 minutes. He seemed to be in true pain and couldn’t be consoled. Even after he calmed he still seemed to be in pain. It scared me. When it started I thought it was just an amped up temper tantrum, but towards the end I became less sure and definitely convinced he was in pain. Had I been home alone I probably would have kept a watch on him to see if happened again (and if it did, and I couldn’t find a reason for it, I’d have readily taken him in), checked him over for a visible cause etc… But, alas I wasn’t home alone. I was home with Daddy Hovers and the crazy clan (i.e. the C’s 3). Of course, Daddy immediately wanted to take the baby to the ER. Apparently, he likes spending $200 to get exposed to every communicable disease known to childhood. Between comforting the screaming child, and taking care of the other three, I just didn’t have it in me to talk him off the ledge (AGAIN). So, when he started in with the “we have to go the the ER now” I told him to cal the pediatrician’s office. Of course, he got the nurse there all freaked out, throwing around words like “seizure” (FYI, there was nothing even remotely seizure-like to this situation), so she (naturally) referred him to the ER. Where the doctor did what? Perform a visual inspection and found… diaper rash.
Makes sense, he is cutting 108 teeth all at the same time right now. Mind you, I didn’t see any rash at home, but it’s possible that it started in the hard to see places and I missed it. It was chaotic and not well lit and he was screaming and thrashing. I could have missed it. Or, it could have come on in the time it took to get there, but was still sore. Whatever. Point is, had I given it a diaper change or two at home, I’d have seen the rash, and treated it. He wouldn’t have had another fit and we would have spent $200 to get exposed to every communicable disease known to childhood.
So, I was pissed. I felt like I was the only grown up in the house. I don’t want to take chances with the baby’s health, but I don’t think we need to be running off to the ER every other day either. I’ve been getting a lot of shit for this. But, after this incident he did acknowledge that he should have been more level headed. So,maybe, just maybe things will change.
** I know I’ve been bitching about the Daddy G a lot lately, and it may seem like there’s a bigger issue at home… Truth is I have no one IRL to vent to (mother takes his side on ANY issue, sister uses all conversations as a starting point to talk about how “lucky” I am to have a husband and how hard it is to be a single mom and that story just repeats itself over and over. Oh my, how I’d love to go on re: the sister, but I won’t. The “lucky” is in quotes not to imply I’m unlucky to have the husband I have, but to imply that luck has nothing to do with maintaining a 12 year marriage. **