Apr
26
Sometimes, parenting is a total guessing game.
You spend your days trying to figure things out about a small person who has no means, and sometimes no intention, of clear communication. You try to make decisions based on random clues, folk wisdom, and a wing and a prayer. And you hope they are the right ones. Sometimes you’re right, sometimes you’re not. But if you have been doing your job well, your instincts tend to lead you in the right direction and your parental fails are few.
The last 12 or so hours have been a guessing game around here. And it can be stressful.
First off was the wail that emanated from Stinkerbelle’s room at 1:30 this morning. There was inconsolable crying from our daughter, who normally sleeps really well. So we jumped up and went to her.
She was very upset. Now I know from my reading that kids begin really dreaming around age 2, and so the chance of nightmares is always out there. I had mentioned it to BDH a couple of times over the last month or two, that we had to be prepared for nightmares, so we just assumed that was the problem.
How do you know? She’s too little to tell you what’s wrong. But with the fact that she was clearly upset, that the first time we tried to put her back to bed she was having NONE. OF. IT., and that only a tight cuddle from Daddy would do to comfort her, we just assumed that this was her first nightmare. So Daddy came in to slay the monsters under her bed.
Now, Daddy puts That Baby to bed every night, reading her a few stories first. And one of the routines we have had, from the very beginning, is to say goodnight to everyone before bed, just like in Goodnight Moon. “Goodnight wardrobe. Goodnight friends on top of the wardrobe. Goodnight books. Goodnight crib friends — we’ll see you in the morning for playtime. Goodnight Cinnamon…” And on it goes through the residents of her room, her favourite toys, and her kitties, and her family. So last night, despite it being 2 in the morning and pitch dark, BDH snuggled his sleepy girl and made sure she knew everything was okay, and they said goodnight to everyone again before settling her back in to bed.
It seemed to work well. She slept, and so we assumed that nothing was wrong besides a bad dream.
The whole family woke up tired this morning. We had to go and wake Stinkerbelle up at 7, which is unusual, but she was sleeping soundly on her stomach when we went in. BDH took her to change her for her day, and called me in to check on what looked like a rash. She had several spots of reddish bumps, in patches of maybe the size of a toonie, on her tummy, at her diaper line, on her chest… all on her front. None on her back. But she didn’t seem bothered by them, and really, they didn’t look too bad, just a little bit of splotchy redness. And she’d been sleeping on her tummy, so… who knows? So I said I’d keep an eye on them during the day, and we dressed her in some loose cotton clothes that covered all the spots so she couldn’t get at them and fuss, and we went about our day.
Around 10:30, Stinkerbelle came and asked for a snack. I popped her into her chair and put on Monsters Inc., and she proceeded to pound down a metric ton of goldfish. And a couple of rice cakes. She was COATED in cheesy starchy goodness and happy as can be. But eventually, I declared the party was over, and wiped her hands and face (and every nearby surface within gooey hands’ reach or flinging distance of bits of goldfish). And that’s when I noticed the red patch on her cheek. I kept an eye on it, but it didn’t seem to bug her.
When she came back at noon, it was clear that this red patch WAS bugging her. She was itchy, and the redness had become hives. And over the course of lunchtime, if she scratched her face or rubbed her eyes, more hives would appear.
Now, I know from hives. Being someone who is allergic TO. EVERYTHING., I get hives on a regular basis. But you know what? I know hives on ME, but I have never seen a person with brown skin who has hives. So to check what to do, I called TeleHealth.
As usual, TeleHealth rocked. I got through instantly, and we talked through everything that might be relevant. Fever? No. Peeing and pooping? Oh yes. Coughing or difficulty breathing? None at all. Behaviour? Normal. But when we got to the hives discussion, I had to admit that, being a white mom to a black child, I am only familiar with hives on white skin — I was PRETTY sure these were the same thing, but my frame of reference was decidedly white. (So, transracial parenting fail THERE.) But if I had to take a guess, I was 95% sure these were hives on That Baby’s pretty face.
Fortunately, TeleHealth’s best guess was hives, too. And they gave me some treatment advice, and stuff to look out for, and I felt better.
So the guessing game means I will try some Benadryl on That Baby this afternoon after her naptime and see how she does. Now 95% sure is not 100% sure. I can’t ask her any questions about how she is feeling or what she’s been touching or whatever to see if I can nut the problem out. It’s just a matter of “this is what I think it is and so we are going to try to fix it.”
But that’s what makes the guessing game a little stressful. You are making decisions all the time about why your child is up crying in the middle of the night, or what their particular health problem might be, and if you are wrong? Well, you don’t like to think about that. And, realistically, most of the time a parent’s instincts are correct.
It doesn’t make you worry any less. And it doesn’t make you stop wishing that kids came with a troubleshooting manual, or looking forward to the day when they can tell you what is wrong.
Until then, your guess is as good as mine.
