Dr. Google Says I'm Maybe Dying. But Probably Just Tired ...

You know how the Internet will tell you that if you're tired and thirsty you have headaches, it's everything from fatigue to diabetes to cancer? Even even if, for me, all of those things are just indicators that I am still bustling and made it through another day of motherhood? I'm early to reckon diagnosing babies with no matter what business falls below the same umbrella of Splendid, Thanks, That's Really Freaking Caring.

I don't know how other babies teethe, but based on the way my kids throw things in their mouths at any agreed moment and chew them to death, mine have been teething for well over a year now continuously. (When anyone sees them snacking on non-food bits and pieces, like say at Gymboree music class when the bells/maracas/drumsticks/scarves come out and go straight into Liam's backtalk, they say, "Oh, wow, are they ever teething," and I reckon, "Really? I call this 'Tuesday.'") I cannot wait for this period to be over, by the way, since we have to get our house tented, and the guy mentioned putting away or bagging up no matter what business that goes into our mouths. I get to call him tomorrow and question how honest he is in this area that, since if his answer is, "Honest as blood poisoning," then we have to go out every desk, chair, toy, item on my desk, item in my desk, and shoe in the entire place. Since they all get eaten on a regular basis. Peanut-butter sandwiches? No. Furniture? Yes, please, mom.

Anyway: My kids won't open their mouths for me except I crack them up or piss them off — laughter and crying are so handy — so it's not always simple to tell if their red gums have yielded tooth fruit. For in this area two months they had bruises where molars would ultimately be (two of them have poked their prongs through, at long last, with a total of five months of swelling). Two eye teeth are also in the works, but they are taking perpetually. Symptoms of right teething include, allegedly, fever and gooey noses, drooling, and terrible temper. That can be summarized as, "being a toddler."

Our litany of winter diseases included simultaneous sinus and ear infections for Liam and Dylan, and Dylan's ears just would not clear. Symptoms are supposed to be a refusal to suck and a fever, plus tugging on the ears or whatnot. Conundrum #1: Dylan has never been interested in sucking on a pot and he tugs at his ears all the time, yet had never had mucked up ears before. Conundrum #2: He did not have a fever. We finished up sussing it out since he woke up congested and crying in the mornings and got upset when we shifted him from vertical to horizontal (like, lying him down for a nap or for bed). Once the doctor took a look and didn't like what he saw, Dylan did one ten-day round of antibiotics, then switched to another when his ears were still pus-to the top. Eight days into that, he urban a rash. We took him off the drugs to see if it dissipated, which it did, but before we may maybe place him back ON them to see if the drug was the cause or if it was viral, his ears deteriorated rapidly to the top where the doctor jumped out of his skin and prescribed a two-day course of injections to blast everything out of there.

So we're now at the top where Dylan EITHER is still bothered by an ear infection, or he's teething. He isn't feverish. He's grabbing at a spot on his face that may maybe be construed as either the ear canal or his back molars, which I know are percolating some mischief. He despises being place down at night, but he does ultimately go if I rock him enough. He's complained at naptime, too. But he's drinking and eating. I'm sure the Internet will tell me it's, like, knee cancer. But I'm just trying to shape whether I default to charitable him Motrin at night — something I despise to OD him on — or if I take him back to the doctor for a reassuring check. The responsible business to do, which I will very nearly surely do, is take him to the doctor. But it underlines that half of parenting is freaking guesswork, and boy, does it feel like crap if you find out you guessed incorrect, and that your poor modest boy is not, in fact, just taking a long time to get over his sniffles, but really has a rotten sinus conundrum. Or that he's not just teething, but has horrendous irritation in his ears and needs to see a specialist to reckon in this area getting tubes installed and protecting his examination and whatnot.

There's this dread of being the overreactive parent who turns up at the doctor every week being like, "Can you just take a peek?" (Which, with my doctor, is like a 90-minute odyssey. I like, like, like my pediatrician, and his undivided concentration is so worth it, and he adores my kids. But that office is so confused that it makes me postal.) But then there's the terror of screwing up, and gone something. The middle ground is hard to find. I know it gets better once they can talk, and Dylan can look at me and say, "Hey, Mom, my ears hurt like a bitch," which you know he will say since I am really going to be the mother who accidentally teaches her kids terrible words and phrases. In the meantime, I'll just… keep guessing, and hope I guess aptly. I reckon that's really parenting in a nutshell.

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