Chippie’s tantrums have been going on for quite some time, seemingly unmanageable, over the top, inconsoble (him, not me, although many a time of late it’s been both of us) so I made a deal with a friend, confidente and mentor-of-sorts that I’d go get him checked out to make sure there was nothing underlying anything.
Course, a week of inexplicable, inconsistent vomiting also had me on edge. And loads of meaningful, meaningless, solicited and unsolicted advice had me a smidge worried as well.
Grumpy had an appointment for this afternoon and I just hadn’t got around to organising Chippie’s. Grumpy decided we’d “just take him along to my appointment”, leading into discussion about nazi-inclined medical receptionists and the consequences of partaking in such behaviour. As it turns out, the specialist Grumpy was had forgotten to write the relevant letter to our GP and we were able to work it so Chippie could have that time slot.
During which time, I had embarked on the “nothing wrong with him” and “paranoid mother” and all that self talk that serves only to reinforce you that you have no clue as to what you are doing and your kids would be best served to be sent off to someone; perhaps a childless parenting expert, or one whose children are now easily in their 20’s, as these people have a much better idea than you do. They have even written books about it.
Anyhoo, each time I contemplated cancelling, I forgot. Or the other voice in my head would start up, and say “just go” and Grumpy would add to this line of reasoning. So off we go, collecting Chippie from childcare where he is in a deep sleep and looking extremely adorable and I really didn’t want to wake him. Possibly due to potential, unappealing ramifications of the waking.
Off we toddle, I relucantly and embarrassedly commence imparting my concerns to our valued family doctor who advises me that Chippie does have an ear infection. Oh, and whilst we’re here, his eye appears to have flared up and an eye infection is also diagnosed. Doc gives him a bit more of a checkover, and locates a sore, red throat in the process and I think we’ve had quite enough diagnosis now, thank you very much, and leave with our prescriptions and a very bad dose of Mother Guilt.
Still haven’t determined if any of these are contributing to his tantrum-ablities, but at least we have something to work with in the meantime.
Now we get to spend three days administering eye drops in a two year old.
Hmm, that’ll certainly help with the screaming.
(And I’m gonna go with “not making the call to cancel the appointment” as my Mother’s Intuition kicking in 😀 Works for me!)