When Tony – now 5 – was a baby, we had a situation.
Now, I’ll give you a bit of backstory. Tony’s first pediatrician was someone recommended to us through friends, and was not a good fit. I should’ve known when she asked me at our six week check-up if I had started potty training. (Six week check-up, mind you. WEEEEEEK.) After I had to visit her three times to get her to confirm an obvious ear infection – to which she dismissed the first two times with “Kids don’t get them this young!” – we switched. The second pediatrician was a family doctor who seemed nice enough, but I was still unsure.
January had come and Tony was a little over a year old. He was walking about half the time, and into everything all of the time. But we had a small house, one that was pretty easily baby-proofed, so he had a nice amount of freedom as a toddler.
It was New Year’s Day, and I was still fresh in the glow of the new year, and how I was going to be a GREAT mom this year! and everything would be perfect! and all that jazz that we all feel for about five minutes into a new year.
I was running a load of clothes to the washer while Tony happily sat and cooed in his older brother’s room. He was happy and content in there, so I took my time loading the washer, and then headed back to get him when .. a smell hit me.
When I reached the doorframe, sure enough: my child turned around with what could only be described as a sh!t-eating grin. Because, ladies and gentlemen, that is exactly what had happened. (Quick factual details: cat poo.)
My favorite part of this story (because there are few high points to this story) is that I rushed him to our new pediatrician, who calmly nodded while I told the story. I was worried about feline leukemia or some other unknown cat disease, and he just sat there, staring. I just knew that he was judging me. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and I asked, “Okay, what?”
He said – hand to God – “Well, two of my kids ate their own poop, so I think your kid is actually pretty bright.”
And I knew he was the doc for us.
I think about this story – seriously – every single January that comes and goes, and I always laugh about how “new mom” that story feels now. Retelling that story now makes me laugh a confident guffaw, about how I overreacted and freaked out over nothing. Ha ha!, I think. What a naive mother I was back then.
Yesterday, I got The Call from Tony’s school. Tony – now 5 – is still in a preschool and it’s just a rare occurrence that they call. But they did. About four times while I was in a meeting. I finally stepped outside and took the call.
Tony has shoved mulch in his ear. You need to come get him ASAP.
And I became the New Mother all over again, because this was the first “extraction” we’d had! What do I do? Visit the pediatrician? Shake his head really hard? Have him do jumping jacks? Urgent Care? ER? WHAT DO I DOOOO?
(Of course my husband was out of town.)
Well, Dr. Momma stepped up and grabbed some tweezers and suddenly, my years of slaving over my eyebrows wasn’t so funny NOW, was it? Cause I am a surgeon of mulch.
So I asked, “Okay, WHY?”
And Tony said, “Well, I was layin’ there, and I saw that piece of mulch, and I thought, You know, that will probably hurt- BUT I’LL TRY! But you know Momma? I was RIGHT.”
Still naive. Still New Mom. Happy New Year.