My baby’s poorly – and it stinks.
No, really, it stinks.
There’s nothing quite like being woken at 2am to change a nappy that smells like something concocted by a mad scientist with a penchant for experiments created out of dustbins and sick. Yum.
It’s been a week now. At first we thought it was the teeth. “It’s those bloody teeth again,” I told the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine knowingly. Then, when a tooth failed to appear, I blamed the water in Rochdale. “It’s this water, it’s different from the Southern stuff she’s used to,” I pronounced, equally as knowingly.
Then it was something she ate. Then it was back to the teeth. Then, after a fifth day of guessing – by which time I’d been struck down too – I had to accept that, sometimes, Mother’s not always right. Sometimes it’s the doctor who knows best. So off I dutifully trudged, stinky baby in tow, to the GP.
And, of course, as soon as we got there Frog perked up. She was commando-crawling, clapping, blowing raspberries and pretty much doing everything she could to put on a good show, except for a tap-dance. She’s yet to learn that trick yet, lazy baby.
I explained that we’d both been poorly. The doctor looked disbelievingly at my almost-tap-dancing child and sent us home with some rehydration sachets and a diagnosis.
The “medicine” is all well and good, but it was the diagnosis I most appreciated. Finally, no more guessing. My options were running out and the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine was starting to get more and more doubtful of my increasingly outlandish attempts to explain away those stinking nappies. “It’s because you took her swimming and let her swallow the water,” I’d yelled at him the day before. “And then you gave her a banana, everyone knows bananas are bad.”
Finally no more need to prove I am the All Knowing One, so in tune with her daughter’s body she merely has to look at her before announcing the problem.
My options were running out. Next on my list was Delhi Belly and considering Frog’s never actually been to India I’m aware this may have been clutching at straws.
So a virus it is. But between you and me, those teeth aren’t completely off the hook. Let me have some diagnosis glory at least?
Get well soon Frog.