Of Mommy guilt and horrifying rashes

If you heard an enormous sigh of relief emanating from the NY metro area around 1:00 this afternoon it was me.  I just heard that I am not, after all, responsible for permanently disfiguring my four year old daughter, Rachel.  It ended a day and a half of agonies only a mother confronted with a poor choice in the area of her child's welfare can understand.  Mommy guilt stand down – this is not my fault.

It all started at preschool, Friday morning.  A classmate popped my princess in the nose with a Lincoln log. I noticed at lunch that she had a tiny spec of a scratch on the tip of her nose.  Thus followed the usual round of question and answers that over the course of a month or so might bring forth something close to an account of the incident.  The culprit was readily identified, but is a minor so shall not be named.  The weapon was determined by my husband some time Saturday afternoon when he noticed the scrape.  (He's not unobservant.  It really was that small.)  It is not unusual for Rachel to withhold information from one parent and give it to the other so that the only way for us to get the whole story is to compare notes.  I'm not sure why.  We communicate pretty well, better than she would like when we are determining discipline, so it isn't an attempt to force us to talk to each other.

Saturday night she demanded that I bandage the wound.  Since it is futile to attempt to explain to a four year old that a bandage is not necessary, I complied.  I gave it the full treatment, wiping her nose down with antiseptic foam and applying a full sized bandage.  She went to bed happy.

Rachel and Kev slept in Sunday morning as usual.  I was settled in on the couch with my morning copy and the papers when I heard from upstairs "Barbara, Problem!"  This phrase is very familiar to me.  It is the key to my husband's plan to get away with murdering me and collecting my life insurance. You see any event from an ant in the kitchen to a medical emergency is announced with these words.  Then I have to ferret out the details to determine where in this spectrum the issue lies.  One day my heart won't be able to take it any more. I'll collapse.  He can truthfully tell the EMS crew that all he did was let me know we were out of milk and I fell right over.  It will be murder, nonetheless.

Sunday morning was unfortunately closer to the medical emergency end of the spectrum.  As I headed upstairs I tried to reassure Kev that a Lincoln log could not cause her to break out in a rash all over her face and her skin was probably reacting to the new soap that I bought and it would be fine.  Then I saw her and I knew that it wouldn't just blow over and it was ALL MY FAULT.  Kev started with "you can't see it but" and I broke in "I CAN see it!!"  [This is significant because I am red/green colorblind and any but the worse rash is invisible to me] Her entire nose was bright red and swollen along with her upper lip and spots of her cheek.  If someone had mapped out with a red marker where I had placed the antiseptic foam this would be the result.  

This followed application of antihistamines, ointments and salves.  The nose started to ooze. A debate ensued over whether an emergency room visit was merited (yes it was that bad) but in the end we waited until today when her pediatrician's office was open.  Kev took the day off and took Rachel and the offending foam to the Dr though not the Lincoln log which he still felt was somehow at fault, while I go off to work to complete a time critical project.  And fret.  And feel guilty.

Kev called as soon as he got out of the doctors.

It was not the Lincoln log.

It was not the foam.

It was poison ivy.  The dreaded poison ivy which has no effect on either parent but produces immediate and prolific rashes in Rachel.  So while the mommy guilt was taken away marring her face with defective antiseptic foam, so was the credit for IDing and curing the poison ivy rash on her forearm last week.  Because once the poison ivy enters her system it stays even after the original rash has faded, and erupts later at random spots that never had actual contact with the plant matter.  Now you tell me.  The rash has spread to her stomach and legs. Kev has returned home with multiple prescriptions and a note verifying that she is fit to return to school tomorrow, in spite of appearances.  Oh, and antibiotics because the nose area is also infected.

Tonight I get to raze the flower bed in the back yard.  I thought last week that pulling the vines out and then showering and changing  my clothes before coming in contact was enough.  But after this I'm not taking any chances.

Tune in next time for the story of me bailing Kev out after he is arrested at the pre-school tomorrow.  I don't think the incident of the Lincoln log is over yet.