All I want for Christmas is my Two Front Teeth, my Two Front Teeth....

So. Can we talk about Jellybean’s tushie for a minute here? I know, I know, just WAAAY too much sharing going on here. But really – let’s talk.

For the past two or more weeks, this kid has been teething. Not “kind of” teething. Not teething “a little bit.” But HARDCORE teething that drives her so mad with itchiness and sore gums she’s repeatedly:

1) chewed on my collarbone (um, ow);

2) thrown her head back in the air and bared her gums as if airing them out would magically make the itchiness go away (imagine a lion roaring and you’re close to the image you should have – it would be impressive if it wasn’t so funny);

3) gnawed on her pacifier, her toys, her clothing, her fingers, the palm of her hand, my hair, my clothing, my fingers, the spoon……anything that can be shoved into her maw; and

4) wait for it………had constant awful teething diarrhea.

Yup, diarrhea. Ruin your clothing diarrhea. Make a mess on the crib-sheets diarrhea. Wake you up at night diarrhea. Wake mom and dad up at night diarrhea (ok, maybe just mom). And…..give you diaper rash so bad diarrhea that poor Jellybean is now on her SECOND kind of prescription butt-cream.

Ow.

For the record, she’s completely on the mend. And M and I won’t be traumatized (forever) by the image of the raw, open, skin on her bottom. (gah, just typing that makes me shudder. It was so bad that it made my physically ill to think about it, still does to be honest).

And now? Finally? SHE HAS A TOOTH! A chopper on the top!!

...............
..........................
......................................................oh wait. One.

Yeah, one.

Crap. How many more teeth does she have to go?

Did I mention that the State of New York is ALSO insane?

So today was Monkey's first "day" of montessori school/daycare. Actually, she only went for one hour (less, thanks to the MTA's f'd up system this morning, but I digress...) as part of the "phase - in" process. More on that, later, too! (good lord, feeling like Hamlet here with all my asides....)

The State of New York is insane. Certifiably. As a recovering lawyer, I know that we live in a litigious society, and as a result we are often regulated to death. Hell, I used to make a living because of that! But seriously folks, this morning killed me.

Along with our beloved Nanny, who is helping us with this infernal phase-in, Monkey and I went to her school this morning. I dropped off enough supplies to outfit an armada seeking new shores, and in that 40lb bag o' stuff was a container of liquid tylenol (generic, but I was having trouble spelling aceti...aceto...acetam...oh never mind you know what I mean, screw the trademark issue). This was immediately fished out by one of Monkey's teachers and brought to the attention of the Lead Teacher. Because, yes, folks, I need a written medical release form FROM THE DOCTOR saying it is ok to give my daughter tylenol when she is teething and pitching a fit. (see earlier post re: going nuclear).

Ok, ok, I get it. Too much tylenol can cause problems - liver damage, etc. (oh nice, a google search gives me this: In acute acetaminophen overdosage, dose-dependent, potentially fatal hepatic necrosis is the most serious adverse effect. Renal tubular necrosis, hypoglycemic coma and thrombocytopenia may also occur...yummy) . So on that one, fine - doctor's note, no problem.

But get this.......desitin (aka butt cream) ALSO requires a medical consent form!

FOR THE LOVE OF G*D....you mean I need permission from the doctor instructing you on how to spread zinc oxide on my daughter's arse to prevent diaper rash? No, no, they rapidly assured me. (Phew, I thought, that was close to being worthy of this blog.) But then, they went on - no, no, we only need a medical permission form filled out by YOU, not you AND the doctor. Turns out that desitin is an "over the counter" drug and therefore regulated, requiring permission. Sunblock, too, apparently.



Oh. (Heh. Yup, this one's going on the blog.)



So I get to spend 20 minutes filling out two two-page forms to give them permission to do two profoundly innocuous activities: apply butt cream & sunblock. Got it. Good use of my time, I'd say. An even better use of their time - since I imagine they'll have to check the forms each time they change a wet and/or stinky diaper! Yes yes, by all means, let my daughter wail away and wallow in her own excrement while you check the legal files.



Sigh. And people wonder why I'm a recovering lawyer.