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The “Do We Call the Doctor” Debate

As moms, we are obligated to worry about every tiny sniffle, red mark, or red rash that appears on our children. It’s what we do. No matter how serious or minor it may be, we can’t help ourselves. We worry about it. We scrutinize the symptoms, we take photos when possible, and then we start consulting with anyone and everyone for their opinions (including our own mothers, our mom friends, our sisters, our online support groups, our Facebook friends, etc). And after we’ve exhausted all of our resources, we being the ever exhausting, “Do We Call the Doctor Debate?”

This is precisely the chain of events that occurred on Tuesday night when my husband took Grey upstairs for bath time and then began yelling for me from the bathroom. From the tone of his voice, I was imagining that my son was bleeding on the bathroom floor or drowning in the tub. That’s another thing mothers do. We imagine the worst. We can’t help it. (FYI – Raising kids is seriously stressful). But anyways, it turns out Grey had come down with a rash on his backside. And right then and there, I took photos of my son’s bare ass and then texted them to my mom and my sister for their opinion. Yup. Just another day in the motherhood.

And so it began. The Debate. Do we call the doctor? I go through the same thought process every time I find myself in this situation and it almost always goes like this: Should I call the doctor? Is it that serious? Will they think I’m crazy? They’ll probably just tell me it’s viral. Is it worth bothering the on-call physician at home for something little? Do I care if these people think I’m crazy?

I really want to be that laid back mother who doesn’t give a shit about anything and could stay calm even in the craziest situation (if that mom even exists, that is), but I just can’t. In the end, I always end up calling the doctor. And as I’m describing whatever ridiculous health issue I’m concerned about, I always end up sounding like a total nut case and realizing half way through my spiel that cradle crap is probably not a pressing issue and doesn’t warrant a phone call to the pediatrician on the weekend.

A few months ago, my son fell and hit his head on the hardwood pretty early on a Saturday morning. After assessing the massive bruise and finally convincing myself that this was definitely an acceptable situation to bother the doctor, I made the call. It went like this.

 Is he bleeding? 


Is he still crying?


Is he vomiting?


Are his eyes dilated or is he losing consciousness?

Um…. No. Shit. I probably should have Googled this before I woke you up at 6:00am on a Saturday….

You get the drift.

So, back to Tuesday night. The Rash. After consulting the opinions of my Mommy Army and before making another obnoxious phone call, I decided to do a little research myself. As it turns out, Googling health symptoms may not be the best idea either. If you type in “toddler rash on back and buttocks” into your search engine, which I am NOT recommending, I can almost guarantee you will lose your lunch. It’s like a health symptom horror movie. You may need to call your OWN doctor to help you recover from the post traumatic stress disorder you are about to endure from viewing photos of that shit.

Originally, I was thinking my son might have some kind of cold virus that produced a rash, but after my super scientific research (aka WebMD), I was convinced he had something really nasty and scary. Roseola, Coxsackie, Impetigo, Chicken Pox…. What the fuck is Herpangina???

So what do you think I did?? I’ll give you one guess. I called the on-call doctor. Want to know how that turned out???? They didn’t call me back. HAHAHA. Maybe you only get a certain number of on-call phone calls before they just start ignoring you. But seriously, here we are two days later, and the rash is still present. I swear to God, not only am I going to make an appointment and take him into the doctor tomorrow, but I am going to give someone some serious shit for not calling me back. I’m sure they won’t think I’m crazy at all.

And for your information, I was going to include one of the bare ass red rash photos I took because I think it’s totally ridiculous and hilarious that those are seriously on the camera roll of my phone right now, but I decided to spare you. So, you’re welcome.

Oh and one last thing. The next time your spouse pisses you off, just Google “toddler butt rash” and leave the window open on their laptop. Sure way to ruin their day.