In thinking about it more -- in the case of feverish children, pediatricians certainly do have appeal, but for me right now, they reflect my hunger for answers.
(Aside: just last week I found out my doctor screwed up Silas's immunization record and gave him an unnecessary shot -- !!!!!! -- I was (am) livid. Big flaw).
I guess the thing about parenting -- both the most terrifying and utterly cozy thing -- is that we do it alone. Even when we have amazing friends, family, support, within the walls of our house, when we look our child in the eye, no one sees us. No one hears us. We are on our own.
The past two weeks, with jet lag, fatigue, adjustment between DC and here, I've found myself a little lost on my own and in want of answers. Clear lines drawn for how to parent well. Silas is four and throws major tantrums. How to respond (at all) constructively? Eden screams and kicks and flails when Ben tries to change her diaper and only wants me. How to counter her rejecting? Question after question...
And perhaps the answer is there is no answer. We often hear that we're terrorized by all the information at our fingertips, that too much of a good thing is, indeed, bad. Are we becoming more enlightened as we learn or more obsessive? Probably a bit of both. Either way, it sure is easy to lose touch with our guts and own quiet wisdom and let impatience rule. Especially when we're tired. Which I am. And this week, even as we've embraced summer at the museum, pancake house, zoo, swimming pool, easel, and kitchen table, I've been struck by how quickly I can lose sight of Silas and Eden, themselves -- their needs, humor, and delights-- and see only the busyness and duties that come with them.
I realize it again and again, how brief this time is when they saturate us -- our minds, muscles, hours, and energy. As I sit here stuck in this rut, maybe rather than hunting for answers, I should start trying to see the small people in front of me.