Toughen Up

He is doing much better

George has four molars poking through, and he is taking it badly. I give him Tylenol for the pain and low grade fever. I give him crushed ice and popsicles for temporary pain relief. However, sometimes he is inconsolable, and starts swinging his arms like a windmill, with the intention of hitting me. In my humble opinion, he does not cope well with pain.
A friend of mine told me about her daughter screaming in pain during a flight because her ears hurt so badly from the pressure. Her daughter is 13 years old. As she told me the story, I gave the necessary sympathetic nods, but in the back of my head I was thinking, "Wow, your daughter sounds like a pussy. You should probably try and toughen up, rather than let her publicly scream like a toddler from an ear ache."
My parents are not the type of people to feed into anyone's discomfort, physically or mentally. I remember in 6th grade I had a headache, so I took two aspirins. I still felt a head ache, so I took two more. I did this until I took 12 aspirins. I am not sure what I was thinking. Obviously, I didn't have the necessary knowledge on dosage to be given free reign on the medicine cabinet, and I made myself so incredibly sick. My Family and I went out to pizza at our usual Friday night spot, Grand Central Pizza, and I sat with my head resting on my hand throughout the entire meal. The next morning my ears were pounding. A loud whooshing noise was pulsing through my head. I was supposed to go to ski team, and was too sick. When I told my mom I couldn't go skiing, she was so pissed at me. I walked to my bed, unable to confess my aspirin intake because I was afraid my parents might kill me, and went to sleep.
My mom poked her head in every once in a while, and stood in the doorway glaring at me with contempt. Maybe because Saturdays were her day to enjoy reading and lounging on the couch, free of chauffeuring duties, aside from dropping her five kids off at the ski resort at 8 am and picking them up at 4 pm. I think she assumed I was faking my illness, and being eye-roll inducing over dramatic while at it.
Little kids get the luxury of expressing their anguish in over the top dramatics, but after two days of George acting like he is the only one on the planet, I am starting to have to give myself frequent pep talks on having patience. I eventually have a breaking point, and it usually happens in the middle of the night after being awake for hours.
When I tried to lay with him at 2 am because he was crying, "My teeth, my teeth," I was going to rub his back and gently shush him, but as I sat next to him he began wailing harder and thrashing. Then he tried to smack me across the face. I couldn't sit there because my presence was making his reaction worsen, so I told him, in a slightly more gentle way, "I was coming to help you, but now you're on your own, fucker." Then I shut the door and walked out of his room.