Written by Casey Mullins for Babble.com
I was going to come here and write about the terrible body odor that comes out of my tiny 2-year-old's underarms. We were going to laugh about chubby armpit folds, and sweaty toddlers, and just how much the smell of a little kid changes from birth to toddler to big kid with a scent that hovers around some degree of "wet dog." I even brought up the smelly armpits to Vivi's pediatrician before, but he brushed it off as her body's chemistry being different and it being especially hot.
But when I went back through Google to learn more about stinky armpits on toddlers, I found out there may be a lot more to Vivi's stinky armpits than simple body chemistry and heat. Answers ranged everywhere from "IT'S ALL THE ANTIBIOTICS AND GROWTH HORMONES IN FOOD!" to a legitimate metabolic disorder. Of course, my mind goes straight to the worst-case scenario, which, thankfully, if she were suffering from worst-case scenario she'd most likely already be dead. SILVER LININGS!
So rather than joking about stinky toddlers and telling you about the spectacular (and safe!) deodorant I found for little kids (and adults! it works!), I'm here to tell you I'm not sure what's going to happen. I have a handful of things I'm going to try, including keeping track of what she eats to see if any particular food group causes her to become particularly pungent -- inorganic dairy and spicy/strong foods seem to be the biggest culprits (good thing we're having spicy sausage with garlic and onions for dinner!) -- as well as a call to her pediatrician to see if he thinks anything of it and if he brushes me off I'll move on to an endocrinologist.
My husband will surely roll his eyes at me, but when I look back over Vivi's 2-and-half years of life, there have been a few things that may add up to something. Little things that at the time were -- and probably are -- insignificant, but may be worth mentioning to see if they add up to one big thing. It's times like this I wish Dr. House was a real doctor and he could figure out what was going on just by going through my medicine cabinet and tossing a few belittling comments in my direction. Belittling remarks with a diagnosis seem better than uncertainty.
I'm not freaking out -- I could be freaking out, but I'm not. I'm documenting this journey for the Internet, because someday some other parent is going to Google "toddler BO," perhaps have a bit of a panic attack, and then hopefully see this and their path will be that much clearer.