Adventures in Teething...

Trying to come at this whole topic with wit and humor is difficult for me because I'm a first time mother.  I mean, I'm a reasonable person...I see the humor in all some of it. I really do.  But I haven't been able to process it long enough yet to tell it like a favorite old story of mine...like the tales we tell around the dinner table at virtually every family gathering.  One of my favorites about my older siblings:  Remember the time Dan had to pee, but thought Mom wouldn't let him leave his room during nap time to use the bathroom (probably because he was always inventing reasons to leave the room during nap time, and she had gotten wise to his ways)? Yeah...so he peed in a plastic bag and hid it in the Fisher Price barn in his bedroom until the day that Krissy found it, shook it up a little, thought it looked like beer, and convinced Dan to try and take it downstairs, put it in a cup, put the cup in the fridge, and see if Dad would see it and think, "Ah yes...a nice refreshing glass of beer...that's just what I need."  Ah...the best laid plans of an eight year old and a five year old.  Don't worry...Dad caught them en route to the kitchen with a bag of pee (Or was it beer???  They're just so similar.) and put the kibosh on the whole thing.

Anyway, so back to present day...Sammy's teething.  And at first it was just cute.  He'd grab things with a little grunt and then put them directly into his mouth.  He'd start chomping away with those little gums like it was his job.  And everything was covered with a thin layer of slimy drool.  Adorable, right?

And then came yesterday.  He sounded the first alarm at everyone's favorite time of day...3 AM.  I thought he just wanted to nurse, but quickly discovered that wasn't the case.  In fact, he didn't want anything at all.  He didn't want to rock in the rocking chair.  He didn't want to be put in his crib.  He didn't want to be carried around the house as I swayed him slightly and gently sang "My Favorite Things" in his ear like some sleep deprived Maria von Trapp.  And how do I know he didn't want these things?  Why the screaming, of course!

But it was all good.  I was planning to get up then anyway.  No seriously, I was.  Remember my husband's new job that I was telling you about?  3 AM is the new normal.  Well, technically our alarm was set for 3:30, but who wants an extra 30 minutes of sleep on a Thursday morning...when you've been barely able to keep your eyes open all week as you adjust to this crazy new schedule, and don't sleep well at night because you're paranoid that you'll sleep through your alarm?  Not me.

So, we were up.  All of us.  And as Hansen (that's my husband, for those of you who don't know...and yes...that's his first name) proceeded to shower and get ready for the day, I somehow was able to calm Sammy down and get him back to sleep.  Hansen left the house at 4 AM.  Or it could have been 4:30.  I don't know, that early in the morning, it's all the same to me.

Since I was already up, I decided to start working.  I work from home on Thursdays and I wasn't sure how fussy Sammy would be that day, so I figured I'd get as much done early in the morning as I possibly could so that for the rest of the day, when Sammy was awake, I could be a little more flexible with how I spent my time.  It was a good plan.

Sam slept until about 7.  When I heard him fussing, I got up and took him into my dark bedroom so that I could nurse him in bed.  That's what I do when I'm hoping he'll go back to sleep after eating.  And it worked like a charm.  Unfortunately, I also fell asleep.  But only for like an hour and a half, during which time I had a crazy dream about taking care of a baby that wouldn't stop crying.  I know it's really not that exciting to hear about other people's dreams, but...at the end of the dream Hansen came up to me holding Sammy and I demanded to know who that child was, because clearly the screaming child I was holding was Sammy...and there aren't two of him!  Hansen pointed at the baby in my arms and calmly replied, "Oh...that's our demon baby."  And then I got mad at him for saying that and I bit him on the finger really hard.  And then I woke up.  Totally bizarre and a little unsettling.

After I woke up, Sam was still asleep, so I put him in his crib and got back to work.  He slept for another hour, so I had a really good head start on my work day when he finally woke up for good around 10.  When I went in his room to get him up and change his diaper, I first fished around in his mouth to try and find those new chompers that were giving him such a hard time.  And find them, I did!

Sammy's first tooth.  Don't worry he's not as unhappy as he looks in this picture.  No babies were harmed during the taking of this photo.

It's kind of exciting!  Teeth!  Already!  But it makes me a little sad, too, knowing that he's growing up so quickly.  I knew he wouldn't stay a baby forever, but he's just such a little sweetheart and I'm trying to make these times last, as people have advised me to do, but he just keeps growing and changing so much that it's hard to keep up!

Anyway, after finding the teeth (he actually has one tiny one coming in on the bottom, too, but I couldn't get a picture of it), I proceeded to change him.  Somehow while I was exploring in his mouth, the little stinker managed to poop his diaper, and it had already started to leak out the side of his sleeper.  Oh joy.  How does he do that?  Wouldn't I have heard it?  I usually do!  Now he's stealth pooping?!?  Quite a skill.  Oh well, the mess wasn't anything that I haven't dealt with before, so I got him undressed and then I went to give him a bath.

Bath time went predictably well.  Baby boy loves his baths.  But then I realized that I had forgotten his towel.  Before you judge me for leaving the bathroom to get his towel while he was still in the tub, let me just assure you that the water had been drained out of the tub already, and he was sitting calmly in his little bath seat.  I was back in the bathroom within five seconds, but apparently that wasn't quick enough.

What I noticed first was some yellowish, baby poopish residue on the bottom of of the tub near the drain.  I thought to myself, "Wow...did I really do that bad of a job with the wipes when I took his diaper off?  Was there really that much poop floating around in his bathwater?  That's gross!"  And then I went to pick Sam up out of his bath seat and realized that he had pooped...right there in the sanctuary of cleanliness.  So what else could I do?  I started the water running again and took the detachable shower nozzle down so that I could spray the poop down the drain and rinse Sammy off.  It didn't take very long, as there wasn't a lot of poop.  But then, just as I was hanging the shower nozzle back on the wall, he pooped again.  A lot.

Anyway...long story short...I cleaned up the fecal matter, cleaned up Sam, got him dressed, and the rest of the day went pretty well.  But man...that was an exhausting day!  Teething...not my favorite part of this gig.  And they say he's going to get 20 of these things by the time he's two or three years old?  Yikes.  Pray for me.