Wow, it's been a while! I am so good at this writing business. This week, though, I had good reasons besides just, "My TV remote needed some loving care."
One: Teeth. Yes, teeth. Plural. Two going on four I so wish I were kidding. James was gone at the beginning of last week, and The Child whined and fussed more than average. For her, that's still hardly any fussing, but since I've been spoiled by her for the last month, I didn't know what to do. What, you want to be carried? placated? loved? What's wrong with you? I was dismayed. I also thought it was a little sweet, maybe she missed Daddy.
Then Daddy got home, and her demeanor didn't improve. I think it got worse, actually.
So, Friday, I had my finger in her mouth for some reason. I don't know why. There are many possibilities. She may have been eating a fly, and I was trying to dig it out. I may have forgotten her pacifier, and she momentarily forgot what her thumb was for. Not sure. Anyway. Finger in mouth, and oh, HAI THAR TEETHZ. Two on the bottom have just broken through, and the two on the top are all bulgy and threatening-looking. Supposedly those don't usually come in until 8-10 months, but I don't buy it. I think I might prefer to get so many out of the way at once. Then I get my sweet, happy baby back for longer.
Two: Four trips to Madison in four days. Thursday, to help some people in the church move. The Child was oddly cheerful, despite the strange things happening in her mouth. She sat on the floor (unsupported!) and played with a toy phone for 45 minutes straight. And yelled at it. A lot. She likes to hold her toys out at arm's length and monologue at them. It's pretty hilarious. I'd get video, but the second the camera comes out, she stops everything she's doing and stares blankly at The Eye, OH THE EYE of the camera.
So I was actually useful in helping with the move, instead of bouncing a cranky baby for three hours straight.
Friday was the zoo and then an afternoon on the Memorial Union terrace with some friends. The zoo was fun. I went with my pastor's wife and their two kids. Internally, I was completely dorking out the whole entire time because a friend! I think I have a friend! And she has pretty hair! Outwardly, I probably go too far in the other direction. I'm so desperate not to look desperate that I probably seem completely uninterested. My superpower is social awkwardness.
Then I met up with Hebrew Friend and Other Hebrew Friend and then One More Hebrew Friend (who finally returned my first season of The X-Files to me after a year and a half), and then Some Girl Who Joined Hebrew after I Left. I sat outside in the sun for half an hour, and guess what! My shoulders burned! I know! Surprise! Nothing else even tanned, but did I get a mother of a sunburn on my shoulders. From a distance, I look like a person-shaped strawberry wearing a white tank top. We were out there for more than half an hour, but I fashionably draped a baby blanket across my shoulders. By then it was, of course, too late.
The Child did very well on Friday. She got almost no naps, and she was away from home all day, and there was absolutely no routine, but she was so, so good. Fussy, but definitely happier than most other babies her age on a good day. I tremble to think what our next baby will be like. It seems like, the better the first one is, the worse the second.
Saturday I went to a baby shower. A coed baby shower. I had no idea it was coed, or I probably would not have included that tube of NIPPLE CREAM in my gift. Yeah. Everyone laughed at my gift, and even though I though it was pretty funny, too, I was also a little hurt. I mean, she's planning to breastfeed, and I know she'll be able to use it, and if she's anything like me she'll use it fast. But it still hurt. I felt like such an idiot. I'm sensitive about the weirdest things.
Then, of course, Sunday was church. We spent the day at James's mom's house afterwards. It was a good day, and Grace had something like a real routine for the first time in days. I thought we were all good.
Dun dun dun.
Three: The Changeling. Around 2:30 this afternoon my sweet girl child became the spawn of Satan. I don't know what happened. Maybe she bumped her head while I wasn't looking (doubtful). Maybe she chewed on a hard toy too much, and it hurt her teeth (likely). Maybe she got overtired without me noticing (possible). Whatever it was, she abruptly went from cooing, gabbling, and shrieking (with joy) to shrieking (with anguish). There was nothing I could do to calm her.
The rest of the day was pretty miserable. Lousy napping, lots of sadness. James got home, and I told him, "I know Jim is coming over, but I cannot handle Grace by myself for two hours tonight." Of COURSE she was all sweetness and light when she woke up. Silly baby.
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