Claire’s teeth have been bothering her. Or, her lack of teeth slowly burgeoning into a possession of teeth. Oh. I just now realized the mayhem that this child of mine will wreak on my poor poor face with teeth. Fortunately for me, Danielle is the one she most frequently bites. So, ha! Winner.
Anyroad. We’re on an intermittent regimen of baby motrin and Jack Daniels. Teething babies are cranky. So, it’s motrin for the baby and Jack Daniels for the rest of the family. Never fear. We haven’t quite gotten to the point of sobbing into our respective bottles in our underwear in the middle of the night. But, the road signs are looming. As with most things, Claire takes her trials with equal parts stoicism and rampant wailing. I’d say that’s fifty percent better, at least, than other babies.
I found her sleeping somewhat fitfully tonight. I was shuffling about in the living room from the front yard window to the back door, as I frequently find myself doing when everyone else has fallen asleep, when I heard her start to cry. I went to help Danielle out and found Claire wasn’t crying. She was complaining because in trying to find a more comfortable position she wound up stomach down with her head cranked. Surprisingly, this was the comfortable position she was seeking and had already fallen back asleep. Babies are wierd.
This is from the other night. I guess if she says that’s comfortable she would know. I tried sleeping like that last night and woke up with a knot in my shoulder. I’m old, or she’s crazy. I guess those aren’t mutually exclusive options.