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Night of the Teeth
I'd like to look on the positive here, because I firmly believe that you have to keep laughing or else you won't be able to stop crying.
On one hand: Baby J has two prominent teeth who are now visible, sharp, and perfect.
On the other hand: teeth gots to get out.
Wednesday night was the Night of the Teeth.
The Night of the Crying.
The Night of the Inability to Sleep.
The Night of the Constant Unsuccessful Attempts to Eat.
The Night of the Two Hour Sleeping Shifts.
The Night of the Teeth.
See? It's like a fixed form poem only there's no form and it's not actually at all poetic. I have to add, too, that the two hour sleeping shifts continue to be an improvement over our attempts to sleep near a newborn -- so I guess it can always be harder.
You might notice that I'm writing this in the middle of the day.
That's because Freckles is now sick, I'm now completely exhausted, and Baby J is ecstatic. (I think the teeth came through a bit and no longer hurt.)
The Night of the Teeth.
The Night of the Teeth.
See? It's like a song. Please add in your own tune and tell me how it goes.
