30 August 2013
2013 has been a Summer of Intense Teething, which is A-OK by me. After months and months of woe and agony spent slooowly cutting his first seven teeth, Theo took only two or so months this summer to pop out a leftover incisor, all four molars, and three canines — molars and canines, which are the worst!
The efficiency of this campaign was laudable, since it cut down on almost all of the protracted, is-he-or-isn’t-he agony. Teething coincided with both of our trips this summer, which was both a good and a bad thing. Good during the daytime, in that there was generally an abundance of people to see and distractions to keep all of us occupied and more cheerful than would otherwise be the case; it’s hard to be fully grumpy when you’re tooling around in a paddleboat on a northern Wisconsonian lake. Bad during the nighttime, since vacation messes up little kids’ sleep like nobody’s business — I mean, you’re pinned into your carseat all day, taken for breaks at unfamiliar rest stops and parks, given weird food, then presented with a foreign pack ‘n’ play in the corner of a room you’ve never been in before and expected to snuggle on down; like, what the hell is this and where is my crib? — and the addition of tooth pain can make things go wacky. The night before we had to head home from both trips (both! It’s like he knew!), Theo had an attack of what we call “Can’t sleep; teeth’ll get me!”, waking up at 1 or 2 a.m. and then steadfastly, persistently refusing to go back down for the rest of the night, because he just knew (correctly, though he hasn’t factored in the effects of a booster shot of baby ibuprofen) that sleep is where the pain happens.
It made for some pretty bleary drives home. On the other hand, Theo got a tooth from it a day or two later, so at least we were presented with some kind of material reward.
In other late summer news, our AC went out again yesterday. This time, I couldn’t pin my frustration on anybody in particular, settling instead on whomever it is in the nearby city parks & rec department that determined that the city pools should be shut down the week before Labor Day, because who needs to swim when it’s in the frigid low 100s? Jesse — the same very deadpan AC tech who fixed things last time — was able to come out early, right after I put Theo down to carouse loudly and vigorously in the pack ‘n’ play in our bedroom next to the window AC unit (like I said, change and kids’ sleep habits, man), and he and his colleague were able to get the system working again and check all around the attic with their Ghostbusters-like freon detector for a leak all before Theo woke up.
So we’re all centrally cooled again, though I still need to investigate the state of the Trader Joe’s PB&J chocolate bar that stoically sweltered through the whole experience in the pantry. What’s kind of weird, though, is that — the morning after our AC went out, when Theo was still in his room but it was in the low-mid 80s — the kid slept a full hour later than usual. For the past few weeks, he’s been consistently and rapidly waking up an hour or more earlier than normal. Which, fine, if you’re ready to start your day, but it inevitably meant that he was a clingy, teary, eye-rubbing mess within a few hours, waay before naptime. I’d give him a preemptive dose of ibuprofen at nighttime to see if that could ward off whatever was bothering him, but nope — up early, yet tired. Except the morning that the AC was broken. Maybe he prefers to sleep in a hot room?
Except that he slept in again this morning, an hour and twenty minutes later than his recent wake-ups, during which time I was able to do so many pleasant and productive early-morning things. And then, on a hunch, I managed to wiggle a pinky into his mouth to feel around on his gums, and yup — new canine.
Well, there’s your problem.