Harsh title for harsh times, my friends. I have wanted to post something deliciously bobby all week in honor of National Breastfeeding Awareness Week and as you can plainly see, I have not. While my "Little Foodie Feasts" endeavor has usurped a bit of my clock, my teething infant has been the primary culprit for my lack of lactation activism.
Oie! Oie, is all I can say. Last night was the worst night by far, since the day he was born. He was up at 1:30 a.m. crying--I mean really miserably crying--and cried more on than off until 4:30 a.m. Then, he was up again at 7:30 a.m. crying . . . well, you get the picture.
Nothing, nothing I say, makes him feel better. I have bagged my homeopathic potions with this set of chompers and have resorted to the high fructose corn syrup laden children's Tylenol. And while it does offer him some relief, it has not helped as much as I had hoped it would. We have tried among many other things, frosty carrots, chilled teething toys, gum massages, all to no avail. Walks and crawling practice brings the only relief, though temporary--we're talking 5 minutes temporary.
As I mentioned in my post on Wednesday, he did get a tooth this week--his third tooth! But, there must, must be another if not more finding its painstaking way to the puffy pink surface. But by golly, I hope it/they come soon. We're going crazy here. And, poor Noah. Oh, poor Noah.
And, thanks to all of you for your sweet supportive comments in response to third-tooth-Wednesday's post . . . it really helps to know that we're not in teething hell alone.
Sleepless In Salivaland