Wednesday, August 26, 2009
precisely three days ago i obliged the one year old as he stuck my finger into his mouth. my usual reflex is to wiggle my way to the gummy toothless side of his mouth and allow him to chomp. but on this particular day his speed was impeccable and there was no hope of a bite free escape. he clamped down hard with his little razors and my finger throbbed. i removed it quickly and inspected. three perfectly aligned indentions adorned the topside of my finger and the one year old grinned his biggest grin of the day.
such a hasty bite could mean only one thing. teething. and with that said, i should have seen last night coming on like a freight train.
i sat on the floor playing cards with our visitors. i was relieved of two things. one, that the house had cooled substantially down after the sun had set and two that both my boys had been tucked into bed at a reasonable time that evening. i played four hands of my favorite card game and unwound the energy of the day. i then bid an early farewell and wished them a good night's sleep. there was probably confusion when i was then found wandering about for the next thirty minutes doing this and that around the house. my "going to bed" is more of a process than one single act. that seems to be an eternal constituent to motherhood.
i finally trudged my way to bed and did my best to gently snuggle in next to my tiniest boy who was sharing a bed with the hubby and i to accommodate our guests. try as i might, this body was not made for graceful movements. the one year old whined and wiggled and squirmed into a full out cry. and he cried. and cried. and cried. i tried all of my best tricks with no success. this little boy was unhappy and what's more he was in pain. the sad, drewl fringed pain that comes with four fresh molars trying to make their debut. the hubby stood and bounced with him and whispered sweet relief in his ear while i made a mad dash to the kitchen for three things. juice, tylenol and teether tablets. the dye-free cherry tylenol was happily accepted, the tablets took two attempts and the juice was soundly rejected. the crying continued on with as much vigor as ever. my eyes were drooping and my heart was breaking. how many times have i wished to take away my childrens' pain? far too many to count i think.
in a last desperate attempt i sprawled his sweaty body across my pillow and began rolling the tylenol bottle up and down his moist back. slowly his crying turned into whining, turned into whimpering and finally into the sweet humming of a sleeping child. the worst of our night was conquered and i slipped quickly into sleep.
the remainder of our night was not without interruption but i kept the tylenol close at hand. each waking was easily counteracted and we found at approximately five thirty-two this morning that we had all survived. not bright-eyed and bushy tailed. but alive, ready to face the day and happy to have found a new trick.
Chirped by ashley b @ 9:15 AM