This Tooth Shall Pass
I'm not up on my Baby magazine reading -- I let those studies slide once Ryan depoppedicized himself, knowing he was in the capable hands of SuperMom. So I never know what to expect coming home.
So to learn that Ryan already has a couple lumps protruding out of his lower gums was rather a (har!) jaw-dropper. I don't know when babies are supposed to teethe, but I just thought it was older than five months.
So just add one more log to the Bonfire of Things Ainsley Has Had to Put Up With On Her Own. An already sleep-deprived year has been exacerbated by Ryan's discomfort, and I've been little help. We were thrilled when he went to sleep early last night (after an afternoon workout on the bouncy seat), but that lasted thirty-eight minutes. He was then up for another four hours, as Ainsley and I tag-teamed trying to get him comfortable and asleep and back in his crib (I suggested moving him from his cradle to his crib this weekend). But once he hits the mattress, it consistently wakes him back up, and the tears flow, and there is nothing on this earth worse than baby tears.
Plus I feel bad because I don't have those front-mounted dairy-intensive soothing pillows that work best once the cries turn to screams, and they've been overworked and underappreciated for weeks. Sure, I can give him a bottle, but that still means pumping had to have occurred at some point. Mommy-centric. Again. I'm sure all dads feel useless, and I'll try to make up lost time by being the one to teach Ryan how to make toast and parallel park, but for now, I hate that I can't be the one, during the worst times, to make Ryan stop crying. I went to bed at 1:30 a couple nights ago, and Ainsley asked me to get up at 4 last night to try to put Ryan to sleep, and it took three attempts, three trips up and down the stairs, rocking him back and forth in my arms. I went back to bed around 5:45, as it was getting light out.
We were going to meet up with a friend of Ainsley's for her bi-weekly stroll through Potomac Mills Mall, but we late getting Ryan up from a nap, so she asked me to call her friend to let her know we were running behind. She obviously has caller ID.
"Hi Ainsley."
"no..."
"Oh, hi."
"I'M HERE SOMETIMES."
"Okay, okay. What's up?"
"Well, we have a child."
"I know! We have two."
"....why?"
I'd mentioned during the birth that I was surprised that anyone would ever go through this more than once. I'm still on that. Sure, teething is a phase, but then he's walking and then there's potty training and then there's the terrible thirteens and then...
I understand how wonderful it is to have a child. Every day is absolutely fantastic, watching him learn, interact, grow, smile, be. It is the best feeling in the world to have brought this person to life, to know he is part of the my wife and me, a creation, a responsibility. But I enjoy having a home. It doesn't mean I want another one. People have more than one child to ensure singletons aren't bored. or something.
Give 'em a hobby. Get 'em a dog. There are dozens always available in Dayton. But phoo. lardy. chiminy. Until I win the lottery and can quit my job and be home 24/7 and take estrogen hormone lactation tablets and invent legal infant oral narcotics until all baby teeth are in... I just can't see us doing this again.
But that's just me. I also never thought I'd be rude enough to ask someone to marry me, until I stopped to consider that maybe someone else wanted me to. So I'll go wake up Ainsley and see what she wants to do.
So to learn that Ryan already has a couple lumps protruding out of his lower gums was rather a (har!) jaw-dropper. I don't know when babies are supposed to teethe, but I just thought it was older than five months.
So just add one more log to the Bonfire of Things Ainsley Has Had to Put Up With On Her Own. An already sleep-deprived year has been exacerbated by Ryan's discomfort, and I've been little help. We were thrilled when he went to sleep early last night (after an afternoon workout on the bouncy seat), but that lasted thirty-eight minutes. He was then up for another four hours, as Ainsley and I tag-teamed trying to get him comfortable and asleep and back in his crib (I suggested moving him from his cradle to his crib this weekend). But once he hits the mattress, it consistently wakes him back up, and the tears flow, and there is nothing on this earth worse than baby tears.
Plus I feel bad because I don't have those front-mounted dairy-intensive soothing pillows that work best once the cries turn to screams, and they've been overworked and underappreciated for weeks. Sure, I can give him a bottle, but that still means pumping had to have occurred at some point. Mommy-centric. Again. I'm sure all dads feel useless, and I'll try to make up lost time by being the one to teach Ryan how to make toast and parallel park, but for now, I hate that I can't be the one, during the worst times, to make Ryan stop crying. I went to bed at 1:30 a couple nights ago, and Ainsley asked me to get up at 4 last night to try to put Ryan to sleep, and it took three attempts, three trips up and down the stairs, rocking him back and forth in my arms. I went back to bed around 5:45, as it was getting light out.
We were going to meet up with a friend of Ainsley's for her bi-weekly stroll through Potomac Mills Mall, but we late getting Ryan up from a nap, so she asked me to call her friend to let her know we were running behind. She obviously has caller ID.
"Hi Ainsley."
"no..."
"Oh, hi."
"I'M HERE SOMETIMES."
"Okay, okay. What's up?"
"Well, we have a child."
"I know! We have two."
"....why?"
I'd mentioned during the birth that I was surprised that anyone would ever go through this more than once. I'm still on that. Sure, teething is a phase, but then he's walking and then there's potty training and then there's the terrible thirteens and then...
I understand how wonderful it is to have a child. Every day is absolutely fantastic, watching him learn, interact, grow, smile, be. It is the best feeling in the world to have brought this person to life, to know he is part of the my wife and me, a creation, a responsibility. But I enjoy having a home. It doesn't mean I want another one. People have more than one child to ensure singletons aren't bored. or something.
Give 'em a hobby. Get 'em a dog. There are dozens always available in Dayton. But phoo. lardy. chiminy. Until I win the lottery and can quit my job and be home 24/7 and take estrogen hormone lactation tablets and invent legal infant oral narcotics until all baby teeth are in... I just can't see us doing this again.
But that's just me. I also never thought I'd be rude enough to ask someone to marry me, until I stopped to consider that maybe someone else wanted me to. So I'll go wake up Ainsley and see what she wants to do.
posted by Dan at 10:36 PM
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