I should have known it wouldn’t last. Like they say, once you think you’ve got a baby figured out and you think you’re past something, reality smacks you in the head…hard.
If the past three nights are enough proof, Grayson is no longer sleeping through the night.
Last night: put down at 6:45. Screaming at 11:30, bottle and back to sleep. Screaming at 3:30, changed a 20 pound wet diaper, bottle and he’s UP, smiling, laughing- ready to start the day. Seriously?
If I wasn’t so tired, I might scream. Aaaaaa!
Now, in his defense, I’m pretty sure he’s teething. Saturday, he started becoming more obsessed with his hands that usual (is that even possible?) and makes this panicky sound while he’s frantically gnawing on them. He’s also become pretty irritable. He’s obviously in pain, and I feel awful. Thank God for Baby Tylenol.
Speaking of God, he got kicked out of the church nursery yesterday. My little juvenile deliquent. Ok, so maybe kicked out isn’t exactly accurate, but whatever. Ryan and I are in service, and a girl from my Bible study taps me on the shoulder.
“Isn’t your last name Baker?”
Points to the (giant) screen: “They need you in the nursery.”
There’s my son’s name, on the giant screen. I didn’t even notice it. Mom of the Year, right here.
So I go to the nursery wing, and the nursery teacher is in the hall with Little Dude, his face wet with tears. Apparently, he woke up from his nap and started screaming and they couldn’t calm him down, not even with a bottle. The teacher was very apologetic for calling me out of service, and was so sweet about the whole thing. And Grayson was fine- he just needed his momma. That’s what I’m telling myself anyway.
So this teething thing is going to last awhile? Eek. And the sleeping thing, sigh. I was quite enjoying not getting up every few hours to drag my lead body in the kitchen to make a bottle. And staying in bed until gasp 6:00. I know, the gluttony.
So now it’s 6:12 AM and Grayson’s taking his morning nap.
At least we’re clear who’s running the show around here.