Rock ‘N Roll All Night

The Boy definitely drove us wild last night.

Last night can only be described as:

HOLY CRAP, THAT WAS THE SUCKIEST NIGHT EVER.

Well, actually, I can remember much worse nights, in the beginning, when Braden was singing like he was auditioning for The Opera from 10pm to 4am, nonstop. And that was definitely worse.

And he didn’t even get the part.

But last night was an out-of-the-blue ass-kicking.

When we were about to give The Boy his Bathie, he felt ‘too warm’ to us, so we took his temperature.

Rectally. I don’t know about you, but jamming something into my kid’s Pooper is one of my absolute favorite things to do. (I also like jamming scissors into my ear, putting my hand over an open flame, and stabbing myself in the eye with a sharpened stick.)

And, YAY! It was 100.7.Ruh-roh!

We instantly started The Panic Routine.

“What do you think is wrong with him? Should we call the doctor? He can’t have the flu! Does he feel too hot to you? Should we check on him again? What could possibly be wrong with him!?”He has been having Ultra-Mega-Baddie Teething just lately. I have read that sometimes kids run a fever when they teeth… granted, this has not occurred with Braden as of yet, but who’s to say it happens every time?

By the way, Molars = SUCK.

In fact, Molars have 2 purposes:

1) Grinding and tearing food.

2) Making a parent’s life a living hell.

Hi! I’m a Molar.

I originate in Hell!

Satan is my Master.

We gave him some baby Ibuprofen (Mmmmm, the brand name tastes best, apparently – thanks, Braden!), did the Bathie, and put him to bed feeling less warm.He cried out several times, and we checked on him periodically even when he didn’t cry out. Around 1am we checked on him and he felt normal to the touch. Woo-hoo!

Early “Woo-Hoo’s” are a bad idea.

We laid in bed talking, laughing, and acting like goofballs until 2am. That’s the Lotus & John Show, regularly scheduled. Then we decided to turn off the bedside light and go to sleep.

Lights off.Braden starts howling.

I’m gonna cut the story from Long, Whiny, and Boring to Somewhat Shorter, but Still Whiny:

He cried, whimpered, fussed, fidgeted… screamed. We gave him more Ibuprofen and changed his diaper. Got up with him over and over, eventually holding, rocking, singing… then putting him down and whispering, patting, rubbing.

No sleep for us until after 5am.

And then he still got up at 8am. You know, because he likes to “rock and roll all night, and party every day…”

Why did I give up drinking again?

Satan Created Teething

Yesterday and today have been lovely. Really.

On Sunday, Braden kept acting intensely clingy and cranky. You’d have thought someone had convinced him that if he acted as much like he was my ill-tempered, conjoined twin as was humanly possible, he’d win a bale of cotton candy. After several situations in which he melted down in a manner unlike him, I decided he must be having a teething session.

That afternoon, he picked up a toy, walked into the kitchen, and suddenly screamed, crumpling to the floor. He pushed his head into the linoleum and just cried. I was bewildered, and ran to get him. I assumed he was either in the process of sprouting horns, or must have just experienced some gum cutting. I checked his forehead, and saw nothing, so I decided it was the teething, and gave him some Acetaminophen.

At dinner that night, while he was opening wide for some Braden Burgers, I saw the new tooth. His lower, right lateral incisor had finally made an appearance. About time.

At bedtime, I gave him some Ibuprofen. He slept like a rock last night. Slept an hour later in the morning than usual, even. This behavior is a sign of the apocalypse. Or his body is going through a major overhaul. Considering all the talking he’s been doing lately, and the teething, it could be the latter.

Nah… I’m still thinking apocalypse.

Today was EVEN BETTER than yesterday. I thought (IDIOT.IDIOT.IDIOT) that he’d be much better today, since the tooth had broken the surface yesterday, and he’d had a lovely night of sleep.

HAHAHA!

I’m suspecting that the lower, right lateral incisor is causing him a lot of extra pain coming up, AND he’s also working on a lower, left cuspid. (I had to do some examining to come to this conclusion, which Braden thoroughly enjoyed. I almost had to use the Jaws of Life just to get in there.)

So, today, Braden basically decided that if he wasn’t at least 3 inches inside my butthole at all times, he was going to DIE.

It served me right, anyway, for wanting to do such ridiculous things.

Like pee when my bladder was full, or make myself something to eat.

OR BREATHE.

Activities that actually made him happy were things like yanking on my nose stud, flinging DVDs off the DVD tower, throwing his cup of apple juice across the kitchen, and whacking me in the face with his recorder flute.

I’m not stressed out about it at all.

But, I have decided that I don’t really want to put him in the closet when he’s like this, after all.

I want to go in there. Alone. And sleep.

Random Sharing, While in Agony

Kind of random and pointless post today, since my back is acting 159 years old again.

Something I did in the past few days (not sure what, exactly) has paid off by resulting in sciatic pain shooting down my leg yesterday morning, followed by tender, nervy pain in my lower back last night, and climaxing as serious, hobbling-type back pain for me all day today.

It has worsened as the day has worn on, no matter what I have done. Usually I can minimize the pain with a combination of Ibuprofen/Ice Gel Pack/Hydration/Rest. Today, the Back Pain Demon is having none of it.

So, I hobbled down the steep-ass driveway this morning to sweep up the mulch that some Butt Raper’s dog flung out of the flowerbed I’ve been nurturing alongside the driveway. If I see this happening again, I swear I’m going to run out there, bad back or not, and kick that freakin’ dog as hard as I can.

Then John mowed the lawn, since it was starting to look like no-one lived here, and a kid came to my door last week and asked me, “Can I, uh… mow your lawn for some money?”

John has been gone all this afternoon to do work on Chris Cagle‘s next album. He’s at Scott Hendricks’s studio, much to his delight. He’ll probably be there all night. Yay @ the work and the experience for John. Boo @ John being gone while I’m all decrepit.

Braden has been increasingly vocal in the past month, with a sharp upturn in the jabbering activity just this past week.

He’s been making a sound for some time that I SWORE was him asking “What’s this?” It sounds kind of like “Huh-Ish?” He confirmed my suspicions a few days ago when he held up his little, fake cell-phone and CLEARLY asked me, “Whas-tis?” He has said it semi-clearly only once more since then, but has been repeatedly making the “Huh-ish?” and now “Teh-Iss?” sounds while pointing, or staring, at something. It’s wonderful.

For the record, he’s been saying, “Dadada” for awhile. Sometimes it seems discriminate, sometimes it seems random. Today, twice, he’s whined, “Maaaaahh” to me in a needy way.

Also for the record, TEETHING SUCKS. I would like to petition Our Creator for a change in this process, ie: all teeth should arrive overnight, at one time.

Have I mentioned that my back hurts? Right now, it’s feeling like Satan’s Torture Playground Rehearsal Scene, in the movie, “Lotus: The Later Years.”

I need a nap. Where’s MY paci?

*grumble*

At least Braden’s having some fun today.