My beef with teeth

When you have a baby, "planning" a day is kind of a sure-fire way to set yourself up for failure. Regardless, Elle is *fairly* predictable, so it wasn't entirely ridiculous for me to have a hopeful vision for our day together.

Alas, things fell apart faster than you can say "wishful thinking."

Elle hasn't pooped at night for MONTHS. Like, since we counted her age in weeks. Except once - the last time she had a dirty diaper when she woke up in the morning ... right around the time teeth 1 and 2 popped up. And Wednesday morning all started with a mammoth poo in her diaper ... at 5:40 a.m. ... and I had a feeling we were at war again with the teething beast (who really wasn't a beast at all for the first two, but tooth 3 was a bit of a PITA, and then apparently they're just getting worse as there are more of them ...)

But to put just how crumbly this morning was in to perspective, I'll share what a "normal" start to the day is like for us:

7:30-8 a.m.: Elle wakes up. One of us goes to the nursery, changes her diaper and brings her in to our bedroom so I can nurse her.

After that, one of us takes her to living room to play, downs a pot of coffee, prepares her breakfast, play and read with her and then she's usually ready for a diaper change and a nap around 10.

10ish-11:30 a.m. or so: Elle naps. When she wakes up, she nurses again. A little bit later, we give her lunch.

But yesterday, things were off hours before Elle was due to wake up. Tim and I work nights and usually go to bed around 3 a.m. (Since Elle sleeps til 8ish most days, that gives us 4-5 hours of sleep, plus we can go back to bed when she naps. We switch every day so one of us gets up with Elle, the other gets to sleep in/work out/run errands, so it's not quite as brutal as it may seem, although it still isn't like our old days of sleeping til noon every day.) The night before, though, Tim and I had gone on a date night ... which ended abruptly when he got a call from work and spent the end of our date on the phone, making calls to take care of something for early the next morning. Because a) we were exhausted from what had already been a long week and b) it looked like he was going to have to get up early to take care of the work thing, we turned in around 2 a.m.

I woke up at 5 a.m. for no reason. I didn't feel great, and I couldn't fall back asleep.

At 5:40 a.m., Elle started to cry. We soon knew it wasn't the kind of cry that would last a minute or two and end with her going back to sleep. Tim went to change her, and brought her in to our bed ... and Elle was up. Wide awake, ready for her day, UP.

Tim started to get ready for work. I brought Elle in to the living room, and still feeling ill, curled in to a ball on the floor. Elle traipsed up and down the hallway, crawling to follow "Dada" every where he went. I watched from my floor-perch and made sure she didn't get in to any trouble, but I was miserable.

Tim left the condo a little after 7, and Elle finally showed signs of tiring.

At 7:26 - before she usually even wakes up for the day - I put Elle down for her first nap. She was practically reaching for the crib the moment we stepped in the nursery. I immediately went down for my own nap. She slept for two hours, and the rest of the day's "schedule" went fairly smoothly, but holy geez. She woke up from her first nap at 9:30 a.m. And I'd patched together about five hours of sleep. I don't know about all of you, but broken sleep is the kiss of death for me.

It wasn't Elle that woke up at 5:40 a.m. It was Demon Tooth #4. I don't blame her for waking up angry because of a poopy diaper. I don't blame her for being wide awake on the one morning that I felt like absolute crap and Tim wasn't going to be around. I don't blame her for being out of sorts as a white slab of enamel stabs at her tender gums.

I do, however, blame those damn teeth.

I mean, Elle's cute. But I'm much more appreciative of adorableness when I'm not bleary-eyed from lack of sleep.

I'm just going to try to be optimistic and hope that the rest of the teeth will join the party in a quiet, calm manner.

Ha.