Monday, June 01, 2009

Why I didn't sell him to gypsies

Last night, we decided to skip the baby motrin for Little Bird. He has had it most nights over the past month because of his incredibly slow, torturous, horrific molars. The top ones each have one corner broken through, but seem to be stuck. Some days, Bird just puts his hand in his mouth, chomps down, climbs in my lap, and cries. It's so pathetic.

Skipping the baby motrin was a bad idea. He woke up this morning crying out big sad "MAMA's" in his crib. Usually, he wakes up babbling and playing with his heartbeat bear. I went and got him, and he didn't stop crying until we made it downstairs for his morning "nuh-nuh."

He didn't get better. He took his plate of eggs and threw it across the dining room. He screamed when I wouldn't let him hurl his grits too. He clung to my leg as I tried to clean the kitchen. I decided we needed to go somewhere, so we went upstairs to get dressed, and he proceeded to empty the top drawer of my bedside table, bang on the glass shower doors, flush the toilet, play in the trash can, and try to turn the water on in the bathtub. And he ran through that cycle about five times. Every "no" from me sent him on to the next thing in the list of stuff he knows not to do.

We finally left the house. I called my mom and asked for help. He was driving me crazy. I've started trying to use "Time Out" with him, but he's too little to sit by himself, and as soon as I get on his level and look at him in the eyes, he either puckers up for a kiss or he starts to laugh. I don't think he understands that he has done anything wrong, he's just glad I've stopped whatever I was trying to accomplish to pay attention to him.

When we got home, he was still being incorigable. I decided it was naptime, just a smidge early. He didn't disagree. I gave him the much needed baby motrin, and he slept for a couple of hours. When he woke up, he was cooing and talking sweetly again.

I was hopeful.

I brought him downstairs and fixed him some lunch. He was a hungry boy, aksing for more with his sign instead of by whining and pointing. It is so much more pleasant. Then? After I gave him more? He signed "thank you" for the first time. I hadn't even cued him for it because I was just happy he wasn't screaming anymore. He did it again the next time he got more. It was fantastic.

We played on the floor for awhile after lunch, stacking and building and then knocking it all down. We read some books and sang some songs. He was a littel angel. Just when I thought he couldn't get sweeter, snack time came.

I asked him if he wanted a smoothie, and he responded with an enthusiastic nod. He had been nursing, and when I put him down on the floor, he started wailing again. This time, though, he was easily consoled when I took his hand and started walking him into the kitchen singing made up songs about what was going into his smoothie. He danced in the kitchen while the blender sang, and after I handed him his cup, he reached up and took my hand, leading me back into the living room for a little more lap time.

That's two things. A thank you sign, and him reaching for my hand instead of the other way around. Two new things on a day that I thought was going to completely suck rocks.

I barely remember the morning now. Except for those eggs.