2 Weeks of 1 Year Molars

I have to say, these past 2 weeks have been some of the hardest so far in mothering. One word, molars! Um...how did I miss the ONE YEAR molars? I thought they didn't get them until two? Well, shows you how much I've been reading up on the stages of my baby lately. Geesh.  All of a sudden, my happy, easy going kid has turned into the biggest whiney pants, clingy and "mommy only" child on the planet. Who ARE you? What happened to my Forest boy? Of course, this all happened right in the middle of several deadlines for my new business and blogging commitments,  etc. I've been reduced to the speed of a slug on Benadryl. It breaks my heart that he is uncomfortable. Every remedy I try doesn't seem to have any lasting effect. Amber necklace, homeopaths, medicine, frozen wash cloths, frozen peas, frozen anything, Mickey Mouse Club, you name it. Nothing lasts more that 15 minutes max. Trying to fit bulk sewing in the mix of that is almost impossible.

poor babies. they have it so rough. can't speak any language, can't understand you, bones shoving up through their gums, and always falling down and getting a busted lip or head. :( 

Just to give myself a peek back to my daily reality, later down the road, a day goes like this: 

Sam's off to work. 

Mickey Mouse or Little Einstein's goes on. (Don't you dare judge me for using the television.) ;)

Ok, he seems entertained. I scurry to my sewing center (aka dinning room) and start working on one of my piles for a group of dolls. This time it's cutting out heads. Ah, somehow Káel found the remote and turned the tv to the health channel which has some sort of surgical procedure on. Nice. Gross. 

Get up, change it back, hide the remote. Crying commences. Find something to replace the remote. Ugh, where is his fake cell phone? 

In the process of finding the cell phone, I notice food dried to my floor and all of a sudden, crumbs everywhere! I start feeling clasterfobic. I grab the broom and a cloth and start sweeping it up "real quickly". 

Gah, get back to sewing Jess, you have a big deadline, less work today means more tomorrow. 

Go back to my sewing. I get maybe one or two heads done and fitted with a hair template. A very distraught and uncomfortable baby waddles up to me and throws his head on my lap, sounding very much like a moaning, dying engine. Ah, he's somehow pulling the scissors off the table!? How do you reach that. Ah, not the iron! The next 5-10 min are spent soothing, trying to feed, keep alive and/or find entertainment for my little boy. (Did I mention that he just learned to climb up onto chairs...and tables?)

As I rush into the bathroom, trying to find his pacifier (Yep, still use that too.) I catch a glance of myself in the mirror. Oh my GOSH! THAT'S what Sam saw as he headed out the door this morning!? My almost grown out bangs, half greasy, half dry hair with the ever multiplying gray strays, spiraling up to heaven are discouraging. Don't forget yesterday's mascara leftovers, always a nice touch. Sigh.

Now where's his paci? What will make him happy? Why won't he eat anything? 

He tripped, and barely bumped his knee. Usually he laughs and continues exploring. Not now. The world has officially come to an end. The only thing that will console him is mommy, holding him for several minutes. Poor little darlin'. AAAAAAH!  Afer he does that 10-15 times, literally within 30 min I'm crying too. Don't forget to throw a poop explosion in there and I mean EXPLOSION. Of course, that really has never happened before in his whole 1 year of existence on this side of my uterus. 

Maybe a nap? Each day it's been hit or miss. Wait. Is that quiet, I hear? Oh, the quiet is heavenly. 1 hour later, I hear his little voice letting me know he's awake. 

Then it's starts back to square one. This repeats several times, usually worsening the later it gets. By the time Sam comes home, I'm tired of being touched and clung too, I'm depressed because what I wanted and needed to get done is still laying in a sad pile on my table and my house is a wreck. 

Dinner time. My "eats anything" boy only eats oatmeal, steamed apples, and frozen peas and sweet potatoes right now.  Mostly sweet potatoes. So, we try our luck with one of those. Then, it happens. I'm trying to finish stitching a couple legs while Sam coaxes bites into our mini human and I cut clean through my pointer finger with my sharpest pair of scissors. I know I need stitches. Nope, pressure, hand above my head, more pressure and a bandaid that turns my finger blue. Yep. 

Finally, bed time. Quiet. My sewing pile and messy house call my name but, I'm so exhausted from this unknown territory, known as 1st year molars, that I just want to sit and do nothing. I cry. Like I have been doing every night for the past 2 weeks.  Poor Samuel.  What a sight to come home to. He's the sweetest though. After hearing my blubber about why I'm crying for the umpteenth time, he goes and get's a surprise dinner, sit's down and starts helping me stuff a huge pile of doll arms and legs. Come to find out, he's better than I am at the task and has the kindest smile on his face. As crazy as it sounds, it felt like a date. He knows how to make me smile again. I felt Mt. Everest lift off of my shoulders. 

Of course, once we go to bed, a few hours later, I wake up to screams. My heart breaks and my body yells at me for sleep. The only thing that will coax my baby back to dream land is a bottle, Infant Benadryl and mommy holding him. I can't stand to see him in pain and not be able to tell him why it hurts so bad. I drag myself back to bed.

Ugh...morning is almost here.

I get a text from a friend telling me it won't last and before I know it he'll wake up and magically return to the baby I know. I cling to her glimmers of hope. Reread it Jess. Reread it again. 

Little boy, I wish I could make your mouth feel better. I feel so helpless, and...crazy. No, seriously, crazy. haha. Our friends keep telling us that, one day you'll wake up and be like your old self again. I can't wait. Bless your heart. Even though I'm at the point of pulling my hair out, I know one day, when you're older, I'll long for even one of these rough days, just to hold you. Right now, you are cuddled under my arm, watching a kids show and trying to call someone on my iPhone.  My sewing pile is glaring at me, but you are happy at the moment, and you are enjoying my closeness. That works. I'll take it. I love you little babes. 

-Momma