Friday was one of the toughest mothering days I’ve had yet. But let me back up. Tuesday night, Lucia threw up for the first time. Three times. Twice in her crib, once all over me. Poor baby. We had several hours of crib-sheet-changing and cleaning up and soothing, and then she went back to sleep and woke up none the worse for wear. We’re not sure what brought it on, but she has been completely fine since then. But whew. That was an experience. The first of many such experiences, I’m sure.
Thursday night, I found myself up all night with a stomach thing. Not a wink of sleep. And in the morning, I felt like I might not be able to get out of bed; alas, Lucia chirped her I’m-awake signal, and my day began. I wasn’t sick anymore—but completely exhausted and weak and dehydrated from the night before, shaky and light-headed. Andrew had some fires to put out at work and couldn’t stay home. This was a tough day. All I wanted to do was lie down. Thankfully, Lucia had a good day—lots of happy playing and quiet reading, very little fussing. If she’d had a fussy day I’m not sure I would have survived. As it was, she hated when I would lie down on the floor, hurrying over and pulling at my sweater to get me to sit up. When Andrew called at 5 on the dot and announced he was two blocks from home, I nearly cried with relief.
We’ve had a rough weekend, too. Lucia’s first molar, which made its first appearance last Saturday, is still working its way through—one side is about through. And she is miserable. She is not ordinarily a very drool-y baby, yet drool is just dripping off her chin. She’s clingy and fussy. She wants little but teething biscuits. The molar area just looks terrible, and I know it hurts.
And it also hurts me to know there are what—ten molars? Eight? Perhaps the first will be the killer. Let’s hope. And let’s hope this coming week is a bit less arduous.
Oh--and you lucky people who have parents living within an hour's drive? I hated you on Friday. It is so not fair.