Gah...I nominate myself for the worst mom of the week award. I've been so immersed in dealing with this new pregnancy, that I think that I left my brain somewhere else. It's not even that I've been THAT sick-just enough to be irritating and make me think twice about what I'll try to get down. Other than the club crackers, I've found that plain Pringles (tm) seem to do the trick. Strange, I know, but they just really work right now.
As for the worst mom of the week award, I think that I'm pretty deserving. My poor little boy. He has been cranky and just off for the past couple of days. He's sleeping fine at night, but had been waking up a little earlier than normal. He has also raised the whining over the littlest things to new and terrifying heights. Being a bit more into myself than I should be, I chalked it up to him (a) just being a toddler and (b) dealing with some changes at daycare. His best buddy has moved over to the toddler room, and I know that he misses her.
He was being less than charming this morning as I'm trying to coral him to get dressed. He wanted to be everywhere but on the changing table. We're running late, again, so my patience is already running at a very low ebb. I finally just give up trying to talk him into it, and just pick him up and deposit him on the changing table. He starts screaming and doing the "backbend of death." This works for me, since he is now laying down and I can get his pajama bottoms off. (Evil laugh...I've outsmarted a toddler...he he.) He is flat out crying by now, and I'm about ready to myself. Where is my sweet little boy? Finally, in the midst of a wail, I see the culprits. His top two eye teeth/canines have both just broke through. They're pointy little vampire versions of them too. Poor kid, his mouth has to be killing him. His bottom two are on their way through as well, but they are taking their time. So, in sum, he is actively cutting four teeth. Dumb, dumb, dumb. Damn tooth fairy is the one that stole my boy.
Of course, after discovering this, I feel awful for being so short with him. I get a new diaper on, pants, and socks, and then just pick him up. He snuggled into my shoulder while I just stood and rocked him. My baby. He calms down enough so I can put on his shirt. I pull out the Motrin (tm) and load up the syringe. He was actually excited about it. He grabbed at the syringe to get me to get on with it already and give it to me. By the time we hit daycare, he was happy, babbling away, and tearing at his coat so he could get down and play.
So, my fears about not paying enough attention are brought to fruition. I feel so bad about this. He was really cranky last night, with every little thing setting him off. I should have known. I'm tempted to take off a little early today and go and do something fun, but he's been spending his afternoons in the toddler room, and he enjoys it a lot, so I don't want to mess with that. I'll have to find another way to deal with my guilt. My little man deserves so much better.