Ever since I weaned my poor baby Pearl at the tender age of six months, she has been fighting ear infections. Hm, coincidence?
We have been taking drastic measures to prevent them... it's a little creepy that she has had three rounds of antibiotics by her eight month mark. She's on a soy based formula with an infant probiotic added to help her gut-flora (which, incidentally appears to be helping out in the constipation department). We make absolutely sure that she is never laying flat or close to flat when she drinks her bottles, never let water get in her ear, yah-da yah-da. You get the picture.
The upshot is, something in there is working and she has been almost my sweet "bob" once again. I say almost, because there has been the endless grousing and gritching about that first *&$@ tooth. Her grousing, my gritching and FINALLY! the tooth. I first felt it yesterday afternoon, a sharp little bit of shrapnel in her gums, what we in the House of Chaos lovingly refer to as a "poke." Good on ya girl! Yesterday she took a good and happy nap, the relief was palpable. I'd take a picture of her "poke" and post it for all-a y'all to admire...but she won't even let me peek. But it's there. Did I mention that she is a biter?
Yesterday two of the blogs that I read compulsively- an old friend (whom I am still crushing on, thanks!) and a new girl-crush, wrote about their sleep deprivation issues. In my defence I felt deeply for them... but distanced. The Chaos Girls have been getting most of their ooompah out in the summer sun so they have been sleeping even sounder than usual, and Chaos Baby? Weren't you reading? We HAVE our poke! There will be "No new poke! Read mah lips, no new poke!"
...and there wasn't.
My hair... gadZOOKS, what a sorry sight. It has been bugging me for about a month, hanging lank and dull, roots showing, unmanageable bleah. I had a hair appointment at 8:30 last night and I am so cool, I had all three girls down and dirty, locked and loaded before I walked my sassy self down the street for a new doo, highlights and wax. Happy to you, Dadguy! When I rolled in around 11:15 lookin' sharp, he had everything going like clockwork. Which is not to say that everyone had been asleep the whole time, but it was the standard Pearl "going-to-sleep-at-night-issues" and he had her rockin' the baby swing, if ya know what I mean. Since I knew that I had until 7-7:30am when the Chaos reengage, I stayed up until almost one looking purty as a picture and feeling pretty pert as well.
Comeuppance started around 3:30 and extended to around 6:30. Birdie woke up and crawled into our bed... fine, except she kicks and squiggles and wasn't going to sleep. Finally after a half hour of bee-bopping I walked her to her room, and sat in the rocking chair for a few minutes while she settled in to sleep. I guess I dozed off, because I awoke in the girls room maybe an hour later to a horrible smell.
Here is what went through my fuddled mind....
Whuh...? (snif) Oh NO! LaLa must have pooped her pants in her sleep! (never mind that she has not done so in over a year) Should I wake her up and change her? (I realise I have been dozing with my mouth open, and then shut it) Wait, the smell is gone. (experimentally open mouth again) ACK! Not that stupid "zackly mouth" joke, noooooooo! (I drag my poop-breath self back to my own bed... it is almost six in the blessed)
Six thirty I am re awoken by a sobbing Birdie who has just had a nightmare that I drove her to her Aunt Robbie's then left her in the van alone, and the inside door handle is gone. Since I am such a sucky dream-mom I try and make up for it in real life and let her come back to our bed where she snuggles right up to me and is out in fifteen seconds. LaLa wakes up at seven, and the mighty, fabulous, hunky, darling Dadguy gets up with her and lets me sleep in till eight.
Comeuppance, and sadly, my perky new doo has taken an overnight beating and my right brow is red and puffy still from the waxing. Zackly, no kidding.