I think the poor boy might be coming down with something. He's had a low-grade fever for several days (hovering around 100.5, sometimes up to 101). The doc said that it's probably teething but he's never had a fever for so many days. Of course I'm running through all the potentially awful things that could've caused it (I re-refridgerated his leftover formula instead of throwing it away like the nurses told me to! I totally caved when he wouldn't keep his socks on outside! Why did I expose him to other kids?!) but mostly I just want the fever to pass so that he'll start sleeping again. Nighttime isn't so bad but naps? Oy. I know a woman who delights in telling me how her son goes into his crib completely awake, grabs his blankie like a quilt, and rolls over and goes to sleep. Bless her, she's really very nice and if my kid did that I'd crow about it too, but I can't help wanting to strangle her just a little. I'm not in any way opposed to our routine (alas, no wide-awake-quilt-grabbing here) but the naptime power struggle that has manifested over the past few days has left me a touch snarly. I'm sure it's just the fever (and the teeth and the fact that we've entered YET ANOTHER sleep regression. No wonder Moxie said this phase was a doozy) but I'd be lying if I said that after a half an hour of crying and singing and hair pulling and temperature taking and crying and singing and hair pulling I didn't plop the kid into the crib this afternoon and declare that I was DONE. (Poor Matt. He had so much work to do and I was like, Sorry. Nope. Yours.) I've got to figure out a way to make stencils. There's totally a market for "This Too Shall Pass" over the crib.
Okay, bed. I had to take a half of an Advil PM last night; we won't even discuss my mental fuzz at 5 am this morning.
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