H's Big Week

This has been a really big week (already! on a Wednesday!) for the Raisin Baby. Over the weekend we officially switched him to the crib and set up a twin bed for his sister, both in the same room, since he had been sleeping through the night for several weeks and it seemed a good time to get C off of the crib mattress on her big brothers' floor. High time, in fact.

The day after the switcheroo was complete, H began teething in earnest after several months of preparatory drooling. And when I say "in earnest," I mean HOLY CATS THIS TOOTH IS A JERK. My big three had the typical rough time teething, so I thought I knew what to expect. But of course H wanted to remind me that he is the most awesome and best at everything, which includes being miserable and needy to the max come teething time. Back C went into her brother's room while I dealt with a sleepless baby (who was then cranky when awake) with purple gums, a fountaining nose, and a general terrible attitude. And I only felt misery with him, especially after feeling the sharp, sharky tooth emerging from his gum. Poor guy.

(Note: In desperation on Monday, I ordered an amber teething necklace. I am verrrry skeptical of these things and honestly dismiss their supposed healing properties as hoodoo voodoo, along with magical healing magnets, young earth creationists, and chunky peanut butter. But Monday caught me in a low place, and so a necklace is on the way. Please don't bother berating me for my views or even telling me how awesome they really are--I've heard it all, and I'm ready to leave H on the doorstep of the next person who says, "This too shall pass." Consider yourself warned.)

So we were all already exhausted and tender last night when I looked up from a book to see H scooting across the floor, going after a toy. The Professor was on the floor, too, reading a book to the big kids, and I hollered something eloquent like "BLARG HE'S CRAWLING, LOOK, LOOOOOK." I didn't get quite the amazed reaction I was expecting; my husband looked up, grinned, and then went back to reading, unperturbed by this miraculous turn of events in an already ridiculously crazy week. I suppose after four kids, very little surprises you when you're a dad.

Anyway. He's doing it. Here's proof. And yes, I purposefully placed two off-limits items, a paper airplane and a Micro Machine, in front of him to get him to move. And then took them away from him. Sue me. He won't remember it.



Since typing this he has crawled the length and width of the living room, wedged himself underneath the couch, tasted some shoes by the front door, wedged himself underneath an end table, discovered a cabinet door, and smooshed his face with a pillow. What a big day!

And in case the Christine of the Future finds this post in an attempt to nail down just when H started crawling (I don't keep baby books--unapologetically, in fact.), let it be known that he was 7 months old a mere four days ago.

And that his jerk first tooth is halfway through his gum.

I think I need a nap.