With babies, not all is peachy one-hundred percent of the time.
This may seem obvious but I think that even us parents forget it sometimes. You may go hours, days, or even weeks without your little one having any problems, but then that one extra hard day or that super rough night hits and you remember really quickly.
Emmy is suddenly sick. It’s not life-threatening or anything, but I guess we don’t really know what it is as the doctor that Kayleigh took her to yesterday didn’t test her for anything or give her anything to help her get better. I guess it’s better than them just writing her a prescription after barely looking at her, but they could have at least tested her for the flu or something, right?
You see, two nights ago, not long after we put Emerson down, Kayleigh and I were passing Emmy’s bedroom door when we began to hear strange noises… it almost sounded like… vomiting. I’ll bet that you’re clever enough to figure out what was going on. We rushed into the room and found our tiny baby holding herself up with her tiny arms over a puddle of puke and attempting to catch her breath.
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This post is your basic, every parents post about their kids because I think about this a lot. So here we go.
Every parent thinks that their kid is “the shit” or the cutest or the smartest, but what happens when your kid truly is totally beautiful or actually the most awesome or is the smartest of all the babies that you know? Is it wrong to believe that about your own kid because you’re totally biased? Do you tell that kid that they’re the smartest or the prettiest and build up some weird expectation for them where it messes with their entire lives and self-esteem someday? What do you/we do with those kids?
I wonder this only because of my own (more than likely biased) views of Emerson. I truly do think she’s the cutest, most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen, as does Kayleigh, but is she really? Are we seeing her as more adorable than she is because we’re her parents? I’m sure because every parent thinks their baby is the cutest.
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Alright, so I’m going to focus on a different topic today, which seems to be the case for every new post I guess… but yeah, today’s going to be about teeth. Whose teeth? Emmy’s teeth, duh! Who else’s ya weirdies?
K, so Emmy didn’t have any teeth for a long time, like nearly eight months long. She actually got her first tooth on the Fourth of July, so it’s pretty easy to remember. Anyways, this girl was literally like a super old grandma for a long, long time and she had nothin’ and she just gummed stuff, okay? Then the Fourth rolls along and she gets the one tooth and we’re all like, “Yay, finally, you got your first tooth!” But it didn’t stay the happiest of occasions for long.
Fast forward like two weeks (maybe less than that, I don’t 100% remember) and she’s got another tooth pokin’ through! At that point, we’re like, “Okay, cool, you’re finally steppin’ it up with your tooth game!” Then another tooth came in. And another. Then some at the same time. Over and over she got teeth. It seemed like she was getting new teeth every few days there for a while!
Today I’m going to talk a little about those times when you’re super frustrated as a parent, the times where you just want to rip your hair out. I’m talking about the times where you have irrational thoughts like, “Why did I choose to have a kid?” or, “I wish I could put this little monster back.” These times usually come at night, either when you’re trying to get the little demon down to sleep or in the actual middle of the night when they wake up needing something from you. At times they come during the day though, too. Nap times can be just as challenging as bedtime.
I, myself, have had many of these moments and I have thought some things that I’m not proud of, but I have also learned—and it’s taken a lot of time to do so—how to calm myself down and how to actually try and enjoy those moments. If you remember that it is, in fact, your baby that you’re dealing with, it makes things a little bit easier. I then try to breathe slowly and remember the undeniable fact that I’m not going to have those moments forever. Not only will Emmy’s sleeping get better—and worse, at times—in the future, but one day she will leave the safety of my house and I won’t know where she’s sleeping or if there’s anyone there to take care of her.