So after our disasterous lunch date, Scotty rocked the afternoon by sleeping for two straight hours. He was in bed on time and sawing logs during my Bachelor post. I finally crawled into bed at 11:30pm only to be roused within a measly 45 minutes. My super-sleeper baby has once again return to the Land of Ye of The Night Wakings. Bottle in hand, I dutifully attended to the little monkey and started rocking...and rocking...and rocking.
I finally threw in the towel at 2am. And promptly woke Brian up, tearfully moaning, "I can't do it anymoooooore!"
Brian got him down by 3am. Based on what I heard on the monitor, it sounded akin to wrestling a small wild cougar.
The culprit: teeth. At least, that's what we think. (we blame everything on teeth these days. Scotty's mood? Teeth. Our dirty house? Teeth. The delay in getting us keys to the new house? Teeth again.)
And I woke up this morning to a massive case of mastisis. I can barely raise my right arm above my shoulder. (this is also making typing v.v. difficult). It feels like someone has taken a baseball bat to my right side. I called George's office this morning and spoke with a nurse, who curtly told me that I need to try warm compresses, pump more, and then maybe, just maybe, they'll see me tomorrow. Great. Because I really want to drag my 22+ infant into a doctor's office using only one arm. Can't they just call in an Rx for me? (insert whine here)
Scotty is still super grumpy today, we missed a playdate at 11am, I'm exhausted and in pain.
And I wanted to do this again...ever?
[This post was sponsored in part by Bayer HealthCare Pharmaceuticals, makers of Mirena. "Keep life a little simpler" Heck yeah. :-)]