I’m going on the record as absolutely hating this whole teething thing. It rots. And it makes me sad. It is rotten, sad stuff that I would like to do away with now and forever.

Won’t happen, will it?

Didn’t think so.


As you know, Conal’s molars did a number on us last week. I was driven far, far over the edge and my poor little jobber was a crying, screaming mess. This week, things are better. No more day-long scream fests, no more clinging and crying.

At night, however, things have not been so great. Conal’s been waking up a few hours after he goes to bed, somewhat inconsolable. The same thing happens very early in the morning. At least this time I know that the teeth are to blame (no more cold sweats about errant vaccinations) for his screams. But, it doesn’t make them any easier to handle. The whole thing just makes me sad.

I get so very sad when I know Conal is in pain and there is little I can do, other than squeeze some cherry infant Tylenol in his mouth. Can you imagine what I’m going to be like if the kid ever has to (please, please don’t let this ever happen!) go to the hospital? If he, say, breaks a bone? Twists an ankle? Stubs a toe? It won’t be pretty, I can assure you.

Sigh, again.

But! There is exciting (to me) news over at The Happy Runner. I signed up for a challenge. And you are all welcome to join in the fun (fun? I guess you’ll have to judge for yourself whether or not this particular challenge is fun).