Barnabas Monkeypants

When it comes to being a dad, I’d like to think that I know what I’m doing. But that would be a lie. Most all of this parenting stuff is done on the fly or with the help of Mr. Internet and Mrs. How-To-Book.

While most of the time Kristen and I are faced with a smiling baby who takes his three naps and only wakes up once during the night, there are other times when that’s not the case.  So Henry will be crabby because he’s all clogged up and we dash around trying how to unclog him. (Note: unclogging a baby is not the same as unclogging a sink; only in one case is a plunger recommended.) Or he’ll decide that he needs constant contact with us at night (he’s been quite clingy lately) and will cry and cry until we pick him up or let him fall asleep between us.

But I’m constantly afraid that we’re doing it all wrong. Is sleep training the right thing to do when he’s already unhappy or can we take a little break? Is that one bottle of formula we gave him last week the reason for all this constipation and should I dump the rest of the can down the toilet ASAP?

How truly clueless I am is summed up in the whole teething process. I knew that teething was something that babies did not like. But, foolishly I might add, I just assumed that once the teeth popped out and touched real oxygen, all would change. I actually was under the impression that from the time they broke through until they were all the way out, white and clean and looking like real teeth, was mere days. Three tops.

Well, that’s not the case. I first felt those daggers a week ago when Henry gnawed on my hand. And while I can feel that they’re continuing to come in, it’s really hard to see them. (Our downstairs neighbor came up and she had to pull out her reading glasses to look for them.) You have to peer in there closely — in good light, too — before you can positively determine that, yes, Henry has two teeth. To make matters worse, Henry has been changing up to do more closed mouth vs open mouth smiles.

Well, people, all is not lost, because through some intrepid photo work from Kristen we have proof that Henry’s teeth (unlike the Loch Ness Monster and a diet soda that doesn’t make you want to throw up) are for real!

Munch on, my good son. Munch on!

This entry was posted on Tuesday, April 14th, 2009 at 3:15 pm and is filed under Barnabas, Health. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.