Not just an excuse

She is teething. And, really, it isn’t an excuse.

One year when we were in Montana for Christmas, I think Brannan was a year and a half and he had a few teeth coming in, well, he was pretty fussy. Whenever we couldn’t soothe him we said “oh, he’s just teething.” That was the joke of the trip, and for sometime after that.

Now, it really isn’t a joke.

Brannan SAILED through teething. Like, really. He didn’t have a care in the world that those strange things were popping through his gums.

Kinnerly, on the other hand, she is desperate and feverish and whiny and inconsolable. She clings to my legs every moment she can asking me to pick her up. When I pick her up and we go out to visit the garden she just mumbles and moans like she isn’t happy there. It is frustrating and sad and pains me all at the same time. She will lay her head on me for 30 minutes straight without moving. Just letting out these low, whiny noises. uuuuuuhhhhh, mmmmmnnnnhhhh, lllllnnnnnggghhhh.

Poor little thing.

I had to lay her down in her crib at least 3 times so she could be happy there too. She loves her blankie and her bed and doesn’t make a peep for hours at a time when she is there. I would check on her now and then. Sometimes she was asleep, sometimes she was just rubbing her blankie on her passifier.

She had a fever of 102 all day today. She ate sorbet and half-frozen veggies and cold canteloupe all day (but barely). I could barely get her to drink (she doesn’t like milk at all – so different from Brannan who could suck down a half gallon in two days).

Awww, I hope this passes soon.


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