A Fortnight of Firsts

Just as I thought we were past all of our breastfeeding woes, Henry only went and grew a couple of teeth, the little bugger!

Piranha Pepper

For reasons that are known only to himself, my sweet boy decided to properly test those sharp new gnashers out last week.  Ordinarily, our bedtime routine consists of a nice bath, a bedtime story, a cosy cuddle while he nurses, and then down to sleep.   Clearly this little arrangement wasn’t working too well for him any more (or maybe we’ve been living in Washington too long, already), so what better way to let your doting mother know you’re unhappy with proceedings than to quite deliberately, and cheerfully bite her  nipple!?   Hard.  Before barely a drop of milk has passed your lips.

Yep, I got my first ever boob bite.  Which was followed by Henry’s first ever evening of going to sleep without any milk at all, and our first full night’s sleep in I don’t know how long.   It makes absolutely no sense at all, but going to bed hungry (or hungrier than usual) made Henry sleep through the night.  I guess biting me was pretty damn satisfying!!

While we’re on the subject of teeth, that brings me to a couple of other firsts this week.  I had an appointment at the dentist for my first ever filling (sad times – I was so pitifully proud of making it to 35 without a cavity…), and, with no family nearby and Damyan’s workload far too heavy to take any time out any time soon, we had to find Henry his first ever babysitter.  Eek!

First filling….don’t let the nonchalantly crossed ankles fool you. You should have seen my blindingly white knuckles!

Without the luxury of any great recommendations (I’ve learned that when families find an amazing babysitter, they tend not to share the love, for fear of losing their precious prize) I turned to a site called Care.com.  For a monthly fee, you can search for babysitters by location, experience, rates etc, or you can post a specific job you need them for (like, for example, a dentist’s appointment), and wait for responses.

Which is how I found Joanne.  A lady in her 60s, whose profile included the fact that she has fostered over 100 kids in the last 20 years, many of which were special needs babies.  I thought she would maybe be better able to cope with Henry’s separation anxiety, and less likely than a 20 year old college student to freak out if he wailed non-stop for the 2 hours I was gone.

What I hadn’t counted on, was a certain phone call.   Not 5 minutes after she arrived, her cellphone rang.  She told me it was her son, and I said to feel free to answer it, I was in no hurry.   For some bizarre reason (maybe she thought she was in an episode of Teen Mom?), she answered on speakerphone.   And so I was privy to the following conversation, loud and clear:

Son:  Hi Mom.  I’m calling to share with you some drama, and I’m wondering how you’re going to take it.

Joanne:  What?  What are you saying?

Son:  Mom.  There is some drama here.  I don’t know how you’ll react.  Should I tell you?

Joanne:  Okay……  What?

Son:  So I just walked into the bathroom (side note: J has already told me her grown up son lives with her, along with her grandchildren, and her 14 year old daughter), and there’s a friggin’ steak knife in the bath.  Mom, you need to talk to Hannah, you need to do something, I think this is bad.  Like, this is bad.  It’s bad.

Joanne:  Well, she’s going to see a counsellor in April.

Son: Um, Mom, I think it might need to be sooner than that.

Joanne:  Look, I gotta go, I’ll call you later.

I know you really shouldn’t judge anyone by their own family dramas, but I’m afraid I suddenly felt a little wary of leaving my Little Mr Sunshine with Big Mrs “my daughter’s a suicidal maniac, but it can wait”.   Because, you know, I wasn’t already nervous enough.

So, yeah…. today, I got to pay a (possibly mad?) lady $35 to sit and watch TV while my son slept upstairs, and I lay in a dentist chair having my mouth numbed with needles, and my tooth drilled and filled.    Fun times!

Speaking of firsts…

Yesterday, Henry took his first steps, unaided.  All three of them.  At 9 months and 3 weeks of age, he beat his sister by a week.  Sorry, Evie.

Wibble wobble, I foresee trouble!

Next Friday will be Henry’s first ever surgery (I’m trying very hard not to think about that), and Evie’s first day in her lovely new preschool.

And the week after that?  My little sister is coming to visit, to meet her very first nephew for the very first time!

It’s been a funny old February so far, anyway.  Let’s see what the rest of it brings!