Go Directly to Adulthood. Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $200.

     At some point along the way, I became an adult.  By adult, I don't mean that I became 18 or 21 or whatever the appropriate age is to be officially declared "adult".  No, I'm talking about the "responsible" one in the room full of kids, the one that worries about getting home at a reasonable time, so I don't ache all over the next morning, the one that religiously puts lotion on her hands at night because hey, I'm not getting any younger and one of these days, those wrinkles are going to fight back, the one that is labeled "chaperone" in a group of high schoolers, that's the "adult" I'm talking about.  I didn't even see it coming either, it just snuck up on me and hit me in the back of the head like a big 2x4... SMACK!  I declare you an adult!  (Cue the gasps and shrieks of horror).

     I may or may not have mentioned before that my husband, Brad, leads high school worship at our church on Wednesday nights.  We always go early because he has sound check and "rehearsal" (rehearsal meaning he tunes his guitar and the high school kids that are supposed to make up the band and are supposed to be running through the songs with him flit around the room like hummingbirds from group to group gossiping, giggling, and in general making a big to do about some drama that really isn't a drama at all, but rather some meaningless nonsense such as OMG, Becky and Kelly wore the same dress to Johnny's party and it was like, sooooo embarrassing!).  Tonight, Morgan and I decided to go with him and hang out for a bit before dropping Morgan in the nursery and heading off to choir rehearsal myself.  Let me preface this next part by saying that I do realize that I'm now officially a mom and I am working on coming to terms with that.  I was aware that was going to happen and I had 9 months to prepare for it, but nobody tells you about the adult thing.  Nobody gives you any kind of countdown like oh, by the way, you've got 3 years, 6 months, and 8 days til you're an adult... have fun while you can!  No, no, it just dawns on you one day.  That day was today for me.

     I was sitting there, or rather I was running all over the room chasing Morgan and keeping her from pulling an amp down on herself or impaling herself with a mic stand or some other such tragedy, when I took a quick stock of the high school students in the room.  These kids were about 15, 16, maybe 17 and the biggest concern for them was some test that was coming up and the fact that they were apparently going to have to survive on Taco Bell when they got to college because they all assumed they would be broke, which really upset one guy in particular who had a sworn vengeance against Taco Bell.  No big deal.  I can remember when my biggest problem was wondering if the guy I had a crush on at the time knew I was staring at him in class or not.  But then, my traitorous brain played a trick on me and had me do some quick math... When were these kids born?  Oh... my... gosh... these kids, the ones that I thought I was not that far off from, were BORN when I was already in HIGH SCHOOL!  I was DRIVING when these kids were in DIAPERS!  SMACK!  I declare you an adult!  Oh Lord... somebody bring me some Motrin... and an Icy Hot Patch... and a cup of Earl Grey while you're at it.  I was not prepared for this!  Not only that, but I'm also a good bit older than the high school PASTOR!  Yep, I can no longer fake it anymore.  I can't be the "just out of college" person anymore, I can't be the "I'm older than you, but I'm not too old to still hang out with you" person, I can't even be the "yeah, I'm out of school, but I still act like a kid, so I'm cool" person anymore.  Nope, I'm an adult now.

     BUT, I'm an adult that still enjoys singing at the top of my lungs to a song in the car, that still freaks out when Little Debbie Christmas Tree Cakes make their appearance in the grocery stores each year, that still likes to get all dressed up and pretend I'm going to prom when my husband takes me out somewhere fancy, that still loves rolling in the grass and watching the clouds, that gets all giddy inside when the mall puts up their Christmas decorations and when Christmas morning finally arrives... yep, I'm an adult who still enjoys the kid side of life and I'm okay with that!

Yes, Tears ARE Sexy!

     I saw my husband cry for the first time tonight... and it was the sexiest thing I've ever seen.

     Brad and I have been together for almost 10 years and in all those years, I've never seen him cry, ever.  Not when we got married, not when I was in the hospital, not when he lost his job, not when I told him I was pregnant, not when Morgan was born... never... although he did get a little misty-eyed one time over a sports montage set to Five For Fighting's Chances Are.

     Brad leads the high school worship at our church on Wednesday nights.  Tonight, the high school pastor showed a video after his message about Job.  This video just happened to precede Brad's last song, which was to be a moving solo on his acoustic guitar.  Now, I wasn't there to actually witness this, but he says that he was so teary-eyed that he could barely do the song!  Knowing my husband the way I do, I took that to mean, okay, so he was moved a little by this video, which means he probably just had to clear his throat a little before singing because my husband just does not cry... period.  Well, after we got home, he showed me this video and I'm not going to lie, I was in tears, and I don't cry easily at stuff... except for the shelter animals commercial with Sarah McClachlan singing Angel.  That one tears me up every time!  In the midst of my blubbering, I looked over to see his reaction and there were tears in MY husband's eyes, actual tears!  This man that I've known for almost a decade without a single tear in those 10 years, this man that watches more sports than the number of Brett Favre's retirement announcements, this man that displays so much testosterone that part of me wonders if he might could actually lift a car if he was of mind to, was tearing up over a video about a baby.  Some might ask, "what kind of man does that?!" and I would have to answer proudly, "MY man does that!"  Any guys out there that might be reading this blog, take a woman's advice:  nothing attracts women more than a guy that can get emotional over something he's passionate about or that he cares about deeply... nothing.  My amazing husband was seeing our own child mirrored in this baby and it warmed my heart so much to see how much he truly, deeply cares for our child.  It was like that scene in How the Grinch Stole Christmas when the Grinch's heart swells up and breaks that little x-ray device.  My heart was swelling with admiration for what a wonderful, caring father my husband is and THAT puts all of those shirtless Abercrombie models to shame.  Girls?  Can I get a "heck yeah"?

By the way. here's the video.  Watch it with a box of tissues.
99 Balloons

Can I Do That Scene Again?

     Have you ever had one of those days when you wish there was a camera rolling and a director and all you have to do is look to the director and ask if you can re-do the scene because you just didn't get it quite right or because you just completely bombed and need to do the whole scene over again?  Yeah, I had that day today.  The day started out pretty well.  Morgan woke up in the middle of the night because she had lost her pacifier (she always wakes up and cries when she can't find her pacifier in the middle of the night).  Anytime my sleep is interrupted in the middle of the night, I'm a total zombie if I wake up anytime before about 9:00 the next morning.  Knowing this, my sweet, wonderful husband got up with Morgan this morning and let me sleep in a little bit.  I woke up at about 9:30 refreshed and ready to face the day.  I was supposed to have a parent-teacher meet and greet with Morgan's Mother's Day Out teacher this morning between 10 and 12 (she's starting next week).  I'm not really sure what happened, but apparently some of the wires in my brain were not fully connected today because the fact that I had to be at the church sometime between 10 and 12 and the fact that I had to leave the house no later than 11:30 to get there by 12 did not compute in my brain.  I'm going about my normal routine, getting ready, thinking I had plenty of time, when I glanced at the clock and a light bulb suddenly came on.  Holy crap, it was 11:15 and I had just laid Morgan down for a nap at 11!  What was I thinking?  I would have to leave in 15 minutes just to get there by 12!  The baby was asleep, my hair wasn't done, I was running around in a t-shirt because I had thrown my clothes in the dryer to de-wrinkle... the meet and greet was not going to happen.  ...Can I do that scene again?

     I called myself an idiot and came to terms with the fact that I was going to be one of those "bad parents" that didn't show up to meet the teacher (even though I already know her) and focused my attention on the next "scene" of my day.  After running an errand, I met Brad for lunch.  Everything went fine until it was time to leave.  Gathering mine and Morgan's belongings, I slung my purse and the diaper bag over my shoulder like a pack mule and grabbed up her highchair cover and toys and preceded to drop toys left and right as we left until the grand finale where I dropped my keys.  ...Can I get a touch-up on my make-up?  OK, places people... let's go again from the scene opening...

     Brad had a meeting with a new client after lunch, so we each took our own cars to lunch, then we were going our separate ways.  During lunch, I got a spot of bbq sauce on my nice, white shirt (in keeping with the theme of the day), so after putting everything in the car, I walked over to his car with Morgan and my keys to borrow his Tide pen (Tide pens are a gift from God!).  I sat my keys on top of his car and told myself, "OK, DO NOT forget to get your keys!"  Well... I forgot the keys.  I grabbed Morgan and told Brad bye and off he went while I was strapping Morgan into her car seat.  Then that dang light bulb went off again and I remembered the keys.  Shoot!  Shoot!  Shoot!  I actually said that... out loud... for nobody to hear.  I frantically dialed Brad's number and told him to come back, that my keys were on top of the car.  Now, I may have been having an airhead day, but this one's a head-scratcher for me.  My husband, knowing my keys are on top of his car, comes pulling back into the parking lot a minute later WITH THE KEYS STILL ON TOP OF THE CAR!  Sigh.  I grabbed my keys off the car, gave him a sheepish grin, and waved goodbye again.  ...Scene 5, take 2?

     The rest of the day went just fine... I guess those wires finally plugged in all the way!  I'm interested to know if any of my readers have days similar to mine today.  I have these every now and then... I call them my "airhead days".  Brad always knows it's going to be an interesting day when I say, "I'm having an airhead day today!"  I have to admit, those days usually are quite interesting!

This Cape's Not Just for Show... I Also Wipe Noses with It!

"Moms will clean up stuff that would make the Roto-Rooter man gag." ~Jeff Foxworthy


     This post is for all you moms out there that can totally, 100% relate to this.  If you're eating while reading this... do yourself a favor and finish what you're eating, then continue reading.  Also, if you have a squeamish stomach or if there are any small children in the room, you may not want to continue.  OK, it's not that bad, but don't say I didn't warn you.

     This has been my week to meet the mom job title head on.  First, Morgan woke up last Wednesday morning with a cold.  It started out normal enough:  a little congestion, a little coughing and sneezing, nothing out of the ordinary, definitely nothing I couldn't handle.  She's had a cold before and I dealt with it with flying colors.  This cold, however, was no ordinary cold.  This cold meant business and this cold was not going to go quietly.  By Wednesday night, Morgan was so stuffy, she couldn't even suck on her pacifier to fall asleep at bed time.  Brad and I had to use tag-team tactics to try and get her to sleep.  I would rock her for awhile, then tag him in for a quick break.  I'd catch my breath, wipe my face, put my mouthpiece back in, then head back into the ring for another round.  Finally, she fell asleep about 12:30 from pure exhaustion more than anything either of us did.  A call to the pediatrician was definitely in order the next day for something, anything, that could help her with this congestion and stuffiness.  Surely there would be something she could take!

     Overnight, the cold had mutated my adorable, sweet-faced child into a puffy-eyed, crusty-nosed, snotty-faced midget!  I felt so terrible for her!  A call to the doctor's office had me feeling even worse.  Being that she's only 7-months-old, she's too young to take anything besides Children's Tylenol.  Basically, we were going to have to wait out... The Cold (dum dum dummmmm).  The nurse's instructions were to use saline drops in her nose and suction it out frequently.  Easier said than done.  This is where all the moms reading can relate.  First of all, children, especially babies, don't understand that cleaning out their nose will help them breathe better.  To them, this is just a very scary, very unpleasant event that they want no part of whatsoever. Secondly, if you thought this would be a simple thing to do, just sit them down, lean their head back and suction, you'd be wrong.  Because children don't want any part of this, they will do everything possible to NOT be part of it.  This includes yelling, crying, squirming, arching their back, kicking their legs, turning their head from side to side, waving their arms, pushing your hand away, and anything else they can think of that might be an effective means of escape.  Needless to say, you have to wrap one arm completely around them, boa constrictor-style, to hold them still and keep their arms down, while your other arm tries to hold their head still and use the bulb syringe to suction out their little nose.  For those of you that aren't math majors, I'll help you with this next one.  What does one snotty-nosed, squirming child and one parent's arm wrapped around said snotty-nosed, squirming child equal?  You guessed it!  One parent's arm covered in snot.  Lovely.

     It's been over a week now and The Cold (dum dum dummmmm) is still with us.  That's over a week of snot-covered arms and a crusty little nose to clean and wipe, but as a parent, you do what you have to do to take care of your child, even if it means being covered in snot.  Morgan's nose hasn't been quite as runny the last couple of days, so we're hoping that The Cold (dum dum dummmmm) is growing bored with her and will soon be taking its leave.  I hate seeing my little girl sick, especially when there's nothing I can do to make her better!  All I can do is love her and cuddle her, snot and all, and pray for her to get well soon.

     Now, if I ended the post with that little story, you'd all be saying, well that wasn't so bad.  I can handle a little snot.  What kid doesn't have snot issues?  But, I'm not ending with that.  Oh yes, there's more, so if you thought it was safe to start munching on that popcorn again or to bring the little ones back out from hiding, think again (dum dum dummmmm).

     I was giving Morgan a bath the other night, nothing unusual.  We were going about our normal bath routine, as we always do.  First, I hold her head over the kitchen sink and wash her hair, then rinse with the sprayer.  She was born with a head full of hair, so I've found this is the most effective way to get it all washed and all rinsed well with minimum mess and fuss.  After I wash and rinse her hair, I lay her on a towel so I can take her diaper off (she's already undressed before the hair washing commences).  Normally, Morgan has her dirty diapers in the morning... about 90% of the time.  Knowing this, I assumed the odds were in my favor, as they usually are, and proceeded to slip her diaper off (no diaper wiping-- moms, you'll know what this is-- because she has her dirty diapers in the morning, right?  ...right?  ...riiiight???) and scoop her up in my arms to carry her into the bathroom for her bath.  Naturally, being the caring mother I am, I cradle her cute little bottom in my hand to support her.  OK, let's pause there and get the math majors back in here.  I'm sure you can all see where this is going.  Yep, this was one of those 10% times that Morgan decided to have her dirty diaper in the evening... right at bath time.  Alright math majors, do your thing!  What does one loving, caring, supportive parent's hand and one dirty diaper minus the diaper equal?  That's right!  One baby poo-covered parent's hand!  Very good!  As if that weren't enough, Morgan then spit-up all over herself and down my leg, just to add a bit more color to the scene.  I'm telling you, that girl's going to be an artist, I can feel it!  Quickly assessing the situation, I decided this was much too big a job to handle on my own... I would need reinforcements.  "I need help in here!"  Reinforcements came in the form of my husband, who took one look at the situation and "the situation" covering me, the towel and the baby, and turned green, flung the box of baby wipes at me and proceeded to bring up the 10-foot bubble of quarantine around me, towel and baby.  I turned Morgan over in my arms and began to wipe the contaminated area like a HAZMAT spill until she was clean enough to move to the wash-down mode of our decontamination.  After a generous portion of Johnson & Johnson Head-to-Toe Wash (and I do mean head-to-toe!), I had my sparkling child back.  (A special thanks goes out to Johnson & Johnson for this segment).

     Had enough?  No, I don't think you have!  There's a reason I put Supermom at the top of this post!  So, my husband and I have temporarily lost our minds and decided to have a garage sale this Saturday... in August... with the baby here.  Yes, we're nuts.  This afternoon, we went through the garage and separated everything into a "keep pile" and a "sell pile".  Most of our stuff is kept in plastic storage bins with cute little labels on them of what's inside because I'm a complete, anal-retentive whack-job.  Occasionally, one of my husband's dreaded cardboard boxes with random crap haphazardly thrown in will make it through my careful screening process and wind up stacked in the garage among the storage bins.  I was going through one of these rogue boxes today.  I opened one flap and saw where one of my decorative foam feather balls looked like it had exploded.  Hmmm, odd.  I lifted another flap to see where a basket had been frayed a bit here and there.  Strange as well.  The third flap lifted and revealed the culprit.  Tiny mouse poopies were scattered like confetti among the items in the box.  AHHH!  Now, I love animals just as much as the next person and little, furry mice can be cute, but when they're poopying on MY stuff, it's not cute!  Brad suggested I throw the entire box away, random items, mouse poopies and all.  In addition to being a complete, anal-retentive whack-job, I'm also a complete, anal-retentive pack rat that hates to throw anything away because I was taught my complete, anal-retentive family that it's wasteful and you can sell just about anything you no longer need or want.  My grandmother was the queen of garage sales, the stuff of legends.  With this thinking firmly planted in the nether regions of my subconscious, my first thought when he suggested this was "but there's good stuff in there that we can sell!"  OK, no need to panic.  I'll just remove the items very slowly, one at a time.  Oh good, this is a box of old Beanie Babies and there are 100 in here that each have to be taken out, one at a time, and shaken off!  And I was afraid this was going to be a quick and easy thing to have to deal with!  Luckily, after about 15 minutes of inspecting items, only three Beanie Babies, one decorative feather ball and one basket were harmed in The Great Mouse Caper of 2010.  The rebel mouse was never found, nor were his little mousy bones, so I'm assuming he eventually chewed his way out and went on about his little mousy life, but not before having one heck of a good time in that box!

     Thus ends the post about my disgusting week.  Having presented my story, I think it's only fair that the judges give me the Mom-of-the-Week Award, lest I wrestle it from your hands with my snot-covered arms!  And for those of you wondering, yes, I did scrub my hands for a good 10 minutes after handling the Beanie Babies and yes, they're in line for a good scrub down as well.

My Left Arm for a Belle Plate!

     Let me introduce you to someone.  This is my now 4-year-old niece (at least, she'll be 4 officially on the 23rd), Ashlyn.  Ashlyn likes princesses... a lot.  I don't think you quite get just how much this child likes princesses.  You know how you find a $20 bill in your pants pocket and it makes your whole day brighter even though it was your money all along?  Or how you head to bed, dog-tired, and you're dreading having to get up early the next morning for work and you remember tomorrow's Saturday and it immediately puts a smile on your face?  Or how you have a special day like your birthday, anniversary or a holiday and you get to have a huge piece of chocolate cake without any guilt at all and it tastes so much better because of it?  Yeah... it's like that, only it's about 10 times more.  The girl is seriously addicted to princesses.  I'm thinking of starting a support group for her, the poor thing.  Well, Ashlyn requested a Princess Belle party for her 4th birthday and, being the completely whipped adults that we are, we complied.

     Princess Belle, for the .0001% of you out there that don't know, is the princess in Disney's Beauty and the Beast movie.  From my limited research on her in preparation for this party, I learned that she is the favored princess out of all the Disney princesses, therefore you would think that Belle party supplies would be in great supply... you would be wrong.  Oh sure, you can get Disney princess party paraphernalia on about every street corner... they're like Starbucks... but that's just it, you get ALL the princesses, not one princess.  Ashlyn made it very clear that this was to be a Belle party and that other princesses were not invited.  Well, after many days of searching and several eye strains later, I came across a website that does, indeed, sell Belle-only party supplies.  Who's the best aunt ever?  That's right, I am.  For those of you that may find yourself in a similar situation, The Toy Hunt has a pretty good selection of (insert Disney princess here)-only party supplies.  Also, Sweet Treat Favors, has a good selection as well.  My pain, eye strains and all, is your gain!

     Wal-Mart put the finishing touches on our Belle party by supplying a great princess punch-out book full of confetti, character stand-ups, place mats, cup decorations, and more for a mere $8.  Some pink and yellow streamers around the room, Beauty and the Beast playing on the TV, princess confetti on the table, and one princess castle cake and we were ready to party!  Ashlyn did make one exception and allowed Princess Ariel (her other favorite) to be on the table as well.

     The party was a big success and Ashlyn LOVED the princess theme and her castle cake, which turned out to be a purse that she could keep... even better!  Being the great aunt that I am, I selflessly licked all of the icing off of the purse so that she could play with it.  The sacrifices I make to keep my niece happy!  With all this being said, I have just one question... what is the deal with little girls and princesses?!?!  It's the same with EVERY little girl between the ages of about 3 and 10... they LOVE them!  They go NUTS over them!  I'm convinced if Ashlyn was given the choice between all of her family members and Princess Belle, we'd see her happily skipping off, hand-in-hand, with Belle.  It's a sad truth... I've learned to accept it, so should you.  Now, Morgan is my first and she's only 7-months-old, so I'm not that experienced in the princess category yet, so for you moms out there with older girls, at what age did the princess bug bite your little princess?  For now, I'm happy with my little, not-so-graceful princess.

One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish!

     We all loaded up (and when I say all I mean me, Brad and Morgan in our car and Brad's parents, Lisa and Randy, Brad's brother, Matt, and Matt's daughter, Ashlyn in another car) Monday morning and headed to Atlanta for the day to see what kind of trouble we could get into.  Well, trouble found us.  We were already running a little behind because, let's face it, when you have a baby, something happens in the space-time continuum and you're not able to get anywhere on time ever again no matter how hard you try or how much time you allot yourself.  Let me preface this next sentence by stating that in spite of running a little behind, we were NOT speeding AT ALL!  In fact, we had actually slowed down to under 45 mph for an elderly couple in the car ahead of us.  With that disclaimer in mind, I'll continue... Brad was driving my jeep and we were literally about 1000 feet from our exit when a woman slammed into the driver's side of our car!  That's right, the whole side of my beautiful car, from the front side panel all the way to the back looks like it took batting practice from Albert Pujols and he was definitely swinging for the fences (for the women out there who aren't married to a sports stat book, Pujols plays for the St. Louis Cardinals and is an amazing baseball player).  The positive side is that nobody was injured, praise God.

     Taking it all in stride, we arrived at the hotel to meet everyone about a half hour late, but in one piece.  After calming our nerves and a dirty diaper change (Hey!  Scary car wrecks would make anybody have a dirty diaper!), we all headed off to The Varsity to be yelled at by the cashiers and to enjoy some yummy hotdogs.

     As soon as we stepped into The Varsity, we heard, "What'll ya have, what'll ya have, what'll ya have, what'll ya have?!"  For those of you not familiar with The Varsity, it's been around since 1928 and has a great history.  This history, however, was completely lost on 2 little girls.

     After lunch, we all headed to the Georgia Aquarium to see the fishies!  Morgan LOVED them!  Here she is looking at one of the larger tanks (picture at right).  She was so amazed!  She LOVES fish!  Her doctor's office has a big saltwater tank in the waiting room and she has so much fun watching the fish swim around.  Towards the end of our aquarium visit, we found a smaller tank with Morgan-size fish in it and she lost it!  She spread her hands and arms over the top of it (the top was glass, too, so that you could look down on top of the fish as well) and squealed with delight non-stop at the fish!  I guess this means we're going to have to get her a little aquarium of her own for Christmas!  Hopefully, she won't try and eat the fish out of it like she does with everything else these days. That's all I need is to have to rush her to the hospital and tell them she ate tropical fish!  "And the Mother-of-the-Year Award goes to..."  Maybe we'll put the tank up somewhere high... on the kitchen counter... with a gate around it... and a motion detector... and a moat... or maybe we'll just wait until Christmas 2011... or 12... 13?

     The girls were angels the whole time, even though they were totally exhausted by the time we left.  Here's Morgan all tuckered out on her daddy.  A quick nap in the car, some down time back at the hotel and they were recharged and ready to go again!  The guys headed off to see the Braves play the Dodgers and the girls headed to a nearby mall for a little shopping and dinner at Johnny Rocket's.  Morgan got to be a big girl and sit in a highchair for the first time!  She's growing up so fast!  I can't believe she'll be 7-months-old on Friday!  Wow, how time flies!  We all had fun being "the loud table" and banging our hands on the table to Wipeout (before anybody rolls their eyes and sends a general cursing our way for all of the tables like that you've ever had to sit near, we were the only ones in the restaurant).  Even Morgan chimed in and banged on the table, too!  Here's a picture of the girls at Johnny Rocket's (Morgan's in the highchair!)... best buddies!  We had a great time just being girls.  Ashlyn said "I LOVE girl parties!"

    Later that night, the guys got back to the hotel with huge smiles on their faces.  They thought they were going to have to suffer the dreaded family curse again of the Braves always losing when we go see them, but they actually got to see an exciting ending at the game when the Braves came back to win 4-3 with 3 runs in the bottom of the 9th inning!  What started out as such a crappy day ended up pretty good after all!  The trip was a success, Morgan loved seeing the fish, just like I thought she would, and we all made it home safely.  Now, I get to take my car to the body shop tomorrow and start on a new adventure in life!

This is Why I've Been a Holy Terror Lately!

     Morgan is normally the sweetest, happiest, most carefree baby, but for the last several days, someone has apparently stolen my sweet little girl and replaced her with this little munchkin-monster that looks exactly like her.  She has been moodier than an 8-month pregnant woman who's run out of chocolate!  She would be happily playing, then all of a sudden would start fussing and yelling over nothing!  Changing her diapers and clothes lately has made me seriously consider going into professional calf-roping.  Today, we found out the reason...

     I was playing with Morgan in the floor during one of her happy phases and she was laughing hysterically when I noticed a small, white spec on her lower gum.  I rubbed my finger over it and sure enough, a little tooth had started to emerge!  It all made sense now!  This little munchkin-monster was actually my sweet, little girl with some seriously sore gums!  I tried to get a picture to post on here, but of course, the mood pendulum had swung again and the fussy phase had settled into place for its next shift.  This meant no picture and definitely no showing Daddy.  Getting her to open her mouth again anytime today was not going to happen.  You'd think we were trying to pluck her eyes out or something the way she was squirming and fussing!  We waved the white flag after about 30 seconds and shortly after this lovely display of temper, we put the little diva to bed.  I'll try again tomorrow to get a good picture to post.

     I'm relieved to know the cause of her moodiness, but my new worry is just how long this phase is going to last!  Is it just a couple of weeks as the first few teeth emerge or is this an ongoing thing for months until all teeth have made their presence known?  {{{Shudder}}}  Lord, give me strength....