Teething must really suck. Dull pointed objects slowly pushing their way through your tender gum flesh does not seem pleasant. And Noah isn’t particularly enjoying it. He’s a bit whiny and short tempered as a result. I don’t blame him a bit. I’m hoping that the outright rejection of the bottle and cup are related to his gum pain – and therefore will pass.
As you may or may not know, Master Noah has been on Zantac for acid reflux since shortly after his birth. Prior to his diagnosis we thought we had a miserable baby who was always unhappy, but it turns out that his stomach and esophagus were constantly irritated. I am all too familiar with that feeling because I have had stomach problems since college and have my own prescription for Zantac. However the doctors said that Noah should outgrow his reflux as his esophageal muscles become fully developed. For awhile there we had to steadily increase his dosage as his symptoms would resurface and his weight increased but in the last couple of months we haven’t seen the symptoms. This is a sign that he might be outgrowing the reflux. He was getting Zantac once when he woke up in the morning, once in the afternoon, and once when Mark and I went to bed. To test the waters we eliminated the afternoon dosage last week and so far so good. He isn’t a horrible caterwauling mess. Soon we will see how he reacts to eliminating the morning dosage, and the night dosage will be the last to go. I’m anxious for him to be off the prescription because it doesn’t feel right to have an infant on constant meds. Though there appear to be no side effects – one never knows.
I went out for drinks with friends last night. It was the third time since Noah was born. I snuck out after he went to bed and was back in time for his 11 pm feeding so he never even missed me. I had a few beers – oh how I have missed the Belgian whites – chatted with birthdaying, newly engaged, and always charming folks and played Quizzo. I was a good girl and didn’t smoke. It’s been over a year since I quit and I still worry about going to a bar and not being able to resist the temptation to have a cigarette. I just have to remember that I don’t want Noah to have a smoker for a mom. I don't want to set a bad example and I don't want him to lose his mother to lung cancer.
Many kudos are deserved by Papa Mark. Not only did he encourage me to go out last night, but on Saturday while Jessica and I made ninety trips to the dressing rooms and argued about shoe styles – Mark just patiently bjorned about (I’m making this a verb) entertaining Noah. He didn’t utter a peep about what a long day it was or how long we were taking. Both of my boys were true gentlemen.
I better go straighten up. We might have visitors tomorrow – and I want to be able to find them in the mess.
Are you mother material?