The One Where My Son is Bipolar

Let me get a few things out of the way just in case someone stumbles on this post and feels the urge to write a nasty comment.  The title is a joke (I think).  I don’t honestly believe my kid is bipolar (mostly) and I will not be giving him baby prozac anytime soon (or will I?).  Now that we’re done with that lets move on.

Nathan is clearly working on tooth #6 as evidenced by drool, refusal to eat lunch or drink bottles, general crankiness, and the desire to punch me in the eye.  The eye punching happened this morning.  He was brandishing his sippy cup angrily and punched me in the eye with his other hand.  I was none too pleased.  Today was kind of a weird day though because he woke up cranky but when I picked him up from daycare he was flying high and super happy.  I kept checking his bottles for signs of whiskey but found none.  I was hoping if he was drunk he would at least share.  The good mood party continued when we got home too.  The really interesting part about all of this is that the tooth in question has not cut through yet.  It might be another day or two but it’s still purple and icky looking right there.

The really cool thing about today though besides the great mood was a change in the way he interacts with us.  He’s been jabbering for months but today he started forming a ton of new sounds and inflecting his voice when he’s babbling as if he’s asking questions or making statements.  It’s really interesting to watch someone learn how language works and how to communicate.  Every time he expands his skill set like this it kind of blows my mind.  I’ve never been particularly anxious about baby milestones but talking is one I’m excited about.  I want to hear his voice.  Yes I know I’ll be telling him to shut up for the next 18 years but I still want to hear what he sounds like.

In addition to the good mood and new jabbering Mr. Chunky has also figured out how doors work.  Watching us turn door knobs has finally clicked in his baby brain.  The only barrier to him allowing himself into every room in our house is the fact that he is….how do I say this gently….vertically challenged.  He’s not a particularly long baby so he still can’t actually reach the door knobs.  When he’s tall enough we are fucked.  Fucked I say.  There will be a baby rifling through every closet in my house.  NOTHING WILL BE SAFE.

I hope this new, happier, Nathan will continue to grace my household tomorrow.  I’m almost certain that he will be back on the cranky part of the roller coaster though.  If shit gets this real when he’s just getting teensy little incisors what the hell is going to go down when he gets his molars?  I need to invest in a flask (for each of us) and some quality whiskey before that happens.  If we are going to get through molars we might all need to be a little drunk.


About Elaine

Mom, engineer, writer, gamer, gym rat. Ain't nobody got time for excuses.
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