Sometimes I have words running through my head all day. Wonderful words. Beautiful descriptions. Perfect examples. Poetry. Song. Venting. Anger...

..but then I sit down to write and draw blanks.

Even if I were to carry a recorder or something, by the time I were to pull it out and press "record"... **POOF**

Blank.

Story of my life.

I tried to be a good friend today, but instead I served no purpose and had to go home early on account my son has become a monster and no longer is small enough to use our portable crib.

He climbed right out of it, with ease.

Now I am bound to the 2:oo nap time, in the house, in the dark, in the crib.

Joyful.

He didn't get more than a 10 minute nap today so by 5:00 he was an absolute mess. He was smacking his face, ripping at his clothes arching his back, and screaming constantly.

I had no power. I tried everything. Medicine on his gums. Every toy. Outside. Dogs. TV. Movies. Car. Food. Drink. Holding him. Rocking him. Walking around with him.

Nothing.

Nathan wakes up and I decide enough is enough and sit down on the big chair with Trevor squirming on my lap and begin rocking. Nathan sits on the couch in a haze. Courage the Cowardly Dog yelps in the background.

Trevor starts screaming so I [what I can only assume is] instinctually shove my finger in his mouth and press on his teeth in the back. He immediately stops crying. Stops wriggling.

He looks up at me like, "DUH".

He pretty much gnawed on my finger for 5 minutes before I couldn't take the pain anymore. But he was so still, and quiet, and content.

Nathan brought me a seastar squirt toy for the bathtub and I shoved a leg in his mouth. He just went to town on it.

I thought he was "done" with that stage of teething. I guess I was wrong.

Oh children have such a way of making their parents feel incredibly worthless and hurt.
I bet it only gets better from here.