Shark week

Apparently my daughter is really a shark. That is the only explanation for the amount of pain her newest tooth is causing her.

The bump is huge. We're talking the size of a golf ball. Which, I know! In her little mouth! It's a freak of nature. Or maybe just a slight exaggeration.

But this bump, which I am pretty sure is not going to break through anytime this millennium, is causing all sorts of trouble in our house. She's cranky and drooly and whiny and clingy. She's also waking up at 3:15. That's 3:15 a.m. As in, the middle of the damn night.

I jumped out of bed and sprinted to her room to find her standing in the crib, peeking over the rail and sobbing. I went in armed with Tylenol and dim lighting, but she was having none of it. She suckered me into rocking her and she snuggled right into my chest, sticking her fingers in her mouth and breathing deeply.

As I lowered her into the crib a few minutes later, she figured out what I had planned. The horror of going back in the crib! Nooooooooo!

So I thought maybe I would just bring her into bed with us -- brilliant! I would get some sleep and she would drift off with a smile on her face. Except not. Because my husband started snoring, which caused her to try to investigate where the sounds where coming from. Then once she stopped trying to figure out where that god-awful noise was coming from, she just laid there staring at the ceiling.

Since she had been dosed with the sweet, sweet Tylenol and was not screaming bloody murder, I figured she could go back to her own bed. She disagreed with my observations. Vehemently. For the next 10 minutes.

But then it was quiet. And everyone was fast asleep once again. Except Mommy. Of course I couldn't fall back asleep after the hour-long shenanigans that just went on. So I tossed and turned for a while and finally fell back asleep.

Just in time to hear the piercing screech of, "Mommy! Mommy! I awake! Mommy I awake!"

Awesome.