On Friday of last week, he had his six month check up. He's doing great, gaining weight, hitting all the milestones. He continues to flirt with every nurse he meets (George Clooney, watch out!), and they continue to love it. His pediatrician checked his mouth and said only this: "Nope, no teeth!" He got shots and cried a little, but really, didn't put up any kind of fuss (in the past, they've let me hang out in the room so I could feed him immediately afterwards, but the nurse needed the room. I was a little apprehensive about leaving without feeding him, but he was fine. Patrick's work is closer to the doctor's office than home, and he works alone on Fridays, so we went there for awhile).
Saturday, we went to a beautiful wedding in Beverly Hills. My sister babysat JP, and said he was "perfect." Well, of course he was. This was an exciting moment for us - in six months, though we've gone to work and left him at daycare, we've never gone anywhere together without him. It was a fun day, but sooo hot, and you should know, being hot makes me very, very crabby. Still, the day was gorgeous, my friends were gorgeous, and the food was delicious. I pumped twice in the car, and it was no big deal.
Sunday, we visited with family in Chatsworth, and if I thought Beverly Hills was hot, well, Chatsworth was insane. But, the baby seemed fine. I slathered him with sunscreen and fed him in the car with the air conditioner on, and he got to meet my cousin's daughter's baby boy, who is a couple of months older, my aunts Josie and Esther, my uncle Jesse, and my cousins Sandra, Rachel, Sylvia, and Rudy. It was a long day, with a lot of driving, but he slept in the car during the drive and seemed fine.
On Monday, when I came home from work, Patrick was letting him play in the Pack & Play, and he seemed happy. When I picked him up, that kid was on fire. We took his temperature, and it was 101.something. I got very concerned, stripped him down to his diaper and fed him right away.
That helped matters a little but that fever, while within the "don't panic, mom" range (but just barely) freaked me out a little. I stayed up with him all night, but he was in a great mood, so it was no hardship (playing with my hot little baby or just holding him? Seriously, that's pretty much fine with me, except for the "hot" part). He slept great, and seemed okay, but since he was still hot at 4 a.m. when I got up to feed him, I decided to stay home with him and Patrick in the morning on Tuesday.
I stayed home until about 9 a.m., and at that time, his fever was down to about 99.something. I felt okay with going to work, so I left the two of them at home. At around 2 p.m., Patrick sent me a text that his temperature was normal, and the two of them were hanging out in the backyard, looking at the birds (we have a hawk! I'm calling her "Isabeau," of course).
Is this the face of a kid with a fever? I ask you.
I was glad he kicked that fever, which we were still thinking was related to him having a cold (we all have colds. Patrick is over his, mostly, but I am still, of course, coughing and blowing my nose all over the place), but I wasn't comfortable sending him so soon to daycare on Wednesday, so I stayed home with him.
The morning was nice - after Patrick went to work, we went back to sleep for about 3 hours. Have I mentioned that we've been co-sleeping with him? I love it. I love cuddling him, and the way his little hand always seems to find my collarbone or chin while he sleeps. When we have the bed to ourselves (sorry, Patrick!) we spread out a little but usually are touching somehow (sometimes his feet are on my chest!). It's really, really sweet. However, the rest of Wednesday, he was kind of miserable. He would fall asleep on my chest, but wake up crying. This kid doesn't cry like that, so it was really disturbing. I knew something was wrong but his temperature was fine, he seemed physically okay (we started solids a while ago, and this week we've been trying sweet potatoes. He likes it a lot; he's having no symptoms of an allergic reaction). I just made me sad. And tired. I fed him as much as he wanted, which was quite a lot, surprisingly, and tried to get him to sleep. He had playtime on the floor in the living room, where we worked a little on sitting up and playing with his big bucket of beads (he loves those big plastic beads! But even more, he loves the lid to the container!) and a red plastic cup Patrick gave him.
When Patrick came home, he seemed to be doing a little better, and this is when we figured out what's been going on: he's not sick, he's making teeth. And those teeth want OUT. I gave him a bath, cuddled him, and read him a story, and by 7:45 he was asleep. I, however, couldn't sleep. I got him bed with him and just tossed and turned. I felt bad that it took me so long to put two and two together. At 11 he was awake, crying again, so I did what I could do (feed him) and he went back to sleep. He seems to be back on an "every two hours" feeding schedule, but if that's what I can do to make him feel better, I'll do it.
When I left this morning, he and Patrick were snoozing away, not quite like he and I snooze away, but still, cozy. Patrick stayed home with him today, and last night got his "Sophie" giraffe, a teething ring that can go in the refrigerator, and one of those mesh feeding bags (filled frozen bananas) ready. We just didn't want to send him to daycare. I know, I know, I'm sure they know very well how to deal with a teething six-month old, and next time maybe we'll be more blase about it, but I'm telling you, since it took us so long to get a clue, I think we both feel guilty. He'll have fun with his papa today, and tomorrow with me. On Saturday we're getting up really early for a six hour drive to Santa Cruz for a family reunion, and I hope that goes okay. He'll get to meet my mother's family this time, and I hope they get to see how cheery and happy he really is.
My prediction? He'll have teeth by the time we get back on Sunday.