Top Teeth; or, Sleep's Enemy

Since Trevor is leaving for Las Vegas on Monday for the International Builders Show, and since he'll be gone the entire week, we resolved to "help" Marta sleep through the night before he leaves. That way, even though we'll be missing him and I'll be flying solo all day and night, at least we'll all be sleeping well. 

We had our plan in place; the same plan we used to get Berit to sleep through the night. When Marta woke, Trevor would go up with a cup of milk (I can't stand thinking that she might be genuinely thirsty, hungry or maybe hot or cold, and we're not responding to her) and sing to her and rock her back to sleep. We were bolstered by this past Sunday and Monday nights, when Marta woke and Trevor went to her after my efforts failed to get her back to sleep, and he sang her to dreamland with ease. 

We hadn't bargained on her top two teeth coming down. And here they come, bursting through her precious baby gums, making her crazy 99 percent of the time, like a little match that needs only the tiniest bit of rubbing and it bursts into flames. I just have to tell her "no" during the daytime, or try to get her to sit down to eat, or change her diaper and she's screaming and twisting and throwing a temper tantrum. 

Apply this to nighttime, when everyone is sleepy, and the results are not what we'd hoped. I spent another sleepless night last night going up and down, up and down the stairs to an out-of-control screaming baby, who'd already had the maximum amount of Tylenol allowable. We tried to have Trevor go to her, but she was just a mess. 

So unless her teeth come all the way in today and stop bothering her, it looks like next week is going to be a little frustrating.