...and now for the flip side of things, which is really SOP around here. Houdini has eaten a small jar of fruit and has drunk only a couple of ounces of formula in the last 15 hours. After all this time, it doesn't shatter my insides into a million pieces when he goes through an especially bad bout (oh, who the hell am I kidding, it fucking does that every time, I've just learned to anticipate it), but the weariness of dealing with it, especially when we have a few days of almost normalcy around here, grows exponentially each time.
I keep telling myself it that it's really the teething that is aggravating the existing problem and not anything new and look, over there, there's a note you wrote just last week about how well he was doing for a day.
Do you know how pathetic it is to attempt to distract yourself from your own misery?
I told my mom yesterday I would cut off both my arms if I knew it would make him eat like a normal kid. I meant it literally; if I could take his pain, his struggle and absorb it a million fold into my own body I'd do it in a second. At least then I'd feel like I am actually doing something for him.
