How could I forget about the terrible twos?

Last weekend Felix flipped a switch. And not in a good way.

First of all, we are convinced his molars are beginning to come through, and whilst we can't see any evidence of enamel rupturing through gum yet, that's the only reasonable explanation we have for his inconsolable tantrums.

That, and the famed "terrible twos." What we understand now, but didn't quite grasp last weekend, was that Felix is frustrated. He can't express himself. He can't assert his independence. He's always being told what to do. He's learning it's a tough little world out there. So he coped by, erm, banging his head against the floor; banging his head against my chest, banging his head against my jaw; banging his head against my head; repeat over for Daddy; ad infinitum.

It was terribly distressing but we've done all the positive parenting things like giving him choices, and letting him do things his way and on his own and all that. Thankfully we're all fine now and he's a happy smiley boy again.

Confessions of a bad mum

I've been in a dark place this weekend. Felix has been doing my head in. He's cutting molars - the painful ones - three of them simultaneously. It makes him very grumpy. And either it's coincidental, or somehow related, he's incredibly impatient with everything right now. So if he's playing with a toy and can't achieve what he wants to with it, he starts screaming. Currently he screams about once every 2 minutes. For a minute. That's a lot of screaming.

Normally you get to leave him to get on with stuff quite independently, and a scream means he's in trouble so you go and check on him. Now he screams all the time you have to check on him ALL THE TIME. And he's clingy. And wriggly. And has developed a habit of lurching his head back and trying to writhe out of your arms if you pick him up, even if he asked to be picked up. And he mostly does it on the stairs because he instinctively knows that's the worst place to drop a baby.

And that hasn't stopped all the relentless danger hunting either. He likes to think he can get down stairs facing forward, like a grown up. And this is before he can walk, or really balance properly on two feet. You have to be on hand to catch him, just in case he falls forward. And his latest new thing is reaching up to the kitchen worksurface with his fingertips to see what he can bring crashing down. Like plates. And knives, if he got the chance.

So, in summary - he's loud, demanding, attention seeking, quasi-suicidal and difficult to control from very early in the day to very late.

I've totally lost my patience this weekend. I've snapped at him and uttered the F word a fair few times. When he headbutted me on the chin on the stairs, making my head smash into the wall I shouted at him and cried. And I've ignored Jambeans. And snapped at the boyfried. And I've not given a fuck.

So last night, after two days of full on Felix we were beat. And then Jambeans woke screaming at 9.30 because she had a bad dream, and went mental. Total hysteria. Mainly in my ear. For two and a half hours. I understand why the Victorians locked hysterical ladies up now and threw awat the key. Anything to make them shut up. At more than one point I wondered if a good smack would be allowable in exceptional circumstances.

Boyfried wisely elected to sleep on the futon in Felix' room - not that he got any sleep either - and Jambeans whimpered her way through the whole night waking every hour or so to shriek and moan and scrumble.

Then Felix woke at 5.15am. Fuck me that's early when you've had no sleep. Bf and I had a barney over who should get up and look after him - both of us insisting the other should go to bed. I won. I fed Felix a chocolate biscuit for breakfast, whilst I had the last 4 with a very hot cup of tea. Then I zombied on the sofa and watched 2 episodes of Countdown before 7am.

I think I'm *supposed* to feel guilty. But I don't really feel guilty at all. I do feel guilty for being nasty to the bf, but I don't think I'm a bad mum at all. I may be more Slummy than Yummy but I still think I'm a pretty good mummy. And bf absolutely puts me to shame with his parenting prowess. But being in the dark place makes you reflective. And I've been reflecting that if this is the sum total of my life I don't particularly want it.

It's a common complaint of motherhood that you feel like a ghost of your past self. I've been feeling that very keenly this weekend. I'm a shadow of the person I used to be. The only time I feel even remotely close to that person I used to be is when I'm working. I had managed to find some freelance work - only 5 days of me being brilliant for crap pay - but work nevertheless. And that came to a close on Friday and I just crashed. It doesn't help.

Teef

There's a whole loada stuff going on in my head these days - mainly work stuff as interviews and "chats" (networking) are picking up. It's all good getting out there, but the lesson I learned from my last job is that "it" has really got to feel right, whatever "it" is. But all "it" is making me feel right now is totally hudgy budgy with a lot of antsy thrown in too.

And amidst it all, in my inside world, I'm having an enormous crisis of confidence about myself and feeling quite crap. I keep thinking of my peers and remarking how little I achieved compared to all of them. And I find it quite hard to bear, because when I was younger I thought I was quite clever, quite cleverer in fact than a lot of other people I knew, and good at stuff. But life has been a continual realisation that being clever and good at stuff just isn't the be all and end all of success. There's a lot more to do with the kind of person you really are. And the kind of person I am right now is, erm: boring, fat, boring. And also empty. As in I am an empty vessel. I just don't know who I am any more.

This is babymomma syndrome I'm sure. As in, I'm not actually doing anything for me right now. Not swimming - too busy finding a job, not reading - too tired to keep eyes open, not dieting - too lazy and demotivated, not "enter activity here" - too "enter lame ass excuse here" etcetera, etcetera. My days are busy, but I have no sense of purpose. What am I trying to achieve? Raise my kids well. How long does that take then? About, forever. What's in it for me? Erm, not much really. Oh. OK. That makes it sooo much easier. I would literally rather tread water every day...
Fellow Whittington babymomma Seema came over yesterday. I was saving her from her mother-in-law who has been staying here since February (ugh. can you imagine?) and she was saving me from cabin fever. Anyway, I was trying to explain to her how I felt and was being incredibly inarticulate. And she just opened her mouth and said "I know how you feel. When I was younger I never imagined this would be my life either." And without saying anything specific, the look in her eye, the tone of her voice, it really summed it all up.

We shared a moment.

Anyway, I this blogpost is called Teef, because it's not about me (not supposed to be anyway). It's about Felix. He has been screaming for 2 days non stop because he is teething - premolars - and is inconsolable.

Molar mole

Daddy just found a molar sprouting in Felix' gum. Would totally explain the clingy behaviour...

It's all gone a bit wibbly

First - the good news - I've been on my diet for 3 days now and all is going well. The target is 9 pounds in 9 weeks. Totally wrong of course - crash dieting, only leads to the yo-yo again but I'm going to La Gitane and Krusty's wedding part deux in 9 weeks and even though it won't make a radical difference, I want to look like a slightly less puff-monster than I do at the moment. All going well, I'll feel better, my complexion will improve dramatically and my newly found radiance will avert attention from the tyres of fat oozing out of my body. At least, that's the plan...

As for the rest, Felix has gone totally momma-bonkers. In a bad way. He just won't put me down. And cries and cries and cries unless we maintain very close, physical contact all the time. I totally love my boy, but it's getting ridiculous. I can't do anything without holding him. He's a big boy. My arm is killing me.

Worse of all, he won't sleep in his cot - so nap time and bedtime and night time wakings are fraught with anxiety as we spend hours trying to get him to settle, with little effect. Anything for a bit of peace, so I've been caving in and letting him fall asleep in my arms, or I lie down next to him.

As usual, we're resorting to the 'bit of everything' theory: bit of sore throat, decent dollop of teething and a whole heap o' separation anxiety.

Teeth and dancing

Felix has sprouted another couple of teeth and is up to 8 now.

I bought his first pair of shoes just before our hols (aaaaah) - a 4 and 1/2 F pair of Clarks and notably, the same size as Jambeans when she got her first shoes..

He says mamamamamamama loads - and I'm 80% sure it's out of recognition. He's also getting more 'vocal' thought conversation is largely through a series of lip smacks, clucks and most recently, blowing raspberries.

And he loves bouncing up and down to music.

It had to happen some day

Bf and I are having a really tough couple of weeks. We're just so wiped. Work is tough. Kids aren't quite 100% and various bugs that keep attacking are lingering and wearing everyone down.

Felix is onto 6 teeth now. They're coming at an alarming rate. His cold has been hanging around for over 2 weeks now. And he's waking up in the middle of the night consistently. He wouldn't settle this evening. Cried like a mad thing, and he's normally so easy. Had to go upstairs and check him after I put him down. Found him standing in the cot, peering through the bars, snot and tears pouring off his puffy little face. He was standing in the cot. And doubtless couldn't get down again. Felt that familiar twinge of a baby growing up. But he looked so helpless, and desperate. And totally adorable. Warning sign though. Next he'll be talking - then the demands will come. Just like his diva of a sister...

Jambeans' phases of sleep rebellion seem to be lasting longer and longer. After sounding so confident she wasn't going to get horribly ill, she went and got horribly ill again. Though to be fair, nowhere near as bad as we've seen her in the past, so reckon the drugs are still keeping various horrors at bay.

Last night, for the first time in about a week, we got her to sleep through in her own bed, rather than wake up and then moan for a mummycudd for the next hour till we give in. She's acting a bit weird these days (as in diva weird.) Bf says he can't wait for her to recover fully, then we can stop giving her the montelukast and get our normal, pliable, amenable daughter back. Somehow I'm not holding out much hope.

And yet more Kew

Work is just totally manic. And when I get home it's straight into picking up the kids. My evenings are mainly taken up with work, and since none of us have been sleeping too brilliantly these last few weeks, we're all completely shattered and there's simply no time to write. Not a total disaster since there's not too much to write about: I'm too busy running just to stand still and the world at large is totally fucked (economy's trashed, we're in recession, doom & gloom yadda yadda)

BUT... in the short 6 days since Felix first crawled 2 inches, he's now making his way across thresholds, into other rooms, over to boxes and buckets and tables and everywhere. It's amazing. He's totally amazing. And teeth number 3 and 4 are beginning to poke through. And he's getting more and more handsome each day.

Jambeans is currently in 7th Heaven this weekend as Granma is up and she's the best thing since sliced bread.

And as for me, I love Autumn, and there's nothing more invigorating than Kew on a fresh, windy Autumn day.

Heads are down, new teeth are coming and we're all coming down with something

To make up for 4 consecutive months of teething without teeth, Felix at last has not one, but two pearly whites beginning to poke through.

I had made the decision to stop checking for teeth because of the 'watched pot' effect, but regretted it the minute I had to hear the news second-hand, from the staff at nursery. That felt totally wrong, but I'll deal with it. I'm sure as hell not going to give up work...

...which I'm still enjoying most muchly, but, alas, the honeymoon period is definitely over. It's busy. Damn busy. I've had my head down solidly since Thursday and on Friday I didn't leave till well after 4pm*. So instead of pitstopping at home, I had to go straight to nursery in full work regalia (smart togs, Coccinelle handbag, inappropriately high heels) where Felix promptly did a major vomit all over me. Niiiice. Thanks baby.

And then he did another major vom in the buggy just as we got to our front doorstep. And sice then he's been farting offensively and doing horrible poos and moaning and waking in the middle of the night, so we're figuring he's caught some kind of bug, and then oh my god, last night did he do one seriously large projectile vomit all over our bathroom? There wasn't a single surface that hadn't been sprayed in the stuff and for once, I am not exaggerating.

Whatever bug he's got has now made it's way over to Jasmine which is always more of a worry, in case it goes straight to her chest. And now I'm back at work that familiar stress of having to negotiate who takes the day off is lurking...

It doesn't feel so bad this time though, because we're setting great store in this new medication she's just been prescribed. Suspecting asthma, bf took her to see a specialist at Great Ormond Street, who's put her on something called Singulair. Comes in powder form, you mix it with ice cream, so no inhalers, no spacers and no pinning a reluctant and fighting toddler down to take it. We're to give it to her for the duration of her cold and it should, fingers crossed, help steady her breathing.


*i realise this makes me look like I am, in fact, slouching off rudely early, but being a working babymomma I'm only contracted to work till 3pm.

Our holiday, in brief

So, our 3-week holiday, aargghh. Where to start? So much to cover. So many memories to capture. The short version is that we all had a great time. Spent a night at Nani's, then to Granma's for a week, then to Granpa's for a couple of days, then bf went back to work for a week (boo hoo) and I stayed at Granma's with the kiddisplinks and Nani came down to visit for a couple of days, then bf came back for a week (hurrah) during which we disappeared to Fowey Hall for 3 nights sans grandparents of any description (double hurrah) then we went back to Granma's for a night, back to Nani's for a night and then, breathe, home. Oh, and in between we also managed to do much catching up with Uncle Angus, Auntie Tina and Cousin Abagael as well as Auntie Leon, Uncle Mary and oooh their gorgeous new baby Kate.

I feel that Jasmine stopped being a toddler this holiday, and has really turned into a little girl. Her speech is coming along at a rate - it's now moving into full sentences, with plurals, personal pronouns, possessives and tenses - and she sounds so grown up when she says things like 'I'm feeling ok;' 'Look Daddy, I'm driving!' or, yesterday's new one, 'I don't like it' (gulp). On holiday she also rode a bike for the first time, did the washing up, went to the circus, danced at a birthday party, practically lived in her Wendy House and graduated to a proper bed. She is embracing this new stage of maturity and independence with a lot of giggly excitement and bossy charm.

Felix, quite simply, hit the handsome button this holiday. He is just getting more and more gorgeous each day. Oh yes, he also hit the loud button. One day he realised he could squeal much louder that all the pigs in Pigdom. And so he did, throwing me totally off track as now there are a whole load of new noises to mean, hungry, bored, tired, need a new nappy etc. etc. He has also started mooncrawling (trying to crawl only going backwards), sitting quite beautifully, grabbing for toys and shoving anything in his mouth with a vigour I had quite forgotten about.

Felix does Shakespeare

Felix is not a well bunny. His snuffles are getting worse, and in the mornings he is phlegmy and has a blocked nose. I think also teething is hurting quite a lot. The last couple of days he has been fine one minute, then has been crying his poor wee heart out the next and is all red and puffy-eyed and looks totally miserable. He was up twice last night, which is unusual, and would only settle with mucho cuddles. And when he's Ok he's basically chewing chewing frantically chewing anything. Often his fingers but mainly my shoulder, my cheek, my fingers, my arm, my trouser leg, even my chin and often (wince now) my nipple. I imagine him whispering under his breath "The pound of flesh I demand of her is dearly bought, 'tis mine, and I will have it"

Weaning diary notes #1

Felix had a wee burst of booby milk this morning at 7.30am; then a decent burst at 8.30am; then a wee top up at 10am, just before his snooze. So it gets to 11.30am and I figure it's 3 hours since his last decent meal, a good gap, but he's had that wee top up in between so he shouldn't be frantically hungry. Into the Bumbo he goes, bibs are attached, food and drink are at the ready.

First up is the cup. I try for about 5 minutes but nothing doing. I switch to cauliflower and broccoli puree and spend 10 minutes trying to get him to eat. He's happy but clearly not interested so I do the sensible thing and stop trying to feed him at all. Maybe his 'top up' was actually enough to keep him going for much longer.

It's now 1.20pm - over 3 hours since he ate or drank anything - and he's in the Bumbo, again, refusing to drink from the cup entirely, again. I try to make him smile hoping to get some milk into him while his mouth his open, but that doesn't arouse his interest either. I end up splashing oodles of the stuff everywhere. Everywhere, that is, except into his mouth. Sigh.

Decide to be patient. Switch to puree. Maybe 5-6 tiny spoonfuls go in, but it takes 15 minutes. At this point he starts to whine and cry, and I know it's a hungry cry. Grim determination sets in. He is going to finish his veggies at any rate I tell myself. I know he can do that - he's eaten quite greedily before, he can do it now. So there I go, ladling tiny quantities into him every time he opens his mouth to cry. So he cries harder, and I ladle more in. I see it gather in his mouth and wonder if he's going to gag and vomit it all out, but he does eat it. He just doesn't eat it willingly. By now he's eaten maybe half his veggies. There were only 2 tablespoonfuls to begin with, i.e. a pethetic amount. But I am feeling OK and determined and not affected by his crying and imploring looks to stop torturing him. Only then, his crying changes tone and becomes insistent, pleading, and pained, and he starts trying to jerk out of his seat so I can't direct the food into his mouth properly. And I time it, to see how long I can withstand this. And it's only 3 minutes before I give in.

I breastfeed him on the sofa and tell myself "You are so weak" and then the Good Cop voice goes "but he's not well, and is teething, and was up twice last night screaming his lungs out in pain, and he's just a baaaaby..."

Covered in slobber and other stuff

Just when you think the teething can't get any worse Felix steps it up a gear. He is still using me as a giant teether so I am covered in slobber from my fingers, up my arms, all over my neck and up to my cheeks. I am already sweaty from our long walk, and add to that all the snot and sneezes plus the usual detritus from feeding them both and I'm basically totally disgusting.

Still no sign of an actual tooth though.

Abort! Abort!

My hair has been falling out in clumps recently, doubtless due to some hormonal change (please please please don't let it be a sign that my period is due to start again soon - that would be tooooo depressing) but I thought it a good excuse to tidy myself up a bit and indulge in some Looking After Number One, so on a whim this morning I booked myself in for a wash, cut and blow dry at a local salon.

Unfortunately, no one explained the rules of etiquette to Felix and he started bawling shortly after I arrived... and didn't stop.

So despite the attempts of the Lovely Salon Girls to walk, cuddle, amuse and generally distract him I had to abort the mission, leave the salon with half a haircut and abandon Looking After Number One entirely.

But thanks to one of the Lovely Salon Girls I did finally work out what the problem is - teething. Ok, so I know that teething is mainly a convenient catch-all explanation for all kinds of scrumbly behaviour but since the only thing that calmed Felix was letting him gnaw furiously at my knuckle I am now confident that this actually is down to teething proper, and probably nothing to do with poo at all.

I'm amazed I didn't think of it before.

Teething is upon us

Felix has definitely started teething - which will rapidly become the catch all explanation for every scrumble fit he has from now for the next 12 or so months. He's been doing about 2-3 teething poos a day - smelly, gooey, lumpy and mustardy - he wakes often at night and is impossible to settle in the evening, crying till about half eight or nine at night. Bf and I have been taking turns to work through the various remedies to the crying: Bonjela, which lasts for about 10 minutes but can only be administered every 3 hours; cuddling (=armache); feeding - often doesn't work because he's either not hungry, or is hungry but is in pain and can't eat comfortably; burping and ultimately Calpol, by which time he's exhausted, we're exhausted and ready to let him cry himself to sleep.

Babymomma shows a distinct lack of grit

It had to happen some time, Felix was up 5 times last night. Either he's hungry and getting ready for solids, or teething which is making him eat little and often, but the end result is the same - one very tired and frazzled babymomma.

To add insult to injury it was his 4 month jabs today, so he had to have 3 injections and my god did he cry and wobble his little lip like mad - which I found tres upsetting despite all my efforts to stay level-headed about it all. Felix was crying so much, and I felt so sorry for him that tears started leaking out of the sides of my eyes. At least it was graceful, ladylike crying, rather than the full-on, red-cheeked, snotty-nosed, puffy-eyed, ugly-faced blubbing variety, but it was crying in public nevertheless, i.e. a Sign of Weakness, and it was only half ten in the morning.

Still, fingers crossed I make it through the day.

neglecting jambeans

jambeans, poor little thing, has been a bit neglected on the blog front. bit of an outrage since it's really her blog. so here's the rumpus:

exciting news is SHE'S WALKING. She can do an entire width of the living room quite confidently. Such an amazing milestone I can't believe I haven't rushed to the keyboard before now to mention it.

and she's trying to climb up/in/out of things.
and she's doing red indian impressions.
all seriously cool stuff.

not so exciting news is she got another virus hot on the heels of the last one. no bad chest this time - relief - but 2 full days and nights of 40 degree fever with calpol/ ibuprofen rejection coming towards the end of day2 and all on a weekend when the bf is on call. now i have caught whatever lurgi she had and doubtless bf will succumb before too long. it's been demanding to say the least (= babymomma is hanging by a thread).

in usual baby-bounce-back fashion she's been on good form today. we haven't, but as if we hadn't all suffered enough, pre-molar teething has also kicked in which is really painful. so her good mood and, most importantly, her sleep have been interspersed with serious bouts of shrieking and the inevitable meds rejection.

other thing is she's terribly clingy at the moment. she's deep into separation anxiety territory. which isn't so bad apart from the fact that it's exclusively mummy she wants. quite touching at first, in that 'mummy is best' kinda way. but that sentiment very quickly evolves into weariness at having, literally, to shoulder the baby burden. 'clingy' has reached levels of ridiculousness i wouldn't have thought imaginable, like having to take over from daddy doing the bath yesterday, because it was no good having mummy sit just outside the bath, a mere 15 cm away. No, it had to be mummy IN the bath so the bub can get as close as possible. but it's times like that you remember there's no reasoning with a littlun.

we keep telling ourselves we're going to be firm and ride out the toddler tantrums when she doesn't get her cuddle NOW. but then she screams so loud and her face goes bright red and she looks imploringly into my eyes, arms outstretched, with snot and tears pouring down her cheeks and into her mouth and i just succumb and think: 'next time. next time i will be an evil-gina-ford-type cow of a mum. right now i will reassure my little girl.'

bad beginning to a bad evening

i'm so desperately tired. said it before. will say it again.

also feel like i'm barely keeping things together. don't remember feeling this knackered first time around, but maybe it's because having a lie in or taking it easy were options then.

had a shocking day yesterday. felt very tearful and depressed. work was extremely stressful - a lethal combination of exhaustion from my sleepless night and non-stop pressure trying to clear the decks before my working week was out. found myself feeling both extremely angry and unable to cope when anything held me up for so much as a few seconds. the tears started leaking out at one point. managed to stuff them back in, but only just. thankfully no one was around to see.

had a slight reprieve - bf called to say he would pick jambeans up. so i got to sweat it out at work for an extra hour. but the dizziness and nausea caused by sleepless night hit the minute i stopped, and hit baaaad. journey home was a nightmare.

got home. jambeans started screaming blue murder moment she saw me. purple face, constant tears, high decibel type shrieking. something obviously very wrong but god knows if we could work it out. she was inconsolable. finally, i settled on teething as the cause. kept looking to boyfried for back up because i wasn't 100% sure. he was adamant it wasn't pain for loads of good, logical reasons i can't remember. i got frustrated cos my gut was saying 'teething' over and over. but was most pissed off with myself for not trusting my gut. was hanging on by a thread at this stage. succumbed to deep, inner rage.

boyfried had been dealing with screaming babies all day and was also super stressed out. moreso than me. acopeia hit him first so mid shriek he said he couldn't deal with it anymore, put jambeans on the floor and walked away. never seen him do anything like that before. never seen him so much as a break a sweat before. freaked me out. no, later, it freaked me out. at that point - just felt resentful that he got a time out.

didn't go for long. returned to administer calpol. within minutes the bub was bubbling again. all smiles.

just felt completely drained.

Hail in July, back to the Whit

weather's gone bonkers. heavy rain. thunderstorms. lightning. we had a hailstorm earlier on. already been soaked 3 times in 2 days.

lots of floods up north. people's houses entirely ruined by water damage. no doubt they'd be none too impressed with my soft southern moaning at a bit of rain.

jambeans went back to the Whit yesterday for another developmental check up. everything went fine apart from my usual inner RAAAAAAAAGE at there only being 5 metered parking spaces within a 100mile radius of a busy london hospital, which meant i had to drive around in circles for 20 minutes, and finally found somewhere to park, but it was miles away, on another planet i think, then got a thorough soaking as i ran across galaxies, with the pram, in the rain, to get to the hospital on time. and then more RAAAAAAAAGE at remembering how crap hospitals are, and full of scummy chavvy people with no manners who push into the lift and can't wait for anyone else to get in too, even if the other people were in front of them, or have a pram - that seems to mean extra shoving. and extra special RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGE reserved for all who work in hospitals, especially the admin staff who, even though they sit at that desk all afternoon, can't tell me whether the clinic is running late, or how many people are ahead of me, or how long i might have to wait, even if you ask really nicely because you are on a meter and have a hungry baby who wants feeding so you genuinely do need to know.

the appointment was for 3.20pm. we got seen at 4.30pm. not too bad by their standards.

(had a huge grumpy 'ole woman rant about it in the pm but then boyfie told me that all the hospitals in london cut admin staff first when they're trying to save money, so they are some of the lowest paid and most demotivated people you can find. feeling a wee bit guilty...)

Tooth number 7 definitely poking through

Signs of Personality

The bub has been on tremendous good form recently. Her personality is really coming through. Previously people have said 'she's got such personality', but I always dismissed that as meaningless commentary. I mean, she was a baby and did the baby stuff that all babies do. That's no sign of individuality.

But now I get it, and maybe now is the time Jambeans is capable of showing that she's developing into a little person in her own right, or maybe now I'm seeing for the first time what others could see.

So, she's a cheeky, fun-loving, demanding diva-like, playful but oh-so spilgy type toddler. And that's a very distinct personality from other toddlers her age like Ben, who is loving and chilled, or Zayne, who is full'o'beans and relentlessly curious.

And hopefully our little personality has tooth number 7 poking through, otherwise it would be a bit embarrasing 'cos we've been chalking up any odd behaviour to teething for what seems like months now. As an explanation it's beginning to look a bit flimsy, like we don't really know what we're doing. Which obviously isn't true at all.