The Evolution of Teeth

Well...it's finally happened. Young Jacob Martin Campbell has successfully cut his first tooth. I wish I had a picture of the tooth to show you...but the kid won't let me pry his mouth open to take a picture of it (so I found the next best picture). But trust me -- the tooth is there. Just ask his mother!

While seeing baby's first tooth is a monumental occasion that folks love to talk about, people often forget the misery associated with it. Now I'm no doctor...but it just doesn't make a lick of sense to me as to why a kid would run a fever, get a snotty nose, create miraculous bowel artistry, and become downright unpleasant during this process. (If either of you can help explain this I'd love to hear it!)

Anyhow, Robin and I have been attempting to split night time duty caring for this uncomfortable little character during his time of need. However it always seems that he's WIDE awake during my watch. Take, for example, last night's extravaganza (actually, it would be more accurate to say "this morning's extravaganza").

I hear the dulcet tones of daddy's little boy emitting from his bed at 3:30 this morning. I picked him up and could instantly tell this would be a long process. He was burning up and couldn't breathe at all. So I administered some of Wal-Mart's finest fever reducer, attacked him with that nose syringe thing (sorry - don't know the technical term for it), plopped down with him on the couch, and searched the channels for our favorite early morning infomercial.

One hour later I'm still watching speed boat racing on ESPN2...and Jacob is wiggly, fussy, and loud. So I grabbed a hat, put on a t-shirt and my shoes (already had on shorts), grabbed the handy-dandy umbrella stroller, and set out on a neighborhood stroll feeling confident that Jacob would be asleep shortly.

Uh....no.

Off we went. Strangely enough, there are a few people out at 4:30 in the morning. Donut shop owners, newspaper delivery guys (the dude almost hit me!), convenience store workers, and old folks walking their dogs. Well, I saw 'em all this morning. And I'm sure they were all thinking the same thing: "Why's that dude walking his child so early in the morning?" I wish they would stop and ask me that question personally...at which point I would have made an appointment with them to drop the Teething Wonder off at their house the following evening so they can witness, firsthand, the oft-discussed joys of parenting.

So we trudged on...and on...and on. On the first couple of days of Jacob's life, while his mother was enjoying her Morphine Cocktail, I would sing him to sleep by singing "Bad" from U2's "The Unforgettable Fire" album. About 15 minutes into our walk I burst into song, praying that the combination of vibrating asphalt and Bono would send my son off to visit the sandman.

Uh...no.

Instead, he turned his head around and stared at me the whole time. For a brief moment I thought I was Bono himself...even stopping under a streetlight to serenade my youngest son while "on stage." Since that song didn't work I began a tribute of every somewhat-calm U2 song I knew...and none of them did the trick. So I gave up and continued my stroll through the neighborhood.

At the time, I wasn't sure exactly how far I had walked. There's a great website out there where you can map a route that you run or walk (www.mapmyrun.com). So at exactly the 2.21 mile mark into our walk young Jacob's head finally rested against the stroller...and he began to snore. I instantly sprang into an acapella rendition of "The Hallelujah Chorus" and turned my sights toward home. We made the remaining .42 mile journey (I LOVE that website!) back to the house, and I hit the door right at 5:30. I removed my slumbering bundle of misery (uh, I mean joy) from his stroller, and placed him back in his bed. I literally sprinted to my own bed anxious to grab an hour of shut-eye before my alarm went off...only to find that my other two sons were occupying my spot.

So I went to the couch.