I’ve been trying to close the boob bank overnight. I had two glorious nights where young Boob Baby (boob by name boob by nature) only woke once. This was just to lure me in to a false sense of security before knocking me right back in to ‘team no sleep’ with a thud.
So my latest ‘I-can’t-parent-this-child-there-must-be-a-purchase-to-fix-this’ is a couple amber bracelets. One for the boy because I think (hope) it’s teething and he’s not just a dick, and one for the MD because anything is worth a shot.
Well he was very slightly better last night so today I am buying **all** the amber, but it turns out amber isn’t a substitute for parenting. Who knew?! The hippies have misled me. The MD still hasn’t got her shit together (though she’d strongly argue it’s the rest of us that have a problem) and Boob Baby still spent half the night rolling round crying like it’s an Olympic sport. However, I’m now stuck in a fear trap where if I remove the bracelet maybe he’ll revert to being even worse.
The silver lining is a boy wearing a bracelet really pisses off the kind of people I like to piss off.