Nico is teething.
And there is no New York Times delivery in Lubbock.
I found out about the New York Times yesterday while trying to change my address. And I was horrified.
You see, I’ve gotten the Sunday Times ever since I became a journalist some ten years ago. I so loved getting the Sunday Times that I used to warn new girlfriends about it: Don’t try to get me to do something Sunday morning, I’d tell them, I have a date with my paper. When I worked at the newspaper in Galveston, the Times used to arrive at my apartment around 2 a.m. on Saturday night and, if I had stayed out that late (which I often did in those days), I could find it there waiting for me when I came home at night. Like a loyal dog. Or a lover.
I think someone (you, Uncle Bob?) once wrote a story about a person who had a love affair with their Sunday Times. I completely identify. As you can imagine, then, moving somewhere without NYTimes delivery is more than a little depressing.
Nico teething is depressing in another way. A sort of watching-an-animal-die way.
She seems fine most of the time. Except she drools a lot more. And she chews on her on gums, like a cow with its cud. But then every once and a while pain strikes and she just begins to scream. And scream. And scream.
Like someone having their intestines ripped out through their nose. I swear.
Last night this happened and then Marta and I began yelling at each other over Nico’s screams. We were fighting about whether or not we should give her some form of topical baby pain killer. Marta thought we should and I thought we shouldn’t. We’d meant to have the conversation beforehand, but then Nico started screaming and we somehow decided that that was the best time to hash it out.
Note to self: do not try to resolve spousal disagreements while the baby is screaming.
Eventually we calmed Nico down, got her to sleep, and managed to have a calm and collect conversation about the use of topical teething medication. We even snuggled some on the couch. But we were both exhausted. And we know another screaming event is just around the corner. And the next corner. And the next corner.
When I Googled teething the other day, in fact, all the sites I went to warned that babies can start teething as early as three months (Nico’s age) and last until they are THREE YEARS.
I can only hope that by then there will be New York Times delivery in Lubbock.
Or that I develop an opium addiction.