It’s been weeks now since my child has had a good night’s sleep. The utter hell that are first molars are steadily and unapologetically making their grand entrance into their respective places in the top left and right sides of my usually calm toddler’s mouth. It is a slow and painful entrance, and just one of nature’s cruel toddler milestones.
Because I am sleep-deprived, and because I am walking the thin line between patience and drive-off-a-cliff-Thelma-&-Louise-style, now is probably not a good time for you to tell me that teething was no big deal for your little one. If you tell me that, I can only assume one of three things:
- Your child is always a beast, so you can’t really tell when your child is normal-beasty-baby and when your child is teething-beasty-baby.
- You are confused and hallucinating from sleep deprivation caused by your child’s teething.
- You are a voodoo priestess with magical (and awesome!) baby teething spells. (Call me?)
If your child is like mine, then you know the torture that comes with the appearance of every single painstakingly slow tooth. For weeks those little punks push, shift around, cut, and finally burst through the delicate tissue of your sweet child’s tender pink gums. All while disrupting your little one’s sleep, feedings, and general outlook on life. And it happens each and every time a tooth pops through. If my child were more articulate, I’m pretty sure he would say something along the lines of, “I’m so over this teething crap, Mom!” Indeed, little one, me too.
Molars are the worst. They are the Mount Vesuvius of teething. Central and lateral incisors? Mere infant’s play compared to the eruption that are those first molars. They are large, flat, and merciless. They shake and quake right below the gums for days before they finally begin to slowly rise, wreaking havoc and chaos. Even worse, they seem to be almost completely immune to the standard arsenal of teething supplies. Cold rings, frozen washcloth, medicinal intervention, cuddles, feet tickling, being tossed in the air, being held upside-down by the ankles, watching reruns of Jeopardy, these things offer only fleeting relief, if any at all.
So with tiny fingers shoved deep inside his cheeks, with spit and big round tears running down his chin, my child continues to feel teething’s wrath. And I’m left with the worst parenting feeling in the world: helplessness.
And teething, it is all your fault. Seriously. Get your job done, and then get the hell out. You’ve overstayed your welcome in this house, and we’re done with your shenanigans.
I suppose it’s ultimately for the best because we’ve suffered through this 8 times before, and now my little one has eight beautifully perfect glowing white teeth that melt my heart each time he smiles or laughs. Plus, I’d like to stop performing surgery on each piece of food that is set in front of him, and I know that teeth, especially those agonizing molars, are a big part of that whole chewing large pieces of food skill. It just doesn’t make right now any less hard on him, and I know there will be more coming soon. And I still feel absolutely helpless.
So it’s time to get out the bottles. After the long day we’ve had, we could both use a little something to help us through the rest of the night. And once my little one is finally asleep with the temporary comfort of Motrin and me relaxing with a glass of bourbon, there will be nothing left to do but google some teething voodoo spells.
Did your little one struggle with teething? What did you do to help ease their discomfort?
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