Archive for the ‘Teething’ Category

*Don’t REALLY Give Your Baby Vodka

Tuesday, March 30th, 2010

I’m already getting sick of beginning my posts with sorry I’ve been gone, so I’m sure you might also be irked.  And, really, WHERE HAVE I BEEN?!  I’m certainly not getting invited to The White House or anything.

No, the truth is that I’ve just been plagued by incessant whining and arms raised endlessly toward my face accompanied by what seems to be a PICK ME UP! THE SKY IS FALLING! kind of gaze.

You see, T9 is a slow teether.

And, before him, I didn’t even know there was a difference. I’d read on some blog one time about a woman shaking her jealous fist at those “mothers with kids who cut teeth in a day! GRRR!” or something.

I didn’t know I was enviable. I mean, a teething kid is a teething kid, right?

Well…

Like I said, T9 is a s-l-o-w  t-e-e-t-h-e-r.

For example, with his first two…the little front ones on the bottom…I remember seeing that tell-tale white patch one day. Sweet, I thought.  They’re right below the surface. He’ll have ‘em out by morning.

Um.  Try ONE WEEK later.  Dude cut one tooth (out of the pair) for A WEEK.

So far, this has happened eight times.  With his eight teeth.  And do you know what comes after those first eight?

MOLARS. (!!!)

We’re going on our second month, people.  Our second month of CUTTING A TOOTH.

Which, all of this is to say that T9 is pitifully sad as of late. In fact, there are exactly two things that will cheer the boy up:

1.  Mama.

2. Dada.  (Specifically, Dada’s head-butting.)

Ahem.

You see, my son also appears to be a head-banger.

punk rock baby(But, ah, I think this may be a post for another time.)

Until then, here are the items that seem to have helped with the teething pain:

1. Chilled, sliced watermelon. (Or something similar, like frozen Vodka pops)

2. String-cheese

3. Teething tablets. (Try them yourself! I think they feel numbing.)

4. For the parents, I’d recommend hypno-therapy. Or heavy drinking. Or getting a tattoo.  Or, you know, start a blog.  BANGING THE KEYS can be therapeutic.

I Didn’t Know This Would Involve Civil Disobedience

Saturday, September 26th, 2009

Teething.

The word alone is enough to make a seasoned mother’s eyes roll or a novice, like myself, shiver.

I’m currently experiencing my second round of teething with baby #2 and, I’ll tell you, it does not seem to get much easier.  It does however, seem to get less–eh–insufferable?teething

You see, with my first, who is now nearly three (!), he got ‘em fast and furious.  At the time, I didn’t realize quite how lucky I was to be enduring only a few days of acute teeth-cutting rather than weeks.  But can you blame me?  All I knew was that he’d spike the occasional fever, get the occasional diaper blowout, and, well….stop eating.

Really.  The kid went on hunger strikes that would rival Gandhi himself.

I still remember the worst of those days–sitting in his nursery, sobbing, pleading, as he rejected the bottle once again.  He’d had maybe an ounce or two since he’d woken up, and it was now nearly noontime.

So I sat there in that nursery with my son on my lap and I pretty much lost it.  My mind was shouting things like, HE’LL DIE!  HE’S GOING TO BE MALNOURISHED!  And lots of other things that equaled THIS IS THE END OF THE WORLD! and I’M A TERRIBLE, TERRIBLE MOTHER!

Just the other day, my neighbor texted me about her son who seems to be experiencing a similar bout of, let’s call it “feeding resistance.”  My response to her was calm and reassuring–something that probably would have made me roll my eyes at myself about 2 years ago:

He’ll be okay…things will all even out and he’ll start eating again when he’s feeling a bit better.

Now, let me be clear I’M NOT A DOCTOR, people.  But I am a mother of two, and if there’s anything a second child has taught me, it’s this:

It’s pretty much a guarantee that us mommas will worry, but it’s not really essential (or productive) to have utter meltdowns in the nursery, while your confused (okay, probably more like AMUSED) child mocks your pleas to end the hunger strike.

My second, now almost ten months old, has 6 teeth, and recently spent about two weeks reducing his solids by about 2/3.  TWO THIRDS, people!

But guess what?  He’s still alive.  He didn’t fail frail.  There were no doctors visits.

Just lots of patience.  And DEEP breaths.  (Okay FINE, there was still lots of that pesky ANXIETY.)  But I’ve still got (most) of my hair.  Sure, you can try a medicine dropper.  Pedialyte pops.  Mesh feeders.  There’s lots of tricks.  But there’s also the essential act of relaxing and letting (mischievous, perhaps sadistic?) Mother Nature take her (insufferable) course.

So what am I saying here?  I think I’m getting the hang of this teething thing. And you will, too.   (But maybe we’ll check in again when it’s molar time.)