Reel it in, Ashley Paige. Reel it in.
Carter was up every two hours the night before his seven month birthday. When I say awake, I'm not talking the cute kind of awake, chattering away and playing in his crib. I'm talking the kind of awake that involves screaming bloody murder. As if someone was in there pulling the few hairs that he has on his head, out. One. by. one. Only after pinching him or flicking his ears.
Check for fever. Diaper change. Rock. Rock. Rock. Crawl back into bed.
No fever. Not wet. Rock. Rock. Rock. Stumble back into bed.
No fever. Diaper change. Rock. Rock. Rock. Fall asleep in nursery rocker.
That was our night. It was awful, for all parties involved. Once Carter did wake, he went back off to sleep with a little shushing and rocking- but all the in between? Drama city.
Morning came, The Husband left for work and as I'm getting Fussy McFusspants all set up in his high chair for breakfast, I glance down and see them. Two pearly whites cutting through the skin of his bottom gum.
[Enter head-slap moment here] Doh. Teeth. How's that for feeling like the world's worst mother? In my defense, Carter has been drooling and eating inanimate objects for months. My hands, his hands, toys, kitchen utensils, dog toys, you name it. Sure, things could have been moving around in there, but when I would do my "weekly check for chompers," I'd always come up empty handed. Even the Pedi at Carter's 6 month well visit said he hadn't seen any teefers in there!
Fast forward 72 hours. A dizzying, tiring conglomeration of Motrin before bedtime, Hyland's gel during the day, frozen banana chunks in the mesh feeder, frozen washcloths fresh from the freezer, teething rings, nunnies and a whole mess of fuss.
Teething stole my happy baby. I don't even know who this child is anymore. I know, I know. If adults had to go through the teething process, we'd fail miserably. I get that it's painful. And my Mommy heart hurts to think that Carter is in pain. Short of rubbing whiskey on his gums, I'm literally pulling every single trick I know from the Big Bag of Mommy Tricks. Good thing we polished off that bottle of Jack a few months ago- I'm not sure who needs it more- me or the baby.
He hates being alone. He hates his toys. He hates his walker. He hates his swing. That 20 minute nap he'd sometimes take? Fuhgeddaboutit. He hates his jogging stroller, he hates his Chicco. He hates walks. Even Mickey and the Hot Dog Dance can't soothe the teething monster.
He likes Mum-Mums and frozen bananas. He REALLY likes me and sometimes he likes Sheepie. He also likes to whine and fuss and whine and fuss and whine... and fuss. And whine.
Please tell me this doesn't last long. Please? I beg you. I don't think I've felt this tired and frustrated since the newborn days. In fact, I KNOW I haven't felt like that since then.
This teething business is no joke. So, how many more times can I expect nights like these? How many teeth does he get?
More importantly, how many bottles of Chardonnay is it acceptable for one Mom to consume during the teething process?