A big and hearty welcome to my new readers.
As lovely as it is to meet you all, I do feel the pressure is on a bit now. Rather than ranting anonymously into the abyss, I realise I should probably put a bit of thought into attempting to be witty and engaging since ‘coming out’ on Facebook.
You might have a bit of a wait on your hands though because at the moment I certainly don’t feel particularly witty nor engaging. There are two primary reasons for this, and those reasons are my toddler’s back teeth (at least, I hope it’s a pair. Please God don’t tell me they could possibly come through singly). Yep, the molars have chosen this week to poke their irritating way through her irritated gums.
Teething undoubtedly gets worse the older they get.
…Or maybe it just seems that way because they can now stand at the top of the stairs acting like a toddler possessed; red faced, articulating their pain in to very loud and repetitive words and refusing to swallow calpol. But I don’t remember the fever when she teethed as a baby. I actually don’t remember a lot though; I couldn’t tell you when she got her first set, or any, all I can tell you with certainty is that it was after eight months as I was not breastfeeding at the time, luckily.
This is not something I’m really looking forward to this time around. I’m fairly certain that feeding a teething baby being painless is another breastfeeding lie that you’ll hear. I’ve friends that have been used as chew toys (wince).
It seems very unfair that they have to go through this, and then they all fall out anyway. At least they get paid for each one they lose though I guess.
As design flaws go, it’s not quite as bad as the digestive system of a newborn baby, or the whole being really bloody tired but not being able to just close their sodding eyes and go to sleep thing, but it’s definitely up there.
How we have survived as a species I genuinely don’t know. Nature seems intent on making babies and small children suffer and in turn parents have to put up with a lot of crap. I can’t imagine a couple of caveparents dealing with this; they didn’t even have Bonjela in those days. I wonder if they just hit the kids round the head with a club? Or themselves, until they could no longer hear the constant whinging? Perhaps that’s the solution? Perhaps.
She’s been having increasingly disturbed nights for almost a week now. As usual, she was fairly happy for most of yesterday daytime but as soon as late afternoon hit, it went downhill. When she wasn’t sweaty and whinging, she was behaving as if I’d laced her milk with whiskey. Parents of toddlers probably know what I mean when I say that an overtired two year old is quite similar to a drunk person. She was running around, falling over and bumping into things, being unnecessarily loud, demanding snacks and then fell asleep whilst eating her dinner like a student in their 3am kebab. At this point I admitted defeat and took her to bed however, predictably, it was not to last.
In the end she spent the night in bed with me.
This hasn’t happened since she was months old and now I vividly recall why. As bedfellows go, she is pretty appalling; sweaty and prone to nocturnal outbursts. Being repeatedly kicked in the crotch all night isn’t much fun, you heard it here first.
After being woken up by a flailing limb at 5am, despite having the cotton wool brain of someone who’s not nearly had enough sleep to be a functioning member of society, I decided to leave her to it predicting that the baby would be stirring soon.
Nope. For the first time ever, he slept until 6.45am (a lie in of epic proportions in this house) and according to my husband, barely stirred all night. I am trying to see this as positive – you never know, he may actually do it again one day – however it does seem like a spiteful deity is having a good laugh at my sleep deprived state.
Still, these are the last ones. The molars. We are on the home stretch.
Except of course in four years or so when they are all going to fall out and the permanent teeth come through of course. But I’ve heard that’s not as bad (please?!). After that, we’re home and dry.