Teething Woes

This is the picture you post on Instagram.

Where you’ve taken a shower and flat-ironed your hair. Where you’ve quickly swiped mascara on your lashes and dabbed a little highlighter in the corners of your eyes. The one where your kid is smiling because you’ve just told him that his nose looks delicious and that you’re gonna eat it….om nom nom nom.

But this is closer to reality.

Will is teething right now.

This is a pleasant euphemism for saying there are razor sharp shards of calcium slowly knifing their way through his soft little gums and making him utterly miserable.

He was fussy all night but at 3:00am, he woke up howling.

Howling.

My kid is not a howler.

He’s not much of a crier either. He’s a lot like his dad in that regard - relatively even-keeled about stuff like bonking his head while crawling on the rug, bonking his face with the phone while FaceTiming with my sister and giving her kisses or being the recipient of Indiana’s exuberant kisses. He takes shit in stride.

But from 3:00-4:00am on Sunday morning, my kid was in pain, exhausted and inconsolable.

Eventually, the Motrin kicked in (given in teeny doses, bit by bit, because Will has a habit of throwing up medicine) and he got a chance to rest for a few short hours but I stayed awake. Unable to go to sleep, tossing and turning and feeling rotten that my kid was feeling rotten.

The rest of the day was OK - he was a little irritable but cheered up when we got a chance to see our friends (lots of whom have kids the same age) but then, we got home and it was nap time.

Will is not a fan of naps because there’s always something more interesting going on - planes flying overhead or music to listen to or stacking cups to knock over. Add to this being overstimulated and overtired and he started howling again.

I’m a creampuff when it comes to my kids.

I apologize for leaving the house and tell my dogs I love them when I got to the grocery store and at least once a day, I nuzzle my face against Indiana’s, pepper him with kisses and murmur, “Who’s my baby? Who’s my baby? That’s nobody else’s baby. That’s just my baby,” because I feel that 100lbs guard dogs need soft affection too.

But hearing your kid cry like that? It’s devastating.

So, there we are on the floor of the nursery - Will howling and me weeping - both of us exhausted. Finally, he falls asleep and I put him in his crib.

Slinking out to the living room, I collapse in a weepy heap next to my husband and immediately start sobbing.

“I hate when he cries and I hate that he’s in pain and I can’t make it better. He never makes that noise with anyone else. He never screams like that with you. Sometimes, I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing. Sometimes, I just don’t think I’m a good mom.”

Which, objectively speaking, is a heartbreaker of a sentence, right?

But when you’re running on two hours of sleep and nothing more than a couple of sips of cafe con leche - that’s what it feels like.

I think it’s something every mom feels at one point or another. And if you’re a mom and you don’t - kudos to you. Please teach me your ways.

Luckily, John knew exactly what to do to help me feel better - very kind, reassuring words, cuddles and the offer to get a much needed drink at Copper Blues.

Will woke up, we got a drink at my favorite bar (where we met the world’s sweetest waitress) and when we got home, we gave Will a bath, rubbed Motrin on his gums and he slept through the night, popping up like a little muppet at 6:30am, ready to start his week anew.

All was well once more.

Being a parent is hard….which is information from the files clearly marked, “No Shit, Sherlock.”

I was somewhat equipped to handle a lack of sleep and being constantly covered in…something (milk, spit up, snot, mushed-up Cheerio slime) but no-one ever tells you about the Tombstone Piledriver on your soul upon knowing that your kid hurts and there’s nothing you can do to absorb the pain yourself instead.

But you do the only thing you can do - you love your kid. You comfort them and you handle it.

And to anyone who might be feeling the same way and needs to hear it:

You’re a really good parent. You’re doing your goddamn best and your kid loves you. Also, please get some rest and your favorite drink - a gin cocktail, that mint green tea from Trader Joe’s, a giant cold brew with hazelnut creamer and shitloads of cinnamon or a blood orange flavored sparkling water.

You’ve earned it and God knows you deserve it.