I’ve got to lighten it up in here a bit, and so, teeth. Ohhhh the teeth.
Even before Maggie was born, I recognized a pattern. Hurry up, stop, wait, hurryhurryhurry. This was true of my massive false labor at 36 weeks and 6 days, which even had the doctors convinced I was going to deliver that night. I didn’t go on to actually deliver until weeks later, well after my due date and even then she had to be induced. But once we were going, my labor went from nonexistent to done in five hours. Same with rolling over. Sitting up. Creeping, and now pulling up to standing and climbing. She starts showing signs of a new activity younger than most babies, ahead of the curve. Then we stall out for several weeks, the so-called chronological milestones get passed, I get pitying looks when people ask “Is she doing [X]?” and I reply “No,” then all of a sudden she’s doing whatever it is like she’s been doing it perfectly her whole life. I can almost hear her thinking “Take that, suckers.”
Maggie just needs to gear up and be ready in her own time to do something. I try to respect that and I NEVER apologize to anyone’s pity-faces if she isn’t doing something her peers are doing, because it’s never that she *can’t.* It’s just that she isn’t quite ready to commit yet. That’s cool. I respect commitment phobia.
And so it has been with her teeth. Oh, friends, what a hellish four weeks it has been for my little girl. You see, all of her teeth have decided to descend AT ONCE, much like the old “Crocodile Dentist” game where you push down the teeth until you get the “sore tooth” and the jaws snap together. Maggie’s mouth is playing out the game’s reset feature where all the teeth pop up at once.
She makes that face, too.
Since December 15, she has cut five teeth and is working on a sixth. Six teeth in four weeks. I tremble to think about how soon her molars are going to come. She cut two little bottom teeth in mid-October, which were adorable and tiny, but now she’s got a mouth full of Chicklets. Vicious, sharp Chicklets with no regard for anyone’s feelings that keep popping up like unholy Whack-a-moles that you CAN’T WHACK.
Maggie remains as cheery as possible, but even her deliciously happy and laid-back demeanor can’t handle the onslaught of stalactites and stalagmites breaking through her poor tender gums. Worse, nursing is now a nightmare as she thrashes and twists and grinds her teeth, and my girl is a lot of wonderful things but good with a cup is not one of them so I’m still her only source of liquids. So I’ve been layering on the lanolin, reading all the LLL books and trying to get us both into a position that will yield happy nursing for us both without the sensation that I’m feeding my Kitchenaid meat grinder.
But man, you should see her rip through a mini-pepper or a slice of mango. It’s like the velociraptors from Jurassic Park.