Has Anyone Seen My Sanity (Or... Is That Another Tooth? DAMN!)

Having just scraped through teeth numbers 5 and 6 this past week, I collapsed into my bed, weeping openly in gratitude that it was OVER and I could get a BREAK at night (and during the day too let's not kid). Well, I should have skipped the time to cry and just slept, cause after 3 blissful days, we're back on the teething train, and I might die.

Now, I know I don't have it as bad as some... He only got the flu-like teething with the first two (let me tell you how that terrified me)-- fever, vomit, diarrhea, all to the point that the doctors almost admitted him into the hospital because he had lost 3 pounds and couldn't hold down even a few MLs of pedialyte for more than 5 minutes at a time. It kinda makes me want to cry just remembering all the time I spent holding my hot-bodied little baby over the sink so he could express the contents of his stomach before he collapsed against my chest, whimpering. But it passed after about 10 days and then we had teeth! Yay! The "vampire fangs" that came next (top teeth, but not the front ones) totally snuck up on me. I didn't even realize they were in until I flipped him upside down one day to get better tummy access to tickle him. So that was no sweat! Then came the front ones... Lots of crying... Two weeks of 5-bottles a night, Tylenol every window of opportunity, teething tablets were purchased in bulk, etc., etc. It was like having a newborn at night, and a WHINY CRYBABY chasing me around the house during the day*. He didn't want to be put down, he didn't want to be held, he didn't want to look at me, but woe to me if I left his sight (anyone making a PMS connection? jeez). This time? Well, all I know is we're back to living on ice cubes and bottles (he won't take solid food to save his life) and we're joined at the f--king hip. He is like an octopus with an attitude problem. AND AND AND. I forgot to tell you the best part (I know, right, like it could get better in this baby-infested bitch fest)... He does this stressed out grunt... As if he was passing a poop the size of Rhode Island... but he's NOT. He's just mad that his mouth hurts. Jeez. Give the kid a shot of Lidocaine and call it a day or something.

My point to all of this, is that my house is in disarray, my legs are hairy (because I can't even shower alone), and I don't even think I've gotten the shampoo out of my hair the last couple showers cause it's lookin a little strange. Now I'm sure some of you are going, well, why don't you just do all that after he goes to bed? Because. I have PTSD from my baby. When he goes to bed, I toss the toys that have been attempting my murder all day into the toy basket and then I flop onto the couch til I can't find anymore junk TV to watch. I don't think I even eat dinner anymore. I look for food... but then my eyes glaze over and I just go back to the couch and enjoy not being smacked by little hands.

In conclusion, teething turns my kid into a soul sucking octopus of a child. Upside? A few extra minutes of snuggling after naps. Downside? You try to clean the bathtub with the Flozell Adams of all babies attached to your hip/leg.

*My son, typically, is not one to freak out. If he's crying, there's a specific, easily fixable reason. Kiss the boo-boo, fill the tummy, or give him his freaking Tigger doll and leave him alone to take a nap!