I hate teeth. No, actually, let me rephrase that. I hate milk teeth.
Have you ever seen a picture of a child’s skull with all the milk teeth present, with the adult teeth waiting patiently behind them? Or, again let me rephrase that, lurking menacingly above and beneath them?? Go on Google and check it out… but be warned, it is not for the faint hearted and it will make you want to keep your little one on Calpol round the clock until they’re well into Primary School!
A friend showed me the image this week and I can honestly say that it rendered me speechless and gave me even more of an insight into what they have to go through. Which is ridiculous really, when I sit and really contemplate what is happening to them, of course it is horrendous! These little plodding tubs of loveliness, who have no agenda (apart from to eat, sleep, poop and play), are subjected to horrific pain and discomfort by little nuggets of bone, cutting and pushing through their squishy little gums, drool and gravity in order to prepare for chewing real food that isn’t pulp, before falling out and earning them a quid a go from some winged chick with a fetish for enamel.
In the meantime, I am faced with two flaming hot, traffic light red cheeks that you could fry an egg on, a river of dribble, a whole load of ear pulling and eye rubbing (both his AND mine!) and lots of beseeching looks of ‘What is this and why can’t you make it stop?! Stop it NOW!’.
And, all I am armed with is a box of teething granules, amber beads, Calpol, bonjela, a rubber teething toy and a hug. Astoundingly, the hug is my top weapon, but it can make everyday functioning a little bit tricky… have you ever had to pee whilst bouncing a 25+lb baby on your lap? Not my finest moment, nor my most private. But top marks for multitasking right?
I was glad to have PB to share the load with though. We take it in turns to do night feeds and the early morning breakfast shift so that whilst one is running around bleary eyed with sticky up hair like some deranged hedgehog, the other one at least has the chance to catch up on some sleep and restore energy. We do it all across the day as well when possible, switching roles and chores depending on what has been done and what hasn’t. Parenting is basically a mental checklist that gets ticked off and adjusted throughout the day. We are constantly juggling taking care of baby with taking care of the home and with the energy left over, we then take care of ourselves and each other. I picture the two of us getting through a 24 hour period like a relay race. We zoom along, using the baby and all he needs as individual batons and some races go smoothly and we pass the batons to each other with ease. Other races feel like Dick Dastardly and Mutley are on our heels and we have our head up the pidgeon’s arse!
Additional Information and Findings from this week:
– The cats are a constant source of interest for Baby Bear. His face lights up whenever he sees them and he waves his arms and legs in excitement whilst babbling at them and blowing raspberries. They, however, do not share his enthusiasm and usually head off in the opposite direction, seemingly indifferent. But then, when he is napping beside me on the sofa, they tentatively come over and sniff him before gently snuggling up alongside, purring the whole time. Big old softies.
– We are awaiting paperwork to start the process of moving house, something which both thrills me but also completely overwhelms me with dread. I have purchased a book called ‘The Magic of Tidying’ in hopes of becoming a minimalist, moving house guru. So far I have read one and a half chapters (a big feat seeing as 3 lines causes me to get heavy lidded and fall asleep dribbling!) and all I have learnt is that one must feel a spark of joy when looking at one’s belonging in order to keep it, and that that the average number of clothing items a person owns is 160. Both points concern me greatly, because since having a baby (and therefore resembling something between a tellytubby and a kangeroo) most clothes do not spark joy and I potentially have 160 items covered in baby milk/puke/poop/fruit puree and baby pasta bake. Which reminds me, we need more fabric softener….
– Obtaining cardboard boxes to house ones joy sparking objects for moving is impossible. Unless you want to shell out £59.99 for a ‘Moving Pack’ aka ‘boxes’ from Argos.
– Baby Bear is moving more and more… and always when I am not looking. Went to make a bottle and left him on his play mat on the floor, only to come back 3 minutes later to find him off the mat and halfway across the room. God help me. Might get a cage…. kidding!
– Does anyone else get fed up with baby coats??? You wrestle them into it for 5 minutes and induce tears (from you and baby) to then walk 2 minutes to the car to then take them out of their coat and into the car before driving, lulling them to sleep with the drive, and then waking them up from slumber to put the coat back on before walking sometimes 30 seconds into a shop where you then take the coat off again because it is so hot from the air conditioning. You then repeat it all in reverse on the way home! Don’t judge me but I now just use blankets and bundle him up in a hat. I haven’t got time for coats, life is too short and ironically we both freeze our ass off grappling with said coat!
– Waking up to find PB and BB napping in a den? Priceless for the memory bank.