This week has been very eventful to say the least. Just when you think you’ve got your shit together and are starting to feel semi super mum-ish, your toddlers teething smacks you round the face like an unexpected slap. It’s sharp, painful and the burning sensation seems to linger on..and on..and on.
For the last couple of weeks, Virràe Yuvraj has become increasingly clingy, difficult, and just not his usual smiley self. Everything has become a chore for him, from eating and nappy changes, to bath time and even playing, thus, it has become utter hell for me. Throw yourself off a bridge kinda hell…..
On Monday this week, he became so difficult that when I looked hard enough I’m very sure I saw little devil horns poking out his head. He was off his food, his toys, he was even off baby TV! Like me, I think he was simply losing his mind in frustration, except he wasn’t doing anything without letting the world know first.
Throughout the course of the day, his temperature was like a roller coaster, one minute he was bunged up, and the next his nose was like a leaky tap. He was moaning to be picked up for a cuddle and then within the same 30 seconds he was squealing to be put back down. No matter what I did or didn’t do, I was without a doubt losing with a capital L.
When it came to bed time, I was relieved to have a break from mummy duty, yet filled with dread that this little Damien was going make me suffer even more. After a dose of Neurobaby, a lather of baby vicks across his chest, and a lashing of calgel across those gums, he thankful went down quickly. Too quickly….
I can only liken that night to feeling horribly hungover, except this time I did not have the pleasure of drinking too much wine and enjoying myself getting to this awful state. VYP was crying in his sleep pretty much the whole night. Whilst he didn’t actually wake up for even 10 seconds, he was searching for my comfort whilst those rebellious baby teeth partied in his gums ALL NIGHT LONG…*queue Lionel Richie music*
As morning broke the black cloud of the night before, VYP woke from his slumber at 6.30am instead of the usual time of 8.00am. Oh how I was longing for that hour and a half, but his unhappy gurgles told me I was never going to get it. After a nappy change that was more like a wrestling match, we trotted downstairs, me looking like a panda bear and Virràe warming up to let me know exactly how rotten he was feeling. (Me with my black panda bear eyes below!)
Breakfast soon turned into a war, he knocked the spoon out my hand and the porridge went flying. Every toy I gave him as a distraction was thrown across the room and he tried in desperation to scramble out the booster seat. Why after 12 hours of not eating was he not starving? As I tried another spoon of porridge, I couldn’t help but curse teething under my breath. Painful gums I understand, but why with it must our babies get teething colds, teething nappy rash, teething poo’s, loss of appetite. As if teething wasn’t bad enough on its own!!??
After a few more spoonfuls, he’d had enough and so had I, so very willingly, I gave up. As I was wiping his face, and again failing miserably, I decided to have a quick feel of his gums. As he clamped down on my finger, there it was, the sharp scratch of a tooth! I couldn’t believe it, after 16 long months my boy had finally cut his first tooth. I actually wanted to cry and felt a really overwhelming sense of pride, yes, over a bloody tooth! Suddenly the last couple of weeks seemed worth it, all of it.
As the week went on, my happy chappy was still no where to be found. He’d been replaced by a little boy who’s characteristics I simply didn’t recognise. He was off his food at every meal, and was just about eating a biscuit here or there. His cough was getting worse and he’d even managed to give me his cold. By Thursday afternoon I was feeling absolutely dreadful, Virràe’s top tooth was bulging out his gum, and he was just not coping with the pain. My prayers were answered and bed time arrived. He drank a measly 2oz of milk and thrashed about in my arms clearly very uncomfortable. I found his muslin cloth which he latched onto for comfort and drifted off to sleep.
After an uninterrupted nights sleep for Virràe, he awoke at 5.30am this morning. I however had hardly slept, one nostril was blocked, the other was running, my head was pounding and my body was aching. On top of that he decides to wake up in the ungodly 5th hour!! I put him in bed with me, hoping he would lay there for just long enough for me to muster the strength to open my eyes, but the pungent stench from his nappy informed me that the teething symptoms were still lurking and laying in was not an option.
I had never seen a poo like it, it was so sticky, like a swamp in his nappy. I’d heard teething poo’s were bad, but wow, nothing prepared me for this! To make matters worse, for the first time since he was a new born, his nappy had leaked. Great…as if this week hadn’t been traumatic enough.
Off came his vest and pjamas, which of course he wasn’t at all pleased about. 10 wipes later and I’d finally managed to clean his bum, during which I was feeling extremely grateful for my blocked nose! After what seemed like an hour, he was finally in a clean nappy and clothes. Then came the task of breakfast…
I tried my old faithful friend Weetabix, thinking it would be easy on his throat. How wrong was I? I tried toast, it went flying. I tried a biscuit, it was crushed in frustration. I even tried his absolute favourite, an orange. He had one lick before flinging it sideways. Before I sobbed my eyes out and made my bags even worse, I put baby TV on in the hope that it would distract him for long enough for me to make a coffee. It did.
Despite having nothing in his tummy, he managed to do another dreadful teething poo. I bathed him, got him ready and put him down for a nap. (Thank God he fell asleep) I was back down at 8.30am but felt like I’d been up for hours. I couldn’t help but think that on any normal day we’d just about be finishing breakfast. For us, teething has changed absolutely everything. Routine has gone out the window and taken everything else with it, including 99.9% of my sanity. People keep telling me that now the first tooth has cut, the next few will come through in the coming weeks. I can only hope that like the song says, ‘the first cut is the deepest’…