teething sucks

When you have kids, there are things they tell you about and things they don't tell you about. Like teething. They tell you all about the chewing and the drooling. Sometimes they even mention the crankiness. You will hear about the rubbing of gums with whisky and the dipping of binkies in whisky to relieve the pain in your baby's mouth. You will hear from angry, tired, sleep-deprived woman about the horrible mothers who give their kids whisky to sooth the gums and you will hear from cheery, well-rested, groomed woman about the Jameson and how it is the only thing that actually works on a teething baby's mouth.

What they don't tell you about is the sleepless nights. They let you figure out all by your ownself that your very big girl who was a perfect sleeping angel before now will wake up a minimum of 8 3/7 times every single night wanting to grind your nipples in between those precious little swollen gums for comfort. They will not you about the tummy aches. The glass shattering, shrill howls that your beautiful, cooing baby will suddenly learn to produce. And they certainly will not tell you about what comes out of those darling little booties during teething. Mind you, my children all enjoy a good poop. Since T could walk, he has been one to grab a book and spend a half an hour on the pot. I am no spring chicken when it comes to the kids and the poop. But seriously, this is ridiculous. This sweet, soft little baby has stuff coming out of her butt that makes me gag a little bit. It's the kind of orange-ish, grainy wet poop that the baby slides around in. The kind that takes a half a box of wipes to clean up and even then a bunch of it ends up on the carpet and even more ends up under your nails. The kind that gets into every single crevice your baby has, including the crease at the nape of her neck. The kind that you have to wrap up in a ziploc, and then in a grocery bag, and then in a trash bag, and then take it straight out back, and even after you have burned a whole box of nag-champa, you can still smell it in the house later that day. The kind you pray to every god you can think of happens at home and not at the mall or at the home of your new boss.