Wednesday, 3 July 2013

The Hell Mouth

Motherhood, parenthood if you will, has a naughty sense of humour; just when you start to feel like you're doing a decent job and your days and nights are getting a little easier, just as you start to relax and breathe a little calmer, it will throw you a brand new fresh Hell into the mix.

Ha! It shouts, now see how you deal with this one! AMATEUR!!

And from the mouths of babes, or my babe to be specific - comes our toughest challenge yet. At four months he is now in the full throws of teething turmoil.

So I have made quite a sane decision. Our son does not need teeth. He can get on just fine without them. I am quite confident I can find a legitimate dentist who will extract them all before they cause him anymore harm. Although now you come to think of it... that sounds a tad painful in itself. But no no - my mind is made up - he is to be without teeth! Yes he might be a tad 'slobbery' at dinner parties but I'm sure he'll get by.

My poor little man is quite obviously in quite a bit of pain.

If you have ever had a cat - you'll know that it is a truth universally acknowledged that you can buy them as many cat beds as you can afford but that moggy will ignore the comfy cashmere and sleep anywhere OTHER than its bed. Cardboard boxes, laundry baskets, the bath etc. Much in the same way we went about purchasing a plethora of teething rings and chewy toys only to find our little guy will chew ANYTHING BUT that which is designed for chomping; his clothes, his hand, the sofa cushions, his Jumperoo seat.

We have tried more or less everything at this point. He won't chew on a frozen fruit nibbler device or indeed, bog standard frozen fruit.. but then I wouldn't want to gnaw on anything frozen either - unless it was an ice cube ... in tonic.... and Gin.

My partner comes home each day with another wonder product recommended by the Pharmacist .. all of which have fallen by the wayside.  Teething granules, odd brown dog biscuit looking things and a plastic toothbrush with gel on it (this felt like administering a new form of torture).

The only thing that appears to make any difference at all at this point is an extremely pungent type liquid .. but it has a very short relief time. Which means I get a very short relief time.

He tends to communicate his discomfort to me the only way he knows how - by continually shouting. all. day. long. Not screaming - just shouting - like a drunk football thug on his way home from the big match.


My ears are bleeding.

Ok. I will do you a deal teeth - I will let you live, I won't extract you - if you could do me a small favour... make your appearance in the next ten hours. You have ten hours to make your move. That's the deal. I don't care what you have to do - but my baby better look like Simon Cowell by tomorrow morning! Or we are going to seriously fall out.

It is always two thirty in this house! Two Thirty! Tooth hurty! Tooth hurty! Get it?

It's not funny.

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