Playing with the new pool again tonight, Nora hobbled over, mouth crunched and crooked, eyes concerned and confused, “Mom, I have a rock in my mouth.” I had her open up, thinking that some of the gravel that had made its way into her plastic ocean had also made its way somehow into her mouth. I warily put my finger in to feel around since I couldn’t see anything. And I felt a rock too.
“It’s just your new tooth, Nora,” I said, feeling relief and joy and pain all at once as I stared at her two bulging bottom two-year-molars that have taken more than their sweet time entering her poor little mouth.
“Oh,” she said. “I don’t like these new teeth.”
I can’t blame her. When I looked at the “rocks” bugling from beneath her swollen gum tissue I wanted to yell out in pain for her. And there are FOUR of them. Four teeth larger than any other in her mouth, seemingly double the size of her one year molars. No wonder she’s been a bit of a pain lately. She’s in pain.
On Sunday night she woke up like a newborn, almost every two hours like clockwork until I broke down and brought her in our bed sometime in the early morning. On Monday night Ken suggested we give her some motrin. You see, I never think of medicine. I put off taking medicine of any kind for as long as I can. I’m not sure why I do this, but I always have, letting headaches bring me to tears and allergies ruin my days before I consider popping a pill to fix it. Ken, he takes cold medicine at the first sniffle and advil at the first muscle twinge. So it took him finally realizing that if he had these teething pains, he would want medicine before we remembered Nora might want it too.
Tuesday morning I worshiped the motrin gods as Nora slept without incidence. Why hadn’t I thought of that earlier?
I hate teething. It has been hard since tooth number one. I’m not sure if Nora’s extra sensitive or if teething just stinks for all babies, but when these four boulders finally make their final break, maybe I’ll throw us all a party.