Show me those pearly whites

The teething process is soul killing.  And I am not just talking about for those little people.  I mean for the parents.  OK, right now I am talking about me.  I haven't gotten a night of sleep in months.  Rumor has it that there are some children who do not even notice those incisors and molars breaking through the gum line, but honey, my two girls are not two of those people.  Maybe those kids will pay their parents back with lots of body piercings in their teenage years exhibiting their incredibly high thresholds for pain.  But I am paying for it now. 

Virginie got the first two bottom teeth pretty early, and we heard about every movement of that journey through the gums.  As the rest of them have continued to surface, the shrieks and blood-curdling screams of pain all through the night have put us all on pins, but I go to her every night to soothe her and put her back to sleep.  Some nights I cuddle her until she goes back to sleep and pass out on my face on the floor, only to see her sharp toothed grin staring down at me at 5:30 the next morning.

I know this part is hard.  I remember it.  When Lily screamed her head off through the night, the neighbor knocked on the wall for weeks I suppose silently asking if I would just leave her outside so everyone in the building could get some sleep.  Here we have only the singing toads and each other to be concerned about and we love her enough to let her scream it out, to cuddle her, to sleep at her cribside, and wait for this too to pass.  I love those little teeth.  They really are cute.  They make the sweetest smiles.

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