Cutting teeth in the wild

We have been so preoccupied with Lily's foray into big school, the tears and panics, that I have all but forgotten my dear Virginie.  She's been going along for the ride and taking it all in stride, that apart from not being able to wean her, she has been easy.  I must have said it aloud, as it seems the fates were tempted and Virginie let out a huge roar!  Well, more of a whine and a scream and a constant hum like the air leaking from a stretchy, animal making balloon.  Our girl has six teeth coming in, four of them molars.  Oh the joy.

It had been a while since those first eight teeth in the front came in, so my memory of that torture seems to have faded.  When she started waking in the middle of the night screaming and nothing I'd offered could soothe her, I remembered.  For the past few nights I've tried all sorts of remedies--ice on the gums, Oragel, massive amounts of nursing (Say nothing.  I know.), serving soft foods--yogurt, oatmeal, hot dog chunks, ripe cantaloupe.  None of this has cured her from what appears to be immeasurable suffering.  And so I have returned to the amber necklace. 

I know it sounds like hocus pocus, but it works.  Apparently, amber has some sort of healing property and when Virginie is wearing this necklace, she is at peace.  Or at least not screaming the paint off the walls and the hearing capabilities from all within a 10 kilometer radius.  I have three necklaces.  She might wear two tonight.

Lily too was a monster teether and I remember our neighbor in Manhattan banging on the paper wall between us in the middle of the night begging us to abandon Lily and leave her on the subway.  I don't know what she really expected, but I did feel her pain.  Actually, it was my pain.  Lily too was an ear shredder.  In Barbados, we have relative peace and quite.  I have only to worry that the monkeys will find her screams enticing and coming running to see what all the commotion is about.  And I don't think I need to tell you again where I stand on the monkeys running over to the house.

Virginie is meant to be our last child, and as she passes each milestone of babyhood, I do feel teary-eyed and nostalgic.  Her teeth will all soon be in and she will continue her chattering away and the sleepless nights sitting with her while she screamed in pain will be in the past.  I see how the youngest child can get spoiled with love.  When you know there is not another tiny baby coming, that this is it, you hold on a little tighter, indulge them a little more, endure screaming fits of terror and torture in the middle of the night with a tiny little smile at the corners of your lips, heart filling with love. 

OK, I admit it.  I have gone crazy.  Call the authorities.  I do love these people so.  But man.  The days of seeing 3:00 AM at the side of one's lover are O-V-E-R.  After an intense conversation contemplating the secrets of life, D-O-N-E.  There is no more romance in three in the morning.  It is just the way station to the 5:30 wake up call.  I pray that this baby can get all her teeth in at once and immediately.  This mommy needs to get some sleep.

(c) Copyright 2010.  City Mom in the Jungle.