Does it remind anyone else of this?
But seriously, wow. Teeth! They're so exciting, and there is nothing cuter than a lopsided, toothy grin, but, sweet mother of purl, my poor kid.
She's chewing on everything she can get her little hands on- especially Andrew's fingers, which - per my tech support buddy - DaddyFingers were both his kids' (and his grandkids') chewie of choice. (My poor computer has been having some real issues. My tech support buddy and I have gotten very close, if you couldn't tell.) I even polled Facebook for teething comfort measures.
We've tried frozen washcloths, we've tried classic teething rings, we've tried the teething bonbon (which we refer to as Genevieve's chilly bone), and we've tried green onions - which were a BRILLIANT suggestion from one of Genevieve's knitting aunties. (The green onions worked remarkably well, but WOW, a baby with onion breath is nothing short of shocking.)
I'm still nursing, and nursing a
Fortunately - and I have a hard time tying "fortunately" to the whole concept of being bitten - Genevieve did most of her biting before the tooth erupted. She would clamp down on me (usually) if my gaze had wandered anywhere but her charming maybe-green-maybe-brown eyes. So we used the same trick (training?) that we used when Niki went through his mouthy phase all those years ago.
[The trick, in case you're curious: immediately after a bite, break the latch, hold baby away from boob for 10-15 seconds, then offer the boob again. Three bites and baby gets handed to someone without The Boobs.]
She's been a little fussy - but, wouldn't you be? I remember when my wisdom teeth made their presence known, and WOW. Uncomfortable.
If only my mother had thought to swaddle my 16-year-old self, we might have all been a little more cheerful.