My child has 14 teeth. You would think that at this juncture in my exhausting yet bizarrely satisfying tour that is motherhood, I would have figured out the difference between an actual illness and that which they call in those damn books "TEETHING SYMPTOMS."
I am sick of hearing about the children who wake up one morning with a full set of choppers and roses flying out of their asses like the LORD himself came down and gently laid each shiny white nugget in their sweet mouth unbeknownst to anyone. Please. I do not believe it. I wave the bullshit flag proudly.
So, I'm speaking to the parental units who have a child that suffers long periods of phelgm swimming, fevers, restless nights, and well PURE UTTER MISERY with each and EVERY tooth. Such misery that we, especially ME as a first time parent, have absolutely no clue whether it's a major illness or just a fucking tiny ass tooth (that's going to fall out in 6 years) poking through the gum.
Are the Gods of the Children out to punish parents through utter confusion? EVERY time she cuts a tooth, she does the same thing, all the while a pleasant and reasonably well sleeping child.
Day 1: Sneezing - all day long. Rash on tummy.
Day 2: Taking a dip in the phlegm river and brown ass lake.
Day 3: Swimming laps in said river and brown ass lake.
Day 4: Swimming laps in said river - now HOT TUB and brown ass lake - tooth cuts through gum (PTL).
Day 5: Still swimming, sans hot tub, but now the river is a little yellow...
Day 6-8: Decrease in swimming activity... Rash goes away...
And then I wonder, is it really teething or is it a cold? And yes, I wonder this EVERY SINGLE TIME A TOOTH CUTS. No, I'm not an idiot. I just don't get it. Why does it last so long? Why doesn't it stop when the tooth comes up? Why does the river turn yellow if it's teething? Why is this topic RULING MY FUCKING LIFE?
I just don't understand why we have to try to drive already insane, sleep-deprived, rapidly aging mothers MORE crazy with this confusion. Is it not feasible for children to come with light up asses, like my favorite pooh doll that sings a song with its ass lit bright enough to bring ships into the harbor on a foggy night? TEETHING it could say and then later HAD PARTY WHILE YOU WERE OUT OF TOWN or HAD SEX IN YOUR BEDROOM.
But, no, we are left to the guessing, the wondering, the speculation, and well, the total obsession of trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with your child when they can't tell you that is now MY LIFE. Sad thing is, this is only the first stop in a VERY LONG tour.