I think the worst way to wake up is being bit on the nipple by a teething child.
No really, I do think it is. All you bullhorn/water bucket/screaming drill sergeant enthusiasts can go sit in the truck, because this. is. way. worse.
You’re not awake enough to scream, but awake enough that you abruptly jolt out of REM, and bleat out a muffled potty mouth word. Then your child begins to cry because you have scared her, and you are bigmeannasty mommy for doing that. You were supposed to wake up calmly, and have prompt let-down for the bottomless pit now pawing at you to let her nurse.
This groggy state of affairs while you check for blood? Totally not her fault. She’s hungry, yo, and you were not in the right position for her convenience. Wake up, Milk Bar! *chomp*
Yeah, I’m awake now, you… you… darlingdearestchildofminethatIlovewithallmyheart *wheeze*.
That was the routine that played out last night several times. Bite, cry, eat, sleep. Bite, cry, eat sleep. And my daughter did some crying too. It was like somehow we had merged into a teenage girl with a pint of Rocky Road, upset because Billy asked Marci to the prom instead of her. Or… euch. I don’t even want to go there. I’m too tired. Must. Have. Caffeine. Can you mainline coffee?
My beautiful daughter has four teeth. She has been gloriously teething for a week now. Nothing to show for it. Nada. Not even a hint of a new tooth. This morning, once we had rolled out of bed, she chewed on the leg of the table, her brothers pants, a Hot Wheels car, the edge of her high chair, a Skwish, and her own hand. All the while, making this noise: “Amnamanamanamanamanama”.
She is also channeling a St. Bernard, because the amount of drool is insane. Seriously, where does it all come from? My son never teethed like this. He was civilized and although perpetual, prompt with the appearance of teeth. And I never got bit. Like ever. Right.
Do you like my new rose-coloured glasses? I think they make me look way smarter.
If we have to deal with this again tonight, Mommy is wearing her super-duper padded nursing bra to bed. Take that, my little woodchuck. And if you insist on continuing to bite Mommy in the general vicinity of her chest, guess what…
Its ok. We’ll deal, and it will all be over soon.