I Have A Stage 5 Clinger Folks...

Or as some might call it, a teething baby.  And it's bad.  Really, really bad.  So terrible that it makes me believe that someone from a hidden camera reality show is going to show up at my door and go, "Surprise!  This was all a set-up just to see how much crying, fussing, hair pulling, face scratching, screaming and tears you can actually take!  Now here's your normally happy go-lucky baby back" (and maybe a million dollars for my time and lost sanity).

Here's the thing, and maybe you can label me as a sh*tty mom for saying this--I can't handle crying, fussy babies.  Yes, I know that babies do this and it's totally normal.  But my psyche can't handle the fact that no matter what I do I can't soothe my child.  THAT makes me feel like a terrible mom (that, and the fact that we've had Baby Einstein on repeat for two days now).

Trust me, we're trying everything.  Tylenol, all natural teething tablets, orajel (yes, I know that some argue it's dangerous but I bought the one without the benzocaine in it).  I've resorted to letting him chew on packages of wipes, under my watchful eye of course.  For some reason, the crackling seems to soothe him.  I've even stopped my attempts at moving him into his crib for naps (another post for that process) and letting him try and nap in his swing--we're currently at 50/50 for naps which makes everything that much worse--little Bee is in full meltdown mode by 4pm without his much needed naps.

But to not come off as a complete a**hole, a teething baby has made me happy about a few things.  Here they are in no particular order:

1) Wine (who am I kidding...this is #1, and 5pm comes earlier and earlier these days)
2) A wonderful nanny so I can drive off and pretend to go somewhere important
3) Friends who I can vent to and that reassure me that this will pass
4) Sophie the teething giraffe.  I don't know what it is about this thing, but he loves it.  Unfortunately, she might meet her death at his hands (and mouth).  No toy, even ones made in France, can sustain the terror he's inflicting on that poor thing.

So until this "passes", I've got a Stage 5 Clinger.  He doesn't really want to be put down.  He'll fight sitting with me of course, but the minute I put him down it's all over.  So we have our pattern.  He'll want to be put down, I put him down, he cries, I pick him up...over and over.

I love you Bee, I really do.  And it's a damn good thing you're really cute.