I Think My Daughter Hates Me (Or, Teething is a Bitch)

So I haven’t written much this week because my daughter is teething-hard-like a bitch!  Nothing has made an appearance as yet, but her constant screaming and spitting up is pretty indicative that teeth are on their way-you can feel their jaggedness and see their outlines.  I think they’re suffering from what The Simpsons calls 3 Stooges Syndrome-they’re all trying to cram their way through at the same time, so nothing is coming in.  And before you ask…yes, we have tried balms and lotions and children’s Tylenol (don’t give me lip about drugging my child-we use it sparingly and only when she is in true pain) and distraction and soothing baths and pretty much everything except liquor on a rag that she can suck on, but we’re getting close on that one (oldies are goodies).

The only thing keeping me from going over the edge, and trust me when I tell you that I am close, so close to going over the edge, that as soon as the hubby gets home I hand Lily to him and I walk away because at that point if I don’t walk away bad things are going to happen…breathe…the only thing keeping me from going over the edge is remembering that even when she is punching me and pinching me and screaming at me and spitting up all over me…she is not doing this on purpose. Lily is doing all of these things because she is in pain and she doesn’t know why.  She can’t make it go away.  And when it does go away it’s like all the hellish clouds part and she is, once again, my smiling happy baby who coos and laughs and stares at me in wild wonder.  We have full out conversations made of bubbles and animal sounds.  And I can’t help but forget the hours of drudgery and the smell of vomit on my shoulder because all my daughter does is laugh and love me. And really, what’s better than that?

But then the clouds reappear because the numbing lotion has worn off and suddenly her loving stare turns to a furrowed brow and then her mouth opens and she’s screaming-she’s screaming like someone is murdering her and big, huge, drink me Alice in Wonderland sized tears are falling down her face and she’s cramming her fingers into her drool-pocolypse mouth and there’s nothing I can do except pick her up and rock her until the shooting pain goes away.  She is helpless and I am double helpless because there is nothing I can do to help her and I can’t avoid her flying fists of fury.  This is when I am convinced that my daughter must hate me because she seems to be a sadist-like by hurting me she will feel better.

It’s been a dark week, and I’ve definitely had those thoughts that every mommy (at some point or another) has: “I can’t do this, I don’t want to do this, I want to give her back and return to my old life.” If you’ve never had those thoughts, you’re simply not human.  And at the end of the day I do have a wonderful husband who takes Lily out of my hands and lets me regain some semblance of rationality.  I miss my mother-she went back to L.A. this week and she’s the best daytime break that I get.  I really admire single moms because there is no way that I could do this alone-I do have a great support system of relatives and friends-but that doesn’t mean that, sometimes, I’m convinced that Lily hates me and the feeling is mutual and all I need to do is hop in my car and drive into the city and rewind a couple of years because my sister is living in the old apartment, so I know how to get in, and I can just pick up like it’s 2008 and I’m carefree and much thinner-plus I can go to work and have adult conversations.

And then Lily smiles…