Life as a New Mom: Teething Terror Edition

My house is being held hostage by a giraffe.

A tiny, squeaky, French giraffe.

My daughter Dolores is five months old (I am in shock as I type that, btw—where does the time go?), and she giggles, coos, and squeals. She can roll over from her tummy to her back and vice versa. She sleeps through the night and loves to eat rice cereal and baby food. She’s growing so fast I can’t keep up with her—growing so fast that she’s teething.

Before I had a child of my own, I assumed teething was no big deal. In my blissful ignorance I believed that teething was just another harmless growing pain. I had no idea, y’all. Teething is hell, and I am not even the one cutting teeth. I cannot stand seeing my baby in pain—and that’s what it is, too—awful pain. I thought back to the dark ages when I cut my wisdom teeth and remembered how awful that was. At least, as a teenager, I knew what was going on. I knew why I was in pain. Dolly doesn’t.

The little chompers that are pushing through her gums are driving her crazy. I hate seeing her cry out in pain. She gnaws on her hands with the fury of a little lady in the midst of dentition demolition. We've tried Oragel and teething tablets and teething toys and freezable teething toys and vibrating teething toys, but nothing seemed to soothe her. Nothing, that is, until Sophie.

Sophie la Giraffe is a teething toy: a ridiculously expensive ($25) yet miraculously effective teething toy. Sophie is adorable and made from natural latex, which is safe for babies to chew. Dolly LOVES Sophie. When we’ve descended into the seventh realm of fiery teething hell, Sophie is there to soothe her back to normalcy. When Dolly is happy, Mommy is happy. I do my best to make sure that Sophie is always within arm’s reach.

I cannot let Sophie out of our sight. She squeaks. It’s a fun little feature designed to stimulate a child’s auditory development and teach her cause-and-effect. It’s also a dog magnet, and we have two dogs. I am constantly checking to make sure I haven’t left Sophie out where the pups can snatch her. They hear Sophie’s squeak, and they come bolting into the nursery faster than you can say Beggin Strips. The dogs are fascinated, and I know it’s just a matter of time until an acute case of mommy brain makes me forget to secure Sophie and then my dogs are gnawing her apart in a scene straight out of National Geographic.

I guess I should start hoarding Sophies. That will make for a fun trip to Tarjay. Oh, don’t mind me; I’m just a frazzled mom in my fat jeans buying eighty-seven of these here teething toys.

How many teeth do babies get again? Is it thirty-two? We’re only two deep and I’m already exhausted. But then again, I’m always exhausted. At least Sophie’s got my back.