Shepherd decided recently that cutting teeth one at a time was for sissy's, and in the past 2 weeks has cut 3 teeth (I kid you not). Two of them being molars. The kid went from 7 pearly whites, to 10... and if that wasn't enough for him, there are two more cutting as I type.
This one fact alone has led me to believe that I am actually raising two boys, trapped in one body. There are days where my son is the sweetest, most lovable, agreeable child, taking two beautiful naps, and behaving beautifully, so much so, I almost fully expect him to poop rainbows and smiley faces. On other days, he's an all out terror, willfully defying everything I say, mocking me (yes, he's now mocking me when I say "no"), and screaming bloody murder if he does not get his way. Granted, I'm fully aware that these days are the days that his teeth hurt the most, but man alive! Does he drive me crazy on these days. I've found that my best bet is to distract him as much as possible, playing outside, and letting him run himself ragged, and then doping him up on Motrin before bedtime for the pain. Most nights, he'll sleep fine, but occasionally, he's up at 2 am, screaming about his teeth.
But the reality is that through it all, I actually don't mind the teething so much. You see, ususally, Shepherd wants nothing to do with me during the day. He's too busy climbing on things, pushing and pulling on toys, running, and generally being a boy to care about mommy. Then when daddy gets home, you'd think that the biggest celebrity had walked in, and he wants even less to do with me, pushing me away when I try to get kisses. It's been a hard adjustment, to go from being the one to cuddle and hold him, and be the only one he wanted, to being close to chopped liver. I know that it's a stage, and that it doesn't reflect his true feelings towards me, but it's been kind of hard. That is, until recently, with the teeth. You see, it's those during those 2 am scream-a-thons that he wants none other than Mommy. It's when his teeth hurt really bad during the day that he wants to cuddle and be held. It's when he conks his head after attempting to climb something that he cries out for "Momma" and buries his wet face into my neck. It's those moments that I feel needed once again. Those moments that I feel important. In a way, it sounds awful, as though I'm looking forward to my son hurting, but that's not true. My heart breaks along with him, and at times, I sit there and cry with him as he screams, holding his hand to his mouth, unable to understand the pain, and wishing I would take it away. It's just that these are the only moments he seems to need me right now, and I'll take what I can get.