Gummy Bear

My Daphne baby will be 9 months this Friday. NINE months. Didn't I just announce that we were expecting her? Didn't we just find out she was a girl? And, weren't we debating names for her just yesterday? Oh me oh my, I can't even get a grip on it.

And now, we've had a month full of milestones for her to top it all off. It was only a few weeks ago that she started to really crawl. Not the belly-on-the-floor "army" crawl, but I mean really hands-and-knees start to get mobile (yikes!) Our days have become filled with shouts of "No Daphne!" and "No cords, baby! Let go!" as she inevitably seems to navigate her way straight to a power outage on each and every journey she embarks. Not only has she mastered crawling, but now she pulls herself up to standing - in her crib, at the couch, the ottoman, anything! And she has entered into the "I-think-I-can-walk-but-I-actually-can't-so-I-just-topple-and-hit-my-head-every-ten-minutes-instead" phase, which is really creating a peaceful environment for mommy (ha).

But, the change with the most impact occurring right now, is that this little lady is finally getting some teeth! Four at once, in fact. The whole top row seems to have just barely peeked through overnight, like a garden that has woken up to springtime. Tiny little teeth buds, making their debut to my daughter's smile, how sweet.

Babies go through so many insanely vast changes within the first year, it continues to boggle my mind. When they are first born, my husband and I lovingly refer to newborns as having "squishy face" syndrome. You know what I'm talking about - all new babies have that little face that is wrinkly and red and soft, so soft, that it truly is, in fact, squishy! Then, about six weeks or so later, they start to "get their face" so to speak. They are blinking and smiling at you. A bit of personality is chirping up between bouts of crying and sleeping. They react to you and know your voice and you can start to see which one of you she might actually resemble. Their skin has adjusted to the outside world and their eyes are huge with every little glance of something new. It's not long before more dominant features start to show definition. By 6 months, they are labeled "smiley" or "happy baby" or "chunky buns" or whatever might stick out to you when you look at them. They are real little people, growing and changing right before our eyes.

Daphne was plump and round right from the start (having been born a week late at a whopping 9 lb 5 oz!) and so we called her "little bear" from the get-go. She just looked like a little bear to me. And so, of course, as is Pardy-tradition around here, many more nicknames sprung up from "bear": "Daph-a-bear", "Mini-bear", "Bitty-bear", "Baby-bear", and when you look at that big, toothless smile, it's not hard to imagine where "Gummy-bear" got its start.

My little Gummy Bear is growing up, like it or not. And soon those little teeth will be filling her mouth and changing that little smile and giving her face an entirely new look altogether. It's so weird. Honestly, the whole "teething" bit just kind of freaks me out. Your sweet baby is going through their life, happy as a clam and then WHAM!

"Oh, sorry sweet one, that throbbing pain you are feeling in your mouth is just bits of bone trying to grow their way through your sensitive gum-line. Once it pierces through, after many sleepless nights of tears and anguish, you'll be able to enjoy new activities, like chewing food and biting your sister back."

I wish we could explain it to her. I wish she could understand that it was worth it or tell me what I could do to help her. And I wish I could make her understand how gosh darn cute she has been for the last eight months and how I have treasured her little gummy smiles. Matilda had four teeth by four months old, so the fact that Daphne is almost nine months has truly been a fun, much more manageable pace for me to appreciate this time around.

I know there are many milestones to come for this wee one. I am excited to see, at her own pace, how she grows into the little beauty she will become. Each little phase of babydom is precious, with its own triumphs and challenges along the way. I know I will fall in love with her toothy smile just as much (or more!) as I have with this gummy one; but, of course with each new chapter comes a bit of sadness and sentimentality for this mama. Still, there are three months left to this first year with my lil Daph-a-bear. And, no doubt, she will be bringing smiles to my face for many more to come.

You Can't Handle the Tooth

There is just too much teething going on at the Pardy house. Ok, maybe not exclusively "teething" - but teeth-related-incidents nonetheless. Between Matilda's teeth charging through her little gums and my saga of dental perils that seemingly have no end, we are sorry bunch of smilers at our place these days.

I have never been a fan of the dentist. I don't have any hugely traumatic story to think back to, so I don't know why I have developed such a dentophobia, but there are many many horrible things I would rather do than go to the dentist (labor anyone? *cringe*)

My mother always took us to the dentist on a regular basis (thanks mom!) We would go see Dr. Hanson at his little office that (though legit on the inside) resembled a renovated-Mexican-restaurant-turned-dentist-lair. Maybe that sounds familiar to folks around here, but in Lyons, Kansas a Spanish-style-dwelling stood out among the lot. (Maybe that's why stucco can still make me wince?) Dr. Hanson was nice enough, though I still remember his "disappointment glance" as he would ask me about the frequency of my flossing. I hate flossing. I just hate it. I mean, if there's only a few things you know about me, you probably know I hate flossing...that's how much I hate it. I think it is because my teeth are so close together? Or maybe because I know the outcome will only lead to bleeding and having to slosh and gargle again and again until your spit turns from disdainful brown to clear again. Yuck. Dentists will tell you "bleeding is good when you floss - keep it up and soon you won't bleed"...ugh, what kind of terrible logic is that? I remember thinking as a kid that flossing must be a horrible conspiracy against children - right up there with eating spinach and going to bed early. But, unlike the latter responsibilities, I have not grown to love flossing as I've gotten older. I still hate flossing.

The last time I engaged in this necessary evil, it only led to worse and worse news. There I was, flossing with some new "glide floss" which promised to be less intrusive than the rope-like floss my husband prefers (How can he use that stuff? Is he tying boy scout knots in there? You could anchor a small ship with that stuff!) I get to in between my third and fourth teeth on my upper left side and nightmare of all nightmares - the floss is stuck. I take a deep breath. "Just pull gently. Ok, pull harder. Whew, okay, no worries, this stuff is meant for this - just yank the darn thing out!" One yank later and I'm holding a tiny chunk in my hand. EWW - what IS that? How long has that been stuck up there? Then I navigate my tongue to the newly found void in my upper deck...and realize...it's my TOOTH. I just flossed out a chunk of my own tooth! (Did I mention I hate flossing?)

Three trips to the dentist later, I have had three root canals in the last three weeks. I know, I know, you are so jealous. Turns out the chipped tooth was the easy one to fix - go figure. As with most trips to the dentist (or the mechanic, or the plumber...do these guys all work together?) they discovered something worse in a different tooth that I didn't even know about, nor did I go in for. Yes, hidden in the Xray (by the way, don't you just love those bite-wing Xray things? Could they make those any less comfortable, really?) they discovered an infection in my last molar. They've now tried to root-canal-it twice, but it is too calcified to fix. They are going to attempt one more time (per my pleading) before they decide to extract the tooth altogether. (I am praying to save the tooth, because otherwise I basically have to just say au revoir to the sucker - to purchase an implant would cost around $4,000 even with insurance...and last time I checked, the tooth fairy was not handing out that kind of cash for infected molars.)

Meanwhile, while I'm trying to cope with my dentophobia by loading my iPod with the Beach Boys and tell myself to calmly envision a tranquil setting in my head to drown out the sound of the drill...my sweet baby girl is teething! Matilda already has two bottom teeth. They poked through a couple months ago and she only had a couple nights of discomfort before they were through and soon enough she was grinning with her new chompers. Now, I know her top teethies have got to be on their way - though they have yet to make an appearance. I know she is teething because she's got all the wonderful symptoms - ear tugging, bouts of fit-throwing and extra drooling and nibbling, etc...it's lovely. Poor baby. I'm so glad we don't remember this time in our lives. I'm highly sympathetic for her, and I think it is no coincidence that God is having me experience my own dental angst at the same time. We are just a mess! (I'll admit that I've probably used her baby orajel more than she has - we should really have bought stock in that company! Ha!)

I never anticipated bonding with my daughter over teething. As my teeth are falling out, hers are just peeking their way through! In fact, my dental specialist told me that my teeth issues are most likely linked to my having had a baby. Evidently it is very common for women to suffer teeth decay during and after pregnancy, either because you aren't able to go to the dentist during pregnancy (they don't allow it) or because of some sort of body-chemistry/parasite-like/your-baby-sucked-all-necessary-nutrients-from-your-body kind of reason. Hmm, thanks Matilda. Nevertheless, as we snuggle on the couch and watch another Amy Adams movie together and I kiss her with my half-numbed lips and she looks up at me while she slurps on the end of a frozen wash cloth, I can't help but smile...smile with my rotten-toothed-smile, indeed. Afterall, I love spending time with this little gal, and if I can relate to her on a closer level (even if it means a little pain) - then that is something I can truly sink my teeth into. ;)