The Molar Monster.

I thought we were on our way to greener pastures after a recent bumpy patch with teething. Elle had gone through a few nights of waking a few times and had gotten up at some super early hours, but things seemed to have quieted down once I saw little white pearls of teeth popping out of her swollen pink gums. Little white pearls in each side of her upper and lower gums. Molars. Yay! They're here, I thought. That wasn't so bad, I foolishly concluded.

But they weren't (and aren't) done. And I was wrong. So, so wrong.

This week, she's been getting up slightly earlier. And her naps have been shorter and ending in angry, screaming fashion.

Angry Bear is cuddled by Aunt Marti and slowly
wakes up after a nap that ended prematurely, in screams.
Elle was soooo out of it when she woke up.

The most telling sign that she's in pain and discomfort is that my precious little baby has turned in to a clingy, sensitive, inconsolable and unrecognizable little person. The shortened sleep periods don't bother me, unlike some earlier bouts with the teeth. I actually thought the broken sleep and extremely early wake ups we experienced a few weeks ago were the worst of the Molar Monster's inflictions. But that was before this new stage, when I can't even think about going to the bathroom without Elle's radar going up, poised to scream her head off at the very moment I try to approach the toilet.

Today, Elle cried and screamed like her leg had been torn off because the following reasons:

* I turned around.
* I stood in the doorway instead of in her room.
* She wanted a "book" while sitting on the potty, but apparently none of the "books" (read: PBK catalog, Parents magazine, alumni newsletters) she pointed to were actually the one that she wanted.
* I stopped reading a story to her because she took the book from me. (Um, OK.)
* I didn't know what "this" was that she wanted from my dresser, so I couldn't give it to her.
* I looked at her.
* I breathed.
* I couldn't keep up with her requests of "up" and "down" fast enough. (In my defense, it doesn't really seem like she can make up her mind on that one.)
* She wanted ice chips instead of cubes in her sippy cup. (OK, I made that one up.)

And this was all just after dinner.

She also kept me on my toes by throwing in hysterical peals of laughter after several of the equally hysterical crying fits.

The bottom teeth have definitely arrived, but the top ones seem to be taking their good, sweet time.


In summary, the Molar Monster has changed my sweet, independent, happy toddler in to a child who collapses in to a furious, exhausted mess of a baby as I cuddle her in her blankie. As she cuddles (which I have to admit I love), she sucks her thumb and looks woeful and pathetic. She cannot be reasoned with in this state - if I say that I'm "right here" and she can see me and hear me and practically smell me, it doesn't seem to matter because I am not "righthere." I pray that these molars are done with their business sometime before she starts kindergarten, because I am weary. (Oh, wait - what is that you say? There are second year molars? Nonsense! P.S. Let me live in my own world, please.)

It breaks my heart that she's hurting, and I hate that her pain is making her so miserable. I would like to lobby Congress and get some sort of legislation in the works that makes it mandatory for all teeth to come in at one time, without pain and suffering. I think I'd have a lot of support in that endeavor.

Dear Molar Monster, I would like my sweet, happy baby back, please.
Love, Elle's mommy.