Chew Chew Train

My husband mocks me because I’ve been swearing our daughter is getting teeth for about 4 months now. But I think this time she really is. I can’t feel any teeth under her gums yet, but she must be teething because she’s chewing on EVERYTHING.

Babies her age love to explore things by putting them in their mouths, but lately she goes way beyond just putting things in her mouth. She puts things in her mouth and chews them, chomps them, gnaws on them, and gnashes them with her gums. When I hold her against my shoulder, she bites down on my collarbone with all her strength, or gnaws on my jawbone. When I tickle her belly with my head, she grabs handfuls of my hair with both hands, pulls me toward her, and chomps on my hair – or my nose – or my neck. When her daddy nuzzles her with his nose, she attempts to gnaw on his head. If I stick my finger in her mouth, she chomps down with all her might.

I’ve tried offering her traditional teething toys, and although she’ll try them out, she loses interest very quickly. The frozen duck teething ring was rejected almost immediately. The cold, wet washcloth lasted for a few minutes before it was cast aside. The stuffed toys with textured plastic teething rings also get a few minutes of attention before being tossed overboard. We have a mesh feeding bag that her brother liked as a teether, especially when we filled it with a few ice cubes. My daughter, however, when presented with the ice cubes, licked it a few times then looked at us as if to say, “Is there supposed to be some flavor here?” I tried putting some frozen peas in it, but she gave it a half-hearted nibble then ignored it. She gave a similar response to a bite of frozen waffle and some chilled apple chunks.

She has managed to find her own favorite teether, though: her brother’s toys. More specifically, her brother’s trains. There must be something about the size, shape, or texture of Thomas and his Friends that makes them the perfect teethers in her opinion. They’re just the right size and shape to fit in her hand, and the wheels add enough lumpiness that they don’t slip through her fingers. The ridges of their funnels and smokestacks apparently feel good on her tender gums. Fortunately, her brother’s train collection is extensive enough that she can “borrow” one for a while even when he’s playing and he doesn’t protest. And since none of her teeth have popped through yet, she can’t do any damage to them.

We’re lucky that she’s pretty good-natured, even when she’s teething, but there are moments when her gums really seem to be hurting her and she gets cranky. And when that happens, the best thing I can do is hand her a train and think, “Go go, Thomas!” and agree that Thomas really is number one.

The Dreaded Diaper Rash

I have officially discovered the most unpleasant thing about parenting. It’s not changing diapers, or suctioning snot out of noses, or even sleep deprivation. It’s diaper rash. We managed to escape it for nearly eight months, but now here it is with a vengeance.


My mom warned me that when I was teething, I always got terrible diaper rash. And when Ryan’s first two teeth started coming in, he had a tiny bit of redness down below every now and then. But now, as we’re waiting for the next two teeth to make their appearance, the poor kid’s backside has suddenly transformed into raw hamburger.

I feel terrible for him every time I change his diaper. As soon as I put him on the changing table, he starts to sob hysterically and locks his legs together so I can hardly get his diaper off. Not surprisingly, he apparently dreads the ordeal as much as I do. The worst part is wiping his backside – I had a hangnail one day and realized that even the non-alcohol wipes sting like the dickens, so I can only imagine how painful it must be when I touch his raw backside with the wipes. I’m tempted to take my husband’s suggestion and just hose him off in the bathtub every time I change him, but unfortunately that’s just not logistically possible. (Keep in mind, he weighs 32 pounds and he’s VERY strong. I simply can’t physically haul him in and out of the tub – against his will - five times a day and still walk upright by bedtime.) Plus, the only thing I can imagine that would be more painful than what he’s got now is to add an infection on top of it. So I go with the best weapon I have: diaper rash cream.

We have several types on hand: Desitin, Aveeno, and good old-fashioned petroleum jelly. We slather it on his bum like frosting on a birthday cake. (My somewhat conservative husband jokes that it’s about the only thing he does “liberally”.) We do the best we can to create a thick seal over his tender skin. I wish there were a way to tell him that the salve will make him feel better, but all he knows is that touching that broken, rashy skin is agony for him.

I remember as a little girl, whenever I had the flu my dad would tell me, “I wish I could be sick instead of you.” I never completely understood what he meant until having a child of my own. But right now, if I could take his pain on myself, I absolutely would. At least I know that it won’t last forever. At least I know that some of the short-term pain will actually help the long-term pain. At least I know how to help myself avoid making the pain worse. But I guess that all I can do is keep slathering him with soothing lotion and just wait for those teeth to arrive.