One of the universal truths of parenting a baby: it's always something. There's always some kind of phase in progress. If it's not one thing, it's another.
Sometimes they're fun phases, like when baby starts babbling, saying "mamamamama" constantly. Or making a funny face or adorable gesture.
Sometimes they're phases that make you want to tear out your hair, like difficulties nursing, teething, or separation anxiety.
Sometimes there a few things going on at once. Like right now in my house.
After a summer of non-stop teething, the fall was relatively quiet as new teeth arrived unceremoniously, bringing baby's total number of teeth up to a whopping six. He has four teeth on top and two adorable teeth on the bottom (why are those bottom teeth so much cuter, I wonder?)
Suddenly this week, he's biting me at every opportunity (especially when
I'm nursing - ouch! Time to start weaning...). He's bursting into tears for no reason and gnawing on everything within reach. Okay, no problem. It's a rough patch but we've been through this before. Nothing a few teethers and a little Tempra can't help.
Except that he's also fully entrenched in another phase - one which is fun for him but not so fun for me. He's in the "throwing everything on the floor" stage. Ostensibly he's doing this so he watch me pick the objects off the floor and he can throw them back down again. Fine, I can see how this would be fun for a nine-month-old.
Now put the two together and what do you get? Screaming, crying and throwing things on the floor non-stop. The things he's throwing are the ones he's supposed to be using to soothe his sore gums. Oh yeah, and while he's crying he's wailing "Mamamamaaaaaa..." Sigh.
All I can say is thank goodness this doesn't happen all day long. But if you call my house and it sounds like feeding time in the monkey cage at the zoo - well, now you know why.