Teething Nightmares and 90s Nostalgia

It was 3:14 AM on a Tuesday, and our kitchen floor was aggressively cold. Maya was six months old and shrieking like a tiny, angry banshee because her bottom left tooth was trying to break through her gums with the ferocity of a diamond drill. I was wearing college sweatpants from 2009 that had a questionable yogurt stain on the knee, holding my third mug of microwave-reheated coffee—yes, at 3 AM, don't judge me—while my husband Dave was frantically tapping his phone screen. "I read about this on a forum," he muttered, and suddenly the absolute loudest, most obnoxious bassline started pounding through our smart speaker.

I stared at him like he had entirely lost his mind. But then the beat dropped, and suddenly we were both bouncing up and down in the dark kitchen, swaying a screaming infant while chanting the lyrics to vanilla ice ice ice baby at the top of our lungs. The sheer absurdity of two exhausted thirty-somethings trying to hip-hop soothe a baby to sleep was, frankly, peak parenthood.

And the craziest part? Maya actually stopped crying. She just stared at us, probably wondering who these unhinged people were, but her little body completely relaxed. Anyway, the point is, surviving those middle-of-the-night teething sessions requires doing whatever the hell works, even if it makes you feel ridiculous.

The night 90s hip hop saved my sanity

I'm pretty sure I read somewhere—or maybe it was a TikTok, oh god my brain is basically just mush and cold brew at this point—that babies naturally respond to music that sits around 110 to 120 beats per minute because it supposedly mimics the accelerated heartbeat they heard in the womb. Like, when you're pregnant and stressed about putting together a crib, your heart is racing, and they just get used to that frantic tempo. So tracks like "Ice Ice Baby" or basically any aggressive 90s nostalgia pop-rap actually hit that magical rhythmic sweet spot for them.

Our pediatrician, Dr. Miller, who always looks at me like I'm slightly unhinged but means well, mumbled something once about how rhythmic bass can be soothing for the nervous system. But she also warned me about the volume, which is totally fair. I guess the pediatric guidelines suggest that anything over 50 or 60 decibels can actually damage their tiny eardrums, so wrapping a baby in sound isn't the best idea. We compromised by putting the speaker all the way across the room on the kitchen counter instead of blasting it right next to her head, which I think is a pretty solid middle ground for modern parenting survival.

Please don't put actual frozen water in their mouths

The whole "ice baby" irony of that night wasn't lost on me, because earlier that afternoon my mother had called to tell me that back in the day, they just rubbed a literal ice cube on a baby's gums to numb the pain. Boomer parenting advice is wild, honestly.

I almost did it. I was so desperate to stop Maya's crying that I had the freezer door open, but then I remembered Dr. Miller casually mentioning how extreme cold can honestly cause frostbite on delicate gum tissue and lips, which sounds like an absolute nightmare that I don't want to be responsible for. And obviously, a melting ice cube is a massive choking hazard for a baby who's just learning how to exist in the world. So rather than freezing a choking hazard and handing it to your crying infant or giving them literal frostbite on their tiny gums, you just take a clean, damp washcloth, twist it up, and shove it in the refrigerator for like ten minutes while you question all your life choices.

Things we chewed on instead of frostbite

Since we established that I'm terrified of freezing things, I became obsessed with finding the exact right thing for Maya to gnaw on that wouldn't damage her mouth or my sanity. And let me tell you, not all teethers are created equal.

Maya treated the Panda Teether Silicone Baby Bamboo Chew Toy like it was her religion. I'm not even exaggerating. It's this 100% food-grade silicone thing that we would toss in the fridge (NOT the freezer, I learned my lesson) and the cooling effect lasted just long enough to calm down her frantic chewing. It's flat and has all these weird little textured bumps on it that she could perfectly mash her back gums against. Plus it's entirely BPA-free so I wasn't having an anxiety attack about toxic plastic leaching into her system while she drooled uncontrollably over it. Honestly, it saved our lives on more than one occasion and it went right into the dishwasher honestly because I absolutely refuse to hand-wash anything if I don't have to.

On the flip side, Dave bought the Bear Teething Rattle Wooden Ring Sensory Toy because he's deeply committed to that sad, beige, natural wood aesthetic for the nursery. It's undeniably beautiful, and Leo seriously loved wooden rings when he was a baby, but Maya just used this one as a weapon. It was just okay for us—she'd chew on it for a minute and then violently throw it at the dog because the hard beechwood wasn't giving her the squishy relief she wanted at 3 AM. Every baby is different, I guess.

The other thing no one warns you about with teething is the sheer, unadulterated volume of drool. We were going through six outfits a day because her chest was constantly soaked, which was giving her this terrible, angry red rash under her chin. I finally snapped and swapped all her cheap fast-fashion onesies for the Organic Cotton Baby Bodysuit Sleeveless Infant Onesie. It sounds so basic, but the organic cotton genuinely absorbed the moisture without trapping it against her skin, and it has enough elastane stretch that I could pull it down over her shoulders when we had a blowout, which happens WAY more frequently when they're teething, by the way. I don't know the science behind teething and diarrhea, but it's a thing. Anyway, if you're currently drowning in a sea of baby saliva, you should probably just take a minute to browse Kianao's organic baby clothes collection and save yourself from doing laundry four times a day.

Why are we like this

Sometimes I get so caught up in the whole e baby culture—you know, the electronic monitors that track every breath and the apps where you log exactly how many millimeters of puree they consumed—that I forget parenting used to just be about surviving the night.

We stress so much about getting the perfect eco-friendly, aesthetically pleasing items. We Google "is organic bamboo better than silicone" at midnight while the baby is screaming. But honestly? Sometimes you just need to put down the tracking apps, hold your messy, drooling, miserable little creature, and blast a one-hit-wonder from 1990 until everybody calms down. There's no perfect way to do this. You're just trying to get through the tooth coming out of the skull without everyone crying.

Let's wrap this fever dream up

If you take nothing else away from my ramblings, remember this: don't freeze the teethers, don't put the speaker in the crib, and absolutely lean into whatever ridiculous musical nostalgia keeps your baby from screaming. I'm going to go pour myself a fourth cup of coffee and stare at the wall for a bit.

If you're staring down the barrel of a teething regression tonight, go chill your silicone toys right now, grab whatever caffeine you can find, and maybe check out Kianao's teething collection before the 3 AM wake-up call hits.

Questions you're probably googling right now

Does the whole heartbeat music thing seriously work?
Okay so, I'm not a scientist, but in my deeply unscientific experience of crying in my kitchen, yes. The 110-120 BPM range really does seem to distract them. It mimics your frantic pregnant heartbeat, which is somehow comforting to them. Just keep the volume low, across the room, because hearing damage is a real thing we've to worry about now.

Can I just put teething toys in the freezer?
Oh god no, please don't. Dr. Miller scared the absolute crap out of me about this. Frozen solid objects can cause frostbite on their little gums, which makes the pain ten times worse. Just put the silicone teethers or a wet washcloth in the regular refrigerator section. It gets cold enough to numb the pain without turning into an ice weapon.

Are silicone teethers really better than the wooden ones?
Honestly, it totally depends on your kid's vibe. My oldest, Leo, loved hard wooden rings to gnaw on, but Maya was a pure silicone baby. Silicone is squishier and easier to clean (hello, dishwasher), but wood is great when the tooth is really trying to break the surface. Get one of each and see which one they don't immediately throw at your head.

When the hell does teething stop?
I'm so sorry to tell you this, but it basically goes on for two years. They get a break, you start sleeping again, and then suddenly the molars come and you're right back to bouncing in the kitchen at 3 AM. Buy the good coffee. You're going to need it.