he's either teething or he hates us

Having a baby is difficult for a couple of people who obsess as much as Ryan and I do. Baby Ben is having a difficult time again. It might be my eleven-year old sister's birthday party he went to on Sunday, replete with twenty kids screaming and flinging themselves from one end of a pink, castle-shaped bouncy house to the other, bashing Shrek's pinata head open and smearing cake all over their faces. Ben shut down and slept most of the time. He couldn't pooh for forty-eight hours. Still, after he'd recovered, he remained cranky. And the questions kept pouring forth from Ryan and my over-active brains: Is he tired? Is he hungry? Is he soiled? Is he sick? Does he have a fever? Is he lethargic? Is he hyper? Why isn't he rolling over? Does he coo enough? Why is he spitting up so much? Could the smell from the tar from the shingling next door be bothering him? Is he sick of being inside? When I take him on walks, does the sun bother him? Does he have allergies? Does he like us? Are we boring? Are we too stimulating? Do we read to him enough? Is he eating enough? I told Ryan we needed to stop ourselves before Ben gets older and realizes that we are insane, but I can't stop myself, and Lord knows if I can't stop, Ryan won't be able to. We need to rescue each other. Ben is fine. Let me say it to myself one more time: Ben is fine. He's fine. He's fine. He's active, he doesn't have a fever, he sleeps fairly well, he eats plenty. It's just that he's been irritable lately, and I imagine that this, combined with the sudden obsession with his mouth and chewing on things and drooling may have something to do with teething. I put a little Baby Orajel on his gums this morning, and his whole attitude changed. We even went on a fuss-free hour walk today. I can't feel anything along his gums yet, but I know a sharp bit of porcelain will be protruding any day now. My poor little man...