Never Too Young

Dear Son is getting pretty independent in his three-year-old potty habits. It's all good so long as he aims well (I got him trained pretty good now to point that thing down and not to spray the wall behind the toilet). For whatever reason, our home was built with quite tall commodes that don't slack at all in the overall bowl size, either. Son has to hang on for dear life to keep from falling in.

Despite his independence, he still sometimes needs a little help, and he likes me to hang out in the general vicinity in case of such need. Last week I was in the master bathroom getting ready to put on my make up for work when he hurried in and put himself on the tall throne. He sat there with his feet dangling and sweetly said, "Mommy, you are pretty!" I turned to look at him and and repeated what he said to be sure I heard him right, "You think I'm pretty?" "Yeah," he said. "You are pretty when you put that makeup on your eyes." "Oh!" I said. "You think I'm pretty when I put my make up on!?" I tried hard not to stress the part about the makeup and not to sound disappointed in the qualification he added to his compliment. "Yeah," he said. "AND you are pretty without your makeup!" he added hopefully.

The little guy has already mastered the art of putting his foot in his mouth and back peddling quickly.

No Hocky Puck Necessary

My firstborn, who just turned six years old, finally lost a tooth the "normal" way! As I described in my last post, we were hopeful to be able to lose it this route and not via "dental assistance" like the two bottom ones required. Daughter is just too timid and doesn't like to wiggle on those teeth aggressively. I've been nagging on her for weeks to keep working on it, per the dentist's caution that we had limited time to achieve this task before he'd have to intervene. Dear Husband and I have taken turns wiggling on it for her the past couple weeks.

This morning I noticed it was sticking out of her mouth at nearly a 90 degree angle. It was pretty ugly. But I was distracted first by my trip to urgent care to address the fact that I came home from work last night feeling like death, and woke up this morning disappointed that I was still alive. The doc at urgent care said I was the third case of this throat funk she'd seen this morning. And it was only 9:00 am. I guess I'm not original or anything this time. I was too sick to even drive myself, so I had to recruit the husband. Of course, that meant we also had to cart along the wee ones. I sent them to get some groceries while I sat in the urgent care office. No way I was taking my kids in there or they'd get sick for sure.

It was on the way home that I noticed Dear Daughter was looking like quite the snaggle tooth. As soon as I got that first round of antibiotics in me, I scrubbed up and manhandled her tooth for a few seconds. It began to move around the socket, but wasn't coming out. It was making my skin crawl, so I stopped and asked Dear Husband to finish her off. That's when Daughter took a step back from me and spit the tooth out on the tile floor. It rattled across the kitchen before it registered in my brain what just happened. I looked at the tooth on the floor, I looked at my stunned daughter, I looked at Dear Husband, and then I shrieked that Daughter just spit her tooth out! Dear Husband said proudly that she is just like a hockey player. Daughter was pleased as punch.

We can only celebrate for a day before we have to start working on the other front tooth. Dentist said they both have to be out by her appointment in September or he's going to yank them.

It's the first tooth Dear Daughter has lost the "normal" way, and it was bittersweet. With each baby tooth lost, it feels like another bit of her babyhood is lost. It's been less than six years since we celebrated the excitement of her getting her very first teeth, and now we're already celebrating her losing them. *sigh*

Time Warp

We made it. It was over nearly a week ago, and I'm just now posting about it, so that should be an indicator of how much it wiped me out! Wild parties have taken on an entirely different meaning since kids came along!

I still call her my "baby" even though she is now officially six years old. She's such a ham that it's nearly impossible to get a candid shot of her. This one is as close as I've gotten.

...and I almost snuck this one in without her knowing. Almost.

The week ended last week with the annual birthday visit from G Uncle Ron and G Aunt Pat and the third annual fishing trip. Followed by a family birthday party. Followed by the day Dear Daughter has been dreaming of for more than half a year: her first birthday party with girlfriends.

She hammed it up with her new Talent Show tent and microphone and competed with her little brother for the best talent in the house. He gave up and took her on in true Bumblebee fashion.








Last year Dear Son was enamored with Darth Vader. This year it is Bumblebee, followed closely by Optimus Prime. As I've said before, he is about as much boy as Dear Daughter is girl.

When the weekend was over, six little girls came to celebrate some more at Dear Daughter's first girlfriend party. Here she is competing with some friends in a round of "Freeze Dancing."

No wonder I ended last week in a complete stupor. Maybe the sore throat I'm battling added to that stupor. And the latest legal battle I'm fighting still with a lady who I'm pretty sure answers to the name of Satan.

So I guess that's a wrap on another year. I'm pretty sure Daughter grew about four inches and added nearly 10 pounds since her last birthday. Her long pants from last fall are now all too short and I plopped her on the scale out of curiosity. No wonder I can barely lift her anymore.

Poor thing is also trying to loose another tooth, but she just can't seem to loose them normally. The clock is ticking, and the dentist says if the two top front teeth don't come out before our visit in six weeks, he's going to yank them himself. Seems the permanent teeth are pushing in, but they are not pushing the baby ones out. One of the two has shifted in position quite a lot and has a funky color now. The dentist explained this is due to the permanent tooth trying to come in and the gum bleeding into the hollow of the tooth. Nothing to be alarmed about, he assured me. But nothing too pretty, either. Fortunately the discoloration has not gotten worse. Yet. I think I have enough stuff on my mind without the constant reminding I have to do to get Daughter to wiggle on that tooth. I figured we'd work on one at a time, but time is running out. The good news is that these teeth are coming in straight as far as we can tell on the x-rays. One of them was rotated 90 degrees a year and a half ago when we discovered the extra tooth that had to be surgically removed. I'm thrilled to hear that it straightened out and will come in just fine so long as Daughter can get those baby teeth out of the way!

For those of you with little children, I urge you to start taking them to the dentist as soon as their baby teeth start coming in. I'm always amazed when I hear parents say they never took their kids to the dentist until they were four years old or older. There's a lot that can be managed with preventative care when kids are seen by a dentist early.

I know my blog posts have been pretty pitiful and completely lacking creativity for quite some time now. The incessant drama of my life this past year has just absolutely sucked it out of me. It all began on Dear Daughter's birthday a year ago. It's not quite over yet, but I'm optimistic that I'm close, and that I'll soon be able to reclaim my life and in time, recognize myself again.