Monday, September 29, 2008

Third Post of the Day



I'm sorry, but these photos deserved a post of their own.

An Uninteresting Story of Irony

Authors note: having re-read this entry, I can validate the above title. Truly, this story is not interesting. Unless, you find vomit intriguing.

Earlier this month, I attended 'book club' with a group of women from Church. During the discussion, someone asked the group to define the word, "ironic." If I hadn't been on a mission to make a good impression, I would have instantly broken into the song, Ironic, by Alanis Morissette. Instead, I internally smothered my inner rock star, making promises to her that me, myself and I would star in a concert on our drive home later. With my vocals turned off and my face smooth, I quietly and maturely listened to others define the word for her, nodding my head in agreement when appropriate.

Since that night, life's small ironies have been more apparent.

Saturday night, I drove 45 minutes to our Stake Center to attend the Relief Society general broadcast. Wow, things have changed. Growing up, I had to walk a mere 4 minutes. Prior to the session beginning, we ate dinner and participated in a service project. With the broadcast beginning at 8:00 pm, I was gearing up for a long evening.

At 8:05 pm, we were informed that the satellite wasn't working properly and were sent home. Although I was disappointed that I wasn't able to see it live, I was still glad that I went. After all, it afforded Andrew the opportunity to watch the kids unaided... a task that I was skeptical would go as smoothly as he expected.

However, I have to give the man credit. I had anticipated that he'd be texting me all night, asking me where the baby wipes were, asking if goldfish crackers were allowed for dinner, encouraging me to hurry home, etc. To my surprise, he didn't send a single text or respond to the myriad of texts I'd sent him during the evening. It was odd to have my arms to myself during dinner. I had to remind myself to sit idle rather than sway back and forth to soothe the baby who wasn't with me. I had time to actually think without interruption which I'm not a fan of, because that night, I found myself missing my Mom's company.

Anyway... I came home an hour and a half early due to the satellite malfunction. I had imagined that Andrew would have put the kids to bed already to alleviate the stress of single parenting. However, the expression on his face when I walked through the door was something like,

"The wife just caught me red handed; but I don't even care!" He and Eliza were chasing one another, laughing boisterously. They were in the process of building a fort out with the use of our couch cushions and an air mattress that we still hadn't deflated from Bubba's visit a week prior.

I was happy to see my two kids (Andrew & Eliza) playing with each other; even more than that, I was happy to see that the air mattress was finally out of Henry's room. Sure, I could have deflated it a week ago, but due to a disease called 'being lazy' I hadn't. Instead, I opted to let it live in Henry's room and serve as a play thing for Eliza.

While they played, I began to 'unwind' from my somewhat eventful night. As I was trying to locate my favorite pair of sweats, Henry, who had been put to bed a while earlier, started to fuss. Wanting an opportunity to cuddle my baby, I decided to go ahead an nurse him, knowing my body would thank me later if I didn't wait until the following morning.

Another reason for wanting to see my baby was to check on him. He's been sick. His lungs have sounded congested. With that being his only symptom, I took him to the doctor earlier this week. They sent us home, assuring me that his cold was minor. Saturday 'day' his eyes looked sick. You just know. He wasn't looking right. Following his late night snack, Henry began to vomit profusely on my recently found, favorite pair of pants. I totally didn't care. I was too distraught about the sound he was making and the alarmed expression on his sweet face.

Heck yes, I exaggerate but trust me on this, I am now well aware of the difference between spit up and vomit. It was everywhere. We were drenched. Eliza's never had the stomach flu, so my mind assumed that Andrew had filled him to the brim with rice cereal and wasn't ready for me to nurse him that soon after.

One bath and a half hour later, he begins to vomit again. This time on Andrew.

Finally, after the kids and I are in bed, Andrew begins hearing Henry vomit again in his crib. This time, it's somewhat green/yellow. Did that detail make your stomach twinge?! Well, it was enough to push me into super worry mode. It's past eleven, I call my Mom... wondering what to do. What's the protocol for the stomach flu?

The point of the story isn't to delve into my habit of preparing for solutions and then finding alternative solutions if those ones fail... for any possible scenario. Yes, I have a tendency to overreact and over protect but when it's for the sake of my children it's totally worth those who might mock me for being so uptight. Oh gosh... I'm sidetracking...

The point ... I don't even know if this post is worth trying to salvage. But... the irony is, that night, after phoning the on-call nurse and learning what to watch for, the signs of dehydration, etc... I wanted to sleep in Henry's room. And do you know what?

Moments before Henry up-chucked, Andrew had kindly, deflated the blow-up mattress; the mattress that had been spending a week inflated on Henry's floor for no good reason was suddenly deflated...

Cue Alanis: "Isn't it Ironic? Don't ya think?"

The simple solution would be to blow it back up. Unfortunately that required Andrew going outside (it's nearing midnight) and using the car's something or other to plug in blow-up tool that sounds like a vacuum on steroids when it's turned on. Being afraid of waking up/disturbing the neighbors, he refused to do it.

You remember our dear, kind neighbors, don't you? Rhonda! You remember my story about her, right? She's the one that kept us awake until 5:00 am last weekend. GOOD LAND. Andrew's considerate nature sure seems to manifest itself at inappropriate times. Since our family was the only one that complained about last week's never ending drunken fest, do you think anyone is seriously going to mind listening to an air pump for a few minutes. I lost the battle.So you better believe that I took Andrew up on his offer to sleep on Henry's floor that night instead of me. What a man! However, I joined Henry and Andrew at 3:00 am to see if Henry would be able to keep down milk and I'm pleased to report that he did. His bug came and went quickly. His eyes are bright and happy again.

House Update

Our home hit puberty last week.

Tuesday morning it sprouted walls on the first level
Wednesday, the second floor was completed
Friday, it rained. But the sun came out on Saturday. What's that Eliza? We have a roof!
Monday, the excitement continued with the installation of windows.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

My Dad


Today, it's my turn to beam with pride.

Click HERE

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Shake What Your Mama Gave Ya

Being married to Andrew (and the mother to Henry), I never thought I'd be able to honestly say this; but we're suffering from a gas outage.

Our city, and neighboring areas, are out of fuel. And let me tell you, the Southerners are all riled up (which is to be expected) about it. The news of our situation made CNN last night. The deliveries of gasoline has diminished with the arrival of Ike. They are becoming more random, more infrequent. The time spent in line waiting to fill up can last for hours. The situation is dire...

Please, don't mistake my flare for the dramatic for actual worry. I'm not fearful yet. If Andrew doesn't find somewhere to fill up on the way home, he might have to take my car to work tomorrow. I can survive that considering that my morning commute consist of 15 steps to this cute girl's bedroom door.
Our gasoline pump lines are connected to the refineries in the gulf. Due to Hurricane Ike, the refineries were shut off and it takes time to get things up and running again. The situation should have been rectified by now; key words: should have.

Good grief. I'm blogging about gasoline. I need a life.

Saturday, September 20, 2008

I'm Not Drunk. Seriously. I'm Not.

I'm still recovering from a non-alcoholic hang over... well, I'm confident that alcohol was involved in the party I'm referencing, but considering I don't drink beverages of an alcoholic nature, I can't blame my feeling "off" to that particular substance. However, there was indeed a party and I was definitely not invited, but feel as though I was full on participant.


Do I sound inebriated or what? Sleep deprivation does that to me. An unnamed neighbor, let's call her, Rhonda... turned twenty one yesterday.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY RHONDA

Rhonda's 21 birthday was ushered in late last night with a diesel sized load of her friends... friends who hollered and sang and danced and drank and threw items off of their balcony and drank and peed in our bushes; you get the idea.

My conservative, bored out your mind, let's knit sweaters and eat at Wendys; college filled nights never included parties where alcohol was the guest of honor. But having had direct access to our directly above us, centrally located, boisterous neighbors, I feel as though I can someday tell Eliza how not worth going to parties like that are.

Bottom line; we were the beneficiaries of Rhonda's bash, which resulted in severe sleep deprivation. The party ended at five a.m. Thank goodness for eye make up concealer.

Despite all that, we had a FANTASTIC weekend; thanks to a special visit from my father in law a.k.a Bubba.

His visit didn't last long, but is one we thoroughly enjoyed. Moments after this photo was taken, my camera battery died. Our fabulously ideal morning at Lake Lure wasn't fully documented so I'm going to borrow photo's from Lake Lure's website to describe our activities.

Prior to taking a tour of the lake, via the boat pictured below, we fed ducks, walked a scenic path, changed two diapers and watched Eliza play at the park. We then jumped on a boat for an hour of relaxation, scenic views and delightful commentary. After our summer in Germany, I really appreciated the fact that this tour was given in my native tongue.
Lake Lure is special for a number of reasons. Being the Hollywood junkie that I am, the one tidbit I'd like to pass on to you is that this is where they filmed the classic, Dirty Dancing.

After our morning at the Lake, we ate at Subway and drove an hour back home... AN HOUR folks. Come visit us and we'll take you to see where "Baby" danced her way up a staircase carrying a watermelon."NO ONE PUTS BABY IN THE CORNER"
Other highlights of our weekend with Bubba included: watching him build Eliza her very own fort (that was a first, certainly not the last), playing dominoes, eating ice cream, laughing at the movie, watching him play with Henry at Church, etc...

It was a great few days. Thanks for coming. I LOVE visitors. Next up... MY MOM. No words are needed.
Prior to Bubba's visit, I spent a morning attending my first ever "Mom's Club" - that's right, I joined a club where I'm actually paying women to be my friend. A girl's got to do, what a girl's got to do! The park was fabulous, the calendar is filled with exciting activities and the fee I previously mentioned is 20.00 for the entire year... twenty dollahs.

I'm stoked. I need people in my life; nice people. People who can tolerate my freakin adorable children who like to play in mud.
The most noteworthy of features (because we all know how I love to blog about a good park) was the train that toot, tooted our little bums around the park... fully equipped with a tunnel.
Eliza made friends (I totally forced her) with the Conductor
And lit up the moment I mentioned that Talon and his cover-girl looking Mom (see below) would be coming with us in our smokin hot van.
Henry had his number one pal there. Someday they'll progress from chilling in their car seats to something more grown up... like - oh , I don't know. The grass. Did I mention that they're adorable? I sure think so. By the way. Come visit Have a lovely week, y'all.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Synchronized Urination

My children went one step farther in demonstrating the strength of their bond. They both embarked in a battle between bladder and diaper last night... meaning, they both managed to soak their beds. Congratulations to them on this (thankfully) very rare accomplishment. Their thoughtfulness in conveniently soiling their bed linens the same night allowed me the honor of washing their sheets, waterproof under linens (I don't know it's appropriate name - but it's the piece that protects the mattress from eternal circles of urine... you know what I'm talking about) at the same time.

There's nothing like a late night Henry call that involves the hidden surprise of wet jammies. At least last nights competition involved their bladders rather than their bowels. It could always be worse, right?At the time of Henry's early morning "Mama Call," I was already in bed, fully alert. Lately, I've had intense nightmares that leave me reeling for an unmeasured amount of time. They're the type of dreams that keep you longing to stay awake despite your exhaustion level because you fear that you'll fall back into the moment you tried so hard to escape as your forced yourself awake. Of course, I could try and depict what it was I experienced last night, but we all know that no matter how articulate someone is when sharing a dream/nightmare, it never makes sense to the intended audience the following morning... Am I right? Unless your name is Stephenie Meyer and you experience a dream so powerful and beautiful that you are compelled to write it down in the form of a novel and call it Twilight. As for me, I haven't struck dream-filled gold like her. Anyway, I didn't mind attending to Henry's accident. It provided me with a needed distraction before reuniting with my pillow.

Speaking of nightmares: here's an example of what can happen when your husband is left unattended with a lighter and a bottle of hand sanitizer. I kid you not... Sunday evening, as I was preparing dinner, I discovered Andrew lighting our bathroom tile (followed by our bathroom and kitchen sinks) on fire with the help of hand sanitizer. DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME. Chicks DO NOT DIG THIS!What compels him to act like an 8 year old is beyond me. The difference between him an eight year old is, I can't ground him or take away his fishing pole as a punishment for being reckless. After all, we're equals. I'm not his Mother. But, I had no problem taking the lighter from him and hiding it (twice... he easily discovered my first hiding place).
Henry, the infant man child that will NOT follow the above example of his father, is a fan of rice cereal. I neglected to mention that his first tooth made it's debut a week ago.
How firm our foundation... we finally have one. Walls go up next week!

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Heartbroken at the DMV

Do y'all know who Janis Joplin is?
Neither do I. But apparently she wrote/performed a song that I'd like to dedicate to the beautiful state of South Carolina.
I want you to come on, come on, come on, come on and take it,
Take it!
Take another little piece of my heart now, baby!
Oh, oh, break it!

Break another little bit of my heart now, darling, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Oh, oh, have a!
Have another little piece of my heart now, baby,

You know you got it if it makes you feel good, Oh, yes indeed.

Go ahead and call me. I'd happily sing it for you considering it's constantly streaming through my brain; my current personal anthem.

It's strange that it's the small, seemingly ordinary, occurrences that are solidifying the reality that I now live here. I mentioned before that the arrival of our Civic from Salt Lake (last July) ushered in feelings of great sadness. The smell of my car took me back to days spent back home; driving to and from my Mom's house.

You'd think that signing the contract to build a home would pull me out of denial-ville, but thoughts of re-sale dominated most of the choices made in our housing plans, not to mention... the excitement of the process distracted me.

Allow me a moment of digression, will ya? Gee... thanks. You're a peach.

I remember going 'back to school' shopping with my Mom. In addition to the basic necessities, there were two crucial outfits to shop for (my male audience wouldn't understand - don't feel bad Andrew).

1. The First Day of School Outfit
2. Picture Day Outfit

A lot of preparation went into picture day. Protecting your hair from the 'elements' at recess, finding the right shade of fruity flavored lip gloss, debating whether or not you wear a sentimental necklace given to you by current boy toy... toy... I mean friend; boyfriend. So, as I listed the items we'd need for our new drivers licenses, packed the diaper bag and looked up the directions, my thoughts turned to

"Which of my black shirts should I wear?" Followed by, "Crap. Does this mean I ought to shower today and straighten my hair?"

This admission is totally embarrassing, but I really put some thought and effort into choosing the right outfit and hairstyle for my drivers license picture. Lame. Yesterday, as I was driving the 1/2 hour to the DMV, it started to pour. Across the median, I saw the windshield wipers in full force. For two minutes or so, my new (*new being the key word) car was completely dry as cats and dogs were being thrown from the sky at the cars across from where I drove.

I have this lesson to pass onto owners of a "new to you" vehicle. LEARN WHERE YOUR WINDSHIELD WIPER BUTTON IS BEFORE DRIVING "NEW TO YOU" VEHICLE.

Trust me, your arm pits will sweat and your heart will race as you struggle to figure it out on the freeway during a fierce storm. I never did find the automatic wiper button, so I manually pushed the wipers off and on over and over (...and over and over and over) for the duration of our ride. It was awkward and embarrassing.

So... me and my wet,humidified, frizzled bush of a hairstyle made our way into the DMV. 10 minutes later we walked out due to our failure to note ALL of the forms of identification needed. As a result, I met Andrew there a second time today to complete the process.

"Crap. I have to wash and dry and straighten my hair TWO DAYS in a row." Yes, I'm that lazy. My mom free time is valuable. Not to mention my black shirt of choice had a mustard stain on it, thanks to a corndog mini bite that I dropped on myself last night. Disgusted by my personal, facial weight gain...I smiled for my new license photo. As she handed me my *new South Carolina license, I patiently waited for her to give me Utah one back. She didn't. I asked for it back and she said "No."

If you can tell me why this crushed me; pray, tell. That license photo was taken days after I married Andrew. It was cute. I liked looking at it after I gained weight with Eliza because it reminded me of the fox I was when I weighed less than I do now. But despite the vanity, it officially and legally connected me to the state I love. And now... me and my plump face legally live in South Carolina.

:(

You'd think I'm pregnant due to my emotional over reaction to these small incidents that are slowly breaking my heart... piece by piece (*cue Janis Joplin). I assure you, I'm not pregnant. But I am still female. And I miss my Mom more everyday.

I'll leave you with the most gut wrenching song ever written. Break-up songs/experiences are nothing compared to the emotional flood that was my face as I watched Mama Mia with my own Mom last August and listened to this...


*When I like to wallow in sadness, I like to wallow.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Six Month Snapshot

Henry's Stats:

Weight: 14 lbs 3 oz ---- 5th percentile
Height: 25.75 inches---25th percentile
Head: 17 inches ------25th percentile


Overall, he is a healthy little peanut. Transitioning to a new Pediatrician, the person I depend on when I'm concerned for my children, has been a stressful process. I went with a recommendation from a friend (surprise, surprise). In regards to the facility, I was very impressed. They had two separate waiting rooms: one for the sick children, the other for those who are healthy. Brilliant. As for Doctor...(hmm, he needs a nickname) Dr. Dry (dry sense of humor, dry looking hair) his first attempt at a joke was his "assumption" that I am Henry's big sister. He got the 'big' part right. Ethically, he and I are on the same page. Another commonality is that we're both Westerners; we shared a moment imitating the Southern accent. Aside from these unimportant details, it is evident that he is intelligent.

I'm confident that my kids are in good hands, but (sniff, sniff) I'll forever grieve the loss of our Salt Lake pediatrician, Dr. Perfect. I loved him. Someday, we'll be (sniff, sniff) reunited. Not to mention, Nurse Sunshine (our former pediatrician's nurse) administered the shots wicked fast. I loved that about her. The Nurse we had today, bless her dear Southern soul, took her sweet time sticking Henry. My poor little puppy. Seeing as how I'm in the mood for nicknames, "puppy" seems to be what I most frequently call Henry... a name inspired by his wet, little tongue.

For the Grandmother's viewing pleasure, here's another reason why I think two is better than one.


Tuesday, September 9, 2008

I Have Arrived!

With the economy a complete and utter mess, I have to tell you how profoundly grateful I am that my husband has a job, that I can stay home with our children, that we're able to build our family a home and drive around this saucy lookin' thang...
Welcome to Mom-land!
I feel no shame in joining the ranks of Mom's that drive vans or 'grocery getters' as my brother Mark likes to call them. They're insanely practical. Andrew's more smitten with the vehicle than me. He is a Toyota man through and through.
Yesterday was the "start" date to begin construction on our home. You can't tell from this photo, but behind that black lining they cut and cleared the trees and bushes that we didn't want. Progress was made! Our property line extends well beyond the black perimeter you see there. It slopes into an even level of ground that will be shaded during the day thanks to the trees that have been left standing.Here's another picture of red dirt (for the record, it stains). It may be a plot of ordinary dirt to you... but to us... it's the most exciting, dreamed about, dirt on the planet.In addition to the stakes, the clearing of the trees and the gravel road of rocks that represents our future driveway - they've added a portable potty. Now we know that the builder means business.

We're living the American Dream...
...Did somebody say the word 'dream'

with the exception that we're on the wrong (yet more affordable) side of the country! It won't be long until we're saying "goodbye" to our very first piece of planet earth and driving that van back home to Utah.

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Henry's Crawling!

We've had an eventful weekend...

First up:

We bought a car (more on that later)!! I have wheels. I have freedom. Too bad I don't have a real need to go anywhere. I'll be creative. The dry cleaners? Brwester's ice cream shop?

In other news, Andrew gave himself another haircut.

(...before)
(...after)Rarrrrr. I like it. Oh "hi" Henry! Do you some news you'd like to share with the class?

Did you decide to crawl this weekend? ... Oh! You did?!

Mama is so proud of you. For the record, he's not sitting up on his own... but he's crawling.
(Eliza "blowing me a kiss") On the Eliza front,If she's in the right mood, she'll repeat the words I say upon request. The first time this happened was at bed time. Hearing her say the words of our prayer was one of the best moments I've had as a Mom... even better than the time she opened the door of a public family toilet while I was sitting on it.

If you don't suffer from motion sickness and will forgive me for Eliza's disheveled appearance, you're welcome to enjoy the following video.

Friday, September 5, 2008

This One's For Laura

**Today, I make no apologies for the lengthy, sentimental, inside-filled jokes that this post contains. Today, I write to a best friend.

Dear Laura,

On this, your 25th birthday, I thought I'd take the opportunity to write you a letter. Gee, I hope you don't mind that it happens to be a somewhat, ahem, public letter. (*smile)

As you know, the two of us have a history of embarrassing one another on our "special days." I'm quite sure it began in 8th grade when Ang and I "dolled" you up. We ratted your hair, attacked your mouth with purple lip stick (oops, did I just get some on your teeth?) and generously smeared eyeshadow from the 80's around your eyes. We proceeded to parade you down Wander Lane, blind folded, with two or three posters that read...

"Honk! It's my birthday" & "Honk, If you think I'm pretty" Unaware of the signs, I remember the concern in your voice as you worried aloud,

"Why is everyone honking at me?" If we had something decent waiting for you at our destination, like an actual gift, it would have partially justified our cruelty but instead, we simply handed you a mirror as we removed your blindfold so you could view the fruits of our labors and then, we took your picture.

That year, you returned the favor when you and a few friends assaulted me early in the morning, dressed me head to toe in various shades of green (my b-day is on St. Patrick's day) and took me to school. I remember the fluorescent green tights, a green beret, missing the opportunity to swipe some deodorant and *GASP* mascara!! I looked like the love child of Peter Pan and a Leprechaun. I spent my day listening to other students disdainfully whisper,

"Oh man, that girl sure gets into St. Patrick's Day" I remember the desire to pass the day inside of my locker with a note outside that read:

"Have mercy! It's my BIRTHDAY!"

Alas, the intent of this e-mail is to publicly celebrate your goodness. How quickly I find myself walking down memory lane at the thought of you: the summer we religiously slept at each other's house, horse back riding up at your cabin (I am full on laughing out loud), managing to score a flesh wound which nearly made you pass out, stealing your dad's cell phone to take care of some *business, docking sheep (I assume your family tolerated my presence at the cabin, as they must have viewed me as a twisted form of entertainment). Speaking of my bravery or lack thereof, there was that incident in which you threatened me with a garden snake on the kitchen floor, girl's camps, missionary discussions with Sarah and the Elder whose accent made me laugh so hard I choked on ice, enduring each other's dramas, EFY and sleep deprivation, crushes on "Patrick", saying "goodbye" as I left for Idaho, transforming into adults, e-mails, weddings, welcoming each other's babies...

Every step I took, big and small, you were there to wish me luck, hug me goodbye and welcome me home.

Oh Laura. It is my hope that Eliza finds a friend like you during those rough, yet impressionable years; she needs someone who demonstrates loyalty, that makes her laugh and inspires her to be better. The way you balance your family, education, spirituality and your commitment to exercise amazes me. You're so incredibly well-rounded. All of our high school friends could claim you as one of their best friends and it would be so true. You are the most supportive, thoughtful and constant friend. Your husband and son are so blessed that you are theirs. I hope to be your neighbor when you turn 50 so I can keep with the spirit of this e-mail and throw you the best "Over the Hill" party ever.
At my wedding. Laura is the beauty in the center, wearing white. Motherhood has made her more beautiful.

Much love from the South.

Schmal

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

I Hear Voices

Last night, Eliza was involved in a head on collision with the double stroller. If she had been "ticketed," I think it would have gone in her favor considering the instability of the stroller at the time of the accident. Our stroller was "parked" in the corner of our living room. Distracted by Henry, I wasn't paying attention when it actually fell on her. I tuned into what was happening the moment I heard her cry.

Based on the tone, the pitch, the level of shock and hysteria in the child's scream/cry; a Mother can generally gage the validity of dear child's distressful claim. Her, "I'm SO MAD you made me leave the park" cry differs from her, "I'm going to quietly whine like a puppy whose missing his Mom because I'm tired and neeeeeeeeeed attention."

After translating the tone of her cry, I was on 'full alert' as it seemed to say:
"Mama... how could THAT have happened? I really, really am hurting right now!" It was the sound of shock, combined with actual pain. Not knowing what to do with Henry, who was currently in my lap, I began hurling verbal instructions at Andrew who was near Eliza.

"She's hurt; find out where and how badly!" (I should have made time for a "Please" in there, but I didn't. Shameful, I know.) As Andrew scooped her up, I got my first real look at her injured face. Her mouth, wide open from her yelping, appeared to be toothless.

At that moment my brain compartmentalized into different areas of worry (a coping mechanism for extreme intellectuals - ha, I'm kidding.) and at the same time, each compartment started YELLING at me.

The Voice of Concern: Once, I had a friend who lost her front teeth in an accident and described the extreme pain involved. She said something about the sensitive nerve endings... hanging there. I wonder if Eliza's experiencing a similar feeling of pain? Please, no.

The Voice of Vanity: She lost three of her teeth! At least they're baby teeth... but HOW MANY YEARS will she be toothless? Honestly, she looks like a hillbilly. That's appropriate, I suppose, considering we live in the South. Henry will have a full set of teeth before she does again. I wonder if they make baby tooth veneers?

I interrupt the streaming 'voices' to explain to Andrew my dismay.

"Her.Teeth.Are.Gone." I'm too stunned. Desperately, I try to free myself of Henry so I can get my arms around Eliza. I struggle to think of somewhere to put him. The floor would have worked well, but I was too upset to think logically.

Cue "voices"

The Voice of "It's Time to Act"- Tylenol isn't going to cut it until the morning. I wonder where the closest emergency room is. I wonder where my shoes are. When was the last time Henry ate? Oh man, five minutes ago she had all her teeth. Ugh. It's my fault this happened... blame yourself later. You've got to get out the door...

The Voice of Reason - always too quiet, the voice of reason softly asks why I'm not seeing any blood dripping from her mouth or tooth remnants.

I hear Andrew laughing. He's laughing hard.

Voice of Irritation - What?! Is he actually laughing? The cruel, insensitive...

"Ali." he says with a smile. Catching the look on my face, he changes his tone.

"Ali." he says informatively. "Eliza has ALL of her teeth." Deciding to trust his words immediately, the voices in my head are silenced, relief washes through me.

"Then what was I seeing?" I wonder aloud. Acknowledging the poor lighting conditions in our apartment, I struggle to make sense of the gape I had seen in her mouth.

"She was eating a piece of turkey." Andrew explains through his muffled laughter. In an attempt to make me feel like I hadn't completely lost my mind, he adds,

"I saw what you saw. I can see how you thought her teeth were missing." My need to hold Eliza hasn't dissipated, but the motivation has changed from a sense of panicked urgency to absolute joy...

Joy that the tooth fairy doesn't owe her a set of baby veneers.

Pulling her to my chest, I celebrated the fact that she had her teeth as I consoled her hysterics. Although it took you half of your day to read today's entry, this experience transpired in less than a minute. My apparent enjoyment for writing continues to grow.