Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Cut Your Teeth and Make Your Peace*

Lana lost her first tooth last week.

She was incredibly pleased about it. It fell out while she was wiggling it in front of the bathroom mirror.

Husband and I were sitting out by the pool at the time. (This is pretty much where we can be found most of the summer. We have a strict rule about no kids in the backyard when there are no grown-ups out, by the reverse is not true. In fact, some times the adults in our house enjoy the pool when there are no kids in it. Blasphemy, I know.)

Anyway, Husband and I were sitting by the pool. Lana came bursting out the back door and triumphantly produced her tiny tooth, exclaiming, "MY TOOTH FELL OUT!! MY TOOTH FELL OUT!!"

We made all the appropriate parental noises and I took the tooth inside and put it in a sandwich baggie. WHICH I then promptly lost. Seriously. I put it somewhere safe. And I can tell you, it SURE IS safe, because I cannot, for the life of me, tell you where it is.

As bedtime drew near, I became increasingly distressed about the fact that I had misplaced her tooth.

Lana became increasingly distressed about the fact that A FLYING MAGICAL CREATURE WAS COMING TO HER BEDROOM TO TERRORIZE HER IN HER SLEEP.

She was totally freaked out about the tooth fairy. Scared out of her mind, in fact.

She asked Husband to put the tooth under HIS pillow. (We readily agreed to this, since the tooth was, and is, still LOST.)

She asked us to leave the tooth fairy a note. She specified that we should not say who in the household had lost a tooth. "Don't say it's Lana's tooth!" she begged and pleaded.

We wrote a note to the tooth fairy, conspicuously removing any reference as to whose mouth it might have come from, and we put Lana to bed.

She was awake every half hour from 10:00 to 12:30, worrying that something was flying around her bedroom, at which point I gave up and took her to sleep in the guest room with me. She slathered her small body next to mine, under my arm, and that's the way she slept all night. (Usually, when we need to bring her to bed with us, she is just satisfied to be in the bed. But not that night. That night, fear of the tooth fairy required actual parental contact all night long. The horror of that tiny little fairy. Who knew?)

In the morning, Husband hung a $2 on Lana's bedroom door while Lana was still asleep.

The $2.00 bill had been in the drawer of my jewelry box, where a bottle of my perfume once spilled out a bit, and now everything that spends any time there smells faintly of Yves St. Laurent's Paris.

When she woke up, Lana pulled the bill off her door.

She eyed it suspiciously.

"Who put this here?" she demanded.

"The tooth fairy," Husband said.

Lana brought the bill to her nose and breathed deeply.

Her eyes narrowed. She sniffed the bill again.

"This money," she announced, (in a tony much like that of Sherlock Holmes solving some kind of mystery), "SMELLS LIKE MOMMY!"

She ran to show Gabriel the bill. "Smell this!" she commanded.

Gabe said, "The tooth fairy always brings two dollars."

"Smell this money, Gabe!" Lana said again.

Gabe smelled it.

"That money smells like mommy," Lana said. "Don't you think that money smells like mommy? It smells like mommy's smell!"

Gabe considers for a minute and said, "That money DOES smell like mommy."

I tried to tell them that the tooth fairy made the money smell like mommy because she didn't want Lana to be afraid of her.

They both pretended to accept that explanation. But truthfully...I think they might be on to me...I can't believe I've been outed by a fear of small flying magical money bringing fairies and a devotion to Yves St. Laurent...

*Make Your Peace, INXS


Gabe is at camp. He cried in the car on the way there. Then he fell asleep.

When we got there, and he saw everything, and he saw his cabin, and got a bunk bed with his cousin, he seemed much calmer.

We haven't heard a word from the camp, so I am crossing my fingers and hoping that he's having a good time.

Saturday, June 27, 2009

Oh help!

Gabe is supposed to leave for camp tomorrow with four of his cousins. (Three older girl cousins and his closest cousin, D~. Gabe and D~ are only three months apart and the two of them are, generally speaking, thick as thieves.)

When my sister asked if Gabe would want to go to camp with D~ and the girls, I said, "of course," and sent in the form and the $215.

As Gabe has pointed out to me REPEATEDLY in the last 48 hours, I never ASKED HIM if he would want to go to sleepaway camp for five nights, and that he doesn't WANT TO GO to camp, and he will HATE IT.

D~ has a less vocal, but similar point of view about the situation, tempered only by the fact that he is accompanying his three older sisters to camp.

My sister and I have both told Gabe and D~ that if they truly hate it, one of us will come get them. D~ has, in a rare show of speaking more loudly than his three older force-of-nature sisters, stated, categorically, that he won't go if Gabe doesn't go.

Gabe is so hysterical about the prospect of going that I'm a little beside myself as to what to do...

Do I give in and tell him he doesn't have to go, or do I tell him he has to try it for at least one night?


Wednesday, June 24, 2009

I am Irrationally Fascinated by this News Story

Governor of South Carolina Goes Missing

Honestly, I don't blame the guy for wanting some time to clear his head and get away by himself for a few days. I understand that desire to spend some time alone.

However, when one is a GOVERNOR of a STATE, it seems to me it would be PRUDENT to tell your staff where you are. And, oh, I don't know, maybe alert the person who's second-in-command, in case there is a some kind of emergency that might require the attention of the person who is supposed to be running an entire state.

What I find most curious is this statement about the governor's wife:

"The governor's wife, Jenny Sanford, told The Associated Press she had not seen him since Thursday but was not concerned because he'd told her he wanted to get away and do some writing." (Emphasis added.)


Perhaps the Sanford's have a different kind of marriage than, say...the average married couple.

But, if I hadn't seen my HUSBAND in DAYS, and he was missing ON FATHER'S DAY and I didn't know where he was...I am pretty sure I would not be telling people that I hadn't heard from him but was not concerned.

(And, those of you who know me in real life are thinking that if I hadn't seen Husband in days and didn't know where he was that I would have to be sedated because I would a.) be completely hysterical with worry and b.) would have called the police, the FBI, and in all likelihood, some kind of psychic.)

Wasn't the woman worried that he might have been KIDNAPPED? I mean, it seems to me that a sitting governor would be a prime asset for a terrorist kidnapping?

I don't care who you are, but disappearing without any explanation of your whereabouts to your loved ones is RUDE and CRUEL and a little bit crazy.

So, what do you think? Was he hiking? Was he in Argentina? Or was he holed up in a hotel room with a lovah?

I would put my money on the last option...


Thursday, June 11, 2009

It's Funny How Life Turns Out, The Odds of Faith in the Face of Doubt*

This afternoon, I was following two of the partners from my law firm to a funeral home. We were going to the funeral home because one of our support staff lost someone in her family ~ so we were going to the visitation to be supportive of our support person.

(Lots of support happening in that sentence.)

Anyhoo, it was a funeral home I had never been to, so I was following the two partners in my car, and I was cut off by a tow-truck, and I couldn't see the car I was following.

I attempted to move into the left lane and then in front of the tow truck, and at the last minute, I saw the partners turning into the funeral home, and I swerved in order to make the turn, which meant that I cut off the tow-truck (which had just cut ME off about a minute earlier) and I nearly got into what would have been a really ugly accident. It would have been really ugly.

The kind of accident that probably would have been ironically ugly to have occurred in front of a funeral home, honestly.

But, that's NOT what happened. I didn't get hit, I turned fast and got out of the way of the truck, and my heart was beating about a gazillion miles a second, which I attempted to not let on, because I was at a funeral home with a whole bunch of people I don't know from Adam and two people who are my boss. (Two of my bosses?) (Not sure how to make that sentence work.)

So, we (the two partners and I) talked to our support staff person for a while, and looked at pictures of her loved one, and I told the funny story of the time my mother got pulled over while riding in the passenger side of a hearse**, and then we left and I went to my car and sat in it for a few minutes thinking about throwing up in consideration of the fact that I had almost caused a heinous accident IN FRONT OF A FUNERAL PARLOR.

I was pretty freaked out and finally alone in my car and able to be freaked out, and I didn't have the courage to make a left turn out of the funeral parlor after what had happened, so I turned right and took the scenic route home and turned up PINK'S "Please Don't Leave Me" and "Fun House" really, really loudly in my car and sang along.

And once I could breathe again, I thought that there are some things that have been beating myself up about (mostly related to Kelsey's disappearance) (she's still missing) that I need to let go, because, honestly, they are not my fault. And so I let them go, in some kind of, "I am alive right now but for the grace of a good set of brakes on a tow truck and I need to not feel guilty about what I did or did not do 13 years ago" moment of epiphany.

Then I went to the grocery store and bought a crapload of Cheezits, Diet Coke, lipstick and Ice Cream, because, apparently, almost killing myself in front of a funeral home made me really hungry and really in need of gloss. (Also, ice cream is on a good sale this week at Kr0ger. Here in my neck of the woods, anyway. $2.47 for Edys! For real.)


* Josh Joplin Group, Camera One
** Remind me to tell you this story

Tuesday, June 09, 2009

A Bad Mother?

I'm trying to decide if the fact that my kids are out in the yard with the neighbor children, apparently playing a game that resembles a convenience store hold-up, should be appalling to me, or if I should just be glad they are out in the fresh air???

Monday, June 08, 2009

Am I The Only One?

Sorry for this post, which is short and completely without meat.

I never watched Jon and Kate Plus 8 until last month.

The only reason I watched an episode or two last month was because I was chained to my bed by surgery and a weird allergic reaction that required me to take a lot of drugs that made me really, really sleepy.

I don't get the attraction of the show. The idea of eight children makes me want to go run and hide in a closet with a bottle of Valium and a fifth of rum.

And yet I find myself reading People Magazine articles about them and watching an occaional episode.

Am I the only one who thinks that maybe, just maybe, this "marital discord" is really just a marketing stunt for a show that's maybe not really a "reality" show anymore?

Or is that just the cynical divorce attorney in me talking?


PS - on my second round of steroids since the rash from the allergic reaction began to re-appear slightly after I finished the first round. Hoping this second round knocks it out. The steroids are making me jumpy and bloaty and the dreams...oh my word...the dreams...Last night I dreamt that a whole bunch of people were getting coffee in Lana's bedroom at 4:30 in the morning and I was all, "Hey! You idiots! My daughter's bedroom is NOT a convenience store!"

Except that suddenly then IT WAS a convenience store. And Francis Capra (the actor who played Weevil Navarro on Veronica Mars) was there, and he wanted coffee and I YELLED at him. (So you have to know it was a dream. Because if Francis Capra showed up at my house at 4:30 AM wanting coffee...I probably would give him some...)

Monday, June 01, 2009

If I Kiss You Where It's Sore, Will You Feel Better, Better, Better?

It's Monday morning. I'm not really sure where most of the last four days went. There was a LOT of benadryl and a lot of steroids consumed. Many hours of time lost to a drug induced fog.

I can say, categorically, that I feel better right this second than I have felt since May 12. (The day before my surgery).

I think that's progress.

The hives/rash/sensation that my skin is on fire has mostly dissipated. Considering how horrifying my skin looked on Wednesday (my mother told me last night that, in all honestly, when she first saw me at the doctor that afternoon, she thought I had been burned in a grease fire) - the spots have faded quite a bit and are no longer raised up. I'm hopeful they will fade entirely in the next few days. My feet still do look a titch sunburned, and feel sunburned, and I am supposed to wear only white cotton socks in case they still do peel. At this point, the way they look, I have the impression that they will peel like a sunburn does.

The doctor wants me to keep taking Cipro for another week.

Having survived the allergic reaction/trauma, my abdomen has decided to remind me that, yes, I did have an organ removed. I am suddenly a bit tender/sore. (I was probably tender/sore before, but in so much pain from the my-skin-is-on-fire thing that I didn't notice before.)

But, the bottom line is, I feel better today. And better is good.

I wish I could tell you that I used my time confined to bed to read some new and fabulous books. But, the drugs made me so sleepy and confused that I spent my time reading some old young adult favorites (Anne of Green Gables, The Great Brain) (both series I have read so many times that it is almost like they are imprinted on the plains of my memory, and reading them again is like a visit with an old friend who doesn't ask a lot of you) and watching my Veronica Mars DVDS (again, something I know almost by heart).

I did watch the first four episodes of the HBO show TRUE BLOOD, and my goodness. WOW. I love the Sookie Stackhouse books, and I am loving this show. (Being about vampires, it is NOT for the faint of heart or stomach.)


Kelsey. Kelsey is still missing. It has been 23 days. I cannot spell out those things that I am truly afraid of. If I type here the very ugly places that my brain and my heart and my fears have been visiting, I am afraid it will give those fears...some kind of truth. So I refuse. I refuse to type those things. I am choosing to believe that Kelsey is hiding, frightened by the events that occurred in the days leading up to her disappearance. That is what I am choosing to believe right now. To believe otherwise is to give in to despair. I hold onto the truth that sometimes people are found. Sometimes, people are found. That is all I have to say.


* Regina Spektor, Better

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