Jayden finally lost his first tooth the other night. The Tooth Fairy was tired that night, though, and didn’t feel like stopping by the ATM, so we didn’t put it under his pillow until the night after. He ran out of his room that morning, exclaiming, “I got $5!”. A tooth’s rate has gone up since I was a kid, that’s for sure.
Dear Madison,
At 18 months, Maddie, you are earning the name Little Shit outright. You have taken to hitting and biting as well as pinching, usually on Ethan, although the cat gets beat up, too. I can’t help but think this is a defense mechanism, and while probably needed, there are less hurtful options we need to explore. You are also loud enough to wake up astronauts orbiting in space, although this isn’t new.
As well as my little helper, you have also become a tattletale. You are exuberant and determined and I dare anyone try to take away whatever little piece has made it’s way into your shockingly strong grip. You test your boundaries daily, finding humor in my frustration. Stubborn and mischievous, I’m scared of what would happen if I took my eyes off of you for more than a minute. In other words, you are a typical, normal kid.
But then, you stick your face right in front of mine for a kiss. “I love you”, you say, in jumbled beginner-speak. This makes everything else worthwhile.
You reach out to wrap your little hand around my finger as we walk, then you let go to run. Walking is for babies, apparently, and you, my dear girl, are no longer a baby. Though try as you might, you still have a bit of trouble keeping up. Then again, so do I.
I’m not gonna lie, these past 18 months haven’t been all sunshine and daisies. But one thing is certain: you are an amazing little girl and I am so proud and grateful to be your mom.
With all the love in my heart,
Me
None of the kids have ever been inside of a dark, you-need-to-whisper style movie theater. Honestly, we were scared. I’m always worried we’re going to come off as one of those parents. You know the kind, they usually receive multiple eye rolls. The drive-in, yes, but even that was a disaster the last few times we tried, which were before Maddie was even born. A disaster for me, anyway, since I was the one who felt the brunt of Ethan’s wrath.
J took the day off work yesterday, though, and got it in his head that he wanted to take Jayden to see Avatar. In 3D.
“What do you think?”, J asked me. “Do you think he’ll be OK to go?”
“It’s, like, a 3 hour movie”, I replied.
We hyped it up to Jayden anyway, and he was excited while I was a bit fearful, envisioning the worst. His loud voice getting constantly hushed and a million ants in his pants and so many trips to the bathroom during every pivotal scene. They went anyway. To eat popcorn. And candy. And gulp large fountain drinks (which might not be wise, actually, if trying to avoid bathroom breaks).
They sat quietly through the entire 3 hours, though, and only had to visit the bathroom once. After returning home, I asked Jayden how the movie was. Still clutching his 3D glasses, he beamed, “It was neat!”. If I was allowed to have 6 Reese’s peanut butter cups, a tub of popcorn, and a blue slushie, I’d probably think it was neat, too.
My oldest boy, he’s tall and lanky. He outgrows most of his clothes in the blink of an eye. His soft-scented newborn days seem so distant, ancient, yet just like yesterday. He likes video games and playing with toy guns and he pretends he’s a soldier battling zombies. Even though I’ve been in denial, it’s safe to say that he’s not a baby anymore. To further cement that fact, he has his first loose tooth.
It was noticed during his bath last night. A very slight wiggle. The few times we discussed it wasn’t enough preparation apparently. “My baby teeth will fall out and then I’ll get big boy teeth!”, he’d say excitedly. When the time came, however, he had a mini-meltdown. He wouldn’t let us see it. He didn’t want to talk about it. He even cried. Big, fat rolling tears down his cheeks.
“He doesn’t want you to know he’s growing up”, J confided.
I remember feeling incredibly nervous bringing him home from the hospital. I didn’t know what to do with a baby. There’s a lot of things I regret about those first few months: I set him in his swing too often, I gave up breastfeeding too soon, my moods wouldn’t settle, my head was unsure, I doubted more than I believed. Through it all, he made me a mother. We fought through the trenches and came out hand in hand. And now my once fragile little boy, with a mess of curly hair and sea of blue eyes, is on the verge of a giant leap into growing up.
After he finally calmed down later that night, he urged optimistically, “Maybe it’ll fall out tomorrow!” It’s not going to be that soon, but it seems to be time I craft together some Tooth Fairy wings.
What is the going rate for a tooth these days?
Considering that we’ve been everywhere on the spectrum as far as developing speech is concerned, I now have no idea what’s normal and, frankly, I don’t care. What I do know is that Maddie seems to be grasping the concept with glee. She mimics what we say and consistently uses an abundance of words, some of which sound the same but being her Mother, I am also her interpretor.
Along with a string of what I can only imagine are profanities when something doesn’t go her way, she can recite a list of around 20 words. I would list them all, but it grows every day and what I list now will most likely be outdated tomorrow. Plus, I’d probably just forget about some anyway, and end up editing this entry about a million times and never escape the computer and it’ll keep me up at night until I just delete the damn thing. Not that I’ve ever done that, or anything.
There’s one word that I could never forget to include, though, because it’s practically all I hear.
Up! Up! Up! Uuuuuup!
First thing in the morning: Up! Up! Up! Up! Uuuuuuup!
While eating dinner: Up! Up! Up! Up! Uuuuup!
ALL. DAY. LONG: UP! UP! UP! UP! UUUUUP!
She’s like a knee-biting, determined broken record. I swear I’ve even heard Up! Uuuuup! in my sleep. It’s just as endearing as it sounds.
February 01 2010 · 
