Foaming at the Mouth

We have a 12th tooth. Top right, in front of the molar.

With this tooth, Grace now has almost all of her right teeth, and none on the left. It is kind of funny. Luckily, the general public cannot see the imbalance because I am sure that it is just one more thing that every senior citizen at the grocery store would want to talk to me about.

The arrival of the dozenth has been much more pleasant than it’s younger sister, #11, but with 12 we have instituted a whole new routine that isn’t going very well yet.

Tooth brushing.

It’s not problematic because Gracie is fighting it. Oh no. Just the opposite. She L-O-V-E-S it. To the point of not wanting to give up the toothbrush. Ever.

Grace has always been fascinated with tooth brushing. Even at weeks old, she was always fixated on the motion of Matt brushing his teeth. Whenever she is around, he bends over to show her how to make the little circles.

I know we should have been brushing her from birth. Everything you read says to use a little finger nub to brush and massage gums.

Are you kidding me? Really? Really?? Like I don’t have enough going on, I’m going to worry about brushing her gums??

Pediatric dentists say you should bring your kid in by the time their 1 for their first assessment. Normal people say 3. The normal people also have been saying though that you should be brushing baby teeth as soon as they come in.

OK, so we’re a little behind the eight ball on this one too, but give me a break. Better late than never, right?

For all the things and topics that people love to give advice to on, how come I have never heard one peep about tooth brushing?

This battle, our battle, is Gracie’s desire to brush her teeth until the end of time.

I putt a little dab of mixed berry flavored fluoride-free toddler toothpaste on her miniature brush and it begins.

- She smiles and lets me make little circles for about 3 seconds.
- Then she grabs the brush, sucks the toothpaste off and hands it back to me.
- I try and brush the back molars.
- She grabs the brush again and tries to make back and forth brushing motions while chomping on the bristles.
- I get the brush again and try for the other side.
- Grace takes control once more and dips the brush into the tub, picking up some bubbles on the way, and stuffs the brush back into her mouth.
- I am handed the brush and she smiles so I can make little circles on her front teeth for 3 more seconds.

And it goes like this for 15 minutes, or until the pry the brush out of her hand – wherein she realizes that I am taking her beloved toothbrush away and starts screaming – so I then try to distract her with the big, noisy Winnie-the-Pooh bubble blower that is stuck to the side of the tub.

It’s exhausting. It’s only been a week, but something has to change. I cannot do tub battle every night.

Maybe if I find a cute egg timer we can set up a system where she knows that she brushes for 5 minutes and then it is over. Hmmm. That might work. It also might come in handy for when she starts to decide that she DOESN’T want to brush her teeth anymore too.

We're Wii-ing

So, the story behind the Wii. There is always a story with us, huh? Nothing can ever be simple.

True to form, once we decided we wanted one of the pretties, Matt became obsessed. OBSESSED.

We waited out the delayed holiday season in the hopes that one might be gifted. Nope. We were on our own. Matt pounced. He spent hours stalking retailers for Wii's. Giving how this story ends, I’m not quite sure why we didn’t just buy one off E-Bay, but I guess he wanted the instant gratification of the purchase. I get that.

So Matt called every Target, Walmart, Toys R Us, Game Stop and Best Buy within a 20 mile radius of his work daily for deliveries. After almost a week of this, he found one and sweet talked the electronics lady into holding it for him.

He ran and claimed it. It was his. It is ours. We were now the proud owners of a Wii with the coordinating Fit. I spent almost an hour setting up my character, which he found infuriating. He wanted to play. I wanted to try out hairstyles.

Anywho-

Exactly two weeks later we get an automated phone call from UPS. A package is to be delivered to your home sometime between 9am and 5pm. Someone will need to be home to sign for the package. It cannot be left at the door. A signature is required. Thank you.

Hmmm …. Odd.

Of course we didn’t stay home. Miss a day of work for something that we didn’t order? I don’t think so.

The next night, my mom calls.

Did you guys get a package?

Huh? No. Oh, wait, UPS did try to deliver something today, but it is signature required. What is it?

I can’t tell you. Then it won’t be a surprise.

After about 15 minutes of this she finally spilled. You know what she bought us?

Yep. A Wii with the coordinating Fit.

From a website that overcharged her and had a non-refundable clause in their fine print. Actually, the print wasn’t that fine. It was in bold red letters in their return policy.

After going back and forth for awhile, with mom’s encouragement, we decided to E-Bay it. The night that the package came we pilfered the accessories that came with it that we wanted and put the Wii up. Quick run 24 hour sale. It sold for about what we paid for ours at Walmart, so we are happy. Sucks for my mom, but we are happy.

Now to play. Wii you later alligator.

The Crazies

Tonight was eventful. It was dramatic. Not the good kind of drama though. There are no awards to be given out. Well, maybe I'll nominate myself for Most Ridiculous.

1) We just had our 1st Wii (yeah, we bought one- more to come on that) related fight. Stupid, huh? I know. I was upset. I am really hormonal right now, which is what I am blaming all of my other frustrations on.

2) I went to the doctor today and found out I have a cyst that needs to be cut off. I am only typing this out loud because I don't think anyone (outside of a few friends that I would tell anyway) read this blog.
It's not a big deal. It is in a place that rarely sees daylight so it is something that I've been ignoring for years, but finally sucked it up and had it poked at yesterday.
You know when the Dr.'s response is "Oh my!" it is never a good thing. She said she has no doubt that is benign though, so there is no worries.
Just outpatient hacking into my flesh and a referral to a surgical team that seem to all speak some Middle-Eastern dialect. I am freaked out.

3) Given #1 & #2, I am drinking. Box wine. That is our reaction to the economic downturn. And I'm shopping a lot less during lunch breaks. Sad isn't it?

OK, so I've typed a 1,2 & 3, and am realizing that that is all I have. Thank you NES, blogging really is a form of therapy. #1 is because of #2 and is instigated by #3. I feel better already.

Super Sunday's

Gracie’s tendency towards vomit is a fascinating, disgusting thing.

She pukes a lot. You know this. I talk about it often because, at times, it feels like an all encompassing part of my dynamic with here. It’s a fear that lurks in the back of my head.

Her top three reasons for yacking are: illness, distress/crying and not chewing her food. The last one is the semi-preventable topic that I can’t seem to semi-prevent.

Now *fade into* Superbowl Sunday.

Mmmm … snacks galore. Meatballs, pizza bread, fruit, cheese … it was a baby bonanza fueled by the energy of being in the house of folks born, and somewhat raised, in Pittsburgh.

I guess I just didn’t realize how much Grace was eating. And just how big the pieces were that she was shoving into her mouth.

I kept giving them to her, so I guess I should have, but it was a party. I was talking. Kids were running around. Matt was off in the basement playing Wii, so the supervision consisted of my lax eye and a 10 year old.

About two hours into the party, I chased Grace into the kitchen. She’d reached the wall and could go no further. You could see the flint in her eye, she was not about to be caught. She was not having any diaper changes.

But then, the look changed. I saw the flash. I knew the flash well.

Oh no, Gracie don’t!

Too late. (Not that I really believed my plea would make any difference.)

Blaahh. Blaahh. Blaahh. (She is just like me. I think she is inheriting my OCD. She like things in three’s.)

Now there is all 2 hours worth of said snacks, along with 2 sippy cups of milk, all over their party-prepped kitchen floor and throw rug beneath the sink.

Ahhh…. Michelle? Ummm, I’m so sorry, but my daughter just threw up all over you floor. I think you’ll want to wash this rug.

She gets it. She totally understands. She’s got three kids.

But still. Please, please, PLEASE stop puking Gracie. You have molars! Use them!

#11 is Evil

Tooth #11 is here, and it had a really mean streak.

Its arrival has meant multiple screaming sessions in the middle of the night for the last week. Its arrival has meant that when Gracie does finally fall asleep in my arms after rocking her for 45 minutes, it is NOT OK to put her back in her crib. Its arrival has meant that there is just general all day crankiness in the house.

I am blaming the tooth, not Grace’s approach to the 1.5 year mark that I’ve heard terrible things about, on her sudden need to be clingy also.

We stayed home from work yesterday because there was an ice storm. Let’s be honest, I stayed home from work because I could. Sure the roads were crappy, but I would have been fine. I am from Chicago after all. I just didn’t want to deal, so we stayed home.

Big mistake.

She spent the majority of her day pulling on my pants, screaming to be picked up or screaming to be put down – then repeat.

Yesterday made me question my dedication to being a good parent. Yesterday, I wanted to stick Grace in the basement and take a long, LOUD bath with a HUGE glass of wine at 10 am.

Instead, I started medicating. Rounds of hippie, homeopathic, chamomile-herb teething drops and Tylenol. I have no idea which one worked, but it was the first time in forever that she’s slept through the night.

Lots of parent’s seem to not believe in such things – well the Tylenol part of it anyway. I on the other hand, figure if I would take it myself, why wouldn’t I give it to Grace? In fact, it is one more thing that I love about Dr. H. His philosophy is that you can’t do your job as a parent if your not sane, so do whatever your comfortable with to stay sane.

So far, this morning is all smiles and sunshine. If the clouds start to roll in, at least I have a few more hours before it becomes my problem again.

Tale of the Boon

A child’s ability to absorb language is amazing. Gracie knows words that I am sure I didn’t teach her. Like No.

The new word that has me amazed, because it comes with object association too, is boon. Balloon to those who pronounce all the letters in a word, but a boon to Gracie.

I know she has heard this word before in Sandra Boynton’s Belly Button Book, but it is a book that we rarely get more than two pages into before Grace reclaims it and tosses it aside to fetch another.

Where did she learn boon from? How does she know what a boon is??

In the fruit and cake crescendo to the delightful three-year-old birthday party we attended Sunday, the snack room with decorated with balloons tied to the back of everyone’s chair.

I moved out of the way with Gracie to let the older kids march in and we observed through the plate glass.

All of a sudden there was pointing and shrieking.

Boon! Boon! Booooooonnnn!

Before we left, she spotted the balloons tied to goodie bags.

Boon! Boon! Booooooonnnn!

The entire way out to the car I was smacked in the face with her new pink boon. The entire ride home her new pink boon inspired laughter, but blocked my view out the rear window. For the rest of the day, the new pink boon was her sidekick.

This morning though, the boon was on it's last leg. It's lack of springy floatation warranted furrowed brows as Gracie tried to fling it into the air as a revitalization technique. No go. It plummeted back down. No more boon.

Now I am just left with the nagging questions of how she even knew what a balloon was and if this will be the start of screeching for balloons every time we walk past the floral department at the grocery store.

Dreaming, On a Friday Afternoon

Even before my Friday is officially over, I am going to announce that I have gotten more work done this week than I have in quite awhile.

*Applause*

Why am I applauding myself? Because it was only a three day week.

How does this happen?

Let me tell you.

Burnout.

I always (OK, sometimes) start off strong on Monday, but after 3 days I start to get tired. I become disenfranchised. I start doubting my mission and my work. Which makes me slow down. I hate it. I hate thinking that I hate what I’m doing for 8 hours a day, but that is how most of my weeks go.

This week though, thank you MLK & President Obama, it was only a three day work week, and my productivity is surpassing what I normally accomplish. Sure, I’m starting to feel the burnout, but I’m motivated by the fact that it is Friday instead of being discouraged by Wednesday.

I haven’t been this happy for no reason at all in a long time.

Maybe someone important will read this and decide that I will only have to work for 24 hours a week and still get paid for 40 from now on.

Maybe not, but a girl can dream.

Table Turning

Over the last week, Grace has developed her new favorite word. Much to my dismay it is 'no'.

No. No. No.

No. No. No.

It's driving me nuts.

I know it must occasionally slip out of our mouths, but I have been really conscious about not using the word 'no'. In fact, I am positive that I curse in front of her much more often than I say 'no'. I blame Gwen, a daycare cohort, for this word.

So in retaliation, for every No. No. No. that Gracie belts out, I counter with Yes. Yes. Yes.

She knows the difference. If you ask her if she wants ... say cookies ... the answer is a resounding Yes.

Today, while trying to put her down for an afternoon nap, Grace started pulling my hair.

I was frustrated. I snapped. I said, "Oww! No. No. No. That hurts Mama!"

Without missing a beat, she smiled, looked me square in the eye and said, "Yes. Yes. Yes."

Winter Wonderland

OK, maybe it's not really a winter wonderland.

I know my family is mocking my excitement over a quarter inch of snow, but give me a break. This is the first stick-to-the-ground snow we've had this season and I'm excited about it.

Oh the weather outside is frightful .... (not really, it's quite beautiful)

But the fire is so delightful .... (Mmmmm ... pasta.)

And since we've no place to go ....

Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

Painting My World

Yesterday I scraped. Today I painted.

And through it all, as always, I cursed the previous owners of our home.

I am convinced that wallpaper is the devil's creation. It is beyond my comprehension why on earth you would want to glue, and in this case I'm certain SUPER GLUED, paper onto walls.

Especially since I have seen very few wallpapers that I actually think are pretty. And then the ones that are pretty cost more than what we paid for all the furniture in our house, so I go back to the idea that wallpaper is the devil's creation.

Now my house is rid of this evil though.

No more mauve bathroom. No more dirty off-white hall. No more floral wallpaper. Just a simple Blue Mesa bathroom and a sunny Jersey Cream hall.

No frills. Slight mistakes here and there, but at least the mistakes are mine.