Brightwood Lights

. . . ONE front tooth.

Yup, our little Simona’s first tooth is out. I wouldn’t quite say it “fell” out, seeing as how there was a nasty pair of plyers involved, but out it is.

Back in September, while we were at a playground in Leipzig, Germany, Simona fell while climbing on a rock at a playground. Her lip bled, but otherwise we couldn’t see much visible damage. She complained of her tooth hurting for several days, but after about a week she seemed fine again. We mentioned it to her pediatrician when we went in for Andreas’s 9-month check up, and he took a look. He also saw no visible damage and told us to contact a dentist if she started complaining again or if we saw any changes.

This past Friday night, while reading her a bedtime story, I noticed that it looked a bit gray. Caleb was at the store, and I forgot to mention it to him when he got home. The next day, he noticed it himself. So, on Monday morning, we left a message at our dentist (who fortunately also does pediatric dentistry and is wonderful with children). When we got in touch, they gave us an appointment for 8 AM this morning. Simona was very brave and did a great job with our dentist, who could see that the root was becoming infected. She wanted it out right away, so she sent us straight to an oral surgeon whom she recommends for pediatrics. (She doesn’t do procedures like that on children under 5 in her office.)

The oral surgeon’s office was very quick. They didn’t want Andreas in the room, so I had to bring the carseat into the office, strap him in, and leave him behind the receptionist’s desk while I went in with Simona. Not much later, we had two crying children and one tiny purple treasure chest containing Simona’s very first tooth.

We weren’t anticipating our first visit from the tooth fairy quite so early, but, like everything else in parenthood, you just can’t predict these things!

As a mom without a TV in the house, I don’t get to see too many movies these days.  But today’s episode at the grocery store really was like being IN a movie.I try to minimize the number of mornings dedicated solely to running errands, so I often find myself heading to the grocery store late at night or swinging by the dry cleaners and post office with the stroller en route to the playground.  But about once or twice a month, we have to forgo fun morning activity (usually the playground) in favor of tedious tasks.

Today was one of those days.  After a rough night (continued teething woes for Andreas), we got a late start getting everyone dressed, fed, and ready for the day.  Because of the specific items I needed for a few recipes I’m making this week, I knew we’d need to head to two grocery stores to complete our list.  We headed out for the dreaded errand run and made good time getting through both stores.  Even better, we had successfully avoided meltdowns. . . but I could tell we were on the brink.  Andreas was NOT happy about the extended search for chicken bullion cubes (Aisle 4 at the New Hampshire Avenue Shoppers, for future reference).
So as I’m pushing to finish up and get home for lunch and naps, admittedly buying peace from Andreas with a graham cracker, the check out woman gets chatty with Simona.  Bad move.  I guarantee you that a 3-year-old can out-chat anyone.  Even the chattiest of grocery clerks.

Then, as is liable to happen around here, a random acquaintance of the clerk walks up and joins the conversation.  Pretty soon, Simona is pulling up a pant leg to show off her “owie” from tripping on the sidewalk on Sunday.  Now, mind you, this minor scrape had already spent two days covered by a Curious George band aid (which in turn meant not bathing for two days).  Suffice it to say that the wound was well on its way to being healed.  But, the clerk and her friend decide that a band aid is necessary, and preferably a Barney band aid.  They begin discussing looking for the first aid kit, which, I’m sure, would contain no Barney band aid.  I’m already envisioning such a prolonged search for Barney that nap time will have come and gone before we finish paying, so I, smilingly but firmly, convince them that Simona really is OK and that we can skip the first aid kit.
Finally convinced, the cashier resumes checking groceries but now is singing the famous “I love you” Barney song.  Simona hears it, jumps in, and before you know it, we have a grocery store sing along happening.   I am not lying.  Two cashiers, Simona, and customers in each of the two check line are singing.  Andreas is amused and entertained; I am able to quickly finish my transaction; and we manage to leave the store as the MOST (instead of the usual LEAST) popular customers.

Crisis averted, and another successful morning as a mom is in the history books.

How can I adequately live up to the coolness of having 09/09/09 as a birthday?!  I have already openly admitted that I am a nerd, so now I must confess that I’m probably not cool enough to do something really unique and clever on my “special” birthday.  Instead, it will be a day spent mostly observing my usual routine, except that we get a date night out, courtesy of baby sitter Tante Linda.

The real excitement begins on 09/11/09, when we fly to Germany for a two week visit.  Andreas will work his hardest to destroy every knick-knack placed lower than about 36 inches off the ground at Uromi’s house but will not be successful.  (That project would take even him- a most determined crawler / investigator / destructor- much, much longer than two weeks.)  Simona will likely sample every unhealthy cuisine found in Deutschland, including plenty of Kinderschokolade, Eis, and probably several of the unfortunately named chocolate-covered marshmellow treats known as “Mini Dickmanns.”  Caleb and I will spend our time supervising the above-mentioned troublemakers while trying to visit with friends & family and take in the sites of Dresden, Leipzig, and Berlin.

Should be a fun trip.  We’ll let you know how it goes– wish us a good time!

So. . . this story is a few weeks old now, but it is funny nonetheless.

In July, a good friend emailed a group of moms and asked if anyone wanted to go peach picking in early August.  Now, I am ashamed to admit that, despite being from PEACHTREE CITY in the PEACH STATE, I had never been peach picking before.  And since I do love peaches, I figured a Friday spent picking peaches in the fresh non-city air would be fun.  So I replied that I’d be up for it.

Come Peach-picking Eve, however, I realized that the next day was going to be a *mite* crazy.  I was scheduled for a 20-mile marathon training run, and we were supposed to meet in rural Virginia at the orchard at 10:30 AM.  Little did I realize that the orchard was an HOUR AND A HALF drive from our house, which meant loading up the kids to head out by 8:45 AM.  But by then, I decided it was too late to back out on my friend, despite Caleb’s urging me to reconsider.

The next morning, I overslept and did not end up with time for my long run.  That meant another day of hydrating and mentally preparing to run 20 miles.  In the meantime, I got the kids ready and headed out the door remarkably punctually, since I had an extra few hours in my morning.  We made a quick stop by the gas station to fill up, and somehow I managed to spray gas all over myself in the process.  After a brief debate about whether or not to run home to wash off, I opted to wipe down with baby wipes and continue on my way.

The peach picking itself went fairly well.  Minor “episodes” included Andreas eating part of a leaf and a handful of dirt, but otherwise, the morning in the countryside was great.  The drive was indeed a bit much, but I was feeling pretty good about the whole outing. . .

Peach Orchard
   

. . . until I got home.  And realized that I had about 50 peaches, 15 tomatoes, and one HUGE zucchini to deal with.  I didn’t have any “canning” supplies, so I spent HOURS over the next few days looking up recipes for peaches, zucchini, and tomotoes.  Caleb gamely helped out in the kitchen, though I doubt having “bake night” for 3 or 4 days in a row was his idea of a good time.  We mashed and froze peaches for Andreas; ate LOTS of peaches ourselves; made zucchini bread, peach pie, and peach-berry cobbler (twice); and STILL had peaches to use up.  Some went bad, but we made a valiant attempt to not let any go to waste.  We suffered from a terrible fruit fly infestation (that I think we have just about under countrol now), and there were even a few ants appearing in our dining room.  I felt incredibly domestic. . . and I think Caleb just felt incredibly like he did not want to deal with ANY more peaches.  His estimate is that between driving, picking, looking up recipes, baking, cooking, freezing, mashing, etc., we probably spent a good 20 man hours on those peaches.

    
Moral of the story: If your gut AND your husband tell you it’s not such a great use of your time, you should probably listen.

Let me just start by saying that we had a great time in Maine.  We ate delicious lobster, stayed at a beautiful inn on the coast, attended my cousin’s wedding, and overall enjoyed the time reconnecting with extended family.  Simona LOVED swimming and playing with her second cousins.

We may have had a little too good a time, though.  The plan was to leave Maine to drive to NYC fairly early on Sunday.  I didn’t realize, however, that there was a family brunch planned for Sunday morning.  I decided we should go, since the whole point of traveling to Maine was to spend time with family.  I figured we could spend just a little while and then still get on the road at a reasonable time.  That was my first wrong assumption.

Once Simona and her cousins got into the pool, though, there was almost no getting her out again.  It took us until early afternoon to finish swimming, get dressed, eat some lunch, and head for NY.  We left Maine at 2, and I figured that we may hit a bit of weekend traffic heading south out of Maine but that we’d be out of that by the time we passed Boston.  Second wrong assumption.

So the GPS said we’d arrive in Brooklyn, NY by 7:21 PM.  I figured stops, etc. would put us at our destination at 8:15.  Third wrong assumption. For the sake of not boring you with the details, suffice it to say that at 9:30, I called Caleb from the car in a traffic jam in NYC to tell him that I was living my own personal hell: Andreas was sitting a few feet from me, screaming his head off because he was hungry, but I was unable to help.  (I did finally cave in and pull over on the side of the highway in Brooklyn to nurse him. . . I figured traffic wasn’t moving anyway, so there was no reason to force A to suffer more.)  With all of that, I FINALLY made it to my friend’s apartment at about 10:20. . . only 8 hours, 20 minutes for a 5 hour, 20 minute drive!!

But, it got even better.  The next morning, I decided to wait until 10:30 AM to leave the city, figuring we’d hit the least possible traffic that way.  We pulled out at 10:40 for a drive that should take about 4.5 hours.  I was shooting for 6.

Of course, we hit traffic the entire way out of the city and then had the privilege of paying an ELEVEN DOLLAR toll to cross the Verrazano Bridge.  I shook the dust from my sandals, vowed that I would never again drive anywhere near New York City, and, for the first time in my life, was THRILLED to be in New Jersey.

We merged onto the Turnpike around 11:45, and at about 11:45:02 AM, the people in the car next to me waved at me, pointed at my front tire, and mouthed, “You have a flat tire!”

SO, we fortunately made it about 4 more miles to the next service plaza, pulled off, and spent an hour and a half using the bathroom, eating our lunch, getting gas, and changing a tire.  Many, many thanks to Jim and Tom from Charlottesville, VA, who helped with the tire change.  Driving on a donut doomed us to having to travel at about 55-60 mph the rest of the way.  Fortunately, the kids fell asleep, and I hoped I could at last make a long, strong push towards home.

Traffic was, for once, mercifully light, and we had about an hour of smooth sailing.  I was getting a bit tired and began debating pulling over to buy something to drink, but figured that I should push through while the kids slept.  I passed a service plaza with a sign telling me that the next one was 25 miles away and figured I could easily make it that far.

About 2 miles past the sign, however, Simona woke with a start and announced that she had to use the bathroom.  Urgently.  I thought about pulling over on the side of the highway, but the traffic was busy enough that it seemed unsafe.  (I also didn’t want to leave A alone in a parked car on the side of the road while I took S to pee in the grass. . .)  So, I began trying to distract & encourage her to make it 20 more miles.  I sang and cheered while she whined and cried, both of us increasing in our intensity and desperation.  Finally, though, she exclaimed that she had wet her pants.  Honestly, it was actually a relief for both of us, since she finally stopped her pained cry.

BUT, it added another lengthy stop, with a change of clothes and some clean up.  Andreas got a diaper change and wasn’t hungry.  Since I had left my wallet in the car, I decided to skip the drink and hit the road again.

We made it as far as Delaware- only about 20 minutes away- before A decided he needed to eat IMMEDIATELY.  And, of course, S had to use the bathroom again.  So, we took YET ANOTHER 45 minute stop.  I vowed that it would be our final stop, and for the only time on the trip, I was right.  We pulled up to our house at 6:00 PM- a mere 7 hours, 20 minutes after leaving NYC.

Lessons learned:  Too many to list.  Memories made:  Tons.  Desire to repeat the experience:  Absolutely none.

(PS- hoping to get some new pictures up soon.)