Lost Tooth, Lost Youth

Lucy lost her first tooth last week. She is elated; she has shown every person she has encountered since. This morning, she told me she dreamed that she had lost all her teeth and had her grown-up teeth. The thought of this made me so sad.

In no time, she will have that awkward kid mouth, full of holes and too-big teeth, a gappy pitstop on the way to a full-fledged grown-up face. Where is the time going (someone cue "Sunrise, Sunset" in the background, please)? While I am focused on this new, milestone gap in her mouth, I need to remind myself about where the time goes – it slips through all the other gaps between milestones.

I regularly read this blog called The Happiness Project. The writer of the blog created a really sweet, corny short movie that sums up how I feel.

Hello!

I promise to write an actual blog entry soon, but in the meantime, here are some fast facts:
• Lucy has a very, very loose tooth and she would love to show it to you. Ew.
• We went to the beach this weekend and Lucy hates the sand, the seaweed and the salt. But she LOVES eating Doritos, swimming in the nearby pool and bossing people around, all of which can be done more cheaply at home, but oh well, we had fun.
• Lemon is 26 weeks cooked and as big as a rutabaga.
• Lucy's new favorite thing to eat is chicken drumsticks.

Mark This Moment in My Pregnancy

This is the cutest I am going to be for a long, long time. The moment between "Is she chubby or is she pregnant?" and "Oh my god, she looks like she might burst, somebody get her a chair."

I am wearing a darling, borrowed maternity dress (thanks, Jennie) with a shirred band of elastic around the middle that announces I am pregnant. I realize this because all day long, people have been saying, "Hey, look at you, you're pregnant!" I am in the Cute Phase. If I'm remembering correctly, the Cute Phase lasted about three weeks last time around, and I suspect the increasing heat will cost me at least one of those this time. So I really hope I see you soon.

That Dreadful Screaming

Last night, Nini and Carter came over for dinner. After dinner, Carter was a little fussy trying to go to sleep and Lucy said, "Can Carter and Nini go home now? That screaming is hurting my ears. He's too screamy. It's DREADFUL."

Before I could chide her for being rude, I had to laugh. That, dreadful? "Dreadful," as in filled with dread, the emotion that overtakes you every evening at 7 in anticipation of the two straight hours of screaming between 10 and midnight. Dreadful is seeing that first flash on the baby monitor: the beast is stirring. Dreadful is 2 a.m., feeling like no one else in the world is awake except you and the beast.

I know dreadful, kiddo, and it was YOU.

Disneyland


A few weeks ago, Baga and Opa took Lucy to Disneyland. It was magical, as promised. She had dinner with a princess, tried her hand at animation, got autographs from the full pantheon of Disney characters, rode scary rides, saw fireworks and stayed up late. You can see from the dark circles under her eyes in the photo above: all that magic can wear a kid out.

Meanwhile, Jason and I went to Disneyland of food, otherwise known as San Francisco/Marin County, to celebrate our tenth wedding anniversary. I will post photos and descriptions soon, but I will say we had a couple of near-religious experiences with fresh peas.

Unlisted

As we were saying the “Bad Dreams” prayer tonight…

Lucy: “Maybe we should write God a letter about the bad dreams.”
K: “Okay, we can do that.”
L: “Do you have his address?”
K: “No, but that’s okay.”
L: “We need his address otherwise the mailman won’t know where to take the letter.”
K: “Well, God doesn’t exactly have an address. He’s kind of all around us, all the time.”
L: “Maybe we could just call him.”
K: “I don’t think he has a phone number, but if you talk to him he can hear you.”
L: “Opa has Santa’s phone number. I bet we could just ask him.”

Um, No

I am clearly outside the target market for American Apparel, but is this a good idea even for a younger, hipper and lither model mom-to-be? I have a certain "go on with your bad self" sense of pride that American Apparel would market to me, that this woman would even put such a get-up on her sexy, fecund self. And yet...I will be the one in the muumuu, thank you very much.