aka: "F*cking Tooth!"
Well, it seems that Zane's first tooth has cut through his gum and is finally making its long awaited appearance.
I say "seems" because I don't trust this tooth, it is a sneaky little shit. Zane has had no less than 6 episodes of full on teething symptoms since the age of four months. I am not talking a little drool, a little fussiness. I am talking red swollen gums, a bump where we are sure a tooth is just about to cut through, sleepless nights, the fountain of drool, the whole enchilada. But alas, a few days would pass, the bump receded, the redness faded, and the tooth had gone back into hiding. Like a sadistic little groundhog.
Thursday morning we noticed the smallest sliver of tooth, actual tooth, cutting through his gum and I thought to myself, "That wasn't so bad. Maybe we went through all those terrible teething episodes before to make this part easier." When will I learn?
Thursday and Friday night were punctuated by much screaming, crying, bloody gums, and a poor little Zane who was so frustrated and confused and in pain that he began smacking himself in the head and face in an apparent attempt to rid himself of the demon who had taken over in there. I could not blame him. I have a few fantasies of what I would like to do to this tooth if it weren't attached to his head.
I have begun to view the tooth as a domestic terrorist, come to torture us all into submission. For what I am unsure, because if I knew? I would totally negotiate.
But it seems this time the tooth is here to stay and I am anticipating a few others in short succession, so we are all just buckling down and holding on for the ride because - hey! The boy has teeth! Well, a tooth, just one for now. That's all we can really handle.
His toothless baby smile is about to disappear, forever. Sigh. He's becoming such a boy.
A boy with teeth even! Watch out world!!!
February 20, 2010
February 18, 2010
Lent revisited
Lent has begun. Two years ago I walked into Lent with a desperate prayer and overwhelming desire to be a mother. I attended church weekly, lighting candles for the soul I soon hoped would join our family and be our child. I was in the midst of blood draws, ultrasounds, and daily injections that felt like a sort of offering and a kind of penance and absolution at the same time.
It was a time of longing and lament.
This morning is so different. I wake at 6am, nurse my one year old as we snuggle in bed together, and head downstairs. We turn on rich peaceful music and I make Zane a little bowl of waffle pieces, strawberries, yogurt, and bananas. He steals a few big gulps of my orange juice and I pour boiling water into the french press and smell the smoky coffee aroma fill the kitchen. I pour coffee for Mr. Spicy and myself, adding our requisite sugar and cream. I make his high protein, high fat breakfast and my own more healthy fare.
After breakfast Zane and I play his instruments to music playing over the stereo and we surprise Daddy in the office with Zane's newfound ability to open doors on his own! I look into Zane's mouth as he laughs and realize that his first tooth is finally finally finally breaking through his gum!!!! We play some more and I tidy up his room while he points at things out the window. Then I sweep him up into my arms, read him a couple of stories, sing him a lullaby, and he drifts off to sleep while gnawing on my knuckle.
It hits me. I am content. I am happy. I am here, fully present in this moment, which can be such a struggle for me. I realize that I am full, that I fit here in this space, that I love my life, and that I am so very very very lucky and blessed and whatever you call it when your life suddenly makes sense and you are fortunate enough to have everything you could ever want or need right in that moment.
And every little piece matters. From the electricity that flows through our stereo to the fresh strawberries in the refrigerator....from the toaster waffles to the coffee beans.....from the toy instruments to the blanket that I wrap around Zane as I rock him. Every piece matters. The mundane becomes holy.
There are no candles lit, no incense wafting, no kneeling, no wooden pew. There is a new ritual, new prayers, there are bananas and juice instead of bread and wine, there are soulful songs on the stereo instead of hymns, and there is joy. There is so much joy here. And it is holy.
Everything is holy.
*not a hyper-christiany song...promise. I just love this song.
It was a time of longing and lament.
This morning is so different. I wake at 6am, nurse my one year old as we snuggle in bed together, and head downstairs. We turn on rich peaceful music and I make Zane a little bowl of waffle pieces, strawberries, yogurt, and bananas. He steals a few big gulps of my orange juice and I pour boiling water into the french press and smell the smoky coffee aroma fill the kitchen. I pour coffee for Mr. Spicy and myself, adding our requisite sugar and cream. I make his high protein, high fat breakfast and my own more healthy fare.
After breakfast Zane and I play his instruments to music playing over the stereo and we surprise Daddy in the office with Zane's newfound ability to open doors on his own! I look into Zane's mouth as he laughs and realize that his first tooth is finally finally finally breaking through his gum!!!! We play some more and I tidy up his room while he points at things out the window. Then I sweep him up into my arms, read him a couple of stories, sing him a lullaby, and he drifts off to sleep while gnawing on my knuckle.
It hits me. I am content. I am happy. I am here, fully present in this moment, which can be such a struggle for me. I realize that I am full, that I fit here in this space, that I love my life, and that I am so very very very lucky and blessed and whatever you call it when your life suddenly makes sense and you are fortunate enough to have everything you could ever want or need right in that moment.
And every little piece matters. From the electricity that flows through our stereo to the fresh strawberries in the refrigerator....from the toaster waffles to the coffee beans.....from the toy instruments to the blanket that I wrap around Zane as I rock him. Every piece matters. The mundane becomes holy.
There are no candles lit, no incense wafting, no kneeling, no wooden pew. There is a new ritual, new prayers, there are bananas and juice instead of bread and wine, there are soulful songs on the stereo instead of hymns, and there is joy. There is so much joy here. And it is holy.
Everything is holy.
*not a hyper-christiany song...promise. I just love this song.
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