choppers

It wasn't the first one... she's already lost four on the bottom. But two days ago, Shout lost one of her top, front baby teeth. Last weekend, I had made a mental note to take a picture of her smile because I knew the top teeth were loose and soon to fall out. But I never got around to it. By Sunday, one of the teeth had slid down, already beginning its journey toward the Tooth Fairy's Palace. Her smile was different and I knew I'd missed my chance.

Those perfect, tiny, symmetrical white teeth...I remember when they first appeared. Don't ask me how old she was, because she's the fourth kid and I can't remember things like that. But I do remember rubbing my finger along the little pearls that first appeared along her gum.

She has a tiny mouth, and tiny teeth. There are years of orthodontia in her future. Her adult teeth will barely have any room to grow in. But her baby teeth were the perfect fit for that little mouth. Straight and snug.

As I slid the tooth out from under her pillow, and slid a dollar bill back in, I had to wipe away my tears. There have been lots of teeth lost in this house, but those top two for each kid have always made me melancholy. They are so much a part of who they are as little ones. How they looked with those teeth is seared in my mind. And when they fall out, and new, bigger teeth grow in, it all changes. They are suddenly big kids - their toddler smiles forever gone.

And so with my last baby, that top tooth falling out was a tender moment for me. Time is unrelentingly marching forward. Their faces change, their feet get big, legs grow long, and teeth fall out.

The smiles of my babies are gone. Replaced by the smiles of big kids.

it's not you... it's me

I've lost my blogging mojo, you all! Every time I post, I think "Oh good! It's back!" And then I sit, mojo-less, for a week or two.

Like anything, blogging is 99% perspiration and 1% inspiration. Meaning, I just need to sit down and start.

Time management. (I need some.)

Back in the summer, and honestly, for years and years before that, I fantasized about my days with 4 kids in school.

I would write deep and profound things. Sip coffee. Teach myself calligraphy. Organize my house. And then, take another coffee break, maybe. I'd walk an hour a day, listening to This American Life podcasts.

I would wear thick, cozy sweaters and warm chenille socks.

For a few hours a day, my life would be calm. My mind would be quiet. My house would be clean.

Do I need to tell you that's not how it is? I think I've only had 2 days since school started when I didn't have anywhere to go?

And yes, those 2 days were lovely.

But I spend most days teetering on the edge of full-on panic. Rushing, rushing, rushing. Doctor and therapy appointments, meetings, volunteering, fixing the car and filling the fridge. Sorting paperwork and writing checks. School and lessons. Practices and games.

My heart and I are always racing.

When does that life I imagined start? Where is my sweater and chenille socks?

But this is it.

This is my life.

Racing from one thing to the next. Hoping my blood pressure isn't as high as it feels.

I don't think the pace of my life is going to change any time soon. (In fact, it's accelerating even as I type this.) I need to learn to be at peace in the chaos. And organize myself accordingly.

In high school, one of my favorite quotes was from the beginning of The Desiderata, "Go placidly amid the noise and haste..."

Little did I know then how much noise and haste I was in for!

Every now and then, I think about giving up this space. It's just one more thing I don't do as well as I would like.

But I decided that giving it up means letting the chaos win. This is one of the few things I do just for me. I don't have deadlines or responsibilities. It's a place I come just because I want to.

Since that life in the sweater and the chenille socks isn't heading my way any time soon, I need to learn to manage what little time I have. Even if my writing here is infrequent, I hope you will bear with me as I find my balance.