The Tooth Fairy sometimes runs a little late.

So, chalk this one up to the Annals of Bad Parenting. Yesterday morning, Abby's long-dangling tooth finally jumped ship with a little help from yours truly. As always seems to happen with her loose teeth, we were getting a little ill watching it cling on to her gum with its last bit of connective tissue while Abby became increasingly paralyzed and unwilling to do anything about it. Not ten minutes after, however, we all dashed out the door for Maddy's fifth birthday party, reverberations from which then occupied the remainder of the day. Abby's tooth loss, sadly, was quickly forgotten.

At some point that day, it seems, Abby went and retrieved her tooth from the top of my dresser and before going to bed, placed it under her pillow. None the wiser, we all went to bed and....woke up in the morning. Abby came down, dressed, and asked Brian, "does the tooth fairy really exist?" Brian asked why, and she reported, "well, my tooth was still there this morning."

Uh oh.

Brian stammered something about how sometimes the tooth fairy runs a little short on time, and that she was sure to visit. My heart sank and I came out and tried to repair the damage myself by asking, "is Maddy still asleep?" And when Abby said yes, I threw up my hands and said, "of course! Well, as long as at least one kid is still asleep in the room, the tooth fairy may wait and get some other kids done first and then come. She's got until all kids in one room have woken up." I ushered her into another room, all the while explaining my nascent and hole-riddled two-kids-in-a-room theory, giving Brian the opportunity to dash upstairs and back. When he came back and gave me the nod, I told her, "I bet you anything it's already there." She gave me a narrow look, but obligingly went upstairs to check.

She's no dummy, though. She's pretty suspicious about the whole thing. Good girl.

Nudist parents

I got stuck in traffic today and ended up calling my friend's nanny to grab Maddy while she was still in carpool line picking up her own charges. When I got there to pick her up, my friend commented, "So, Maddy said you were late because you were naked." Um, what?

I figured maybe Maddy had said "late" had been misunderstood. No, she was certain: Maddy told her, unequivocally, "mommy was naked."

On our way home, Maddy confirmed it by asking me, "why were you naked, Mommy?" I asked her, "where did you hear that?" She told me that the nanny had said I was naked and that's why I couldn't pick her up.

Now totally flummoxed, I called the nanny to ask what in the world she had said to Maddy. Apparently, when Maddy got in the car, she asked why I wasn't there, to which the nanny had replied, "Mommy couldn't make it." Make it! Maddy heard, I guess, "Mommy couldn't. Naked."

The Family that Keeps Getting Larger

Well, not to be outdone, Aunt Mer and Uncle Dan have decided that while having nieces is great, it's even better to grow your own. Even better, the two cousins will be only three and a half months apart in age, and in the same grade!

This leaves mom with the interesting strategic dilemma of trying to figure out how to accommodate two small infants in her shore house next summer. We call dibs on the pack 'n' play.

Baby Cousin Slawe is due to make his/her arrival on or around March 15.

It's a Small World, redux

So, I finally discovered what might be more annoying than hearing the song "It's a Small World" sung over and over and over and over again.

It's hearing the song "It's a Small World" sung over and over and over and over again by a small child in a bike trailer in 90 degree heat while you, 5 months pregnant, haul her home from camp and no matter how fast you pedal, you can't get any further away from the singing.

It's a boy! (Confidence level: 95%)

Color me shocked. Then color me baby blue.

It was almost an out-of-body experience, laying there, having the ultrasound tech refer to a fetus of ours in male terms.

Yet there he was, in all his male glory.

In other less-stunning-but-arguably-more-important news, the baby himself (!) looks perfectly healthy. He had everything he was supposed to have--including one significant thing I didn't expect--and didn't have anything he wasn't supposed to have. The only medically notable issue is an extremely low lying placenta. I'll be scanned again (no argument from me) at 32 weeks.

A Tooth, a Tooth, My Kingdom for a Tooth

Last night Abby "lost" her third tooth. I say "lost" but in reality, Brian pulled it out while she was sleeping. The fact was, we were getting ill from watching it wiggle around in her mouth for weeks on end, on its last thread, while Abby refused to do anything more decisive than move it gently with her tongue. She'd stopped eating anything that required chewing and we all had our lives ground to a halt by this tooth. Besides, it was gross just hanging there. So when she fell asleep, we stole into her room and Brian plucked it out with a cotton round. She woke up straightaway, but was thrilled to find it gone.

Needless to say, the tooth fairy made her third appearance. We told her that the next time she should only pretend to go to sleep and take a picture of the tooth fairy when she comes. Abby rolled her eyes. "The tooth fairy knows when you're sleeping and only comes when you are asleep. She's wise." The ", duh" was strongly implied.

It's a Small World

You try to get that song out of your head after the ride. Go on, I dare you.

Overall, it was a fabulous but totally exhausting week. And when I say exhausted, I mean I was totally and utterly spent. Feet hurting, mind dimming, dizzy and weak type of fatigue. At times I wasn't sure I was going to make it back to the hotel. I'm not sure if it was the Florida summer humidity and heat, the pregnancy, or maybe some raging infection of Disney Magic, but something conspired to drain me of all energy.

I read in a guide that a typical Disney visitor can walk from 5-12 miles a day touring the parks. I'd say we were definitely on the high end of that. I went to http://mapmyrun.com and plotted out just one hour of park trotting on two different occasions and found that we went 1.2 miles on one, and 1.52 miles on the other. And we spent 6-8 hours in the park each time, not to mention trips back for dinner, or to go see a nighttime parade/display. It...was...brutal.

The kids, believe it or not, kept up with us the whole time. They walked every step we walked. There was one afternoon at Animal Kingdom where we rented a stroller but that was it. And we only spent 3-4 hours there anyway.

Highlights include:

1. Getting on the plane. Orbitz totally screwed up our seat assignments and USAirways never got it. So when we checked in, they assigned the only seats left, which put me and the kids in three separate middle seats all over the plane. (Brian was flying separately that evening after work.) The gate agent told us just to get on the plane and "take row 21." When I got on, I was relieved to see three frocked priests sitting in row 21. I smiled nicely and explained the issue to the priest sitting in the aisle seat. Priest one looked up from his book and said, "oh, that's a shame." The other two just kept their noses buried in their newspapers and pretended not to be listening. WTF? A pregnant mom traveling alone with two small kids in tow with a problem they could solve immediately? I took row 20 (where my seat was) and decided to wait for the aisle and window seat people to show up and ask them nicely. The college kid who was supposed to sit in the window seat graciously took Maddy's middle seat in front of us, and the nice attorney-looking woman who was assigned to the aisle took Maddy's window seat right behind the priests. I told the flight attendant to offer them a glass of wine or beer or a "snack box" and I would pay for it.

2. Disney Magic also has a sarcastic edge to it. I guess when you have to smile and be incredibly nice all day, you also better have a sarcastic edge. And, frankly, I found it really refreshing. We were at Animal Kingdom and there were a few Disney cast members handing out hula hoops and playing music. Abby runs up and declares really loudly so all the Disney employees standing there turn around to look, "HULA HOOPS! I'm so good at this!" And with that, she takes a hoop, swings it around her waist and it...clatters directly to the ground. The Disney guy handing out the hoops leans to his colleague and, unheard to Abby, makes one of those "wah wah" failure sounds. I cracked up.

One evening (Extra Magic Hours at Epcot, so well after 10 pm, Maddy in tow while Brian, my father, and Abby did Soarin') we walked up to Circle of Life: An Environmental Fable in our quest to find something to do while they waited in a 90 minute line. My mom leans in to the guy holding open the door and asks, "how long is this show?" The guy says, "about 13 minutes." My mom responds, in this business-like tone as she waves her hand dismissively (she didn't really mean it that way), "that will be fine." The guy clearly can't help himself and retorts immediately in the same tone, "really? So, that will be feasible for you?"

3. Disney Magic also inured to our benefit at times. Also at Animal Kingdom, right at the absolute nadir of our central-florida-in-summer fatigue, a Disney employee walks up and asks if we need any help. (Did we look that lost and dazed?) We said we were fine, we were just taking a break because we were so hot. She said, "I think I know what will help. Have you been on Kali River Rapids?" We hadn't, because it, along with every other headline attraction, had lines more than 60-90 minutes long. She winked and walked us through this employee-only path to the front of the line and left us off with a breezy "enjoy!" It was really wet and just the thing we needed to rejuvenate. And then, later, dh and my dad asked how to get to Expedition Everest (another long-line headliner ride) and the Disney employee told them and also gave them "Fast Pass" tickets for it, which bring you to the front of the line as well!

4. Smoked turkey legs are delicious.

5. The Bippity Boppity Boutique baited and switched us, which was really annoying, especially for something that expensive. The price for the "Castle Package" went up $10 between the time we called to confirm our appointments (the day we arrived) and the day of our appointment, which was two days later. When we arrived, we checked the brochure, which still reflected the old price, but at checkout, the price "magically" had gone up. The cashier explained that the prices sometimes go up with little or no warning, and it had only happened the day before, even before they could get new brochures, and wasn't that just a shame for us. I looked at her evenly and asked if there was anything prior to this point in the transaction that I could have reasonably discovered the price hike, given that I'd called two days prior and even checked the price list upon arrival, and she frowned condescendingly and said, "I suppose not." But she still charged us the new price. I didn't want to make a stink in front of the kids (mine plus the throngs of tiny princesses milling about) but I fully intend to take this up with Disney now that I'm back.

That being said, the experience was incredible and the kids got such amazing attention all day (and the next, since the hairstyle was made from some industrial strength glue-like hair product that I'm sure we'll discover, along with the pixie dust, is toxic to children.)

6. Speaking of pixie dust, it started to pour at one point, and when I said, "run for the monorail, kids, it's raining!" Maddy exclaimed, "don't worry Mommy, in Disney World it's only pixie dust!"

7. Most overheard thing said by parents at Disney: "There's no crying at Disney World."

8. When one of your children is scared primarily of two things, dinosaurs and lightning, don't take her on a ride called Ellen's Energy Adventure, no matter how far from dinosaurs and lightning you think it would have to be. Because the ride is, in contravention of all reason, primarily about dinosaurs and lightning.

Second trimester, here we come.

Well, the last few days of the first trimester ended with a bang with the brand-spankin' new standard issue Nuchal Translucency test. It's amazing how far obstetrics has come in just a few short years. Back in the "old days" you got bloodwork at 16 weeks and that was the only genetic screening you got, save for an elective amnio, for chromosomal defects. Well, now they do this screen where they look at the level of fluid in the nuchal fold (translation: "you mean I get an ultrasound? Awesome!") and determine your relative risk for having a baby with a genetic problem. They couple that with bloodwork and come up with a composite risk factor. Today, the results came back and it would seem there's only a 1:10,000 chance that the baby has problems. This is good news, considering my age alone gives me a risk factor of 1:365.

The best part of it all was, of course, seeing the little parasite swimming around on ultrasound. The cup of coffee and diet coke I downed before the scan ensured he or she was in an energetic mood. Unfortunately, the baby decided not to be too cooperative with sex-determination, so try as she might, the ultrasound tech could not even make a conjecture. The doctor was completely uninterested in trying, even going so far as to say that I should just wait for the birth. Ok, thanks, doc.

So, second trimester, here I come. Here's hoping I get that much-anticipated energy boost so the "please kill me now" element fades out of my runs. My running log is looking really sad lately.

Happy Mothers Day, kids, Mommy loves you 33% less.

So we told the kids about the baby on Mother's Day. It seemed like a good time to spill the beans--I'm about 12 weeks along, and past most of the real danger, though of course pregnancy is a minefield no matter what you do.

Brian thought it would be cool to hold a real Family Conference, I suppose something he'd had as a child and wanted to be Head Family Conference Caller. So we had a conference, and told the kids! Abby squealed in delight and then implored, "please can I be there for the Apgar test?" Maddy looked at me evenly and asked, "can I have a bagel?"

So slightly different reactions. Maddy did spend the rest of the day coming up to me and whispering in my ear, "I can't wait for the baby to get here!" So maybe she was just really hungry. Who can blame her? With all this nausea, it's a wonder the kids have gotten fed in 12 weeks.

McCain Loses the Elementary Demographic

Abby joined me at the polls on Tuesday after school. We ended up in a spirited conversation with the Republican committeepeople outside the polling area. As we were walking away, Abby said to me, "I think McCain would make a really bad president." "Why is that?" I asked her. "Because he's friends with Bush and Bush is a terrible president."

I couldn't deny her logic, but I told her, "you know, a lot of those people back there were going to vote for McCain." She looked at me and said, "really?" Then she stopped dead in her tracks, and asked, "wait a second. Are they Republicans?" I said, "yes, of course. Maybe you want to go back and tell them what you think of McCain." She shook her head and said, "nah. If they're really going to vote for McCain, it'll just make them feel bad."

Kindness is a virtue.

Things progress swimmingly.

Dr. Borow had me in for another scan today. The baby is measuring 8 weeks, 6 days, which is reassuring since I'm 8 weeks 6 days by LMP, too.

No significant weight gain yet--also good. But I've had to give up my running. This is distressing, especially since I had plans to continue (ok, create) my Broad Street Run streak. I don't get how it happened, but I went from easily running 10 mile hill runs four days before discovering pregnancy to barely huffing out a 4 miler. And my enjoyment level had plummeted from "woo hoo" to "oy vey." So either I'm a failure or my body is trying to tell me something. I'll go with the latter. It certainly preserves some self-esteem that way. I'm going to need some of that.

The Colbert Bump

There's something inherently funny about going to a taping of the Colbert Report with a big ol' pregnant belly sporting a "The Colbert Bump" sticker on it.

Kudos to Keri for having the cojones to embarrass Molly even before she's born.

It's a boy! (Confidence level: 50%)

Ultrasound on Wednesday gave us our first peek at the new being who apparently would like to be in our family. We even saw a heartbeat.

Dr. Borow dryly told Brian, "it's a boy. With a really big schlong." This, of course, being a reference to my first pregnancy, when Brian ribbed Dr. Borow for not being able to tell us the sex at 6 weeks.

Tuesday's numbers:
hcg 20956
progesterone 15.5 (what?)

Friday's numbers:
hcg 37000
progesterone 27 (whew.)

Welcome to five years ago.

Well, all that progress I was making on the independence from small clingy babies front? Kiss it goodbye. It seems we're right back where we started.

Ayup, storm's a'comin. Pee sticks confirm it. Blood test lays it bare. The ol' baby machine has been called back into service.

Last Thursday I was mildly late (read: three hours had passed since the 28th day had completed) and I just...knew. Brian was dismissive. No, "dismissive" sounds like he might have even slightly contemplated the possibility. Let's call it, "incredibly, scofflingly, completely and obnoxiously dismissive." But yet he still volunteered to drive me to the supermarket to pick up a test. (And why, you ask, I couldn't drive myself? I was tipsy--nay, drunk--from a couple of cocktails. Way to start this one out right!)

When we got back, Brian of course figured his job was done. Completely convinced that nothing more could be gleaned from the experience, he retired to the other room and fixed himself a heaping bowl of ice cream. That's how convinced he was that step two--the actual testing--was ceremonial.

I knew different.

With fumbling fingers, I yanked the Stick of Destiny from its wrapper and tested. Immediately one dark pink line came up, but it was way to the left of where the packaging indicated the control line ought to be. Hmm? Had the control line moved? Oh no. So pregnant was I that the test line came up before the control line.

Brian's job was done, it seemed. Just not quite in the way he'd thought.

The next morning, I tested again, and the same result. We told Brian's parents. The rest of the vacation kind of passed in a blur, and we came home and told the rest of the family. Six more pregnancy tests and a blood test later, there seems no doubt--another baby is on its way.

For your scorecard:
Estimated Delivery Date: November 27, 2008 (yes, that's Thanksgiving Day.)
Hcg: 2052 at 33 days LMP
Progesterone: 18.2 at 33 days LMP
Questionable things eaten by Lauren in the week leading up to discovering pregnancy: raw oysters, sushi, raw cheeses, wine, alcohol, one day of only tuna.
Questonable things eaten by Lauren the month prior to becoming pregnant: none of those things.

Dubious Distinction

Well, here's one for the family scrapbook. Thanks to my prior entry, my lovely little blog about being a mom is now the top google hit for "[rear end] licker [phallus] face." Just as nature intended.

A Total Eclipse of Decency

Today was a total lunar eclipse. The night sky was clear and bright, perfect for moon-watching. I explained what the lunar eclipse was to the kids, and to her credit, Abby really seemed to get it. I even hauled out a soccer ball, a kickball, and a flashlight and, as the sun, I showed them how it worked. The kids took turns being the moon and the earth and moving the shadows around. I had no idea what a walking science experiment I could be! We even looked at diagrams on Wikipedia and pictures of other lunar eclipses across the web.

Every so often we'd break and check on the progress of the earth's shadow. The kids were so excited to see the shadow making progress, and Abby could even see the curve of the earth's shadow across the moon.

Well, unfortunately, this was all taking place way past their bedtime, so the moment the shadow fully covered the moon, the kids took note and then faded off to to sleep in our bed, where we'd been watching it through the window.

I climbed into bed myself and cuddled my darling sleeping children around me. I then proceeded to quietly turn on the TV, but then two unfortunate circumstances collided: First, earlier this morning, Brian had turned the TV up loudly so he could hear the Colbert Report from the bathroom before he went to work and didn't happen to lower the volume before he tuned it off. Normally this would not have been a problem, but; Second, Comedy Central was still the channel, and South Park happened to be on. So, the instant the sound came on, out came at top volume: "[rear end] LICKER [phallus] FACE!" (comma, yelled Cartman to somebody, as I scrambled to mute it.)

The kids sat bolt upright in bed. "'[rear end] licker [phallus] face?' What does that mean?" asked Abby, earnestly. She rubbed her tired eyes.

"Nothing," I said. "Go back to sleep. You heard nothing."

Niiiiice.

Way to ruin a wholesome family experience, mom. I think we'll forego the visual aids on any explanation of that one.

A Haiku for Thin Mints

Oh, Thin Mints. You're cruel
To make yourself only four
Cookies per serving.

Jewish Mamma in the making.

Abby is currently washing her soccer ball. Why? It's just gotten too dirty. Her soccer friend is standing by the sink, imploring her to stop, and telling her that soccer balls just get dirty and let's please continue the game.

"Now Taylor. You don't want to play with a muddy soccer ball, now do you?"

He did. She rolled her eyes and tsked. He opened his mouth, decided better, closed it, and just patiently waited for her to be done.

Third Eye Blind

When I picked up Maddy from preschool today (late, as per usual, meaning I had to go in and get her rather than the very convenient carpool line that I could have used had I gotten there in time) the preschool director stopped me and said, "Maddy did the funniest thing today. Show Mommy!" I had to close my eyes, and wait. When I opened my eyes, Maddy was standing there with a googly eye stuck to her nose. "Look Mommy! I have three eyes!" We all laughed and then the director said, "tell her what you told me!" Maddy closed her eyes and said, "now, even with my eyes closed, I can still see you!"

Indeed. Everybody knows, of course, it's the Mommies that have the third eye, proverbially located on the backs of their heads. ("All the better to see you do something I told you not to, m'dear.") But I have to say, sometimes being Mommy is a surefire way to totally miss things one ought to see.

With my first, she was honest to a fault. Even the thought of telling me something other than the truth, even if she desperately wished the truth to be otherwise, would result in a beet-red face and an outburst of tears. So I figured I was clearly a stellar parent to have raised such an honest and trustworthy young lady, and assumed that any future children would of course benefit from my superior method.

Needless to say, my second daughter decided not to subscribe to the method. A couple of Hannukahs ago, when Maddy was 2, I'd been noticing bags of chocolate gelt were mysteriously disappearing from my pantry stash. With a candy-addicted husband, this, in and of itself, was not terribly unusual, though Hannukah gelt was not his drug of choice. I casually asked Maddy if she'd been eating any, and the answer was an easy, confident denial. Abby also denied having any. A few hours later, I called for Maddy and she didn't answer. I called again, and after a moment, from behind the sofa, came a tentative and strangely muffled "yes?"

"What are you doing back there?"

I heard the distinct tinkle of metal foil. "nuffin," she claimed, again oddly muffled.

"Are you eating chocolate?"

"...no."

Justly skeptical, I went back there and discovered my adorable, honest, and trustworthy little toddler with sticky chocolate fingers, and a sticky chocolate mouth, holding a bag of Hannukah gelt. She hadn't been able to rip the mesh bag open by herself, and so had opened the chocolates within the bag, and sucked the chocolate through the mesh. Worse, she was surrounded by three or four more bags, all empty except for the foil rounds. It was only now that Maddy had the self-respect to burst into tears, but the damage was done. I dragged her out, washed her off, and sent her to The Step.

Upon investigation, I discovered that the Hannukah gelt was only the latest in her quest for pirate booty. I found a treasure trove of Halloween relics: lollypop sticks, kit-kat wrappers, and ring-pop rings (stripped of their gems, of course) all stuffed into a toy bucket behind the sofa. And I had blithely assumed her to be as trustworthy as her sister. Never would I have deemed her capable of such subterfuge. I had effectively blinded myself to this less-than-admirable trait. Being a parent comes with the biological drive to see everything in the best light possible, even if the only way is to turn off the lights entirely.

Brian was secretly proud. She was smart, he proclaimed. Lying in children shows intelligence. Scant comfort. I just saw her, 20 years later, an incorrigible kleptomaniac, and me on the witness stand, "I never saw it coming."

Parenting raises unique challenges.

We've all heard this. Parenting raises unique challenges that test your problem-solving abilities as well as your patience. But I never really appreciated exactly how unique some of these problems might be, and how little prior experiences prepare you for them.

Right now, Maddy is apoplectic. She's flung herself onto the floor and is sobbing. Big heaving, wrenching sobs. And why? Because I had the temerity to serve her cookie dust in a cup. Yes, you heard that right. Cookie dust. In a cup. She dug out two cookies that had been in a ziploc in her bookbag, and forgotten about. Week after week, they became progressively more pulverized by the day to day activities of a preschooler, until the baggie held no individual pieces greater than a grain of sand. Well, the chocolate chips seemed to hold their structural integrity. I suppose that shows resilience. So...way to go chocolate chips?

At any rate, Maddy found the long-lost bag and immediately wanted to eat the "cookies." I looked at the bag, looked at her, and tentatively suggested, "shall I put it in a bowl and give you a spoon?" Yes, she nodded, that would work for her. She giggled. It was funny. Cookies in a bowl! With a spoon, no less! Hilarious! Crazy! Whimsical! Mommy, you're so silly! I then grabbed a cup instead and said, "how about I just give you a cup and you can pour it in your mouth? Maddy stopped, mid-happy-dance. No. That would be unacceptable. What are you thinking, Mommy? How ridiculous. Well, I'd already started pouring, but intending to still give her a spoon, when she went off the deep end.

I DON'T WANT THEM IN A CUP!!!!!! She started crying big great heaving sobs, and sunk to the ground, as if the very thought of cookies in a cup was so egregiously against the laws of nature that it had sucked the strength to stand from her being.

I was gobsmacked. Where did that come from? And why the polar opposite reaction? I just don't get my own kids sometimes. And this, after I suffered the indignity of pouring cookies into a cup. I have no idea how to proceed from here. Oddly, I feel a little disappointed in myself, like somehow any good parent should have known that cookies in a cup is a gigantic no-no and I should have anticipated this problem and skirted it. (How? Maybe offered her mac and cheese in a hat?) For now, I'll let the poor cookies sit in the cup. They've gone through so much.