The Case of the Lost Teeth...

Another milestone achieved! Ryan lost her first (and second!) tooth. The first one had been loose for over six weeks but Ryan was reluctant to help it along by wiggling it. I'm not sure if she was scared of losing the tooth or losing the moniker "Girl Who Hadn't Lost a Tooth Yet". Whatever the reason, nature overpowered Ryan's resistance and the tooth came out on Valentine's Day, 2011.

The actual separation of tooth from mouth was fairly anticlimactic. Ryan stood up from the dinner table and announced "my tooth came out" with a slightly puzzled expression on her face as she looked into her cupped hand at the tooth. My reaction was similar, a bit shocked, mostly because I'd come to expect it would never come out. While rinsing out her mouth, I noticed that the tooth next to the now missing one was very loose as well. I offered to help it along right then and there but Ryan insisted on letting it run it's course.

After dropping the girls at school the next morning, I received a phone call from a mom friend of mine who said she saw Ryan running towards her classroom yelling "I lost my tooth, I lost my tooth" so I knew right away the second one had came out. Unfortunately, the lost tooth was actually lost, it fell out of her hands somewhere between the playground and the classroom as she ran back to tell her teacher. Have no fear though, Mrs. Brewer has the tooth fairy's email address and quickly shot her a note explaining that Ryan really did lose a second tooth even if she wouldn't find it under her pillow that night. Just to be sure, Ryan wrote a note and put it under her pillow that read "Dear Tooth Fairy, I lost my tooth, what should I do? Love Ryan." I'm happy to report the tooth fairy showed up, dropped off $3 and a return note reading "kids lose teeth all the time" signed with a poorly drawn butterfly. (Insert quizzical look here)

Sam has been wiggling her teeth now, willing one to come loose.

Happy Birthday Sam(my)(antha)

When we brought Sam home from the hospital she weighed just over 5 lbs. She fit, head to buns, in the palm of my hand and no matter how small the clothes we found, nothing fit her. The premie outfit with giraffes and elephants engulfed her and, in fact, is currently being worn by one of her baby dolls. She suffered from reflux and clogged eye ducts which meant I was always cleaning up spit up or eye goop. And she had a bad case of what I referred to as "the squirms." She was a tiny, goopy thing that constantly wiggled - she actually bounced herself off the couch when she was one month old. I thought she was broken lying there on the floor, but her screaming assured me she was okay. This constant restlessness coupled with the reflux caused her to not sleep through the night until she was 8 months old. Needless to say, it wasn't all oohs and aahhs and smiles and giggles that we envision when we decide to have children. The happiness of having a new baby is lost in the misery of it but the misery is equally lost in the happiness. It's a strange time.

I'm happy to report that she eventually grew out of the reflux and clogged eye ducts but not so much the squirms. We affectionately refer to her as Monkey Girl now as she is fond of hopping from couch to ottoman to your shoulders without warning. Once there, she will announce "Monkey Girl on shoulders" in a unique, third-person-no-verbs, speaking style. She scurries up the kitchen cabinets, using the drawer knobs as a foothold similar to a rock climber wedging a toe into a crevice. It's not uncommon for me to enter a room and find her standing on the counters looking about. I'm not sure if she's taking in the view from a higher vantage point (she's still pretty little) or plotting her next move but she seems partial to the kitchen counter.

I'm equally happy to report that I have traded in cleaning up spit up to cleaning up dolls and their detritus, art supplies and her clothing. She goes through outfits hourly, the more layers the better. Yesterday she went out in leather boots, pajama bottoms that reach the middle of her shin, a turtleneck with a tank top over it and a ski hat. She called it her "special agent outfit." She's growing up quickly and now the happiness is all we feel. When I suggested that perhaps we could skip this birthday and just stay 4 years old she explained that that would be impossible since we've already mailed out the birthday party invitations. How can you argue with that? Anyway, we've agreed to put a moratorium on the rest of her birthdays (and mine) and have decided to remain 5 years old forever. Happy birthday Monkey Girl.