Georgia lost another tooth

Georgia lost one of her front teeth last week, and like many things tend to go with her, it was nothing if not dramatic.  It did not go gently into the night, and oh did she rage.   

In short course this small storm passed, the tooth fell out (with a gentle tug from Joe), the blood stopped, and the tooth fairy came.  All was well and right in the world again.     

But in the meantime, June showed her sister great compassion, and for that I am proud of her.  It comes as no surprise to me that the three words she knows how to spell correctly on her own are June, love, and Georgia.  She is such the little caretaker of our family, an honorable role that Joe and I will nevertheless watch with caution as she grows, for it is a risky business to tie one's worth or happiness to the happiness of others.  Maybe every family needs a peacemaker, though.  We are lucky to have such a loving one right now.


Window markers by June.   

(And now I will paste this Dylan Thomas poem here for absolutely no related reason other than my having alluded to it above.  A play on words, if you will.  Don't read anything more into this tooth story.  Joe just reminded me that he only remembers this poem from Rodney Dangerfield reciting it in Back to School.) : ) 

nto that

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15377#sthash.MrqypXIy.dpuf

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15377#sthash.MrqypXIy.dpuf

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,   

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15377#sthash.MrqypXIy.dpuf

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. - See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15377#sthash.MrqypXIy.dpuf

 

Reason No. 4,822 That Moving Sucks

It's the little stuff.  Like trying to get going with a new pediatrician's office. 

We are now on a wait list which will allow us to make an appointment starting on March 1st. 

In the meantime, if anyone gets sick I'm supposed to call and basically beg to be seen, with no guarantee of that.  Or go back to our old pediatrician's office in the city.  Which is funny, because I'm already fighting the urge to just stick with that practice in the first place because I like our old doctor a lot.  If the kids would just stay well, it would work great!  We had the good fortune of a healthy summer, so suddenly I start talking myself into the feasibility of that idea.

But then I remember: winter is coming.  Remember those seven doctor's appointments in eight days last year, Kate?   

And while we're on the topic of griping about medical professionals, why did Grandpa Dave have to go and retire?  : )  That was in 2012.  I had better find us all a new dentist before everyone's teeth rot out of their mouths.

P.S.  What happened to Waylon Week?  I'm laughing at myself, because clearly my announcement of Waylon Week did not spur me to write or post any faster.  So it looks like at my current pace, Waylon Week will continue, off and on, for another 21 days or so.  

First Lost Tooth

The day that Georgia lost her first tooth was not nearly as traumatic as the day that she came home a month earlier reporting that it was loose.  WHAT?!  Talk about no need for further evidence that your firstborn is growing up.  I wasn't ready for that news, but you roll with it, right?

I should clarify - I was talking about myself, obviously.  None of the above was traumatic to Georgia.  It was all 1000% exciting.  Exciting for the tooth to be loose.  Triple exciting to check the mail everyday for her special tooth pillow that she picked out and then anxiously awaited like it was a secret decoder ring.  Infinity exciting to have the tooth fall out in the parking lot of Chipotle on the first day of Spring Break and then be awarded a free kid's meal on account of such good fortune.

As you'll see from the pictures, Georgia negotiated a deal with the tooth fairy who kindly left her $1.00 in quarters, two of which, much to her delight, were Georgia quarters.


Showing off for her sister.

Okay, I have to throw in this picture of June who insisted at the time that I take it. Amidst me searching the pavement for the tooth, Waylon managed to scratch June pretty hard. I'm sparing you the fresh-out-of-Georgia'-mouth bloody gap pictures, but suffice it to say that for a few minutes there it appeared as though the children had been in a bar fight.


What follows is actually the "Before" photo, taken when the tooth first became loose. Georgia was already sporting a pretty big gap before the tooth fell out.

"After":


This last shot is for Georgia, who wanted me to photograph the tooth, and my friend Susan, who apparently likes seeing teeth and will therefore be glad that I did. Ewwww. You're welcome.

This felt like a big milestone for both parents and child! And the next tooth is already loose...