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My Profile
Retro-retrospection - 2008-10-06
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11:48 a.m. - 2007-12-24
Since I'll be Santa tonight Mick took over as the Tooth Fairy last night. We had another gory comedy of errors trying to do the extraction. I, uh, was tugging on the wrong tooth. Hey, it was a bloody mess in there! I assumed it was the left side canine since it had been the right side one that came out last time and it seemed to be the logical next baby tooth to go. Nope. One of Wolf's molars jumped the gun, the one right next to the tooth I thought was coming out. In any case the correct tooth is out. It was damn ready, the permanent tooth beneath is already erupting. Wolf's regular check-up is right after New Year so we don't have to wait long or schedule a special appointment just to find out what's going haywire in my boy's mouth. Permanent teeth come in as they will anyhow so it's not like Dr Ralph can wave his magic dental probe and say, "Go back in, molar! It's not your turn yet!" Mick got his first crack at being the Tooth Fairy and confessed later that he'd been nervous. Don't know why, I had the kid safely downstairs with me doing a protracted go-to-sleep ritual so as to give Mick plenty of time to git in and git gone. But all this dad stuff is new to him, and I have to say despite the nearly vertically steep learning curve in front of him Mick is scaling it like a pro. Burnt-out old thing that I am, I'm doing my best to be delighted with Mick as he is swept up into the magic and whimsy of first-time parenting. When you're on your 32nd round of being the Tooth Fairy it's just not that awesome anymore, you know? Being Santa is still awesome though. The magic never goes out of that. Funnily as I caught up on my friends' blogs I wondered where the magic went for them. Oh, nobody is grinchy, they're just pooped. Entry after entry filled with litanies of baking, wrapping, more baking, house cleaning, more baking, turkey prepping, chauffeuring kinfolk to and from airports, only to come home to a kitchen ankle-deep in slush and a dog that's shitting tinsel. It occurred to me that Christmas is a lot like lions. The females do all the hunting yet his lazy-ass lordship is called the King of Beasts. Same deal with Christmas. Every woman I know is busting her hump until she's dizzy and sick with exhaustion and who gets all the credit? Santa. A guy who shows up once a year, eats all the snacks, leaves sooty footprints on the carpet and then boogies off again. Whoo. My MIL gave me an early Christmas present- a crocheted hat and scarf set. The yarn is a weird ombre of burgundy, mint green, pink and toffee yellow, but it works. The hat is adorable, sort of a tam o' chanter, and looks cute as heck on me. I am all about the hats these days, my hair is an overgrown mess. No need to preserve my spikes. The only way my hair'd stand up now is if I was in the electric chair. I have to get a new hairdresser or learn to cut my hair myself. It's fricken impossible to get in to see Zee anymore. I don't mind doing the hat thing though. At least while the weather is so cold. With the addition of the tam my winter hat collection is six. Six hats that are funky, flattering, and warm. Perhaps I shall get myself a fedora for the days when it's not quite so chilly. Mick just called to say he and Wolf were on their way home after a brief dogleg to the car wash. Jet is a dirty, dirty girl. My boys went out to do their shopping this morning. Mick, like a lot of people, is a Christmas Eve panic shopper. Wolf has been hoarding his shekels and waiting for the opportunity to go out without me. It's not like Mike would take him out so Wolf could get me something. So another new dad experience for the Mick Man. I'm making a last minute dash too. I thought of an excellent surprise Santa gift for Wolf. His official list was heartbreakingly pricey and aside from the off-brand MP3 player I scored at FYE none of the electronic gizmos he asked for will be under the tree. But this clever Gretel finally figured out a way for my boy to get his bouncing in and sort of make up for the devastating loss of his trampoline. With that I shall bounce myself into the shower and make ready to beat feet when the guys get home. Hope all of you have a very Merry Christmas! And if Christmas isn't your thing, have one anyhow and kiss someone under the mistletoe. Kissing is for everybody.
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