Toothless

Nathan has a loose tooth. Well, actually, he already lost one, but this is the first one that's been loose in his mouth before the big exit. His first lost tooth has been replaced by a permanent tooth that's just broken through the gum. How space was made for that first pearly new permanent tooth is a tale of brotherly affection.

About three weeks ago, my boys were doing the thing they love best, chasing each other, shoving, wrestling, typical boy stuff. I wasn't paying much attention; it was just too normal to warrant any concern. Suddenly, I heard it--the cry. All moms know the cry. It's the one that instantly tells you that your baby has sustained an injury. I popped up from the couch lickety-split, ready to assess damage, kiss boo-boos, assign blame and dole out punishments.

Nathan was crying. "Daniel head-butted me!" Then he said, a little surprised and fishing something from his mouth, "Mama, my tooth came out!" I could see that his gum was bleeding from the newly empty socket, so I rushed him to the bathroom, tooth still in Nathan's hand, trying to save my beige-colored carpet from indelible blood stains. As I grabbed a cloth to wet and apply to his gum, Nathan, who was checking out the tooth in his hand, suddenly lost his grip and the tooth went right down the drain. Gone. Forever.

I tried to keep my calm. After all, Nathan was about that age, I thought. So I played it off nicely. "Yay, Nathan! You lost your first tooth!" Yet inwardly, mommy script was running. "Okay, I don't think that tooth was loose. Daniel's head just made it come out. I hope there's not still a root in there or a tooth fragment. I better inspect the gum. Gum is red. What does gum look like after loss of baby tooth? I think I'd better check the internet."

Everything I read on the internet about traumatic loss of baby teeth said it was probably fine, but to check with a dentist in case of a partially retained tooth, which could cause the permanent tooth to grow in crooked. I also read that if the tooth could not be recovered, imaging should be done to be sure the tooth wasn't aspirated. "Wow, glad I dodged that bullet. At least I saw the tooth for two seconds before it went down the drain."

I did not want to take the kids to the dentist though. Neglectful parent you may think I am, but my kids have never been to the dentist. And, most importantly, they do not currently have dental insurance. I did not want to spend a hundred dollars for a dentist to look in Nathan's mouth, say, "Yeah, it's fine," and send us merrily on our way.

Yet I didn't want to not take Nathan and then have something go terribly wrong. I imagined the worse. Tooth abcesses. Infection of the gum. Systemic infection. I simply could not go on without consulting a professional. So I called my wonderful dentist during his off hours at his emergencies only, home number. I got his wife who rapidly passed the phone to Dr. Lee after hearing my slightly incoherent account of how my son had a tooth knocked out of his mouth by his brother's head. After I gave Dr. Lee the rundown of the whole scenario (which actually made him laugh quite a bit), he asked whether it was a permanent tooth, and upon ascertaining that it was not, assured me that I had nothing to worry about and nothing I needed to do.

I don't know that I would have chosen to have Nathan's first tooth knocked out that way. (I do not need that much excitement.) Nonetheless, there were pros and cons to the situation. Pro: No dread factor. No trying to figure out how to get out a tooth hanging by a thread. No dealing with the tooth fairy issue. (We haven't done Santa Clause with the boys, and I don't think we'll do the tooth fairy either. Just trying to keep it real, people.) Finding out how truly wonderful and caring our dentist is. Cons: No consolation prize. Lots of stress for mommy. And now knowing that my child could aspirate his tooth. (Honestly never crossed my mind before.)

Well, we'll see how it goes down the second time round. I'm seriously considering feeding my child a Now and Later or a caramel apple.

No sugar with my honey

I guess I should rename the blog Erin's sugar free therapy blog, at least for now. But I'm not going to, because that would be too much trouble.

So last night, Stephen and I went out on a date. We left the house at 7:30 (!!). I don't think we've done that since pre-children, maybe since college. I'm most definitely not a night owl, and I prefer to be home by 8:00. It's nice to have the children's bedtime for an excuse, but last night both the boys spent the night with my parents. Yay for grandparent time! But with Stephen working late (7:00), and without my usual excuse, we went wild...well, wild for us. After some discussion, we chose Olive Garden and headed out. I don't think we started eating until at least 8:00. I ate chicken and gnocchi soup, two and a half breadsticks (I suspect there's tons of sugar in them, but sometimes ignorance is bliss), and about three bites of my favorite Olive Garden entree ever: braised beef tortellini. I was too full of soup and breadsticks to eat any more than that. Never fear, I ate the rest today--for breakfast. Yum.

So at the start of the meal, I spent about three minutes trying to turn the standing flyer in the right direction so I wouldn't have to look at pictures of the desserts. (Remember my last blog about the see food diet.) I finally got the drink side facing out after much trouble, only to discover later in the dinner that it folded flat quite nicely and easily. Problem solved!

Actually, by the end of our meal, I turned dessert down quite easily. I was way too full to be tempted by anything. Even when our waiter plopped an Andes mint right in front of me, I slid it over to Stephen right away.

We wrapped the night up with a couple of rounds of bowling. I won one, Stephen won one. (Not that anyone's keeping score...) I decided I really need to work on my grip strength. The quality of my bowling game went downhill fast as my forearm got tired during the second game. (Because, you know, I'm such an insanely awesome bowler...)

Anyways, we had so much fun, and I probably enjoyed it more without the sugar fog that usually accompanies consuming a huge, rich restaurant dessert. I didn't need dessert, because my honey's plenty sweet already!

Beware, it's everywhere

And it's dangerous. Check out this article about how simply looking at a picture of a treat is enough to make you crave something sweet. Be forewarned that they put a piece of tasty looking chocolate cake right at the top of the article.
http://bodyodd.msnbc.msn.com/_news/2012/06/26/12421650-photos-of-sugary-treats-may-spark-cravings-study-finds?lite

 But I didn't need an article to tell me that when I see sweet, I want sweet. I just have to think about what happens every time I see the York peppermint patty commercial. Yep, you got it. "Stephen, you wanna go to the gas station and get me a York?" Or when I see those pictures of Chick-fil-A's peach milkshake...mmm...gotta have one. That's one of the major reasons getting off--and more importantly, staying off--sugar is so difficult. It's everywhere, tantalizing me to just have one bite. It's like the garden of Eden all over again. It's sweet, it's delicious, one bite won't hurt, but the next thing you know you've eaten a whole pan of chocolate chip cookies and ruined your day.

So with temptation everywhere, why bother trying to kick the sugar habit at all? Well, aside from the fact that it makes me feel miserable, I am convicted that sugar has mastered me. When I find myself thinking things like, "I can't live without it," I know that it has become a sweet idol in my life.

1 Corinthians 6:12 All things are lawful for me, but not all things are profitable. All things are lawful for me, but I will not be mastered by anything.

I do not feel like there is anything sinful about eating sugar. In fact, the promised land that the Lord gave the Israelites was a placed described as being full of sweetness.

Deuteronomy 26:9 And he brought us into this place and gave us this land, a land flowing with milk and honey.

The problem is when sugar has become my master. I want it, I depend on it, I use it to cope. Sounds like a false god to me. It's time for a sugar fast, both to let my body heal and to let my spirit taste the sweetness of the Lord.

And my frenemy is...

Sugar is my frenemy. I love it, yet is sure isn't good to me. I don't really want to associate sugar, but I just can't seem to kick it to the curb. For one thing, my frenemy sugar shows up everywhere. It goes to all the same parties I do, it calls me incessantly, and it even intrudes on my most private moments when I am all alone. It's so sweet when we're best buddies, but it seems like the minute it's out of my sight, it stabs me in the gut.

Sugar, you've been a bad friend to me. It's time for me to detox from this poisonous relationship. I need some space. Hope you don't show up to ruin my day. Buh-bye.

Why the things I hate make me love my husband more

We all have them. Things we have to do--that we hate. But, lucky me, my husband takes on many of my least favorite things, most of the time without me having to beg.

Things like:

Making returns. I really hate making returns. Like, I generally won't buy something unless I'm 100% positive that I won't need to return it. Nonetheless, the occasional item makes it way into my house that needs to be returned, and when that happens, my wonderful husband does it for me.

Calling people on the phone. I don't like to talk on the phone. I always feel like I'm coming across weird. I get really awkward with people I know, and I get really stressed out with people I don't know. Also one of my least favorite things: those voice recognition systems where you have to say your name, your SSN, your address, your phone number, and a hundred other things. It never understands what I'm saying. I just want to talk to a person! Now obviously, I still have to make some phone calls, but I usually get to pass on the really annoying phone calls (like cable service calls). That's when I really feel loved.

Cleaning up really awful garage messes. Like when the trash sat in a pile too long and maggots are crawling around. Yuck. Double Yuck. I'm really, really thankful for my husband who drags out the hose to wash it all away.

Filing taxes. Need I say more?

Figure out anything computer glitch related. I can usually get along pretty well if my machine behaves, but if anything goes wrong, I am totally and permanently thrown off. That's when I call my in-house techie.

Thanks, love! You make my days so much better.

Yes, I know...

I have become "that person." You know, the one who starts a blog, posts somewhat regularly for a while, then abandons the blog to pursue other lovers. Sorry folks. That is, if ANY of you are still waiting for me to write something new. Forgive me. I've just been loving on my husband, raising a couple of boys, trying to institute something like daily Bible time, cooking delicious, allergen-free meals (or raiding the refrigerator for allergen-free leftovers), exercising, eating enough to offset the calories I burned exercising (Yes, I'm trying to lose the last five pounds, just like everyone else), very occasionally cleaning something, working on teaching Nathan his letters and sounds, starting my doula business, helping some mamas birth their babies, creating my doula website, stalking other people's blogs, preparing for a wedding (not mine), buying seven eye shadows and eight lipsticks for aforementioned wedding, watching Wipeout with my kids, watching my kids create their own version of Wipeout in our living room, preparing two hundred items for a children's consignment sale, sleeping (did you catch that--SLEEPING!!!!), ordering vitamins, and lotion, and shampoo online, because I like natural products and I really dig online shopping, being my son's allergist, dermatologist, and pediatrician (seriously, I feel like I should have a degree or something!), reading library books, reading books I borrowed from my mom, reading books from my bookshelf to decide whether I would ever want to read them again, reading books to my little boys, reading magazines, trying (futilely) to organize our junk room, ahem, yard sale staging area, loading the dishwasher, unloading the dishwasher, handwashing the knives (how do twelve knives get dirty so fast?), trying to dissuade Nathan from tearing hunks of cheese off and eating them while I'm asleep, learning the names of more Braves players than I ever wanted to know (why do they have games every day?), having meltdowns every three days or so when my husband turns on the baseball game again (three for three should not mean we watch three games in three days!), checking out the latest thing Kate's wearing (if you don't know who I'm talking about, you won't be able to relate), deciding she's too tall and too thin to be a good source for fashion ideas for someone who is 5 ft. 3, weighing myself and agonizing that the number hasn't gone down, weighing Daniel and agonizing that the number hasn't gone up, weighing Nathan, and trying to convince him he hasn't "lost 2 pounds" (this happened after we watched the Firm Express informercial, fighting the battle of the toy monster that seeks to engulf our home in chaos, giving up on the battle of the toy monster because clearly he's already won, deciding to fight the battle again after tripping over no less than seven toys while going from the bedroom to the kitchen in the dark, watching the same Veggie Tales movie every day for a month, and a few other things for the past five months or so. Somehow the blog has been at the very bottom of the priority list. But, today, for one brief, shining moment, the blog made it to the top. Perhaps it shall happen again sooner than five months from now. One can hope.

How my Children have made me a cynic and an optimist

First of all, I love my children. So much. I would never give them away. Take a two week vacation, maybe. Put them up for adoption? Never. Never, never, never. So please don't interpret anything I say here as a sudden failure of parental affection. However, being the caretaker and responsible party for two little people has taught me a lot about human nature--about the innate evil of man, about the great patience and mercy of God in dealing with us.

Here's the truth I have learned from my own (and other people's) children: Children are naturally uncivilized little brutes. You might be tempted to think I'm just having a bad day--I'm not. (If you have your own kids, you might be nodding in agreement.) The truth is that everything good, and civilized, and obedient, and respectful a child does is the direct result of someone's effort and training on their behalf. They were not born as well-behaved, kind, gentle children. Children left to their own devices will whine, hit other people, destroy property, and generally please themselves and make themselves unpleasant to others.

Yet in God's great economy, where nothing is wasted, he gave parents to shape children, and children to shape parents. Children need the firm discipline tempered by unconditional love that only a parent can give. Discipline without love is abuse. Love without discipline is folly. Only a parent operating in the grace of God can have the patience, perseverance, strength, wisdom, and love needed to raise a child. I know from personal experience that God uses my children to reveal areas in my own heart where I am lacking. He has also used the insights of parenting to give me great hope, because, after all, He is my Father. So, while I am a little bit patient with my children because of my love for them, he is infinitely patient with me because of his unending love. When I get weary of the endless process of training, I think about the way He teaches me the same lessons over and over until I have learned them.

So I am optimistic that, just as my children respond to my love and consistency with better behavior, I will respond to the patient work of God in my life by slow, painful, worthwhile change for the better.

"being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." Philippians 1:6