Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Monumental Tooth

My last post was honest, difficult to write, depressing as all get-out and necessary. It can't remain as my home page, though. Why not?

Here's why not:

I dare you to look at this picture and not at least smile a little bit. Besides the hilarity, besides the casual arm flung around her little brother, look at my jBird's giant front tooth. That, my friends, is a monument.

It is a monument of tooth-bone to change, to growth, to shedding childish things, but not quite growing into the permanent things, either. I love that huge, solitary front tooth and sometimes I just want to touch it. My jBird is a patient girl, but she rarely indulges me in this. I don't blame her, but still. Look at that thing!

Her teeth will all eventually come in and straighten out (hopefully without a whole lot of orthodontic intervention) but for now, I secretly cherish this giant front tooth that is so awkward, so strange and out of place in her face, but a talisman of more big things to come. For now this is more beautiful to me than any movie-star-perfect smile in the world.

These two - with their life and their energy and their constant vibration - these two wear me out and they worry me and they drive me straight up a wall sometimes. But look at how they laugh. They lean into each other and laugh. With their messy hair and hand knit sweaters and heads full of nonsense and of course the giant tooth, they laugh. I can fume around and stew and boil about things that are so much bigger than they are, but you know what? These are the biggest people I know. They have virtually no control over their lives, they have very little say in the things of the world; they get told what to do, where to go, how to behave and to go and pick up all their Legos. Their mother is moody and somewhat unpredictable, she's intense and she's insane and she loves them with all her heart. And still they laugh. With eyes closed, without self-consciousness or guile - so hard, they laugh. This is their default mode.

And that monumental tooth. Well, you know how it is. It brings me to my knees and it makes me laugh, too. So hard. 


  1. That is one honkin tooth! I sure hope she grows into that thing. And Hooligan, my goodness he better watch out so that tooth doesn't catch him by surprise mid-giggle.

    Pardon me for saying that I think their mother is the bees' knees, too. I love the beauty, the joy, the innocence, and the reality of this post.


    1. It's startlingly large.
      Thanks, Margi. I think you're the bees' knees, too. Not in the least because of your mad punctuation skills. xo

  2. What - their mother is unpredictable? I sure didn't see that one coming.

    1. I know, right? I usually come across as so stable.

  3. They have virtually no control over their own lives...and yet laughter is their default mode...

    Yes. I think I need to reset my own default mode, yo. The older I get the more I realize how little control adults have as well (I don't think I'm just speaking for me?), but that doesn't mean we can't take our children's examples and laugh our way through it too. Hmm.

    Now how do we do the reboot thing again?

  4. I had to keep scrolling up to look at the picture while I read. Such pure joy, both in them, and clearly, in you. How lucky we are.

  5. Oh, adorable. Ayla has TWO enormous front teeth and is shy about them. As if she is the only 8-year-old with honkin' teeth.

    Love the description of your laughing babies. Thanks for putting my heart back together a little bit.

  6. I love this. And Jack just lost another front tooth so you've really given me something to look forward to!


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