Tuesday, December 26, 2006

Got Milk?

As many know, I am expecting our second child this summer. I can say expecting "our" second child, but that's about as far as I can go. I will not say "we" are pregnant. I hate that. The guys who say that always have this kind of loopy grin on their face and say "We're pregnant!" as they possessively rub their wives belly and throw back another vodka on the rocks. I read an article recently that said that all of men's need to be the alpha is because of their fundamental anguish that they are unaware to bear children as women can. Are you laughing yet? I mean, I sort of get it, having had children, I understand there is no greater miracle, but still, I laughed.

Anyway, I decided early on to talk to Jack about the new baby, as I had a sense he is going to need the entire 9-month runway to prepare. I was a little worried about broaching the topic with him. I thought; how am I going to explain this complex biology to a 2 year old?! That there was conception from two tiny cells and now there is a baby in mommy’s belly and it will grow up and get big and eventually come out and live with us? I figured he’d find the notion is absurd or worse, be terrified. I braced myself, found a calm and opportune time, and gave him the news. He seemed a little bored and said, “okay”. What I now realize is that a two year olds life is 99% absurdity as they try to figure out the world, so hey, people growing in people? Babies showing up out of the blue? Yeah, seems to fit. Can I go play now?

He seems to have really taken to the invisible baby so far. When getting his snack, he asked if the baby would like some apple juice (his favorite). I told him that when the baby comes out, it will only drink milk. I wasn’t sure if he was paying any attention, but later on when he started coming up to my abdomen and asking loudly “Baby! Do you want some milk?” I got my answer. Of course, like all firstborns being raised as if he were nobility, he doesn’t have any idea of what a second baby will truly mean for his world (as probably neither do his parents!) but we are hopeful that he will be old enough to happily welcome the baby…and maybe do some night feedings. jk.

An Early Visit from the Tooth Fairy

We had our first semi-emergency with Jack earlier this month. He was climbing on and over my husband, Brian, on the floor, who was trying to fix our lifeblood, Tivo, and fell into the coffee table. Knowing it was going to be bad, I ran to him and in this millisecond, thought: Do not blame Brian even though he was playing with him at time…it could happen to anyone…it’s an accident. With this in mind, looking through the blood I heard Brian say- “his front tooth is gone”. I tore up the room looking for the tooth, determined to transplant it myself if need be like I saw once a Discovery Health channel show. When I couldn’t find the tooth, I despondently called a pediatric dentist at home at 9pm at night (isn’t the internet great!), and reported the tooth swallowed and unrecoverable.

In the middle of our emergency, a roofing contractor came by to give a quote (ever notice contractors are ever-present when it’s less than ideal but otherwise impossible to locate?). Brian disappeared for a few minutes with the contractor, who apparently has two boys who knocked their teeth out when they were three. Brian came back announcing “Baby, it’s not a big deal, all boys knock out their front teeth!”
I stared at him.

“All boys? What 2 year olds do you know that don’t have front teeth?!”. I was not buying these boys-will-be-boys-and-don’t have-teeth and was already calculating the cost of baby teeth veneers and implants. Amazing enough, after a sleepless night, the dentist located the missing tooth jammed up in Jack's gums and in a stunning turn of good news, said it will probably come back down on its own! So we survived our first medical emergency and as I was congratulating myself on my non-judgmental calm in crises, I overheard Brian on the phone: “so then, she totally freaked out on me…” Argh, what must I do to be recognized as a saint in medical crises!? I think after 15 years, he cheats by reading my mind.

I know all the more seasoned parents are reading this and rolling their eyes;
"A missing tooth? Give me break. Give me a call when he saws off an appendage or sets the neighbors barn on fire" but it's a trauma with training wheels, enough to start out with. I hope I will still be telling this story when he's 22 as the most major of our mishaps. What are my odds?