Sisters, revealed

The looks on their faces are truly priceless, don't you think?

It's official. . .

Fletcher is taking this whole potty thing very seriously now.  

The one drawback of her wonderful new trick, though, is that whenever I go to the bathroom now, she comes running in, watches me pee, and then proclaims with great gusto, "I'm so PROUD of you!!!!!"

Toes!

I hope that Fletcher doesn't start sucking her big toe as much as Gryphon sucks her thumb.  That would get uncomfortable.

Little bit lonely. . .

So, Darling Husband has been gone for almost seven days now.  While I have missed him every day since his departure, it has been over the last two days that I have been REALLY pining for him.  On Monday afternoon he exited the overly interconnected world [yes, I am aware of the irony of calling this time we live in 'overly interconnected' on a blog] and entered the weird wonderful world of Burning Man  - there is no cell phone, interwebs or gmail on the Playa.  
Well, almost.  Or mostly.  There was a flurry of worry as early arrivals reported some cell service in Black Rock City, but in the end it appears that the arrival of the masses again made direct contact with the outside world nearly impossible.   
This made me think about how technology has so indelibly changed our society.  There are all of these wonderful tools to stay connected with the people around us, but in addition to making it harder to escape our past, it is also as if we have forgotten how to really truly miss people.  Because, well, technically, they are always  in our pocket.  Experiencing a week of no contact what so ever puts old love letters, written during periods of months or even years of absence, after which time a reunion could not be promised, in perspective. . . 

*  *  *  *  *

While awaiting your return (in one piece I hope), my dearest Ben, I am merely a spectator, hanging out above your world in the desert.  Even though you cannot call out to me, I can peek at the happenings on the Playa.  Indeed, when the server is not overloaded with spectators like me, I hope that maybe I will catch a glimpse of you among the great unwashed.  As I write, evening is arriving in Black Rock City.  Enjoy the crazy night, my darling.

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Singalong

The girls and I have a long standing habit of playing big loud music in the car in the morning on the way to school - bands like Radiohead and Powderfinger.  Lately we have been thrashing Muse, the 'biggest band America doesn't know anything about', really REALLY loudly.  Fletcher has taken to one particular song, and belts it out at the top of her lungs, plus undertakes a whiplash inducing head banging stint at the appropriate musical moment.  Watch, listen and imagine.  
Knights of Cydonia Live at Wembley (Fletcher usually really gets going at about the 3:00 minute mark):

The tooth fairy is scary

Today was Gryphon's first day of kindergarten.  In preparation, last night we picked out her clothes, packed up her backpack, talked about what she would take for lunch, and just generally got ourselves overly excited.  When morning finally came, it was lovely and cool outside - it FELT like the first day of school should. . . except of course that Gryphon awoke with a full on case of the Gryphon grumpy's.  She's been feeling badly on and off for a few days, with minor fevers now and again mainly in the afternoon, but I hadn't thought much of it.  In fact, I was convinced that at least some it it was growing pains (see the last paragraph here).  So, like a good mother, I doped her up on Tylenol, fed her, clothed her, and sent her on her way.

With the morning to ourselves, Fletcher and I had a grand old time.  Which led to her going to nap a bit late, which meant of course that she got pretty pissy when I had to wake her up from nap a bit early.  All because selfish mommy needed to get mason jars from Logan Hardware (thanks for the tip Lana ) in order to jam and can some of the big bag of beautiful peaches  I bought last weekend from the Bloomingdale Farmer's Market .  

I know, I digress, but for a good reason.  Outside the hardware store was a street musician playing the saxophone.  Fletcher was enthralled.  I mean really enthralled.  We stopped to listen for a second on our way in to the store, and on our way out Fletcher dropped a dollar in his case.  At which point he stopped what he was doing, said thank you, then serenaded her with a wonderful rendition of 'Summertime'.  She was glued to the spot, swaying with the music.  A whole crew of folks stopped and watched because really, it was a great image.  (Of course, my camera was in the car.)  And, like a good little audience member, she applauded when he finished.
Tangent complete.
So off we went to pick up Gryphon.  And out she came with another case of the grumpy's, and a fever to boot.  Her loose tooth was hurting, her head was hurting, and she was a tired tired girl.  So, like a good mother, I doped her up with Tylenol again, called the pediatrician and left a message, and tried to figure out a way to get her to get that damned tooth out of her mouth!  I kept worrying that it was going to fall out at some inopportune moment and she would either swallow it, choke on it, or lose it.  So, the google on the interwebs became my guide. . . ah the stupidity.  Finally I stumbled upon this page, with a passel of generally irrelevant suggestions considering how far gone this tooth looked.  But suggestion number four proved to be a winner.  
Offer your child some salt water to swish around their mouth. If the tooth is already very loose, it may fall out. Play a game of swish and spit with plain water, flouride mouth rinse or salt water.
Now we know that Gryphon has some serious phobias.  Anything that tastes remotely of any  flavor, other than something sweet, is totally off the cards, so we used plain old tap water.
And voila!  

So, I'm thinking, whew, excellent, great, done, maybe she'll be all fine tomorrow.  Then the pediatrician's office calls and says, "It sounds like she might have a tooth abscess.  You should bring her in.  Now."  And I get paranoid and darling Cecily takes Fletcher, and Gryphon and I undertake what is generally considered a trip designed to turn even the sanest one of you into a lunatic - that is, the drive from central DC to Falls Church, VA, via I395S and I66W, at 5:30pm on a weekday.  The 11 mile trip took just under an hour.  And several minutes off my projected lifespan.
So, long and short, we didn't have an abscess, but a sore throat instead.  But no strep throat, apparently, which is a really good thing, because then all the good mother crap I've been tossing around would have been a real crock, because who send their kid to the first day of kindergarten with strep throat?  Definitely not a good mother. . . 
The cherry on top of this sundae of a day - which, you'll remember, included the first day of kindergarten, a serenade by a saxophonist, a fever of nearly 103 (oh, I hadn't quite mentioned that, huh?), a mad dash to the pediatrician -  is that Gryphon is apparently afraid of the tooth fairy.  She grilled me in the car on the way back from the pediatrician, "But, what IS the tooth fairy?  How does she know to come?  Do girls get girl tooth fairies and boys get boy tooth fairies?  What is she going to do to me?  How will I know she has come?  No, really mommy, WHAT IS SHE GOING TO DO TO ME?????"  Given that my mother wrote and illustrated a book about the tooth fairy that Gryphon and I have read together countless times, Gryphon's freak out was a bit of a shock.


So, Gryphon's newly lost tooth is currently under MY pillow.  I hope the tooth fairy brings ME something.

Butterflies

We went to the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History last wednesday, and Gryphon came prepared for the Butterfly Pavilion with her magnifying glass.  This picture made me smile.