Writing is cathartic for me.  So I decided to write about Atticus’ new smile and sprinkle it with pictures from the past week.


Last weekend we veered way off course.  Allan and I were all set to walk into the Souper Bowl and eat delicious soup and desserts like we have for most of the last decade the weekend before the real Super Bowl. We rode the short bus over the short distance with the blue hairs when we received the call that Mr. had fell and lost two teeth.  We rushed back over to the T-Mobile parking lot (not on the bus this time) and went as fast as stupid Saturday traffic on Montano would allow with all of the possible emotions rushing along with us.  Fear, anger, sadness, uncertainty, guilt along with moments of clarity saying accidents happen, kids do these things, it’s gonna be fine.  What about pictures, his permanent teeth, infections, will his tooth have to be pulled, will kids make fun of him, it’ll be several years before his teeth come in?  Lots of things run through your mind as you try to keep it together.  I drove because it gives me a sense of control which I need most of the time and especially needed then.


Even Cyan has a scratch on her face

We arrived to find Atticus asleep.  He had been tired when we’d dropped him off no more than a half an hour earlier.  Apparently, he been running with his sister (a dangerous pastime I know) and tripped and face planted on the edge of an ottoman.  He loves to run.  He loves to carry inanimate objects in his hand.  He’s passionate about that.  I can only suspect he chose to hang onto whatever he was carrying rather than let it go and brace his fall.  But who knows.


So I held him.  He looked fine other than the fat lip.  No blood.  And a calm washed over me, because what can you really do.  I could see he was okay.  I peaked under his lips and could see some trauma and defintely at least one missing tooth.  Normally I woulld be calling for help, but I asked Allan to call Dr. Martinez figuring there would be an emergency number.  Luckily, there was and Dr. Martinez returned our call.  He was boarding a plane in Denver returning from a dental conference where coincidentally they discussed trauma at length.  He asked some questions, were the teeth still in?  No.  Did we have them?  No.  He suggested we look for them and stated he’d meet us for x-rays once he landed.


Laying down in a pew writing his A’s

The missing tooth was found on a recliner and I gently reached in and found the other tooth was not missing but impacted.  This caused us to worry that it may have to be pulled out.  I reached out to some friends who had had this happen before or knew someone who did.  As I suspected, little boys tend to do this sort of thing often.  But still I was sad.  My baby had just turned two.  And his smile was changed and would be for some time.  He woke up from his nap a little cranky and would for the next few days, but after a few minutes was pretty much himself.  We bought him some yogurt and milkshake to eat.  He enjoyed that part.


We went home and waited for Dr. Martinez’ call.  Atticus played like nothing happened.  After watching the Lobo game, we got the call and took him in.  It seems like every time my kids have something wrong we end up near Paseo and Holly.  Cyan’s arm, Grave’s and now Atticus’ teeth.  Atticus had been scheduled for his first dentist vist in February; we’re sure glad they were able to squeeze him in late on a Saturday afternoon in January.


Taking notes at church

He did great.  Allan held him for the exam and x-ray while I filled out paperwork since he wasn’t even in the system.  On an interesting side note, I removed Atticus and Cyan from my dental insurance at the end of December because my dentist was no longer on the less expensive plan.  I moved to the pricier plan and asked Allan to add the kids to his plan.  He had done so a couple weeks earlier and the effective date of their new coverage:  Saturday, January 24th.  Either way, we’d pay anything for Atticus’ care, but I thought that was some interesting timing.


Dr. Martinez counted Atticus teeth, said they looked good and that he suspected the impacted tooth went up in a way that would not harm his permanent tooth.  He did an x-ray to confirm and his young son assisted with clicking the x-ray machine. The x-ray did confirm that the tooth went up at an angle that wouldn’t require extraction and should erupt (fall back into place) on it’s own in eight or more months.  More good news.  We were grateful!  Allan felt faint toward the end of the exam, not sure if it was all the anatomy talk or just the stress, but he was okay.  We were all okay.


So we went home and started our week long soft foods diet.  Which for us has led to some shedding of extra el-bees,how’s that for silver linings.  Atticus on the other hand seems to be eating more than usual or at least he was at first.  Pudding, yogurt, mashed potatoes, noodles, macaroni and cheese, cereal, eggs, you name it.  The tooth fairy made an unexpected visit that night.  I always thought she’d visit Cyan first.  She left a glitter dusted $10 bill under his pillow in exchange for his humongous tooth.  Good thing I keep glitter on hand.


The next day we decided to do some of his favorite things.  He likes to be out and about.  We went to the aquarium.  He’s definitely cuter than the sharks.  We went to lunch at St. Clair’s Winery and Bistro.  Cyan, Atticus and I ate pasta.  Allan shared green chile meatloaf with Atticus.  For things like bread, we cut up little pieces for him.  In the afternoon, we went shopping (he loves that).


Atticus received lots of calls and visits.  He sure is a special guy.  


Chances are he’ll get hurt again.  And so will Cyan.  And I’ll still have to be their mom.  My sister told me something that was really nice when I was feeling bad that I wasn’t there when he fell.  She said, “You can’t always be there when they fall, but you can be there to pick them up.”  In the grand scheme of things, it’s not bad at all and could have definitely been a lot worse.


While his smile may have changed, he is still adorable.

If he smiles, so do we.



Atticus Cole is Two Years Old!

It’s the early morning hours on January 19th. It was about this time two years ago that Atticus decided to begin making his way into the world. As I look over at the baby sleeping on top of next to me, I realize he’s not a baby anymore.


But I don’t care. He’ll always be my baby. Even Cyan says she doesn’t want Atticus to grow up.


He is a sweet boy giving kisses and saying “hold you?” when he wants to be picked up, which is often. He is funny, and wild, and though he tries our patience, his disarming smile quickly melts even the hardest heart.


He copies his sister whom he sometimes calls Cyanna. And loves any food that is bad (or good) for him. Definitely a grazer. Pickles, cheese, pistachios, oranges, candy, chips, waffles, cereal, macaroni, soup. He demands it all.


He likes to dance and sing. Five Little Pumpkins Sitting on a Gate is his favorite song. Along with ABCs. He skips and climbs things. He loves empty boxes and playing with random things. He’ll walk around carrying something for hours. Like batteries, makeup, toy trains, old cell phones. He won’t let go and he’ll get mad if you try to take it away.


He’s very independent and likes to understand how things work. He brushes his teeth and takes his gummy vitamins when sister takes her pills. We used to give him peanuts. He thought that was his pill.


He yells and throws tantrums. He pets the dogs. He counts. 1,2,8,9,10. He says he’s 3. Or 2.


He makes us laugh. He loves to write his “A’s”. He says, “do this” when he wants you to copy him.


He watches Adult Swim. And loves to play with any ball. He skips and jumps. He pretends to sleep. He likes to call people on the phone.


But most of all he makes us happy. Happy birthday to our baby boy, we love you Atticus!








Snow Business

We almost never watch the news.  I get the news online on Facebook, Twitter, or news sites and informally in conversations.  I find news to be some of the most horrible television.

But we watched the news this morning.  Allan turned on the news yesterday and today to see if there were any delays or closures due to the weather. Twitter is my go to for breaking news.  We got a whopping inch of snow ICYMI.  All this made for some funny conversations with Cyan that I thought I’d share.

Cyan:  Look at the northeast mountain.
Me:  Oh yeah. The northeast mountain is covered in snow.

The northeast mountain is a volcanic rock bluff at the end of our street that faces west.  I just loved hearing her say northeast.

Cyan:  I was watching the news and I thought, that looks like Albuquerque, and it was.
Me:  You were watching the news?
Cyan:  Yeah, there was a shooting and an accident.  And there was an officer.
Me:  That’s exactly why I don’t want you to watch the news.
Cyan:  Well, it was an accident.
Me:  It’s not your fault, I just don’t like what they show on the news. Shootings, and accidents.  You don’t need to see that.
Cyan:  Well, cartoons weren’t on.
Me:  I know, sorry honey, we needed to see if school was delayed or closed.
Cyan:  There was also a ship and bad people.  And an officer.

I love this kid.
On a side note, I’m over being cold. I feel cold all of time. If I could, I’d spend all winter curled up under my heating blanket. Although I’m doing that right now and my feet are still cold. Gotta love poor circulation. So yeah, if we could please turn summer back on, that’d be great. Thanks.


Muscles from Brussels

I bet you’re thinking this post is gonna be about Jean-Claude Van Damme.  Wrong!  But if it got you this far I win.


Don’t get me wrong, I love the Universal Soldier as much as the next girl, but even couldn’t write a whole post about JCVD.

So I’ll write about Brussels sprouts instead.  Wait, don’t go, it’s good, I promise.

I made Brussels sprouts for the first time on Christmas Day.  A couple nights before, I was walking through Albertson’s when I noticed a bag of the little greens just sitting there.  I remembered seeing one of my healthy friend’s post about them and I thought, hey, maybe I’ll give it a whirl.  I texted said friend for the recipe and she also suggested checking out Pinterest.  You know I love me some Pinterest.

I combined my friend’s recipe with one I found on Pinterest.  I washed and cut each sprout in half.


Tossed those bad boys in olive oil and balsamic vinegar.  I love balsamic vinegar!  Laid out a layer on a baking sheet and dusted with sea salt, pepper, and garlic salt.


Put them in oven for 30 minutes at 400.  The recipe called for 20, you can go as high as 40 minutes depending on how crispy you want them.  I wanted somewhere in between.

From what I gather, this tastes way better than steaming them.  I thought they were quite delicious and easy.

I don’t know when I’ll cook again.  That’s why I get so jazzed and proud of myself.  Hopefully whenever I do, it turns out just as good.  Plus we ate our vegetables so that’s good too!


I’m sure many great things come from Belgium.  I’ll leave you with some gems from the Muscles from Brussels.



Death to Woggie

I say this over and over.  To myself.  To new parents.  To been there done that parents.  Whatever you do for your family is right.  Having done this two times, this makes me the expert of nothing.  But I do know that I/we pick our battles.  And sometimes these battles are tough.

Lots of battles.  And decisions.  And information.  And opinions.  And second guessing.  So that’s where the “whatever you do for your family is right” comes in.  Vaccinations.  Ear piercing.  When to move to a big bed.  When to flip the car seat around.  Breastmilk/formula.  Co-sleeping.  I could go on.  But I won’t.  Because this is about one battle.  Well maybe two.  The pacifier.


I hesitated to give Cyan a pacifier.  Some of my friends even tried to give it to her, and it really didn’t take.  I was relieved.  Until she started sucking her thumb.  I thought she’d grow out of it.  She hasn’t.  But she sure is working on it, bless her heart.  And as frustrating as it is, I do believe it’s going to be okay.  So that’s round one.  No pacifier, thumb.  Ready for round two?  Atticus didn’t use a pacifier.

At first.

I stopped nursing him around seven months.  For both of my kids, it was a sleep aid.  I couldn’t very well give them Tylenol PM or wine so we had to think of something else.  Pacificer!  So seven month old Atticus having never used a pacifier, took right to it.

And so did our dogs sometimes.  You see, if you leave out a chewy object that smells like humans, it will disappear.  Into Kaiser’s abdomen in some cases.


Over the last year and a half or so, we’ve gone to extreme lengths in the name of the pacifier.  They are like socks that go missing in the dryer.  And this kid is particular.  For a while, he only liked his San Francisco 49er pacifier.  Not like you can just pick that up at the local pharmacy.  And he knew too.  He totally knew when it wasn’t the right kind.  He rejected any that did not meet his high standards.


He also decided to christen it one day.  Woggie.  No one knows why or how.  It just was.  Woggie.  Or more like WOGGGGGGGGGIIIIIIEEEEE!  Demanding, I tell you.  You know it’s bad when your kid can name his pacifier.


We moved through a few different models as one would get lost and we’d deserately try to get him to like another one.  Curse you Woggie.  You could ask him for a kiss.  He’d take it out, kiss you and plop it right back in.  He’d take it out to eat.  And then yell for it when he was done.


You’re probably quite familiar with Woggie.  If you saw any of the few countless pictures I’ve posted over the last year, you’ve seen.  If you’ve been around us, you heard Atticus call for Woggie.  If you’ve had a kid that you just needed to be quiet/go to sleep, you know how important Woggie was.


I’m proud to say was.  As of today, Atticus has been Woggie-free for a week.  That may not seem like a lot, but in upset toddler time, that’s like forever.  We broke the habit cold turkey.  No poking holes or cutting it down.  No pacifier fairy.  Allan and I had to back each other up when we questioned ourselves.  He asked for it, we changed the subject or told him we don’t have it anymore.  The first nap and first night were the hardest.  A lot of tears and sleeplessness.  But we made it through and haven’t looked back.  It was unintentional.  Just woke up after Christmas and decided no more Woggie.  After all, we don’t want him to grow up to be Dookie from Boyz in the Hood or an active member of the rave culture.


Now we can hear every word Mr. says.  Which is a lot.  He is really starting to talk it up.  And sing.  We can also see his beautiful smile.

He still asks for it.  I’m not sure when that will stop.  This was a milestone and several of them are just around the corner.  First haircut.  Second birthday.  My baby boy is growing up.  Without Woggie.