The space between

My heart has just gone through what it must be like when one of the boys' stuffed animals goes through the wash. It's been hosed down, tossed around, and then wrung out at high speed. It came out all choppy and wet-looking, and then it got tossed in the dryer, where it spun around and around in the heat, and eventually came out fluffier and dizzier than before.

Zach had his little front tooth pulled this morning, and he seems to have made it through with only a few hiccups, but it was complete agony for me. I tossed and turned all night last night, wondering if we were doing the right thing and mourning the loss of his perfect baby smile. I fretted while they gave him the medicine and he flopped groggily in my lap. Then I agonized when they took him away and I heard some muffled whimpers. Twenty eternal minutes later, they let me come back to see him, and he was snuggled up in a blanket, limp and completely spaced out, asking for balloons.

He's sitting here watching "Cars" now and he's perking up, but he's been poking around in his mouth at the new space and probably trying to remember what the heck happened. As for me, I'm still a little wobbly and spaced out, because clearly, it takes adults far longer to recover.

I have a friend who has two girls and something about her life seems so ethereally pretty and sweet. She is always creating beautiful salads and eating healthy food, and the girls are happily playing unicorn and pony games. The other day I dropped something off at her house on a Sunday afternoon, and even though I knew they were tired from camping the night before, she still looked amazing, the house was clean, and a wonderfully fresh lemon smell wafted out the door, as I could hear the girls cheerfully playing in the background. My point is, that's not my life. The boys wear ski hats while they play with water guns (see Exhibit A). Things are messy. There's fighting. Clothes don't match. Crayons go down the bathtub drain. Legos sit under the dining room table for weeks. And after I come through a rough patch, I'm not fresh and pretty; I'm dizzy, rumpled, and left wondering what happened to that tooth.