Drool and Birthdays

It's begun. With Elaine's second bottom tooth poking through, the girl has begun to drool. Each morning I greet her in her crib and she has a big "drool goatee" hanging down. It's precious. The new teeth also mean that food is getting more messy for now. She spits out her formula and dribbles out her pureed baby food. Glorious.

On Saturday, we had a little celebration to mark my 30th birthday. It feels like a milestone. We had a wine and cheese theme and friends generously brought great wine and cheese selections. The party included a fair amount of crazy four year-olds loudly chasing each other through the house. Eventually, they were largely relegated to the upstairs, where a suspicious spot appeared in the carpet. Meredith, after cleverly covering it up with a piece of paper, admitted its cause to be "moon sand" and water that "accidentally" spilled on it. "Moon sand" is this particularly treacherous substance. It's like sandy, foamy play-do--but messier.

Several days into my 30th year, I do feel older. Still, the moments I truly feel old is when I awake to crying at 5-something AM to deal with a messy diaper. Birthdays or no, I'm hunched over and stumbling as a I drag my aching body around the house, eyes open just enough to navigate around physical hazards. I don't, however, feel wiser quite yet. It's hard to feel wise when a four year-old is beginning to out-clever you.