I am really happy to report that I've definitely made some progress with the running. I started this new exercise program / strategy less than a week ago. My initial goal was to be able to run the main loop of my 'hood in one stretch by the end of April ... the main loop is 1 mile. (There are 2 other sections that I can add to my distance: inner loop = .75 mile, extra loop = .75 mile.)
The first time I "ran", a lot of it was walking. I could only run about a quarter-mile at a time and had to do some intermittent walking. By Thursday, I was able to run the entire main loop ... woo! hoo!! In 4 days I was able to work up to running 1 mile. (That means I achieved my goal a month early ... either I didn't set a lofty enough goal or I'm just awesome! I'm pretty sure it's the former rather than the latter! :D)
Today, I ran the entire main loop and all of the inner loop--that's 1.75 miles!! I was really happy with that! My legs were hurting, but I was very happy!
I'll be doing my official weigh-in and measurements on Monday, so we'll find out if I see results there, too! I'll let you know. I can say that jeans that fit me a few weeks ago were a little baggy / loose this weekend.
I'm off to do some sit-ups and push ups now. :)
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Thursday, March 29, 2007
civic duty
Things are not always what they seem. Sometimes in life we find ourselves dealing with situations and events that seem innocent and innocuous enough at the time, but we realize at some point or another that our lives have been changed because of them.
May 2004 I was called for jury duty. I had never been called to serve on a jury before. I was actually excited. (I realize that most people don't get excited for jury duty, but I did.) An opportunity to fill a need in the community. Be a part of the system that seeks justice for all of us. I had no idea what I was getting into ... or how much my life would change because of it.
When I received an 8-page questionnaire in the mail that asked nearly 100 questions, I figured it was all part of the routine of picking a jury. Through the entire voir dire process (when the prospective jurors are asked their opinions regarding a variety of topics), I didn't realize the gravity of the trial at hand. When I was asked about my thoughts on the death penalty and life sentence, I just thought they were making sure they had people who would be objective and follow the guidance of the law--ensuring that they wouldn't be putting loony toons on a jury. When we were told that the trial had a change of venue because there had been too much local publicity regarding the crime and the defendant wasn't likely to get a fair trial, I figured it was because the small area of Cambridge, Ohio had little else to report on ... so they probably just reported the hell out of whatever it was. I had no idea that all of these were indicators of what the trial could possibly be about. I had no idea that my world was about to be rocked--to the core. I had no idea.
During the opening arguments, I quickly got the idea. The defendant, Marvin Johnson, had killed Daniel Bailey--the 13-year-old son of his ex-girlfriend, Tina. Marvin's attorneys conceded that. They didn't believe that he should be charged with aggravated murder, though, because they were going to argue semantics that Marvin didn't kidnap Daniel, as he was charged, because Daniel was already dead when Marvin gagged and hogtied him and dragged him to the basement. They also didn't believe that Marvin should be found guilty of rape and aggravated robbery (the victim of those 2 crimes was Tina). They would argue whether or not Marvin actually held the knife to Tina's throat while he sexually violated her, and the technicality of aggravated robbery because she was able to talk him into leaving the knife at the house while she drove him to the bank to get $1000. (It's not considered aggravated robbery--the more serious charge--without the weapon.)
As is the case with any trial, we were told NOT to discuss this case at all, with anyone--spouses, family, friends or other jurors--or to look for information regarding this in newspapers or on the internet during the trial. We were to hear all testimony and see all evidence before forming an opinion on the matters at hand. For me, that was hellish. I was dealing with the most horrific, violent, disturbing and unsettling event in my life completely alone. I felt isolated and empty. I couldn't share with my own husband or mom what was ripping me apart. I cried myself to sleep most every night of that trial, picturing poor Daniel and what he suffered at the hands of that monster ... and for his poor mother and all she must be riddled with--guilt for bringing that man into her family, for not keeping her child safe, the absolute heartbreak of losing a child, particularly in such a violent way, and for what must have been the most horrible moment of her life when she found her son--gagged, hogtied and bloody--and then tried to revive him herself. I still feel an absolute ache in my core when I think about the trial, and I still cry.
Through all the graphic testimony, photos and evidence presented, I was (and still am) able to close my eyes and picture the crime as if it were happening right in front of me, as if I were standing in the corner watching the entire thing happen.
I always knew that horrible things happened in the world, that there are terrible people who commit heinous crimes against others. Until that trial, all of that happened outside of my sphere of reality. I was aware that it existed, but I never lived it. Then, sitting in a jury box, I did. I sat in a courtroom mere feet from the most evil person I have ever encountered. It was at that point that my sphere of reality was punctured. The horrible, villainous events of that crime and every other felt like they were all happening to me in my world. That trial opened the floodgates of my emotional destruction. When I heard about soldiers who were being captured and beheaded, I felt like they were my sons being brutalized. I couldn't breathe. I mourned for each victim of crime like they were my family. I couldn't watch any form of the news without feeling overcome with sadness and devastation. I was overwhelmed with grief. I felt completely tormented.
It wasn't until months after the trial when most all of us on the jury got together that I realized I was dealing with something of grand proportion and out of my control. Several of us were reeling from our experience of the trial. Post-traumatic stress disorder. Depression. Anxiety. Disconnection from what we used to do and love. Inability to cope with setbacks or problems. About two weeks after our get-together, I went to the doctor and cried my way through the appointment. She prescribed an anti-depressant to help me. It worked. I was on medication for about a year.
I'm "fine" now. I am no longer overwhelmed by all of this, but I do still think about it. I check the inmate status of Marvin Johnson about once a month. I've searched the internet for information regarding his appeals. (I received an email from one of my juror friends yesterday--which is what brought this to the front of my thinking. Her daughter is doing a speech regarding the death penalty and found Marvin's appeal report from the Supreme Court of Ohio on-line.) I still feel sick and empty anytime I drive through Cambridge, Ohio. I will never serve on a jury again.
Deliberating the life of another person is incredibly daunting. Most all of us on the jury cried during the deliberation process. We shared opinions. We asked questions. We listened. We sat quietly and thought. We talked. We held hands and prayed. We hugged each other. We all struggled with the gravity of the situation. But we all agreed--imposing the death penalty is an act of affirming the value of life. When I voted in favor of the death sentence for Marvin Johnson, I was also voting for the life of Daniel Bailey.
Several of us from the jury went to the sentencing hearing in June (2004). We drove together to Cambridge and talked a lot about what an impact the trial had on us and our lives. After the hearing we met and talked with the judge, the bailiffs, the prosecuting attorneys and the lead detective on the case. They were all very grateful for our dedication and service to the community. We met Tina Bailey that day, too. She also thanked us for our service in bringing justice for her son and family. When I hugged her that day, I knew that, indeed, my life had been forever changed.
May 2004 I was called for jury duty. I had never been called to serve on a jury before. I was actually excited. (I realize that most people don't get excited for jury duty, but I did.) An opportunity to fill a need in the community. Be a part of the system that seeks justice for all of us. I had no idea what I was getting into ... or how much my life would change because of it.
When I received an 8-page questionnaire in the mail that asked nearly 100 questions, I figured it was all part of the routine of picking a jury. Through the entire voir dire process (when the prospective jurors are asked their opinions regarding a variety of topics), I didn't realize the gravity of the trial at hand. When I was asked about my thoughts on the death penalty and life sentence, I just thought they were making sure they had people who would be objective and follow the guidance of the law--ensuring that they wouldn't be putting loony toons on a jury. When we were told that the trial had a change of venue because there had been too much local publicity regarding the crime and the defendant wasn't likely to get a fair trial, I figured it was because the small area of Cambridge, Ohio had little else to report on ... so they probably just reported the hell out of whatever it was. I had no idea that all of these were indicators of what the trial could possibly be about. I had no idea that my world was about to be rocked--to the core. I had no idea.
During the opening arguments, I quickly got the idea. The defendant, Marvin Johnson, had killed Daniel Bailey--the 13-year-old son of his ex-girlfriend, Tina. Marvin's attorneys conceded that. They didn't believe that he should be charged with aggravated murder, though, because they were going to argue semantics that Marvin didn't kidnap Daniel, as he was charged, because Daniel was already dead when Marvin gagged and hogtied him and dragged him to the basement. They also didn't believe that Marvin should be found guilty of rape and aggravated robbery (the victim of those 2 crimes was Tina). They would argue whether or not Marvin actually held the knife to Tina's throat while he sexually violated her, and the technicality of aggravated robbery because she was able to talk him into leaving the knife at the house while she drove him to the bank to get $1000. (It's not considered aggravated robbery--the more serious charge--without the weapon.)
As is the case with any trial, we were told NOT to discuss this case at all, with anyone--spouses, family, friends or other jurors--or to look for information regarding this in newspapers or on the internet during the trial. We were to hear all testimony and see all evidence before forming an opinion on the matters at hand. For me, that was hellish. I was dealing with the most horrific, violent, disturbing and unsettling event in my life completely alone. I felt isolated and empty. I couldn't share with my own husband or mom what was ripping me apart. I cried myself to sleep most every night of that trial, picturing poor Daniel and what he suffered at the hands of that monster ... and for his poor mother and all she must be riddled with--guilt for bringing that man into her family, for not keeping her child safe, the absolute heartbreak of losing a child, particularly in such a violent way, and for what must have been the most horrible moment of her life when she found her son--gagged, hogtied and bloody--and then tried to revive him herself. I still feel an absolute ache in my core when I think about the trial, and I still cry.
Through all the graphic testimony, photos and evidence presented, I was (and still am) able to close my eyes and picture the crime as if it were happening right in front of me, as if I were standing in the corner watching the entire thing happen.
I always knew that horrible things happened in the world, that there are terrible people who commit heinous crimes against others. Until that trial, all of that happened outside of my sphere of reality. I was aware that it existed, but I never lived it. Then, sitting in a jury box, I did. I sat in a courtroom mere feet from the most evil person I have ever encountered. It was at that point that my sphere of reality was punctured. The horrible, villainous events of that crime and every other felt like they were all happening to me in my world. That trial opened the floodgates of my emotional destruction. When I heard about soldiers who were being captured and beheaded, I felt like they were my sons being brutalized. I couldn't breathe. I mourned for each victim of crime like they were my family. I couldn't watch any form of the news without feeling overcome with sadness and devastation. I was overwhelmed with grief. I felt completely tormented.
It wasn't until months after the trial when most all of us on the jury got together that I realized I was dealing with something of grand proportion and out of my control. Several of us were reeling from our experience of the trial. Post-traumatic stress disorder. Depression. Anxiety. Disconnection from what we used to do and love. Inability to cope with setbacks or problems. About two weeks after our get-together, I went to the doctor and cried my way through the appointment. She prescribed an anti-depressant to help me. It worked. I was on medication for about a year.
I'm "fine" now. I am no longer overwhelmed by all of this, but I do still think about it. I check the inmate status of Marvin Johnson about once a month. I've searched the internet for information regarding his appeals. (I received an email from one of my juror friends yesterday--which is what brought this to the front of my thinking. Her daughter is doing a speech regarding the death penalty and found Marvin's appeal report from the Supreme Court of Ohio on-line.) I still feel sick and empty anytime I drive through Cambridge, Ohio. I will never serve on a jury again.
Deliberating the life of another person is incredibly daunting. Most all of us on the jury cried during the deliberation process. We shared opinions. We asked questions. We listened. We sat quietly and thought. We talked. We held hands and prayed. We hugged each other. We all struggled with the gravity of the situation. But we all agreed--imposing the death penalty is an act of affirming the value of life. When I voted in favor of the death sentence for Marvin Johnson, I was also voting for the life of Daniel Bailey.
Several of us from the jury went to the sentencing hearing in June (2004). We drove together to Cambridge and talked a lot about what an impact the trial had on us and our lives. After the hearing we met and talked with the judge, the bailiffs, the prosecuting attorneys and the lead detective on the case. They were all very grateful for our dedication and service to the community. We met Tina Bailey that day, too. She also thanked us for our service in bringing justice for her son and family. When I hugged her that day, I knew that, indeed, my life had been forever changed.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Run, Jen, run!!
I have been working pretty steadily since January 2006 to get back in shape and be a much healthier person. To accomplish this, I have been working out a lot and eating much better than I had been (goodbye buffalo wings, sniff, sniff). The local YMCA offers some really great classes ... and I take a few of them. Generally I make it to the gym somewhere between 3 and 5 days a week--1-2 hours each day. I'm taking some pretty intense classes (bootcamp, cardio kickboxing) that are helping to whip me into a solid level of cardio fitness. I've also been taking some strength training classes to help me build muscle and tone up what I've got. I have seen some progress (20 pounds overall which has brought me down 2 sizes), but I've been stuck for a long time now at the current "plateau".
Plateau is a misnomer. It sounds pleasant, scenic even. Solid ground. Comfortable and flat. In no way does it convey the complete frustration I feel that I am stuck here. I think it should be called a trench. Or a gutter. Or a ditch. Or a bunch of shit. There are days that I feel like I might as well eat all the wings, fries and ice cream I want to, if I'm going to be nailed to the scale where I am now.
Adding to my frustration just a little is my husband's success in this department. He has lost 15 pounds since January 1st. (I'm very happy for you, honey ... and I think you are looking maaaahhhvelous, baby!!) So, in less than 3 months, he's lost nearly the same amount of weight I have .... but it's taken me over a year to do it!! And I'm busting my ass in the gym, which he is not!!
I'm going to try switching things up a little bit ... see if that helps. You know, change up the work out to shock my body into dropping the chub. So, today I jogged around my neighborhood. (I'm using the term "jog" very loosely here.) I feel like I should issue an official apology to the few women who were outside talking while I went galloping by. I absolutely SUCK at running. I can't run very far (talking maybe a quarter mile) and I feel miserable and get cramps in my sides. I have to give myself little incentives ("run to the next street and then you can walk for a little bit") to make it. I have set a little goal for myself: I want to be able to run the entire perimeter of the 'hood by the end of April. That's a lofty goal, considering that I ran maybe a third of it today--in sections ... that wasn't even a straight run.
I'll post on this topic again ... if I make progress. So, if I never mention jogging again, know that I failed miserably. Sigh.
Plateau is a misnomer. It sounds pleasant, scenic even. Solid ground. Comfortable and flat. In no way does it convey the complete frustration I feel that I am stuck here. I think it should be called a trench. Or a gutter. Or a ditch. Or a bunch of shit. There are days that I feel like I might as well eat all the wings, fries and ice cream I want to, if I'm going to be nailed to the scale where I am now.
Adding to my frustration just a little is my husband's success in this department. He has lost 15 pounds since January 1st. (I'm very happy for you, honey ... and I think you are looking maaaahhhvelous, baby!!) So, in less than 3 months, he's lost nearly the same amount of weight I have .... but it's taken me over a year to do it!! And I'm busting my ass in the gym, which he is not!!
I'm going to try switching things up a little bit ... see if that helps. You know, change up the work out to shock my body into dropping the chub. So, today I jogged around my neighborhood. (I'm using the term "jog" very loosely here.) I feel like I should issue an official apology to the few women who were outside talking while I went galloping by. I absolutely SUCK at running. I can't run very far (talking maybe a quarter mile) and I feel miserable and get cramps in my sides. I have to give myself little incentives ("run to the next street and then you can walk for a little bit") to make it. I have set a little goal for myself: I want to be able to run the entire perimeter of the 'hood by the end of April. That's a lofty goal, considering that I ran maybe a third of it today--in sections ... that wasn't even a straight run.
I'll post on this topic again ... if I make progress. So, if I never mention jogging again, know that I failed miserably. Sigh.
Friday, March 23, 2007
knowing your kids ...
This week I earned another "Mother of the Year" ribbon. I have many in my collection.
It seems no matter how hard I try sometimes, nor how good my intentions may be, I do very stupid things as a mom. Some days I wonder how I can know my children so well, yet be so oblivious as to how I should take care of them. Am I trying to ruin them or scar them for life??
On Sunday, the kids played outside all afternoon. I had started a little fire in the backyard and the kids roasted marshmallows. They jumped and jumped on the trampoline. Everything seemed fine. Once we came in the house, though, things changed. Austin came down with what seemed to be a flu bug. He was miserable--headache, tired, achy, feverish with a sore throat. I took him up to his room and got him into some warm, comfy pajamas while he was limply lying on his bed, shivering like a maniac--teeth chattering and all. I gave him some ibuprofen and offered him a fudgesicle to help the sore throat. He only ate half of it and wanted to lie down. I tucked him into bed with me in the guest room so I could keep watch over him.
Tim took care of Maya that night so I could tend to my poor, sick little guy. It's terrible for me to say, but I sometimes like it when my son is feeling ill. While I enjoy his usual energy and silliness most of the time, there are days that I just wish he would slow down a bit ... take a chill pill ... relax. That happens when he's sick. He transforms into an incredibly docile, sweet and loving child. It's a nice change for me. For a little while.
So, Austin was not well enough to go to school on Monday or Tuesday. By Tuesday evening though, things were getting better. I figured the bug was about done. He was chipper, jumping around, goofing with Maya, playing like he felt pretty darn good. I knew I'd send him to school on Wednesday. Yeah! Well, Austin came out of his room about an hour or so after I tucked him in (Tuesday night), saying that his ear was really, really hurting. Crap! More ibuprofen and a heating pad, but he was still pretty uncomfortable. Poor guy. Once the ibuprofen kicked in, though, he seemed o.k. and slept fine the entire night. Super! I'll send him to school with medicine in his system and call the pediatrician for an appointment once the office opens. Good plan, right? Not by Austin's figuring. He didn't think he should go to school. He said he still felt "yucky" and his ear was hurting. I figured he was just wanting to stay home and lay around for another day, so I made him go to school. I told him the plan that I'd call the doctor and come get him from school for the appointment. He still resisted going, but I insisted he'd be fine.
The doctor's office had an open slot for us at 3:00. That was a little later than I was hoping for ... at that point, Austin would have practically been in school all day. Oh well! If he felt "yucky" and needed to come home, he'd go to the nurse, right? Wrong. I forgot something really important. Austin handles pain and illness like his dad. He doesn't tell me about not feeling well until he's really, really sick. (He was out jumping on the trampoline, running around and roasting marshmallows all the way up to the point he was ready to collapse with exhaustion and discomfort as he came down with all of this.) Well, by the time I picked him up and we went to the doctor's office, he was nearly in tears his ear hurt so much, and he was back to being achy and tired. He whimpered and cried through the appointment and while we waited in the pharmacy for the prescriptions. My poor little guy was miserable again ... and then he said it--what I was feeling so guilty about at that moment: "I think I wouldn't feel so bad if I could have stayed home and rested one more day."
I almost heard the flourish of trumpets as I received my latest "Mother of the Year" award--practically handed to me by my weeping, sick son. I am a parenting genius!
It seems no matter how hard I try sometimes, nor how good my intentions may be, I do very stupid things as a mom. Some days I wonder how I can know my children so well, yet be so oblivious as to how I should take care of them. Am I trying to ruin them or scar them for life??
On Sunday, the kids played outside all afternoon. I had started a little fire in the backyard and the kids roasted marshmallows. They jumped and jumped on the trampoline. Everything seemed fine. Once we came in the house, though, things changed. Austin came down with what seemed to be a flu bug. He was miserable--headache, tired, achy, feverish with a sore throat. I took him up to his room and got him into some warm, comfy pajamas while he was limply lying on his bed, shivering like a maniac--teeth chattering and all. I gave him some ibuprofen and offered him a fudgesicle to help the sore throat. He only ate half of it and wanted to lie down. I tucked him into bed with me in the guest room so I could keep watch over him.
Tim took care of Maya that night so I could tend to my poor, sick little guy. It's terrible for me to say, but I sometimes like it when my son is feeling ill. While I enjoy his usual energy and silliness most of the time, there are days that I just wish he would slow down a bit ... take a chill pill ... relax. That happens when he's sick. He transforms into an incredibly docile, sweet and loving child. It's a nice change for me. For a little while.
So, Austin was not well enough to go to school on Monday or Tuesday. By Tuesday evening though, things were getting better. I figured the bug was about done. He was chipper, jumping around, goofing with Maya, playing like he felt pretty darn good. I knew I'd send him to school on Wednesday. Yeah! Well, Austin came out of his room about an hour or so after I tucked him in (Tuesday night), saying that his ear was really, really hurting. Crap! More ibuprofen and a heating pad, but he was still pretty uncomfortable. Poor guy. Once the ibuprofen kicked in, though, he seemed o.k. and slept fine the entire night. Super! I'll send him to school with medicine in his system and call the pediatrician for an appointment once the office opens. Good plan, right? Not by Austin's figuring. He didn't think he should go to school. He said he still felt "yucky" and his ear was hurting. I figured he was just wanting to stay home and lay around for another day, so I made him go to school. I told him the plan that I'd call the doctor and come get him from school for the appointment. He still resisted going, but I insisted he'd be fine.
The doctor's office had an open slot for us at 3:00. That was a little later than I was hoping for ... at that point, Austin would have practically been in school all day. Oh well! If he felt "yucky" and needed to come home, he'd go to the nurse, right? Wrong. I forgot something really important. Austin handles pain and illness like his dad. He doesn't tell me about not feeling well until he's really, really sick. (He was out jumping on the trampoline, running around and roasting marshmallows all the way up to the point he was ready to collapse with exhaustion and discomfort as he came down with all of this.) Well, by the time I picked him up and we went to the doctor's office, he was nearly in tears his ear hurt so much, and he was back to being achy and tired. He whimpered and cried through the appointment and while we waited in the pharmacy for the prescriptions. My poor little guy was miserable again ... and then he said it--what I was feeling so guilty about at that moment: "I think I wouldn't feel so bad if I could have stayed home and rested one more day."
I almost heard the flourish of trumpets as I received my latest "Mother of the Year" award--practically handed to me by my weeping, sick son. I am a parenting genius!
Monday, March 19, 2007
Austin's lost tooth
About a month ago, Austin had a loose tooth ... the kind that was barely hanging on, begging to be removed. I wanted to pull it. It would have required almost no effort for me to do it, but he got nervous and didn't want me to. He hasn't had any horrible "tooth losing" history or anything. We've never tied a tooth to a string attached to a doorknob or car bumper. I haven't tricked him by telling him I'd only wiggle it while I was actually planning to yank it out. I don't know exactly why he felt so nervous about it. (Maybe it has something to do with being afraid of getting "big" ... I mentioned that in a previous blog.)
Daddy didn't really help my efforts at all. He was on Austin's side. He said I should just leave it alone. It wasn't bothering anything to leave it in. Well, that's not actually true ... it was bothering me. It was so loose it blew in the breeze of his breath when he talked. I wanted to pull it so Austin could eat more easily and so that I wasn't watching it flap in the wind. We went back and forth for a few minutes. I left the tooth alone, against my better judgement and desire.
So, with Austin nearly done with his lunch, he exclaimed, "my tooth is gone!" He was very excited. Yeah! See, Mommy, you didn't need to pull it. It would come out when it was ready!! I said, "good for you! Let me see it." (You know where I'm going with this, right?) He didn't know where the tooth was, and he didn't know exactly when he lost it ... and by exactly when, I mean in exactly which bite. Austin had eaten his tooth. Seriously. He ate the thing. Apparently, my son doesn't chew his food very well, or just isn't very discerning while eating. He did say that he felt something hard in his mouth while he was eating ... and, rather than take it out of his mouth to see what it was, he just swallowed it. Nice!
So, nearly a month later, Austin still hasn't written a note to the tooth fairy to explain what happened ... and the tooth fairy hasn't visited yet. She's still waiting for the letter ... and she'll feel really vindicated if the note includes something along the line of "I should have let my Mommy pull that tooth. She knows what she's talking about." But, as most tooth fairies know, those admissions don't come very often ... and especially not in writing!!
Daddy didn't really help my efforts at all. He was on Austin's side. He said I should just leave it alone. It wasn't bothering anything to leave it in. Well, that's not actually true ... it was bothering me. It was so loose it blew in the breeze of his breath when he talked. I wanted to pull it so Austin could eat more easily and so that I wasn't watching it flap in the wind. We went back and forth for a few minutes. I left the tooth alone, against my better judgement and desire.
So, with Austin nearly done with his lunch, he exclaimed, "my tooth is gone!" He was very excited. Yeah! See, Mommy, you didn't need to pull it. It would come out when it was ready!! I said, "good for you! Let me see it." (You know where I'm going with this, right?) He didn't know where the tooth was, and he didn't know exactly when he lost it ... and by exactly when, I mean in exactly which bite. Austin had eaten his tooth. Seriously. He ate the thing. Apparently, my son doesn't chew his food very well, or just isn't very discerning while eating. He did say that he felt something hard in his mouth while he was eating ... and, rather than take it out of his mouth to see what it was, he just swallowed it. Nice!
So, nearly a month later, Austin still hasn't written a note to the tooth fairy to explain what happened ... and the tooth fairy hasn't visited yet. She's still waiting for the letter ... and she'll feel really vindicated if the note includes something along the line of "I should have let my Mommy pull that tooth. She knows what she's talking about." But, as most tooth fairies know, those admissions don't come very often ... and especially not in writing!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)