The big day has arrived and Spawnling had his dental surgery this morning. He now has four top front teeth missing, but he's still terribly cute.

I have to admit I was a little worried. I mean, he had a good face, you know? I wasn't sure how much of that was thanks to having teeth. Would it change his entire look? They move jaws forward or backward and it's eerily apparent. It looks like the entire bone structure moved and not just the bottom hinge.

My worries extended beyond cosmetic, but that really was in the forefront of my mind. I make nice looking kids. Sure, he's going to look like a hockey player or a banjo-playing mountain man. I knew that going in and have come to accept it. But the question remained: would Spawnling be an attractive banjo-playing mountain man? That was the million dollar (or $1500) question.

My vanity is so far-reaching it's almost embarrassing. At least I can say I fretted more over complete sedation and speech problems and pain. That counts for something, right?

The toothless terror passed out on the couch this afternoon, but not before consuming a popsicle, some ice cream, a glass of soy milk, some tortilla chips (which he insisted upon despite any attempt to convince him otherwise and did rather well with it) and the highly coveted mommy's milk.

I did notice that he looks a little strange when he sucks on a popcicle. His top lip gets sucked in with it. It's one of those almost-gross things I'm going to have to get used to, being his mom and all.

Um, I'm going to Hell, aren't I?

I suppose, if there is a Hell, that I was already heading in that general direction. So we might as throw in some shalloweness for good measure.

I know I normally make people gag with my positive outlook, but this week has really sucked things that look like popsicles but aren't. In fact, it has sucked so greatly that I received not one, not two, but three bouquets of flowers from friends. Which just goes to show that I do have actual, real, live friends; people who talk to me in public places and seem to like it. I don't quite understand their reasoning, but I sure am grateful to have them.

The first bouquet was from my neighbour across the street. I think she felt bad about having to tell us Geekster's car window was vandalized. Later that day she sent Gutsy into the house with these:


It was pretty hard to stay in a bad mood after that. Instead I cried about what a bittersweet symphony this life is.

And shortly thereafter I started my period. Shocking.

The next bouquet came from the friend I do daycare for. Remember how I was bragging about E-man and Spawnling's excellent behaviour at Casa Maven? How I could get things done while they play happily together?

I remember that. I also remember how I had to call the school later that day and left them alone for ten minutes so I could actually hear my phone conversation.

I remember telling them they could each have a juice box. (It was the day before Earth Day, alright?)

I remember them screeching with delight in the distant background, which I thought was cute. In fact, I was slightly envious that I wasn't having that much fun doing the mundane things they must be doing.

Then I remember finding them in the living room, half a dozen squished and empty juice boxes littering the floor, juice all over the carpet, the couch, the window, the walls, and them. I remember them screaming gaily as they pierced yet another set of boxes and sprayed orange juice at each other.

My initial reaction was shock. After that it might be natural to be angry, but first I had to fight off the urge to join in. I mean, there was already orange juice all over my beige living room. What's a little more? And wasn't I just saying I wanted to inject some more colour in there? Orange is a nice colour...

When I get those thoughts it's not Grown Up Maven talking; it's inner child Maven. She's not allowed out during the week for obvious reasons. So instead I had to use my big girl voice and send both boys for a time-out before getting them to help clean up the mess.

What a bully I am.

When Mama E-Man called to check up, she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I said laughing was probably best, but only because I own a carpet cleaner.

She brought me these:


Orange. Nice touch.

Yesterday I was gifted with some beautiful flowers from my longtime friend Reese, a stay-at-home-mom who recently started her own business with a friend. If you're in the Ottawa/Gatineau area and you like to perform random or not-so-random acts of kindness while at the same time supporting some awesome women who are in turn supporting their own brood of gremlins while I write this awful run-on sentence, you want to check out their new website:

http://justbecausegifts.net/showcase/

Do it. Make her some cash. She brought me flowers, you know. Check out these lovelies:



I love pink. Nothing in my house is that colour except what I can stuff into my closet and wear when I'm feeling suffocated by testosterone.

In short, many people love The Maven, and The Maven loves to be reminded of that when her week is crap. When I think about it I realize what I was missing out on in high school.

Is it too late to be a cheerleader?