He’s done it before. Five times. But it’s still nothing to look forward to.

Today they pulled the last of Flash’s baby teeth. For a boy that’s always been more of an adult than a child, his baby teeth have always stubbornly refused to leave his mouth. Today we coerced the last two to leave. The dentist was the nicest we’ve ever had and beautiful to boot. With an office decked out with a TV that Flash can control and decor that makes you wonder exactly what your insurance money is paying, it gave the impression he was in for a spa treatment, not an extraction of two molars.

But my boy? Refuses the laughing gas because he likes his air “unmessed-around-with” he says. So he endures the needles and the pressure and takes it like a man. And I sit in the corner and wish they would offer me the laughing gas he’s refusing. Because watching seems worse than enduring to me.

And when we leave, his mouth all full of gauze, we talk about what to have for dinner, well, I talk and he gestures, finally agreeing that pancakes are soft and delish and the perfect idea for tonight. And I hand him $20 – he’s never believed in a tooth fairy, but I’ve always been generous with gifts after legalized torture, and so we smile at each other and for a moment, on this side of the procedure, he agrees that it’s not so bad afterall.

But in a little blue plastic treasure chest the size of a thimble, the dentist has just handed me what feels like the last of Flash’s childhood. He’ll turn 13 soon, and there’s not much boyishness left to my boy.

He might not tuck the treasure chest full of teeth under his pillow tonight, but I might sneak it into my drawer to remind myself that he was once my little boy. My very brave, taller-than-me, boy.

I’ve been discouraged.

The houses I’ve been looking at are okay. Just okay. They aren’t cute or quaint or charming. They don’t have personality or space or sunlight. They just are. Every once in awhile we see one that has a cute feature, but nothing that has a great package. Nothing that says ‘home’.

Until tonight.

Tonight I walked around in a home I would be delighted to live in. From the window seat in the dining room, to the spacious hardwood floor bedrooms with cute little reading nooks. From the bay window over the kitchen sink to the front porch. This was a home for me. Flash loved it. He was already talking about where to put this or that.

But we’re not buying it. It’s not the price. It’s actually the perfect price for us.

It’s the neighborhood. It’s not the worst in town, but it’s not one you drive around in and admire the landscaping the neighbors have done.

And so I said no. I won’t put in a bid. I’ll wait.

But it’s so hard to let this cute little house go. Cause it was so me. Me in the wrong place.

I was just standing in the kitchen reading my mom’s recipe. I had no warning, no indication it was coming, it just happened. Afterwards, I stood in shock for several moments. I think I might have even clung to the counter for balance. I still can’t believe it happened. Maybe it was all in my head. Maybe it was just a dream.

Flash hugged me.

On purpose. Without me asking. Without me hugging him first.

He just hugged me.

And to put my shock over the edge completely, he actually said, “Thank you.”

I hadn’t even done anything yet. All I was going to do was bake him my mom’s coffee cake for breakfast this week.

And he hugged me. And said “Thank you.”

I’m a little afraid to see what happens when it actually comes out of the oven.

Make a note, Eliza. Make a BIG note. FOOD is how you get through to teenagers.

I gave the kids their nicknames long ago and while I’ve always enjoyed their names, you never know if it’s something they enjoy nearly so much. George has a thousand variations on his nickname and even his gym teacher at school has picked up on it and refers to him as “Jorge” – our little Mexican George.

Birdy came home with an order form to select her choice of shirt or sweatshirt for being a member of Student Council (go Birdy!) After looking at all the choices, and making her selection, my sister informed her that she had the option to put her name on the back. Birdy seemed pleased with this idea. My sister reminded her that she could put anything, really, her first name, her last name…

…to which her daughter exclaimed, “I WANT BIRDY!!!”

I guess it’s safe to say she likes the nickname, huh?

My dad and second mom have been graciously providing room and board for my brother for the past year while he gets his feet back on the ground. While it hasn’t been an easy situation, we try to keep the humor alive to keep the frustrations at bay.

This past weekend, George was telling my sister that he was never going to get married. My sister asked him who was going to cook for him and do his laundry and clean his house as it certainly wouldn’t be George himself and he wasn’t allowed to live with her forever. He calmly replied that he intended to live with his sister, Birdy when he was older. Within earshot of this proclamation, Birdy shouted her unwavering response of “No you are not!” from the other room. My sister looked at George and said, “I guess that option is out. Now do you think you’ll get married?”

George said no, he had another idea. He would go live with his Uncle G when he got older.

Again, Birdy’s voice from the other room, without missing a beat replied, “I’ll let Papa know to expect two of you then!”

I’m pretty sure that one has been enough for Papa, but at least it was worth a chuckle.

It has arrived at my sister’s house as well as my own it would seem.

My sister needed to do some shopping, an outing Birdy is usually very fond of and excited about, but at the mention of the word “Kohl’s” Birdy began to express her displeasure at the idea through her mastery of the teenage attitude.

When my sister had had enough of the moping and grumping about the house she inquired, “What happened to the nice Birdy that we had earlier this morning?”

The response?

“The nice Birdy is at the mall at Limited Too. If you want her, you’ll have to go to the mall and get her.”

Priceless. Glad it’s not just at my house.

I was teasing Flash tonight about a girl on his bus. She drives him crazy, which I’ve taken as a sign that they like each other. Flash gave me the low down on who this girl is currently dating. It’s a new boy about every week and Flash has joked that she’s going to run out of 7th grade boys here soon.

I asked if any of the guys in his group of friends is dating anyone. He said no. He went on to explain that his friend D thinks girls are gross. J has had a girlfriend but doesn’t currently. Flash described himself in the same situation as his friend, N, “we’re just, you know, us.”

I asked about R. Does he have a girlfriend?

“No, I can’t imagine any girl wanting to settle down with R, Mom.”

Settling down? In the 7th grade? If dating means you like each other but act like you hate each other what must “settling down” mean?! (And do I even want to know?)

On my kitchen table sits:

2 old laptops with their hard drives now destroyed, ready to be donated to school

1 huge box of Bionicles ready for George

1 bag containing 2 shirts that need to be returned

2 boxes, one big, one medium, full of Star Wars vehicles, creatures, comics and the like, off to younger boys who will love them like Flash has

1 dead plant ready for the graveyard

1 overflowing bag of cans and bottles to be returned for deposit money

1 box of old bills that need to be burned

Flash’s phone vibrated tonight during youth group. He thought it was just a text message until it kept vibrating. He realized it was a phone call. When he looked at his phone he saw the call was from his best friend in Pennsylvania. He answered the call and said, “Hey, W, I can’t talk now, I’m at church.”

Before he could suggest he call him back later, W said, “Can you play chess?” (which they do online from time to time, although Flash hasn’t had internet access in about a month.)

“Um, W, I’m at church.”

“I know, but did you get your computer back? Can you play chess?”

“Yes, W, I got my computer back, but I’m AT CHURCH right now.”

“Don’t you have messenger on your phone, Flash? We can play chess on messenger!”

“W, I AM AT CHURCH.”

“Yeah, but you have messenger, right?”

“W, I have a very limited version of messenger on my phone, yes, but I’m CURRENTLY AT CHURCH. Can I call you later?”

“I guess.”

I didn’t think it was possible to be more of a techno nerd than Flash, but he apparently has friends that are even techno-geekier than he is!

(When he did return the call to W, they had an endless debate about how W used to be able to recite pi to the whatever decimal place and how W couldn’t remember it any longer and I started reciting pi about five places and Flash was yelling at W that I could do a better job at pi than W could and how that was just the END OF THE WORLD AS WE KNOW IT.)

Sigh.

This had better get him some serious scholarships because I don’t think it’s going to help him get a wife.

Flash thought it was hysterical.
Mom only thought it was funny because nothing got broken.

But it sure drove the dog nuts.

(Can you see George in the picture? He’s even laughing!)