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A promising morning went south fast. Grace and Whit rejected spaghetti-o’s for lunch (what is it with my children denying the classic junk foods?), spent the “quiet time” movie jumping off of the couch, and then finally devolved into full-on battle. I shut the door and let them work it out until I heard high pitched screaming and crying. Grace came into my office with blood streaming down her face. Whit had thrown a wooden robot at her and cut her face just under her eye. It wasn’t that big – probably 3/4 of an inch – but it was really bleeding and really close to her eye.

I spoke to the pediatrician on call, who recommended a trip to Mount Auburn just to be safe. I am fully addled today: I tried to give them my Costco card in lieu of my Blue Cross card and didn’t even notice until the woman handed it back with a strange look on her face. A nice physician’s assistant glued Grace’s face together (thank God no stitches). Interestingly this cut was literally about a 1/10 of an inch above the small scar from the last time she had her face glued at the Mount Auburn ER.

Demonstrating their ability to go from mortal enemies to best friends in mere moments, Grace insisted on Whit being on the gurney with her until the actual gluing. Then we went to Armando’s for dinner. I planned to take the pizza home but both kids wanted to eat there. On the way out they melted my heart by rushing back in to thank the guys working behind the counter for the “delicious pizza.” That was surely the highlight of the day.

I feel like a winter-boot-forgetting, junk-food-pushing, TV-allowing, neglectful-to-the-point-of-injury mother today. I was very stern with the kids on the way to the ER, telling them I was disappointed in their behavior. Grace burst into tears, apologizing for letting me down and immediately making me feel like Evil Mummy.

I’m also struggling with a new assignment at work which I have totally flubbed.

Not a stellar day in the life. Feeling yucky all around. Going to go Tylenol PM myself into oblivion now.

A sentence Grace crafted by herself on the trash can:

I like to be me

Not bad.

Woke up to new, beautiful snow. Matt is in Europe so the kids and I set off to walk to Starbucks. Of course Prize-Winning-Mummy had left Whit’s snowboots at school, so he (and I) were in rainboots. Snowpants all around. The kids had a blast jumping around in the snow (in between Whit’s screaming and whining that his feet hurt soooo badly!) and waving to the snowplows. Who knew that snowplows were such fine entertainment?

When we got home Grace and I dug out the cars. She brushed off both cars with the ice scraper/wiper and I shoveled. Whit observed from inside (wise man). My feet are so cold right now that I’m having a vivid sense memory to 6th grade where I used to cry when coming off of the ice every single time, my toes frostbitten and unmoveable (do we really think that figure skating barefoot helps you “feel the ice”? In retrospect I’m calling that bunk).

It will not surprise those of you who have called me a bulldozer that my favorite method for digging out cars is to do a bare minimum of actual digging before climbing in and driving in and out of the spot twenty times, thereby flattening the snow into submission.

So the cars are “dug out,” the snow gear is in the dryer before we put it back on for skating, and the kids are playing with Christmas robots and trucks in the next room. The Russells gave Whit a Transformer robot that says “I am one bad bot,” which Whit cannot be convinced is not “I am one fat butt.” This hilarity continues to entertain, even 17 days after Christmas.

Grace. Notice the good-luck bindi on her forehead. Also the pout (that’s her Blue Steel).

Went to the dentist because of the loose tooth that will not come out. It is turning yellow and the grown-up tooth behind it is almost all the way in. Dr. McEachern wiggled her tooth, creating some bleeding, and then rubbed on topical novocain. That was not enough, so he took a syringe of novocain and shot it into her bloody gum, right next to her tooth. My brave girl just held my hand and said quietly, “OW, ow, ow.”

After a minute had passed, Dr. McEachern (who was my dentist, a fact that Grace loves) reached for scary, huge metal forceps. Like the kind you buy at the hardware store to work on wood with. Like the dentist in Little Shop of Horrors uses. I saw her eyes widen behind her stylish glasses. He reached in and yanked that tooth out! Blood gushed, a tattoo and a ring were selected, and we were on our way in the sleety slushy day.

And tonight the tooth fairy will come!

Nana, Grammy, me, and Mum. Notice the absolutely unambiguous red hair. That is sadly lost in my children! Notice also the measuring spoons with which I am fascinated. That’s my kind of toy. I fear I may have taken my adamant anti-spoiling stance too far when yesterday afternoon’s treat was a Star Market trip where Grace and Whit were each thrilled to pick out a can of Campbell’s soup (on sale). Ohhhkay. Perhaps time to take the entertaining-of-children up a notch.

But I digress. I have had Nana (my Nana) on the brain all weekend. Yesterday as Grace and Whit and I ambled around Boston and on and off the T I had “Simple Gifts” in my head. I was humming and tunelessly singing it to myself and Grace asked what I was singing. I taught her the first few lines and told her her Nana (Mum) would be touched to hear her sing it. So she did, last night at dinner. Nana/Mum was visibly moved and I’ve been thinking all day long about the incredible rightness of this song, this tune, these words.

In 1997 we lost both my grandmother (Nana) and my mother’s best friend/closest thing I had to a surrogate mother, Susie (both to pancreatic cancer, which somehow makes every mention of Steve Jobs’ health more poignant for me). It is still a very dark period in my memory, but also one marked with the clarity of focus that tragedy and the concentration that living through a really difficult thing can impart. At both memorial services we sang “Simple Gifts.” It is no surprise that two of the women closest to my own mother were celebrated with a song so moving in its very simplicity. Mum, you’ve taught me a million things, and I realize new ones every day, but among the most powerful is the lesson in the words to this song: