Tomorrow this gorgeous smile (seen here above the green shirt beneath the blond curls) will lose a tooth. It happened in a tragic accident involving a bunk bed and an older brother which resulted in a really loose – apparently broken – tooth. It’s okay, he looks almost 5, right?
NO. He does not look 5, and I’m completely heartbroken about this in a way you cannot even imagine from someone who has had cancer, survived it, and emerged with all these weighty revelations about the real meaning of life. Who knew vanity extended to your children’s dentition? It’s shameful. Lance Armstrong would be ashamed of me and probably take away my Livestrong apparel.
In other news, I’ve had an attitude breakthrough. I’m reading Anne Lamott who is all about being funny and honest when it comes to life. Really, really honest in that way that eventually makes me go, “Okay, seriously, the truth isn’t always this true.” So in that spirit, I submit to you this really heartwarming, live-like-you’re-dying king of thought I had today when I was feeling blue that no editors have as yet brought me a publishing contract followed by a parade. I thought about my really cool agent and the fact that she’s a real live honest-to-goodness Fifth Avenue New York City literary agent and thinks I’m good enough. And then I thought about this rejection I got from an editor a couple weeks ago that was so complimentary I plan to frame it and hang it above my desk (not really, it is a rejection after all). And I thought, between those two things, I’m extremely grateful. In a very real sense, I’ve made it. I mean, those are really thrilling accomplishments (seriously, the rejection said my writing was powerful and would definitely find a home – it was kind), and I can totally live with that even if it’s the farthest I ever get.
Just not if I have to live very long. (And that’s the honest part of which I think Anne Lamott would be proud.)
Wish us luck on the tooth removal and the end of a certain Baby Gap modeling career I’d been banking on.