I think it was my Lovely MIL who told me that age 8 can be kind of a dry run for puberty, with all the attendant mood swings. And now I know she was right. You just don’t appreciate how good your kid normally is until she turns into a smart-mouthed, angry, crying monster. Monday is a *really* long day for D.D.—school starts at 7:45 am, then after-school care until 3, hop in the car with Dad to go to Swedish School across town, and get home around 6:30 pm. When she got home Monday night, she had an armful of stuff. I heard her whining all the way up the stairs, then she dumped everything in the middle of the floor and kicked her gym bag across the room. It made me think of the home video show we saw recently, where a little girl threw down her bike and started kicking the tires and screaming. She was probably 8, too.
I can’t be the only person who has suddenly noticed the feel of her teeth against the inside of her lips, or the way her tongue sits in her mouth, or how it feels to breathe in and out. Except then you can’t un-feel it, and then I’m not even sure what the “natural” position of my tongue is, and I feel like it’s getting bigger or lying wrong somehow, or I don’t know how I normally breathe, and maybe I start to feel like I’m hyperventilating since I’m paying too much attention to my breathing. So I have this totally normal reaction (every once in a while), and my husband thinks I’m developing body dysmorphia.
[Edited to add: I think he means some kind of Verfremdungseffekt. Besides, the weird spaghetti squash shape of my head went away as soon as I got used to my new contacts. It was the contacts' fault!]
Oh. My. God. A woman on the bus skinned the Shaggy Dog to make a coat!
In other news, the Christmas Market opens today. I will start toting my camera with me into town for a Christmas photo-blogging extravaganza!
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