Baby Teeth

Baby Teeth

By Maggie Gray

Every once in a while, I get a gift from the universe. Now you’re probably asking me, why am I writing about baby teeth. Be patient, I will get to that. I opened my door the other day and got this wonderful note left there by someone I’d never met before wanting to chat. I said to myself, well thank goodness it wasn’t the IRS, or a bill collector, or an angry neighbor. After all, the IRS owns me, a bill collector can’t even find Fairfax, and well, my neighbors just ignore me. So whew! Relief!

This new person told me she missed my articles. I thought, are you kidding? Tree hugger moving to this area? I really wonder how I’ve made it this far! I don’t hunt, I no longer own firearms, and I refuse to tell you who I voted for…wait! Who DID I vote for? Oh crap, so this is how it starts. Body parts start falling apart, things sag, feet hurt, legs hurt, and certain things just say enough is enough.

So you take stock in your life and say, what the heck? So what if the knees are going, the hair is turning a color you couldn’t imagine on your worst day, luckily your failing eyesight saves you from being witness to your own demise. What then is the saving grace in all of this? New life! Yes folks, this little girl is about to become a grandmother! Because of my genetics, she will be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, funny and MY grandchild. But newborns don’t have teeth so why the title “baby teeth?”

Let’s get back to my demise. I always told myself I would never become one of those old people you see in restaurants that just sit and complain. You hear them talk about their health problems. You know what I’m talking about. Every body part becomes a conversation piece which ultimately causes one to lose their appetite. Yet, recently when someone asks how I am doing, I spill it all. My knee injury is better, I got new glasses, I’m no longer limping, and yes, I’m going to the orthopedic for a wrist injury. Oh…..and my flowers are doing beautifully! But let’s get back to my wrist - did I mention it? I am now living my worst nightmare, an older woman living with her dogs complaining to anyone who will listen.

By the time you read this (if you’re still hanging on), I should be a grandmother to a gorgeous little girl. Once that happens, aside from my photography and my writing, I will become the most obnoxious grandparent in the City of Fairfax. I might as well warn you right now. If you see me coming and don’t want to see photos and hear stories, run. Don’t walk, RUN. In fact, I may devote all my upcoming articles to my granddaughter.

Except for my total complete adoration of my son Adam, my pookie, my passions have always focused on my dogs and wildlife. If you say Nikon, you had best stand back and be prepared for the onslaught of Nikon discussion. I can’t help it. Nikon courses through my veins. If you tell me you want to learn photography, I will tutor you. If you tell me you are really good at photography, prove it. Meet me in a field and try to outshoot me. Just try. If you tell me your child is brilliant - sorry, I’m going to start bragging about my gorgeous son. Just hang on for the ride, because imagine how it will be once I am a grandmother.

In conclusion, this is my chance to say thank you to anyone who enjoys my writings. This is my chance to say thank you if you invite me to your land to photograph wildlife and don’t shoot me. This is a chance to say thank you to all the farmers and landowners who do covet wildlife and want me to visit their property to capture the beauty that is theirs on their land. This is a chance to say thank you for those who still tolerate my existence in Fairfax. For now, stay tuned, hang on to your hats, there’s so much more to come.

And finally the big reveal. Why the “baby teeth” discussion? Because, wait for it, I’m about to have a tooth extracted and I have been acting like a big baby about it. Like I’m the only person who has lost a tooth in all of mankind. So until I figure out the replacement solution, I will be limping with my sore knee, dropping things with my sore wrist, smacking into walls if I don’t wear glasses and worse? Yelling at my dogs with a lisp! Thop that! Thut up! Hereth your dinner! Pleath lay down! Okay, I’m done for now. I’m juth being thilly.

I would love to hear from all of you. Please write to me with tips, thoughts, ideas, you name it at: maggie@grayheart.com. If you would like me to do a feature article on something near and dear to you, just ask! But if ONE of you laughs at my lisp, I’m going to become your worst nightmare. After all, missing a tooth, I am about to become mine.