One down (Happy one year blog anniversary!)

An English friend once told me, "buses come in fives." I'm happy to say, we are enjoying a spate of metaphorical public transportation right now. The buzz of activity and celebration has taken the edge off of the end-of-semester tribulations. My Skokie girl would say I was being an "Eeyore", but I'm secretly bracing myself for the last bus to pass. In the meantime, I'll try my best to enjoy the respite.

My husband finished his last exam yesterday. He is no longer a 1L, and I am almost a third of the way through my "widowhood". It's a relief for us both. The strain of the final exams has been brutal on us. The late nights and the stress have taken their toll on my weary hubby, and I have been left holding down the fort and its wild inhabitants. We've been exhausted and snarky with each other and the children, which, as any parent knows, makes things worse.

Children are like ocean coral; they are extremely sensitive to the atmospheric conditions. When mom and dad are feeling stress and pressure, the kids sense it and feed off of it. At least mine do. When my kids are acting out and being particularly contrary, it's usually a reflection of my own grumpiness and impatience.

It's the parenting Catch-22.

Fortunately, I'm seeing the first bus pull into the station. My daughter's month-long birthday celebrations are rolling along happily. On Monday, I brought miniature cupcakes to her nursery school for an in-class celebration.

It was surprisingly beautiful and moving, thanks to her wonderful teachers. We were treated to a special birthday story time and songs, but the best part, for me at least, was seeing all of the beautiful birthday cards the children made for my daughter. And as her teacher read them aloud, my eyes became moist, and I felt a small lump in my throat.

I took the packet of homemade cards and promised myself I'd keep them tucked away to share with her years from now, when she'll be able to appreciate the love and effort her friends put into celebrating the wonderful little person she is.

That night was ladies' karaoke night at the pizza place. A couple of my Skokie girls met up with a fellow law school widow, and we let our maternal inhibitions loose. We sang our hearts out, we danced a bit, and we laughed like lunatics at ourselves and each other. I can't remember the last time laughter poured out of me so freely. We were Orthodox "Girls Gone Wild".

We cleared the joint singing "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun", and I'm quite certain I pulled something trying to sing that far above my paltry range. I flubbed Journey's "lights", and did a stirring rendition, if I may say so myself, of Nick Lowe's "Cruel to be Kind", a song clearly written to reflect my own motherly ambivalence.

It's been a while since I've laughed like that. I struggle to see the comedy behind the mishaps and inanity of our daily lives. I am wickedly jealous of moms who still have their sense of humor intact.

I may not be able to laugh at my family, but my husband and I did get to enjoy a good guffaw at the expense of Chicago's incompetent tooth fairy again. On Monday, my son came home with another lost tooth. He slipped it under his pillow that night, and in the morning, I heard his high-pitched consternation.

"Mom!" He shouted across the apartment. "The tooth fairy forgot again!"

I shouted back as I scrambled to find a dollar bill to shove under a couch pillow, Did you check your sister's pillows? You know those Chicago tooth fairies!

My son knowingly rolled his eyes, and said, "Mom, I know the tooth fairy is you or dad!" But moments later, he found the four quarters I'd managed to scrounge, and came running into our room. "The tooth fairy left the money under the sofa this time!" I tried to hide my smile behind a look of surprise.

My husband was planning on taking his last self-scheduled exam on Tuesday, to give himself a day to recover before tackling the writing competition for law review. In anticipation, I had invited over one of my Skokie girls and her husband for a celebratory Mexican food fiesta. She came over Tuesday morning to help me make a flan and veggie enchiladas. As we melted sugar and chopped vegetables, I anxiously watched my husband sitting at the desk studying. When are you going to campus?

"I don't feel quite ready," he admitted. "I think I'll take it tomorrow."

Oh, I muttered, trying to hide my disappointment. That's probably for the best. Silently I fumed. There goes the relaxing evening and my help in the kitchen!

As I predicted, that afternoon was mayhem. My husband studied and napped while I broiled poblano peppers for chiles rellenos, made a tortilla soup, and whipped up a spicy homemade salsa. I watched aghast as my daughters left their toys strewn about the living room I had so meticulously cleaned for our guests. Thank goodness for the new slide the unbeatable Tia Mirth sent for Attila the Toddler's birthday.

And in the midst of this chaos, my son came home and proceeded to lose another tooth.

Maybe you should put it under my pillow. I suggested feeling quite smug at my cleverness. Maybe the tooth fairy will put the dollar under your pillow this time! I silently vowed not to screw up again.

My Skokie girl and her husband showed up promptly. I put her to work peeling the poblanos, put the husbands to work setting the table, and glanced down with embarrassment at the guacamole-stained shirt I'd worn all day. I should go and change, I muttered to my friend.

"Don't bother!" Her husband said with exasperation. "I can't tell you how many outfits my wife changed out of before coming." The guacamole-stains stayed put. I barked out instructions for my husband to make margaritas, extra strong.

With dinner finally ready, we relaxed at the table and gorged ourselves on greasy, spicy, tasty Mexican food and icy, tangy, sweet margaritas. Our guests regaled us with hilarious stories of marriage, children, and Mexican honeymoons gone terribly wrong. And as the cool margaritas coursed through my digestive tract, we played a complicated game of cards, and I felt the week's tensions oozing out of my body.

Sleep came easily for me, although I could sense my husband's rising anxiety over his final exam.

The next morning, I awoke with a jolt, hearing a familiar call.

"Mom! The tooth fairy forgot again!"