If You're Going to Be the Worst Parent Ever, Make Sure You Have a the Best Co-parent Ever

The Tooth Fairy didn't make it to our house last night. This is a huge problem.

In the decade that she and I have had to work together to manage the extraction of baby teeth from out of little faces and under little pillows, she's not been able to complete her end of the deal a only a handful of times. There are numerous reasons why the tooth fairy has missed picking up a tooth - usually, it's simply that the tooth was dirty. Everyone knows the tooth fairy doesn't take dirty teeth. This is why you have to brush twice a day every single day, because you never know when one's going to fall out. Once she had the stomach flu (no one is immune from that BS),  and once or twice she's embarrassed to admit she's been a little drunk. What? Tooth fairies have parties, too. Who's going to be the DD for the freaking tooth fairy? You want her to drink and fly? Didn't think so. She very responsibly stayed home, feels terrible about the entire thing today, and won't be making that mistake again for a very long time.

But last night, conditions were perfect. It was Thursday night, a work night and hardly a night for revelry. We waited until every single one of us was home from work and school to go out back and call the tooth fairy, making a wish on the brightest, firstest star we saw that night - and we all made really good, sincere wishes out loud that she'd come and take 3of3's tooth. The tooth itself was carefully tucked under the perfect spot on the pillow - not so deep that she wouldn't be able to reach it, not so close to the edge that it might fall out onto the floor if 3of3 had a restless night's sleep.

We did everything exactly right, and still the tooth fairy didn't come. Needless to say, 3of3 was devastated. 

When she handed her tooth to me in the kitchen this morning, I looked closely at it. "It was probably dirty, honey. You know she doe...." "No mom, I brushed it extra last night before i went to be to be sure it was super clean." 

Oh shit. 

"Well maybe she...maybe we...um..."

"She just didn't COME, mom. She just FORGOT about me."

My 15 year old walked in, and I asked him, "Hey, why did the tooth fairy miss you when you were little?" He grumbled something very tired and 15 back at me. I tried to find a silver lining. "But didn't she always leave you extra when she missed a night?" He glared at me and said, "I don't remember. I just remember her not coming."

Ouch. 

I went over to 3of3, offered her a baggie for her tooth, and gave her a hug. Jim came into the kitchen and asked what was up. We told her the tooth fairy hadn't come, and 3of3 was just so sad about it, and he said, "Well of course she didn't come. Didn't you read the news?"

3of3 looked up. So did I. So did the 15 year old trying to not be a part of any of this. 

"Polar vortex," he said, while he brewed his coffee. "Reuters had a whole article about it. Public service crews are all jammed up, up and down the eastern seaboard. The tooth fairy was grounded, like my plane was the other day coming home from my trip to New York. She didn't get to a single kid last night."

"OOOOOH," 3of3 said. 

"I'll print the article out for you today while you're at school," he said back to her. 

She smiled, and went back to eating her oatmeal. I offered to put her tooth back under her pillow, in case the tooth fairy spent some school hours catching up on pickups, but she said she didn't think that was very likely. 

She went off to school, and I went upstairs and got to work. I was on a conference call when Jim left for work, but I found the news article on my desk for her, printed out just like he promised. Apparently, she's so backed up FedEx has stepped in to help her out, and they're expecting possible delays of up to two days. 

Thank goodness someone in this house knows how to read the news in the morning. Also, Photoshop. 

Ancient Chinese Secret

I've found the solution to the work/life-slash-life/blog balance issues everyone is trying to figure out. Ready? The answer is simply this - don't update your blog. 

*** 

I got sick three and a half weeks ago, one day after Jim got sick, and up until this Monday, we were both more or less useless. I couldn't stay awake for more than 30 minutes and he was coughing so hard for so long that I started to smell his clothes for meth. I feel as though three solid weeks without a moment of rest from illness is unreasonable really, especially when it hits both of the adults in the house at the same time but leaves the children more or less unscathed. I'm pretty sure this virus we have is the reincarnation of Mao, doing his best to knock off the remaining adult intellectuals so he can take over the world. 

Or, you know, it's the 2013 version of Bruce Lee's samurai demon coming to take our asses down because Jim keeps telling his gwai lo girlfriend all the ancient Chinese secrets.

Secrets like this one.  

Ancient_Chinese_Ramen_Secret.png

You think you know ramen, but you don't know ramen. THAT is ramen. That is ramen with chunks of vegetables in it, ramen that burns when you eat it because you aren't supposed to know about this ramen. You're supposed to be eating the ramen you bought in the styrofoam cup at Wawa. This ramen is secret. It's sacred. (It's Korean.) It's amazing. It's like two dollah or something at Ranch 99. 

It's also the only thing that will make you feel better when you contract a raging sinus infection three short days after the 3 1/2 week pox was lifted off of your house, and I'm pretty sure now you have to tell someone about it or a creepy little girl will melt your face off in seven days. (Wait. that's Japanese. Shit.)