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. 

$100 and Counting

I started this post on March 3rd. Something distracted me 3/4 of the way through writing it - the dishes, or a kid needing a hug or some water, most likely some shiny soft-core squirrels on the internet. Rule 34 is the best rule since, like, gravity n' stuff. Anyway, as of March 3rd, my daughter didn't have so much as one wiggly tooth. She is seven and a half.

And I was completely freaking out.

She was 14 or 15 months or something when she got her first tooth (I can't remember, she was my third kid, shut up). Her fake grandfather is a dentist and even he started looking at her a little funny after her 1st birthday passed and there were no teeth to be seen in her little face. I was grateful because she was still nursing, but also a little bitter because I had decided to stop nursing her when her teeth came in, which should have been at, oh, 6 or 7 months, 5 3/4 if you're my first born, but OH NO. She and her teeth are INSANE CLOWN LACTIVISTS. They decided that if I was intent on robbing her of precious breast-time, they were intent on having a bit of fun with me. They scoffed at my arbitrary time line for weanage* and showed me who was really in control of my boobies after all.

*Wheezin' aside: If you didn't read that like Pauly Shore said it, I just don't even know you anymore.

I heard somewhere that kids lose their teeth in timeline consistent with their acquisition of teeth (you like how I went from Encino Man to Nobel Laureate just like that? That's called CAFFIENE), and it's run pretty true for me. My oldest sprung his first tooth at 5 3/4 months, and lost his first tooth at 5 years, 9 months. My middle son was the same way - 6 1/2 months saw his first tooth, 6 1/2 years saw his first visit from the tooth fairy.

At this rate, my daughter was on track to have her first wiggly tooth during homecoming, which is totally preferable to every and any other first she could have at homecoming.

Of course, she is totally fine with this. She is old enough to be completely wigged out at the thought of her teeth, who she's spent so many years bonding with, falling out of her face. She is convinced it will be a gory, bloody painfest. Her teeth are so firmly lodged in her head, she cannot imagine life without them. 

And then the draft stopped, I found a lot of reasons to be hungry and/or hate myself on Pinterest, and the next morning I woke up to a child with, you guessed it, a wiggly tooth. It's like her mouth and my blog are psychically connected or something. I JUST BLEW MY OWN MIND. 

The past seven weeks have been interesting, to say the least. My daughter suffers from some moderate to colorful anxiety issues, and it turns out teeth coming out of her face land more on the THEBRITISHARECOMINGTHEBRITISHARECOMING end of her anxiety spectrum. She had herself convinced losing her tooth would hurt worse than birthing a child, and so on top of dealing with a 7 1/2 year old child with a loose tooth and an anxiety disorder, I had to deal with explaining the miracle of birth that was most likely also going to plague her poor, fragile, terror-riden body someday. 

Good times, my friends. Good times.

And then yesterday she came home from school, walked in the door, and in her Very Brady voice said, "Hey there, groovy chic. I have something to tell you" *70's cool side-snap.

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Apparently, ERIC told her that it wouldn't hurt at all and ERIC encouraged her to just yank it out and ERIC is so smart and cool and ERIC made the whole last seven weeks seems completely ridiculous and ERIC ERIC ERIC!

After I squeed! and *completely* overreacted (last baby, uterus forcibly removedshut up) I asked her how much she thought the tooth fairy would leave her. She said twenty five cents. I told her the going rate is $5, because I'm an idiot. And then we baked cavities to celebrate. 

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Here's to last first wiggly tooth , Here's to the final 19 panic attacks I mean teeth we get to wish on and hide under pillows. Here's to my last baby, growing up. Here's to $5 down, $95 more to go.