The Tooth Fairy

My kids never believed in Santa Claus. 

We never told them that he wasn't real....but I suppose we never really told them he was either.  Just this last Christmas I was having a conversation in the car with my five year old: 

"Mom, we need to tell a lot of people about Jesus." 

"Yes, we do, Lily.  You can tell your friends who may not know about Jesus."

"I will because he's real.  I'll tell them about hell too." 

Well, we had a few minutes of discussion on a tactful way to go about eternal damnation.  And then, with the same resolve she felt in telling her friends about Jesus, she said:  

"And Mom, I need to make sure to tell my friends that Santa isn't real either." 

And then I totally confused her.  So I summarized:  Tell your friends that Jesus is real.  Do not tell your friends that Santa is not. 

The poor kid.  There's so much to try and get straight when you're five. 

While my kids have never been believers in the jolly fat man, they've always been firm believers in the tooth fairy.  This is purely the result of our parenting.  We've always gone a little too far when it came to the tooth fairy: handwritten notes in fancy writing on fancy paper, gifts (like birthday present type gifts), pictures of the tooth fairy's house, pictures of her friends, scavenger hunts to and from the tooth fairy, and correspondence that would last for weeks between our child and the "tooth fairy."  O.K., we have gone way too far. 

It all started very innocently.  My oldest daughter lost her tooth one night right before bed.  She was so excited about putting it under her pillow and I'll never forget her toothless smile when she exclaimed, "I wonder how much money the tooth fairy gives for your first tooth." 

My husband and I looked at each other completely dismayed.  My husband began assuring my daughter that the tooth fairy would definitely give her some money, but that sometimes money comes in the form of something called a check....

I totally interrupted his explanation pulling him out of the room and turning off the lights for my dreamy daughter who was trying so hard to stay awake for the special visit. 

He was right, though.  We had no cash in the house - not even a dime.  And then I had a brilliant idea:  it was her birthday in a week and I had a few presents hidden for the big occasion.  "We'll just put one of the gifts under her pillow and write a note explaining that she's a special girl so she gets a gift instead of money." 

It was the stupidest idea I've ever had.  We didn't consider multiple teeth, nor did we consider multiple children.  Ideally, we would have started with a quarter and gone up from there, but instead with started with a new baby doll....and a note.  We had to go up from there.  Subsequently, each lost tooth from my daughter, and then of course from my son, resulted in a gift, a fancy note, and all that followed in between.  My husband and I began dreading the loss of teeth.

 

 



I will never forget the day when our babysitter and friend let the cat out of the bag for our older two.  She assumed they were too old to believe in a tooth fairy, and so when one of them lost a tooth, my friend said very matter of fact:  "So, what are your parents going to put under your pillow?" 

I'm told that my kids looked like deer in the headlights.  My friend came to me apologetically, feeling awful that she broke the news to them.  She was sorry that the kids no longer believed in a winged fairy that sprinkled them with magic dust, sorry that they no longer believed there was a magical forest where they lived, and sorry that they no longer accepted a reality of winged fairy's that watched over each and every tooth. 

I was over joyed.  The truth was out!  And I didn't have to break the news.  I wanted to do a happy dance knowing that I no longer had to do late night runs to Walmart to get a present; my husband was totally willing to join me in the happy dance.  He no longer had to write fancy notes on fancy stationary.  We were free!  We were free to say to our kids, "Great.  You lost a tooth.  We'll give you a buck."  

But then we had one more child.  Lily found out recently that she had to have a tooth pulled by her dentist.  This was going to be her first "lost" tooth.  Her emotions about the event ranged from fear, due the fact that her brother ever so caringly explained that she'd get a shot in her mouth that would make her mouth feel really weird,  to excitement, due to the fact that she loves her dentist and couldn't wait to go to his office, to joy, due to the fact that the tooth fairy was going to visit her when the tooth came out. 

The tooth fairy.  Shoot.  I told my kids not to say anything about what the tooth fairy brought to them in the past.  If they wanted to mention the more recent dollars they've received, they could mention away. 

For a good week, Lily told every person she saw about the tooth pulling.  And I mean she told everyone.  The check out guy at Trader Joes knew the date of the pulling, her friends at church knew what was going to happen, and her teacher....her poor teacher....informed me she heard about what was becoming the infamous "pulling" every day of the week. 

Lily was very detailed with her explanation as well.  She didn't make it quick, explaining all about the tooth behind the tooth that was going to be pulled, showing off the affected tooth, and then describing the process of the shot and funny feeling as if this had happened to her numerous times before.

She actually wanted me to make a paper chain so she could count down the days.  I told her we'd count sleeps instead.  The night before, Lily starred up at her ceiling with a big smile on her face.  It was odd.  Very, very odd.  You would have thought we were going to Disney World the next day.  But no, we were going to the dentist to get a tooth pulled. 

She woke up the morning of the pulling as if she had been dreaming about it all night: "Mom, is today the day?  Today is the day!"  She chose her favorite dress to wear for her dentist.   She was set. 

I made sure we had cash in the house.  We were set. 

When we arrived at the dentist office, the descriptions from Lily continued.  She explained the details to the dental assistant, she showed the tooth to the hygienist and then waited with great anticipation to get to the chair. 

Once we finally made it into the room, Lily sat in the chair, reclined, shut her eyes as tight as she could, opened her mouth so wide that she started to shake, and then.....she cried. 

At this point there were no needles, no dental tools, just the realization that the greatly anticipated tooth pulling time was finally here, and I'm sure she wondered if it was going to be every bit as painful as her dear brother described that it would be.  As I watched my daughter in the chair, I got a glimpse into my own emotional instability:  within seconds, my child was crying, then laughing, then crying, and then smiling, weeping, and then laughing again. 

Once the quick procedure was over, Lily took her boxed up tooth and walked to the car with a sense of pride.  I pulled out of the driveway and began telling Lily how proud I was of her.  Aside from the inherited emotional instability, she did pretty well in a situation that was probably a little scary for a five year old.  It was then that she brought her up: 

"Mom, can I take my tooth out of the box and hold it.  If I don't hold it then the tooth fairy might not know that it's actually mine." 

I took a last minute detour.  Without giving it much though, I turned into target.  I sat for a minute considering my future in the tooth fairy business, knowing the reality of what my future could hold with each and every little tooth that my little girl brought to me. 

That night, Lily, much like her older sister, said she was going to try to stay awake to see the tooth fairy.  After she was asleep, I pulled out the wrapped gift of Frozen, and my husband got out the fancy stationary and started with his fancy writing.  We both sighed knowing full well the suckers that we truly are. 

We were strangely excited to sneak in and slip the gift and note under Lily's pillow.  And if the excitement of late night runs to Walmart and fancy notes on fancy paper runs out for us, I can always call my friend...

Happy first tooth fairy visit, little lily.  Enjoy each and every one. 

Expressions

Showing emotion is hard for some people.  Not all people.  My two youngest have no problem expressing their emotions....at all. 

"Mom, the drink I just had is the best drink I've ever had in my whole, entire life.  It like makes me want to die it's so good.  Just so good that you could never believe it," is the kind of thing I might hear from my son on a somewhat regular basis. 

And my youngest wants to let us know about everything she is feeling; all day long she lets us know about what she's feeling.  The other night, right before bed, she expressed this:  "Mom, I'm so cold.  But then when I put the covers on me I'm so hot.  So I'm like too hot and too cold and also my finger hurts. Like so bad.  But not as bad as my hand because my hand is so dry.  Can I get some lotion?  The smelly kind of lotion ?  Because that lotion makes me feel really good." 

So I gave her the smelly lotion and then she started bawling.  "That smelly lotion is all over my sheets and it makes me feel like I'm going to have bad dreams."  Because a little rose petal lotion on bed sheets would make one have bad dreams.  Obviously. 

And then there is my oldest.  Being more introverted, and more like her father, she's a little more even keeled when it comes to her emotions.  There aren't a lot of ups and downs (yet), and she tends to analyze before expressing the way she feels about something.

But this isn't always the case.  My oldest, also like her father, gets into things intensely.  Whether it's a book, a music group, or a sport, for a time she will be intensely focused on that one interest.  

To our demise as parents, we have slowly watched our oldest become intensely excited about the boy band One Direction.  For those who know my husband and his intense like of U2 (I'm telling you, my daughter and husband are two peas in a pod), this has been a little upsetting. 

He came home the other day to my oldest and her friend watching a One Direction movie.  The conversation went something like this: 

"Girls, why don't we turn on U2 videos instead?"   I'm not entirely sure what he was thinking the outcome of that question would be. 

"Um, no dad." This is what I was assuming the outcome to the question would be. 

Once the sharp pain of U2 rejection wore off, he continued:

"So, why do you like this boy group so much?"  Notice his deliberate choice of words. 

"Because they're a cool band, and they're really good." 

"They're not a band, and they're not really good." 

And that went over well with the girls.  I told him to try the U2 question again and see where that would get him. 

But, like the softy's we are, this past week we bought two tickets to the One Direction Concert.  Of course this came after first trying to sway her to save her money for the upcoming U2 tour.  We failed and two One Direction concert tickets were purchased - one for my daughter and the second for one of her parents.  Which parent will be decided upon at a later date.  Although I must admit, I'd love to see my husband go to a boy band concert.  So far, his best argument against this possibility is that the squealing hurts his ears.  He's going to have to do better than that. 

When the tickets were actually purchased, my daughter did not try to withhold one ounce of the emotion she was feeling.  There was screaming, dancing, texting, and maybe even a tear or two.  And we loved watching the emotions flow from her.  Even it is was because of Harry Styles. 

Because of some treatment she's been going through, I haven't been able to talk with my sister in quite a while.  While this has been difficult, I have been able to write her - actual hand written letters.  I've loved writing to her.  I look forward to her weekly letter and I look forward to sitting down and letting her know what's going on.  And from time to time, expressing my emotions to her through words rather than over the phone can actually be therapeutic.

I tend to be more like my younger two with my emotions, wearing a lot on my sleeve.  And yes, my husband is a patient man.  But I also enjoy expressing what I'm thinking and feeling through writing.  This reality has become very poignant for me as I've watched my mom slowly lose her ability to speak and write. 

I sense her agitation when she is trying to tell a story or when she wants to express her love to her grandkids.  It's not easy.  In fact, it's extremely difficult for her.  Her own body hinders her ability to communicate and express herself.  And there will come a time before too long when that speech will be gone completely as her body continues to weaken.  To watch her struggle in trying to express herself tears at my heart in a way I can't really express.  And while this is seemingly very difficult to relate with, I can empathize in a small way with her frustration in communicating what she wants to express. 

Even if we're not physically hindered, everyone has been hit with some news, some kind of heart breaking reality, that takes the breath right out of us.  It's in those moments when clear expression is as difficult as it can be to breath.  When my sister told me she had breast cancer, she called and said three words:  "I've got it."  I really didn't know what to say or how to feel.  With a loss of words, my body responded by shaking. 

When my dad passed into glory, it was difficult to know just how to express what I was feeling.  I could no longer pray for his healing, so I just wept. 

It's because of these kinds of situations that the verses from Romans 8 have been particularly significant to me through the last several years:  "Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness.  For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groaning's too deep for words." 

Can you see the hope that this passage gives?   No matter how hard it may be to convey our emotions, thoughts, and confusions, the spirit takes care of it for us.   And he does this with "groaning's too deep for words."  We may not know what to ask or even how to ask it, but the spirit does.  Our present suffering expressed through groans are taken by the Spirit and formed into a beautiful offering of requests to God, woven together in perfect harmony with His will.  It's an act that is mercifully beautiful. 

And I know that our all powerful God weeps with us when we can't bear to hold in our tears. He rejoices with us when we can't contain our excitement.  And when we can express nothing at all, He sends His spirit to do it for us.