The Worst Tooth Fairy

We care about oral hygiene.
I swear.

If I can be totally honest (and it's my blog, so why not?), I was fairly unprepared for motherhood.  Mostly I focused on getting through the pregnancies, and then I was presented a baby.  I didn't know how long they would wear diapers.  I didn't know when I should introduce solid foods.  I definitely didn't have a "parenting style" locked and loaded.  Then there's all the other stuff, the little stuff, the once a year stuff, the "we didn't have this in my day" stuff, that makes me want to throw up my hands and hide under a blanket.  It doesn't help that so many people are on Pinterest and making every day of childhood magical for their kids.

I can't even handle being the Tooth Fairy.

This is one of those unexpected roles that just popped up.  As in, we were out of town for Thanksgiving five years ago and our kindergartner had a loose tooth all of a sudden.  How long had the tooth been loose?  How long would it be until it fell out?  What in the world are we supposed to do to kick off this grand tradition?

The answers came quickly.  A loose tooth will hang from a child's gums until that child bites into an apple (his favorite food).  A grandparent will sneak down to the hotel lobby and purchase candy from a vending machine to slide under the child's pillow.  Parents will feel conflicted about giving their five year old a King Size Skittles, ultimately taking their punishment of sugar craze as penance for not being prepared.

You would think I learned my lesson.  You would think I would prepare better, now that teeth had begun to fall out.  You would be wrong.

I didn't want to keep giving my kids candy for each tooth.  I mean, it kind of defeats the purpose of celebrating adult teeth by turning around and rotting them with too much sugar.  But my very young son didn't seem to grasp the concept of money, either, so it seemed like quarters wouldn't give him a thrill.  I finally settled on giving him licensed Cars (like Lightning McQueen and friends) each time he lost a tooth.  Sometimes I would go out in the evening and purchase the car.  Sometimes it would be a few days later.  When he got a tooth pulled at the dentist, I took him straight to Toys R Us and let him pick out two.  It was working (sort of), so I optimistically purchased a few new Cars to have a stock pile.  He found them within a day and wanted to know why he had to wait to lose a tooth to play with them.

That's the saga of my oldest.  Again, you'd think that all that experience would translate to better practices when the next kid started losing baby teeth.  Again, you'd be wrong.

Once again, I was completely unprepared for my kid to start getting loose teeth.  Once again, a grandparent-supplied candy bar was needed.  Once again, I mentally flogged myself for my children's lack of a magical childhood.

But this kid was determined to be different.  When I spotted a loose tooth and ran out to purchase a toy that could fit under his pillow (and hopefully cost less than $5), it took MONTHS for the thing to actually come out, and more than once, I'd forget what I'd gotten or where I'd hidden it.  Problem not solved.  Also, with the second kid, there's the added pressure of expectation.  Because this kid's been watching his big brother amass a fleet of die-cast Cars, so everything has to appear to be as good as the older kid's experience.  Try telling a six year old that the Tooth Fairy messed up a fair amount with his brother.  That kid is NOT BUYING IT.

So I have a kid who loses a tooth with very little fanfare, and another who gives daily progress reports for 72 days.  (The oldest lost a tooth recently, and this is how it went down: he told me the day before that his tooth was loose.  While I was standing in the kitchen making coffee the next morning, he walks in, shows me the tooth in his hand, tosses it in the trash can and asks for his toy.)

Okay, I have one more kid left.  I was determined to get this thing right.  I found a pack of miniature Fireman Sam figures online and ordered them.  They've been sitting in my dresser for almost a year.  Every time his brothers lost a tooth, I'd check his.  Nothing was happening.

That is, until the morning of January 10th.  It started like a typical school day.  I got the younger two dropped off at the local elementary school and returned home for a day of tests for the oldest, who does online school.  Forty-five minutes passed, which wasn't even enough time to finish the first test (math :/ ) when the phone rang.  It was the elementary school secretary informing me that I needed to come pick up my youngest because he'd had an accident in gym class.  At the phrase "bloody nose," the smile on my face died.  I rushed the oldest through the last few questions (nothing says Positive Learning Environment like an adult yelling, "Just guess!" as she retrieves her shoes and coat) and drove back to the school.  There was my peanut, his feet dangling from the chair and an ice pack pressed to his face.  Under the blood and faint bruises, there was a loose baby tooth hanging on for dear life.

Cut to an emergency dental appointment, a shot of Novocaine that helped him get through the rest of the day, and a premature tooth loss presented in one of those little plastic containers.  We talked about the Tooth Fairy and her nocturnal visit, the gift he could expect to find under his pillow.  And then we muddled through the rest of the day, managing pain and presenting soft foods.  I caved to the request to sleep in his bed, even though it is a narrow twin and he's a kicker.

Then the morning came.

I woke up to my son rattling his tooth holder and looking disappointed.  "The Tooth Fairy didn't come," he told me, and instantly I shot up to rectify the situation.  "Oh, I think she left your present in my room!" I said, running across the hall and trying to not make too much noise as I retrieved the Fireman Sam figure from his packaging.  "But she forgot the tooth," he said, and the usual mental berating began in earnest.  I traded the toy for the tooth in broad daylight and shrugged my shoulders.    What can I say?  The Tooth Fairy wasn't anticipating all the trauma of the previous day.  And also, I suck at this job.

None of us is perfect at this parenting thing.  What's something you wish you did better?