Today the Tooth Fairy delivered. It only took three months. But, that sucker came through. The 7 year old got shafted on at least three teeth during the TF's vacation. The Post-It notes, texts, emails, and portraits of the TF (with devil horns) were an embarrassing reminder that the Mother-Of-The-Year award will never grace my messy house.
As the last remnants of the drugs I've been on for 16 months exit my system, I have noticed that I'm becoming a little bit more lucid, a little bit more me, and more aware of how much I let slip. I have to admit that many things probably slipped because I had an excuse to let them slip. Cancer is kind of a big deal. It gave me permission. Just ask it.
The good news is that I finally did the unthinkable and in the early hours of the morning I gently lifted her pretty little head and the pillow supporting that blondie mess and I placed the most fantastic pair of orange Hunter boots there for her to wake up to. I know, kind of an awkward thing to place under a pillow. Who cares! They're friggin ORANGE RAIN BOOTS! Bitchin, right? Her hilarious ear splitting squeals around 8am were so worth it.
The TF is still, however, in deep poop because of the lackluster job performance up until now. The evidence still lies under the pillow of the 10 year old who is now patiently waiting for her own pair of the fantastic rain boots. (They're on back order. Shhhh don't tell her.)
The tooth that still remains unclaimed under her pillow took a brief trip from it's soft resting place last week when this happened...
Sam was brushing his teeth with the best toothbrush ever because I can hear it beep and know he's completed the mandatory time. When he's finished he comes flying in to my bathroom with the toothbrush and holds his hand out to me and says "look mom, I lost a tooth".
I flipped out. That's an understatement. I had a momentary lapse of sanity, clarity, reality. Things went fuzzy. My chest got all tight. I think I started to cry a little. I just spent a LOT of money having his teeth and jaw fixed so that his big boy teeth might grow in and not be rotten. It was a huge ordeal. I could not believe that one of his molars came out after all of that.
For twenty four hours I was certifiably nuts. I kept looking in his mouth and could see nothing. It called the dentist and was told to come in when they re-opened on Monday morning and not to worry. I hung up and yelled at the phone like it was that stupid dental assistant who told me not to worry. He's 3. He should not be losing any teeth.
I cooled off. Went shopping with the 3 year old in tow. And, some time during this excursion, my brain clicked on and it occurred to me that there could be another answer. I looked at my youngest and asked "Where did that tooth come from? Can you show me?" His sneaky little boy grin gave him away before he said it out loud. But, he said "yep, I got it under Abby's pillow."
And, it begins. My 3 year old is sneaky, and smart, and funny, and not a Candyass.
As the last remnants of the drugs I've been on for 16 months exit my system, I have noticed that I'm becoming a little bit more lucid, a little bit more me, and more aware of how much I let slip. I have to admit that many things probably slipped because I had an excuse to let them slip. Cancer is kind of a big deal. It gave me permission. Just ask it.
The TF is still, however, in deep poop because of the lackluster job performance up until now. The evidence still lies under the pillow of the 10 year old who is now patiently waiting for her own pair of the fantastic rain boots. (They're on back order. Shhhh don't tell her.)
The tooth that still remains unclaimed under her pillow took a brief trip from it's soft resting place last week when this happened...
Sam was brushing his teeth with the best toothbrush ever because I can hear it beep and know he's completed the mandatory time. When he's finished he comes flying in to my bathroom with the toothbrush and holds his hand out to me and says "look mom, I lost a tooth".
I flipped out. That's an understatement. I had a momentary lapse of sanity, clarity, reality. Things went fuzzy. My chest got all tight. I think I started to cry a little. I just spent a LOT of money having his teeth and jaw fixed so that his big boy teeth might grow in and not be rotten. It was a huge ordeal. I could not believe that one of his molars came out after all of that.
For twenty four hours I was certifiably nuts. I kept looking in his mouth and could see nothing. It called the dentist and was told to come in when they re-opened on Monday morning and not to worry. I hung up and yelled at the phone like it was that stupid dental assistant who told me not to worry. He's 3. He should not be losing any teeth.
I cooled off. Went shopping with the 3 year old in tow. And, some time during this excursion, my brain clicked on and it occurred to me that there could be another answer. I looked at my youngest and asked "Where did that tooth come from? Can you show me?" His sneaky little boy grin gave him away before he said it out loud. But, he said "yep, I got it under Abby's pillow."
And, it begins. My 3 year old is sneaky, and smart, and funny, and not a Candyass.
