Saturday, September 3, 2011

D@mn ToothFairy!

The Rock is The Tooth Fairy
I really screwed it up this time.

I was laying in bed, sound asleep as any mother should be at 6:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning, when I heard the twins in the hallway, giggling and trying to whisper. No sooner had my mind registered what my ears were hearing than my mouth engaged.


The first words out of my mouth this morning were swear words.
1. I'm not prone to swear .... really, ask my friends! (Ok, maybe not my closest friends but people who generally know me know I don't usually, hardly ever swear) and

2. no matter who you are, that is NOT how you want to start any day and

3. I had a really, really, really good reason to be upset: the Tooth Fairy forgot to come.


This is totally not her first offense. Oh no, she regularly forgets to come to our house.
And by regularly I mean never. And it's not because we don't believe in her. We do. In fact, we believe in all forms of make believe. We happen to tell tall tales all the time ... we tell stories about how the Tooth Fairy's schedule gets backed up.

And the fact that she's getting, you know (clears throat), up there and she often forgets important things because of her age.

And sometimes we muse that she is getting picky, telling our children that maybe their teeth aren't up to par.

Or maybe she needs a note to remind her.

You see, we tell all sorts of tales to our children about the many reasons why Tooth Fairy has forgotten them.

Shameless, I know.

When I heard the girls up early this morning I instantly knew the Tooth Fairy forgot. In fact that is why they were up at the crack of dawn this morning.  In their childlike wonderment, awe and naivety they rose with the sun, believing an overnight, financial miracle had taken place right under their precious sleepy heads.

But it didn't.
No miracle.
No money.
Only swear words and dashed dreams.

I sent the girls downstairs to watch T.V. (stellar parenting wouldn't you say?) and looked under the pillow for the forgotten tooth.
Yeah, um, guess what?
It wasn't there. The baggie was there (we once told our children that the TF didn't take their tooth because she couldn't find it. We suggested they put it in a baggie under their pillow the next night. Not my most convincing tale but hey, desperate times call for desperate measures) but no tooth.


I needed money. Quick. Except my purse and my hubby's wallet were downstairs. By the kids.

I paced around, my mind racing for the nearest stash. I checked my makeup drawer, Aaron's pant pockets and under the bed. Broke! Broke! Broke! Not a penny to my name, I began to literally pace the hallway in a near frenzy simultaneously preparing another lie in my shameless web of poor parenting promises.

And then ... a lightbulb moment. I did what any desperate mother would have done in my shoes.

 I robbed Peter to pay Paul.

That's right, the twins celebrated their birthday a few weeks ago and I stole gift money from Abby's wallet and placed it under Bell's pillow.

That's right.
I lie.
I steal.
I feel guilty beyond measure.

I collapsed back in bed and wiped the sleep from my eyes.
And that's when I saw it. The big T I wrote on the inside of my left hand.
In permanent marker yesterday I wrote a T.
T stands for Tooth Fairy.
I wrote on my own hand to remember the TF. And yet I still forgot!

Kung Fu Panda
I totally suck. I've been a parent for 16 years. With 5 kids you would think I'd be a pro at paying for teeth. But I'm not. I never have been and I don't know if I ever will be. I deserve a demotion or something.

My husband, awakened by my foul mouth, rolled over and asked how it went. I groaned, pulled the covers over my head and quoted the great wise panda Po, "I suck", I said, "I probably sucked more today than anyone in the history of Kung Fu ... in the history of China ... in the history of sucking!"

"Huh?", he said.
Never mind.
Instead I got out of bed, grabbed my robe and called for Bell. "Honey", I called, "Momma found your money, silly girl! It was right here the whole time!"

I suck.

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