Loose Tooth

My six-year-old recently lost his first tooth. It was a big deal, mainly because we've been waiting over two months for this tooth to come out. It finally got to the point where it was so crooked that a huge gap opened up right next to it. And, it was so wacky looking that my husband and I couldn't stop talking about the bit that Dane Cook does about teeth (I'm the crazy yellow tooth that looks like corn!)  People kept coming up to him and exclaiming, "Ooh! Did you lose a tooth!?" to which he had no answer.  He couldn't figure out why they would be asking him that when it seemed pretty obvious to him that all his teeth were present and accounted for.

Sunday night, two weeks ago, Lucas lay in bed wiggling his tooth and accidentally got it twisted to the point that it was now highly uncomfortable. He came out into the living room looking a little scared and nervous, and my husband jumped up to help him.

I have discovered something about myself through this phase of my son's development . . . I have a weird aversion to teeth.  I had no idea that teeth bothered me so much.  A person's teeth are always the first thing that I notice when I meet someone.  I also have repeated nightmares about my own teeth falling out (a Google search proves I'm not the only crazy one out there).  I guess it shouldn't have come as a surprise to me that the idea of my baby's teeth coming out would be a horribly disgusting affair for me.  Seeing him sit on the couch wiggling away at that thing just made me shudder and say, "Ugh."  And when it got really loose and starting making that weird sucking noise?  Well, I had to leave the room.  There was no mistake about which parent would be the one to pull it out because I just couldn't handle it.

I remained in the living room as my husband pulled and yanked and pinched and twisted.  All the while Lucas kept making these very odd little noises.  Something like a cross between a concerned moan and the weird squeak that toads make when you pick them up.  No, that's not quite it.  I couldn't decide whether he was in pain or scared or just jacked up on some kind of little kid high like mixing adrenaline and copious amounts of pixie sticks.  Okay, so it was the sound of excited fear . . . Yay! My tooth is finally coming out vs. Oh no!  My tooth is finally coming out!  I eventually went into the bathroom to check on him.  He seemed okay, just a little nervous and very excited, as I said, and he kept emitting those weird sounds. I got one quick glance at the tooth and had to exit the room, pronto.

What a celebration when it finally came out!  My husband got it all cleaned up and we (well, they) examined it closely.  Then we stuck it in the Twinkle Toof box that Lucas got last Christmas.  This is a great little box for kids.  It's shaped like a tooth and inside is a special compartment for the tooth and a clip to place the tooth record card that comes with it.  Did I mention that it also glows in the dark?  Well it does!  In addition, it is Tooth Fairy approved and you can tell because it has the "authentic" Golden Tooth Fairy Seal on the back.  Pretty cool, right?  I know you want one.  (Lucas likes to point out that the Twinkle Toof is not the same size as an actual toof, uh, I mean, tooth.)

Anyway, now that my son has lost his first tooth, he's apparently opened the flood gate for the rest of his teeth.  Already the tooth next to the recently lost one is also ridiculously loose and hanging at a very precarious angle.  Unfortunately, that means that sometimes when he closes his mouth, the newly loose tooth hangs out making him look suspiciously like Nanny McPhee.  I think it's hilarious . . . he is not amused.

I was telling my sister the story of Lucas's first tooth coming out and naturally we discussed what kind of monetary value the Tooth Fairy places on teeth now days.  I told her that Lucas received $1.00, which I believe is pretty average, though the price does seem to fluctuate from $1.00 to around $3.00.  Lucas likes to tell everyone that when his daddy was little he only got a quarter for his teeth.  I told my sister that I remember that for one tooth I got a bunch of loose change like Tooth Fairy had cleaned out her pocket book, and my sister said, "No, she probably cleaned out the ash tray in her car."  Hmm, yeah, that seems more likely.

Of course when my husband heard the conversation between my sister and I, he had to tell me that his niece recently received $5.00 for one tooth.  That seems outlandish to me.  We then began joking back and forth about what said niece can expect for her next tooth.  My husband talked in a girly voice reminiscent to something that would seem appropriate on The Kids in the Hall.

My husband (in his girly voice):  "I got an iPod for my tooth!" then, "I got an Xbox, I got a car!"
Me:  "I got a house!  I got a yacht!  I got my own island!"
My husband:  "I was really hoping I'd get an island.  Then I got an island and I was like, Whew!  I'm glad I got an island!"

Okay, okay, I know.  You really had to have been there and know what our personalities are like, but let's just say that we kind of think that $5.00 is on the excessive end and we know that it's not really as much as what some kids get.  That's the reality.  However, our kid can hold his breath until he is blue in the face, but there is no way that Tooth Fairy is forking over twenty bucks for a tooth in this house.  Maybe next time he'll just get some loose change from the ashtray in Tooth Fairy's car.  You know, and that's if he's lucky.

Kids on the Loose

Source

My sister wrote this story a while back about what it was like walking to and from school in Globe, Arizona when she was a little kid.  I really liked it.  Everything she says in this story rings true for me.  Even though there are nine years between me and my sister, we both had a lot of the same experiences.

 

Kids on the Loose

When I was a kid growing up in Globe, we always walked to school.  From kindergarten on you walked.  Unless you were one of the "wealthy" kids . . . then you were driven in a car.  The rest of us walked though.  My friend and I always managed to be late for school because on the way there was always a myriad of distractions to keep you from your mission, which was just to get yourself to school by 9:00 a.m.

Source

When I started kindergarten at Noftsger Hill School there was a bridge on Devereaux street that went across a canyon near Nob Hill Grocery Store.  The bridge is no longer there, and I'm sure it's better that it's just a regular road now.  I remember my friend and me attempting to walk across the outside of that bridge just by hanging onto the railing.  It was thrilling to say the least, and undoubtedly one of the stupidest things we'd probably ever do in our lives.  We'd get about 10 feet out and look down into the abyss of the canyon, and then make our way back to the sidewalk thrilled at our bravery.  A block away from that, near Bailey and Sutherland, was a footbridge that is still there today.  A few years ago I took my son out onto it and I marveled at the fact that there was not real covering on the sides to keep you from falling to certain death.  As a child my friend and I also went across this bridge, both on the part you were supposed to walk across on and, of course, along the outside . . . daring nuts that we were.

Source

The "Witch's House" on the corner of Tonto and High was another distraction.  I suppose that we called it the witch's house because it was old, black and somewhat ramshackle.  The woman who lived there was also old, wore black, and only spoke Spanish.  Lots of kids said she was "casting spells" when she spoke to us, but in hindsight she was probably just saying, "Hello", and "How are you doing today?"  There was always a ton of rocks on top of her porch roof, from the brave kids who threw them at the house.  The extent of my bravery only went so far as to say, "Hello", and then to quickly run away.  Her house is no longer there . . . I don't know what happened to it.

Source

Occasionally on the way home from school we'd stop to "smell the flowers" and end up swiping a few roses or anything flower-like from someone's front yard.  If we did this on the way to school our teachers would be the lucky recipients of a mangled, half-dead flower.  One time (well, at least only one time that I recall) we decided to do a mulberry stop on our way home.  This entailed climbing up a wall that was bordered by mulberry trees along High Street and Mesquite.  We tried to eat as many mulberries as we could grab without falling off the wall.  When we'd had our fill, I headed home, and my grandmother went up like a rocket when she saw me.  "I TOLD you to come STRAIGHT home from school!" she hollered at me.  I proceeded to swear up and down, left and right that I had done just that.  I had NOT stopped anywhere along the way home . . . then she whopped my bottom.  I ran into the bathroom to cry and it was then that I noticed my whole face was covered in purple stains from all the mulberries I'd eaten.  Grandma wasn't quite as gullible as I thought.

When I got older I switched schools and started going to East Globe.  There was a stairwell that went from East Street up to Sycamore Street.  This stairwell contained about a million stairs and was enough to keep you occupied for half an hour or more both on the way to school and on the way home.  Sometimes my friend and I would try to run up it, but that only lasted about 20 stairs and then we'd have to sit down and take a break.  While we were sitting there trying to catch our breath we would sometimes find a piece of cardboard someone had thrown there, and we could then ride that cardboard down the 20 steps we'd just run up.  Unfortunately, this didn't last very long because the stairs were concrete and the cardboard would get shredded pretty quickly.  Whoever hadn't been able to ride the cardboard down was mad.  So then we'd spend about 5 minutes or so looking in the bushes for another piece, and when that didn't pan out we'd just sit back down again.  It was at this point that one of us would realize we'd left our school books somewhere else and we'd have to go find them.  By the time it was all said and done we still had about 90,000 steps to go up just to get to the next street . . . and we were now officially late for school.

Source

Globe was a great place to be a little kid when I was young.  The world was undoubtedly safer and it seemed like people didn't worry about things so much . . . at least I didn't.  As for my parents, and my grandmother, it was probably better that they didn't know all the stuff we did.  Especially considering all the things that there were to do just walking to and from school.

*****

The only difference between my sister's experiences and mine?  The mulberries were pomegranates.  Otherwise, it was a lot of the same adventures.  Although, I'm pretty sure she was a lot more daring than I was.  I think that kids all around the world have similar experiences walking to and from school.  I know that when I walk my son home from school, we always have to make stops to look at bugs or spiders.  I feel sorry for those kids who always got a ride and never got to have those mini-adventures that my sister wrote about.

The pictures used in this post are by the artist Laurie Manzano.  Laurie owns and runs the Blue Mule Art Gallery in Globe and is well loved by my family and many others in the Globe-Miami area.  All of the pictures are used with her permission.  For more information on Laurie, to view more of her pictures, or for copyright permission, visit her website.  And, if you're ever in Globe, make sure to stop by The Blue Mule Art Gallery to stand in awe of Laurie and her amazing work.

Things I Never Knew I'd do as a Parent #1

My six-year-old got out of bed one night and came out to complain that his snake had a hole in it.  He was referring to a stuffed snake that Grandpa had bought for him at a sand castle and chainsaw carving festival not too long ago.  (I know, you're thinking, "chainsaw carving and sandcastles!?"  Believe me, you don't want to know.)  Anyhoo, this seemed to bother him for whatever reason and I assumed he was just trying to avoid going to sleep.  I sent him back to bed with a promise to fix the snake tomorrow.

The next day I remembered the incident and went looking for the snake in his bed.  I was not prepared for what I saw.  The entire bed was covered . . . in bird seed!  If there was ever a WTF!? moment, this was it.  Apparently, cheap carnival snakes are stuffed with bird seed.  Who knew?  I certainly never bothered to think about it.  Then, of course, I felt totally awful because I realized that I had made my son sleep an entire night rolling around in bird seed!  Granted, that's no reason to call CPS, but I still felt really awful. 

So, out comes the vacuum cleaner and after a few swipes it becomes painfully obvious that 1:  I am really short and 2:  the vacuum cleaner hose was designed by someone who never envisioned it being used to clean bird seed out of a loft bed.  Next time I will pay the extra money to get a vacuum with a really long hose attachment.

It took me nearly an hour to totally clean up the mess.  I had to vacuum the sheet, then remove it in order to vacuum the mattress.  Once that was done I had to remove the mattress and clean in-between all the slats of the bed.  When I finally got that done I had to move all the toys under the bed and clean up all the birdseed there.  This was not what I had planned for the afternoon.

When the time comes for us to finally move I imagine that we will find little reminders of this incident every where.  I also know that it will be highly unlikely that my husband will have a clue as to why there would be bird seed in our son's room.

Last weekend I finally got around to fixing said snake with a hole in his side.  As I sat there very patiently stitching up the snake (i.e. not very patiently at all since birdseed flowed continuously from the snake onto the floor) two thoughts came to mind.  One:  exactly how many little Tweety birds would a real snake have to eat in order to be stuffed to such an extreme with bird seed, and two: why in the world am I actually doing this?  Because you know that if this snake actually ends up back in my son's bed it won't take very long for the whole incident to repeat itself.  So, I consoled myself with this thought.  If the incident repeats itself I will at least have a topic for another blog post, and this title came to mind, Stupid Things I've Done More than Once.  Or how about, How Stupid am I?  Lessons I didn't Learn the First Time.  Yup, I bet there are TONS of things I could write on that subject.