The Tooth Fairy

I honestly can’t recall when I discovered the wonderfully mythical Tooth Fairy. It was certainly before I loss my first tooth in Kindergarten, for which I received a quarter. At that point of time, I truly believed the Tooth Fairy existed. In my mind, she resembled something akin to Tinker Bell only with long, curly hair and a wand with a star, and a twirly, tutu like skirt and she twinkled gloriously. My ardent belief was cemented after I spent the night at my friend Aleesha’s house and she told me that she had once seen the Tooth Fairy! And, of course, Aleesha was as honest as any imaginative 6-year-old could possibly be! Most certainly she had seen the Tooth Fairy.

Naturally, my steadfast believe gave way to reality. And yet the money remains real, so belief becomes rather overrated. In fact, I was visited by the Tooth Fairy as late as the age of 20 when I had one of my wisdom teeth very painfully removed (over a three-hour period). I can’t say the dollar was worth all I had been through, but the drugs given to me afterwards were brilliant. I never felt an ounce of pain. 

Emry was introduced to the idea of loosing teeth probably about a year ago as we were reading Fancy Nancy stories and one is about a tooth Nancy looses. In the book, because Nancy looses her tooth at school, she gets a plastic tooth necklace to put the tooth in. Emry informed me when she looses her teeth, she needs a tooth necklace. As yet, we had no idea about a Tooth Fairy.

Since then, she has mentioned off and on that when she gets bigger she will loose her teeth and new ones will grow in. A month ago her cousin, Jay, had the honor of loosing not only his first tooth on his 6^thbirthday, but his first TWO teeth. Of course, one slipped out unnoticed and was lost at the bottom of a ball pit, but the Tooth Fairy is gracious enough to pay even for those (although she no doubt must make extra effort to retrieve them). This has brought the subject of loosing teeth up quite often, so first I checked out a book about a Bear who looses his first tooth. This book introduced to her to concept of a Tooth Fairy, but as the little fairy left Bear a plate full of blueberries instead of money, well…the idea of money had yet to be established. She then saw a poster and little flyer at the library for a special story time celebrating National Tooth Fairy Day. Since she was so enamored with the idea, I took her to the library last night to enjoy stories, games and a craft about the Tooth Fairy.

Actually, I think I found the story time more enlightening than she did. It would appear that America and Canada have the main monopoly on the Tooth Fairy. Other countries have a little mouse named El Ratón Pérez. Others throw bottom teeth up on a roof and top teeth down on the ground or at the foot of their bed. Some countries have even stranger traditions than those. I think it’s rather interesting that loosing one’s baby teeth brings about folk traditions. 

Oddly enough, I still don’t think Emry understands that the Tooth Fairy brings money in exchange for baby teeth. She made a little bag from cardstock with cutout teeth on it at story time, which she proudly brought home and declared she would put her teeth in when they started to fall out. She also told Ethan he could use the bag when she was finished loosing her teeth and he started to loose his. She also informed me that when she does loose her teeth, the Tooth Fairy will leave her a plate of blueberries.

And I’m left trying to figure out how I’m supposed to put a plate of blueberries under her pillow…

Part Pig-Pen, Part Linus

My little man is a mess. Some days I feel like I spend half my life following him around, a broom in one hand and a mop in the other. A washcloth attached to my belt and a sponge in my back pocket. A tissue box tucked up under an arm and a small trash bin under the other. Something like a one-man-band. Only I’m a one-woman-cleaning-service.

Ethan doesn’t realize he’s a mess, of course. He goes through life with little recognition of what is messy versus what is clean. How he manages to drop every single crumb on the floor I’ll never know. Or drop his sippy cup yet again. Or simply leave toys trailing behind wherever he’s been. And while he’s usually congenial enough to clean up when I tell him to, sometimes I have to wonder why I bother. After all, nearly as soon as the blocks are picked up, the train set is scattered every which way. I don’t know how people survive being fulltime maids. There are many times I feel driven towards insanity.

I suppose, in all honesty, he may not be quite the mess I think he is. After all, he’s following in the footsteps of Emry who is simply not a mess. She was the rare child who never needed a drop cloth while she ate. I can count on one hand the number of times she has spilled a snack. If she gets a toy out, she usually picks it up without my even telling her. It’s a rare day if she has toys scattered through the house. Shoes come off at the door, clothes are put in her drawers. With a firstborn like that, almost any second born is bound to be considered a walking disaster.

But while he often seems like Pig Pen, at other times he is more of a Linus. At least, when it comes to his blanket. If he’s hurt, the blanket is his comfort. If he’s out of sorts, the blanket must be found. If he’s watching a movie or reading a story, the blanket must be tucked around him. So, as you can imagine, washing said blanket is always a challenge. Today I had no option. He woke up with a diaper that had somehow exploded. Everything got stripped off and tossed immediately into the wash. As we were heading out the door later thismorning, I took the blanket from the washer as soon as it was complete and tossed it the dryer with only a few items. It needed to be dried before naptime and I wouldn’t have time to run the dryer when we got back. He saw me throw his blanket in the dryer and pulled it right out. I told him it needed to be dried, put it back in and told him he would have to wait. He stood right in front of the dryer as I started it, looking through the door quite forlornly:

This lasted all of about 20 seconds before he looked up at me and asked, “Is it dry, Mama?”

I nudged him along to some other distraction, but as we passed the dryer on our way out the door about 20 minutes later, he stopped and asked again. Thankfully, it was! And so, the blanket went with us.

Today, this cute little girl is 39!

When did that happen?

Today...the Past

This week I turn 39. It’s a bit surreal. Just yesterday I was getting in the car with my mom, my kids and nephew loaded up in the car seats behind us. Getting a glimpse of myself in the side mirror, I wondered when I had become the mom with the greying hair while my mom had become Grandma. Have a really lived half a lifetime or more already? Despite the aging woman in the mirror, it doesn’t seem like 39 years have passed.

In her closet, Emry has a little blue jumper that I wore 35 years ago! She loves wearing it, twirling around as she does whenever she wears a dress. The other day I wondered if I happened to have a picture of myself in that dress so very long ago. Sure enough, I found one:

Me – 1984

And here is Emry:

Emry – 2019

You know, there are some similarities…!

Happy Valentine's Day!

On Emry’s first Valentine’s in 2016, Ed bought her a balloon. She loved it! We have the cutest video of her hitting at it and then falling over onto her back (for she had just learned to sit up by herself). Every year since, he has bought her a balloon to chase around the house in utter delight. And it’s been fun to look back at the pictures of the past (although apparently I failed to take a picture in 2018!):

2016 – cute and chubby

2017 – getting bigger 

2019 – and now a little girl

When Did I get so Old?

My dear friend Allyson often says, “Age is mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.” And I would say that for the first 37 years of my life, that was true. But now…I’m just over a year away from 40. And I look at myself in the mirror and wonder when I got so old.

It doesn’t help that just about everyone in the world is younger than me. Or, at least, it feels that way lately. We have been visiting one church in town since just before Christmas. By now, I suppose, “visiting” is not the precise word. We have now moved up to “attending”. But we’ve been hesitant, often asking ourselves and each other what things are absolutely essential in a church versus what things can we adjust to? Especially as this church is at least three times the size of the one we attended in Pittsburgh. So, in the spirit of learning more and getting answers, we have attended the “membership” class offered for three weeks each quarter. Us and about nine others…all of whom are newly married/engaged/single graduate or undergraduate students at Purdue. In a word: YOUNG.

In fact, as we discussed things after our first class the discussion led down a rabbit trail and Ed made a remark that it was now over 25 years since he had graduated from high school. “Ed,” I responded, “I don’t think any of those people in that class with us were even born then.”

Now how old do you think that makes us feel?

But it’s true. Even though I don’t feel like I’m about to turn 39 in just over a week, I am nowhere near 24 anymore. Now it’s not only high school students who look twelve and college students who look fifteen – grown, married adults look eighteen! Because I didn’t have children until I was 35, people who have kids the age of mine were in third grade when I was graduating from high school. And most people who are my age have kids in high school – or even college! Yes, I will be the woman at Ethan’s baseball games being asked by the other moms which little boy is my grandchild. And I think I’m old now…

It’s just a strange sensation. The idea that nearly 40 years of my life has passed is somewhat surreal. When I did become the mom in the kitchen with the other mom, talking about raising kids while getting lunch on the table? Wasn’t it just the other day that that was my mom? Or when did I become the only mom in the room, making 4½ years of marriage look like an eternity compared to six months? It was just yesterday that I was driving down to North Carolina to work a summer at camp…right? I guess not.

Time is how we measure our lives, but it’s also a rather elusive measurement. Even now, I would say that my mom was much older when she turned 40 than I’ll be when I turn 40. Which is silly. Because 40 is 40. But I would also sat that my grandma was much older at 65 than my mom now is at 65. Because in many respects, age is a matter of perspective. And while that can make me feel much better about approaching 40, it certainly doesn’t change the fact that probably no one in that membership class was potty trained (or even born) when I graduated from high school. And that doesn’t make me feel any better.

Happy Birthday, Sally! 

 Sally – age 3

Ethan's Birthday

Dear Little Man,

This past Sunday was Super Bowl Sunday. Every year that rolls around, I remember the Sunday morning I woke up with contractions…that didn’t last. However, they returned in the wee hours of Monday morning, just as record-breaking Super Bowl LI was ending in overtime. And I sat briefly in the waiting room of the hospital with Tom Brady yammering about something and his record-breaking 5^thSuper Bowl ring. Well, this year was yet another record breaking Super Bowl. Only this time, the Patriots won at a mere 10-3…and Tom Brady got his 6^thSuper Bowl ring. I promise, one day a Super Bowl Sunday will arrive and the Patriots will not be there. And one day, Tom Brady will have finally hung up his jersey. But I will always think of you.

Today you are two. It’s hard to believe and yet these past two years have gone by so quickly. You run about this house, trying to keep up with Emry. Half the time you’re carrying a flashlight, fighting off imaginary monsters. The other half you’re lugging around the red stool in an attempt to reach something you’re not suppose to reach. You are forever into things. The cabinets, the dishwasher, the dryer, drawers. If I could put child locks on everything in my house, I would. And if you’re not into it, you’re climbing it. Except your crib. Which is fine. And also why you will sleep in it until you do climb out. I am not looking forward to the day you get a “big boy” bed.

You’re also a mess. If I had had you first, I’m not sure I would have had any more children. You can’t eat a grape without getting it all over your face and hands, let alone cereal, or ice cream, or even crackers. Some days, cleaning up after you is nearly a fulltime job.

You can also fight your own battles. Emry is your best friend. If she’s not there when you get up in the morning, she is the first person you ask for. But if she picks a fight with you, watch out. Your temper can be just as fiery. You’re very good at simply not answering when I call your name. If you want to do something – even things you know you shouldn’t – nothing is going to stop you. Yes, you’re a little sinner. One, I pray, God will save.

But you are a sweet little man. You like to give hugs. You love to snuggle up with your favorite blanket Grandma Sturm made you. You say “thank-you” for anything anyone gives you, “bless you” when someone sneezes and “excuse me” when you walk by. You have a laugh that is pure delight. Bright blue eyes, a winning smile. And you love to chatter with people. Despite my best efforts to teach you independence, you are often a mama’s boy. One day, I think, I will miss that.

If someone had asked me a year ago if you would be as bright as Emry who is now sounding out words in sentences, I would have said I’d be lucky if you were five or six when you learned to read. But I take that back. Your vocabulary astounds people. You hold conversations, especially with Emry. You sing the ABCs and can count to 12. You can spell Emry and you can almost spell Ethan. You look at signs, books, or even your toys, see the letters and tell me, “Mama, ABCs!” And you soak in Emry’s phonics lessons as you sit at the table with her, mimicking back the letters and their sounds. You memorized pieces of Psalm 122 with Emry and we’re now working on Psalm 23. You do very well building towers with your blocks, putting your wooden train set together and doing puzzles. Who knows what the Lord has for you?

This past year you have found a favorite book: The Little Blue Truck. It has been readily obvious that you have a sister since your favorite music is Frozenand you love Anna and Elsa. Not to mention you can also list Rapunzel, Belle and Cinderella as characters you recognize. Not that I was concerned, but since moving to Indiana you have been introduced to super heroes by your cousin Beto. Spider-Man is by far your favorite. Hence the Spider-Man cake for your birthday…and the several Spider-Man themed gifts you will receive.

Watching you grow and change this past year has been a delight, little man. You fill our lives – sometimes to our exhaustion. But we can’t imagine that life without you, and nor do we want to. God has truly blessed us with your little life. I pray for you. I hope for you. I love you. And I always will.

Love,

Mama

Ethan – my little barista

Happy 6^thBirthday, Jay!

 My nephew Jay and his kitten Mittens.