Dear Me and You, Teeth Come and Go

Dear Me and You, 

To me it feels like life is lived via milestones– we’re always waiting to hit the next one. There are milestones as children, teens, and adults; some are cliche and problematic, a few are painfully accurate, and others are mirthful moments in a lived-life. I’m good with milestones because I’m selecting the milestones that make meaning for me, and I’m leaning into the milestones that my children want to celebrate while shoving away the ones that lead to comparison and competition or even shame. 

Milestones are for me; after all, they’re my milestones, right? 

Tessa, six years-old, has been gingerly and consistently checking in with her loose tooth. Of course, the first wiggles were ever so slight; in fact, when I first was instructed to feel her loose tooth I was a bit skeptical. However, in a few days' time, it was obvious that Tessa was approaching a milestone that meant a lot to her, which included the notion of the Tooth Fairy. I knew that I wanted a new tradition for our family and she was excited about the idea of celebrating this momentous milestone in a fresh way. And I’m not surprised with myself that I went to Google to find a book that would offer up some ideas; delightfully I discovered the book Throw Your Tooth on the Roof  by Selby Beeler. We chipped (pun intended) away at the book and unanimously agreed to Mexico’s tradition: El Ratón or more formally,  El Ratoncito Pérez. 

What strikes me is at this moment I don’t remember how my family celebrated the loss of my teeth. I remember a lot of things, a lot of traumatic things and it makes me sad that I don’t remember this; did we do anything? Per the book, Germans don’t have a tooth-fairy tradition; so maybe my family followed the tradition of non-tradition? And I’m almost certain that we didn't honor my Mexican heritage with El Ratón. So, what was it? Another question to ask my mom. 

Prepared with our tradition all that is left to do is wait. And of course, waiting includes many, “Mom feel my tooth!” “Mom look at how much my tooth is moving!” “Woohoo my tooth is getting super duper loose!” It’s especially in those moments I think about the photos text to me from my mom-friends, showcasing their kids’ charming toothless smiles. I remember “hearting” and congratulating and checking in to see how everyone was doing with the fallout of those baby teeth. Of course, when I hit send, I didn’t have a firm grasp on how I would feel when the tooth was gone, when she (we) hit that milestone. Such is motherhood, you don’t know what you don’t know.  

But now Tessa’s tooth is beyond wiggly, it rocks to and fro at a near ninety degree angle, comfortably getting ready to depart. I think the kid knew her milestone was moments away because this morning she asked me not to pack an apple (I rarely do), and shared, “Mom, I’m worried my tooth will fall out at school.” I grabbed her hand, “Kid, I get that, losing your first tooth is strange and exciting. I can put a baggie in your backpack?” She leaned in, “No mama, I want to be with you when I lose it.” 

These milestones are for me and you– and her. 

“Me too bird, me too. So, I won’t pack anything hard in your lunch and try not to mess with it. We’ll keep our fingers crossed and throw out some good juju.” We both move closer for a hug; who the hug benefits more is another answer I don't have. The day is spent apart and I wonder if she will come home with a story to tell. 

I pick her up from school and her tooth is still very loosely attached to her gums. I’m happy and I make no mention of my joy, of my chance at still being part of her (our) milestone. The homework, the crafting, the snacking, and the swim lessons are complete. She sits on the back steps to discuss her favorite swim-strokes, and in a habitual motion she checks in with her loose tooth. “Mom, my tooth is still…” and just like that, her tooth is out and in her hand. The blood begins to flood the hole and her face is part terror-filled and part joy-filled. Without pause I grab her, hugging and squeezing this six year old of mine, “Oh bird, your tooth is out! Amazing. You are okay. It’s all good. It’s all normal. Let me grab you a paper towel!” The squeals, the screams, the singing, the chanting El Ratón and the toothless smiles are infectious.

My eyes flood with tears because her (our) milestone is another reminder that my motherhood journey won’t be in this season always; with each tooth loss, each milestone passed, my motherhood journey changes. Sometimes the idea of change makes me happy and other times I cry.  

We made it through another day, me and you. Kudos.