I never know quite what to do with the teeth that get left for the tooth fairy.
Throwing them out seems unsentimental but keeping them seems totally creepy. I tend to shove them in envelopes or little boxes in my closet. One of my kid’s baby teeth once fell out of an evening purse but I swear I never put it in there.
Some day my poor kids are going to be combing through old boxes and baby teeth are just going to rain down on them.
I don’t even know how we parents keep the tooth fairy magic alive. Sometimes the tooth fairy forgets to come. TWO NIGHTS IN A ROW. Other times the tooth fairy borrows the same $2 bill she gave last visit and puts it under the pillow again. (But in all fairness, you can’t criticize such an admirable recycling effort.)
Ever since I read my children Silverlicious from the Pinkalicious series, nearly 5 year old Harlowe wants to know which tooth is her “sweet tooth.” I’ve tried explaining that having a “sweet tooth” does not refer to a specific tooth but rather the desire to eat an entire chocolate cake at 3 in the morning. But apparently she thinks I’m wrong because Pinkalicious is the almighty ruler of everything.
None of my children have lost a tooth in awhile but my 10 year old daughter Dylan always has a lot of requests when she does.
She once left a note for the tooth fairy demanding money for herself and her two sisters which seemed very ambitious. Although I think the tooth fairy got tipsy on chardonnay and actually followed suit.
Dylan also wanted the tooth fairy to leave a photo of herself but the tooth fairy left a return note insisting she’s not from the selfie generation.
I recently saw one of my favorite letters to the tooth fairy. A little girl lost her tooth at her cousin’s house and couldn’t find it. She immediately took action and wrote a note to the tooth fairy….
Girl, I like your moxie. Way to get what you deserve.
There are always news stories about breastfeeding moms. This one did it at a restaurant. Another woman did it at her graduation. And yet another one on a park bench. These moms are feeding their babies everywhere!! With their breasts!
My biggest breastfeeding feat was doing it while grocery shopping. Yes, my husband might have an Emmy but I’ve got something far more valuable – the memory of feeding a wailing baby in a Bjorn while buying taco fixins at the local grocery store.
I’ve nursed babies on airplanes, in crowded waiting rooms and on the sides of highways. But I’ve never actually nursed a baby while on the toilet…
So props to Elisha Wilson Beach. She’s the wife of TV actor Michael Beach.
She posted the photo on Instagram with the caption, “This is motherhood and it ain’t always pretty.”
Honestly, I don’t even think that kid was hungry. I think she just wanted to keep the toddler from completely destroying her bathroom.
Some people are of course outraged because it seems unsanitary. But let’s remember that toddlers eat stuff they find off the floor at the local play gym and isn’t that way more gross?
And it’s true. Motherhood is messy and imperfect and not always pretty.
The fragility of life is well, terrifying sometimes. On Saturday morning, all the kids (plus a neighbor) were playing inside – a chaotic, spirited medley of flying balls, running children and loud renditions of “Let It Go.” At one point, while Rick and I were trying to pack up stuff for an outing to a wing fest because what’s better than spicy wings and loud music on a 87 degree day, our 11 year old neighbor said…
“Why is the front door open?”
WHY IS THE FRONT DOOR OPEN?!
Agonizing moments followed as we realized that our nearly 2 year old son had opened the front door and just walked out.
My son Cash was born with the same passion as the early settlers who pushed forth into the western frontier. He knows no fear. He doesn’t look back. If he could speak full sentences, he would say, “Thanks for raising me. You guys have been great. I’m heading off on my own now.”
Rick and I ran outside, desperately searching in every direction.
“I see him!” Rick shouted as he sprinted down the street, his phone clattering to the ground. A treasured iPhone 6 that had suddenly become completely trivial.
Cash had crossed the street and wandered about five houses down. He was just standing there in someone’s driveway. Rick picked him up and I burst into tears.
And that’s when a car came speeding around the corner and since I was already standing in the street, I didn’t move. The car slowly came to a halt in front of me.
I went over to the driver side window and saw two teenage boys. Boys who wanted to floor the engine, listen to their music and probably not talk to me.
I still remember what it was like to be them. A teenager with nowhere to really be but a determination to get there as quickly as possible.
“Guys, you gotta slow down. There are a lot of kids in this neighborhood.”
“We weren’t speeding!” they insisted.
I didn’t get into an argument. “Just keep a lookout. Children run into the road all the time. And thank you for not running me over.”
They pulled away and I only imagine they said to each other, “That hot mom is so right. We need to slow down.”
Just thinking about my nearly 2 year old son crossing that street just minutes before those boys careened around the corner, makes me nauseous. Just thinking that almost every house has a pool in the backyard makes my breath practically stop.
The sliding doors of fate.
It once again reminded me that parenthood has absolutely no balance. You either are trying to hold on tightly or trying to desperately let go. Trying to keep the door locked and your kid from getting out or open up it up and let him or her free.
It’s amazing to me that in 8 years, my oldest daughter will walk out that door. I’ll have to let her go into this beautiful, broken world. And of course she will come back for many visits but I won’t every night be able to check on five children, watch five chests breathe in and out and kiss five soft cheeks.
Now that we know Cash can open the front door, we have a new rule. It must always be locked. We must hold on tightly to keep him safe.
And yes, one by one my children will grow up and I will have to let each of them go. But not today. Not tonight. Tonight I will check on five children and I will kiss five soft cheeks.
My mother: I heard you’re in a magazine.
Me: I am. US Weekly! I write little one liners in their Fashion Police section at the back of the magazine. How did you hear about that?
My mother: My friend told me. She said there was a picture.
Me: Yes, there are photos. Magazines are into that.
My mother: I bought the magazine. I saw the name “Kintner” but the photo didn’t look like you.
Me: That’s because it’s not me. It’s a picture of a celebrity. Like Eva Mendes, Busy Philipps or Sofía Vergara. Those are famous people and I’m critiquing their outfits. I do it every other week.
My mother: Oh I see. Great advice!
Me: I’m sure the celebrities are very grateful.
My mother: By the way – remember how you just taught me the term “selfie?”
Me: Yes. Have you been taking a lot of them?
My mother: No. But I impressed my neighbor by knowing what a selfie is. She’s in her 60’s and very hip. She’s knows about all that stuff.
Me: Stick with me mom. We’ll wow your whole neighborhood.
Where else can you find me this week? On Lifetime Moms, I’m writing about a kiss between Madonna and Drake that you have to see because his reaction is brutal. (Mom, Drake is a rapper who sometimes dates Rihanna. Rihanna is a famous singer who used to date Chris Brown. Chris Brown is — never mind, I’m exhausted.)
And on Alpha Mom, I’m talking about whether you kid is getting the respect he or she deserves from the doctor or dentist. Because I have found that sometimes, it’s not the case and we parents need to speak up!
I’m not a huge fan of horses. It’s not really their fault. I just find them gigantic and I would prefer if they would stand still like statues.
My mother and sister adore horses and are great riders. I’m the kid who tried to learn to ride, fell off and thought maybe I’d taking acting classes instead.
But of course, my 10 year old daughter Dylan inherited this passion for horses. Over the weekend, we participated in a Mitzvah Day which is a day of service and giving back to the community. I took Dylan and her sister Summer to a horse rescue farm. It’s an incredible place that rescues and finds homes for old racing horses and horses that have been abused.
As soon as we arrived, I tried to find the espresso bar (which apparently horse farms don’t have). Instead, a volunteer coordinator told me to sign the waiver so that if we got “kicked, bitten or stomped on” by one of the untrained horses, the farm wouldn’t be liable.
Even as I signed it, I knew I would totally sue because I’ve been obsessively watching old seasons of The Good Wife and I know you can get any legal document thrown out of court. Especially when you are forced to sign without even being supplied with a morning espresso.
During the volunteer training, the coordinator taught my kids words like “douche bag” and “a–hole” when describing horses we should stay away from. Got it. And then she told us more than I ever need to know about a horse and her period.
Then the volunteering began and we started by raking up horse poop (which curiously doesn’t really smell) and then brushing the horses. Here’s Summer who is afraid of dogs but apparently not animals that are much much bigger than dogs….
That horse is wearing something to protect his eyes from flies. He apparently can see through it. Plus I think we can all agree it’s very chic. As to why he’s standing in our wheel barrow, you’d have to ask him.
Of course I kept getting all fidgety and nervous every time one of the animals started stomping around and acting too horse-like. But my daughter Dylan absolutely loved it…
There is something so amazing about a child connecting with a passion. Because they light up in a way you didn’t even know was possible. Horses might not be my love. But it’s her thing. And in the end, that makes it my thing too.