toofless

today i want to write about teeth. because teeth are what is on my radar.

my youngest son, who is 7, finally lost one of his two front teeth. it has been dangling precariously for weeks. i did not know a tooth could hang on that long. it survived hamburgers. apples. twice-daily toothbrushing. that tooth had no plans to go anywhere.

and finally, i think he just got sick of it and pulled it out. so now he has a tiny gap in an otherwise adorable row of baby teeth. it is, how shall we say, not the cutest thing you've ever seen.

yesterday he spent quite awhile drawing battle scenes with his brother. there were ships, pirates, aliens, bombs, guns and the like. he brought his picture to show me when he was done and pointed out, that, "look, mom. all the bad guys have only one tooth." and sure enough, there were tiny teeth flying all over this war zone.

a couple days ago, a friend of mine got a frantic call that her 4-year-old son had knocked another child's teeth out on a trampoline. three teeth, knocked out. it was an accident, they were only baby teeth, but still. the guilt. the blood. the gaps.

which brings me to the story of how my teeth were knocked out. my young son loves this story, asks for it all the time, because there are villains and motorcycles and drama involved. i was playing in the front yard when i was about 7 with a girl down the street. fiona. we were roller skating. and for reasons which are very blurry to me now, she takes her roller-skated foot and kicks me in the mouth. there is blood. there are teeth flying. there is fiona running -- or skating -- home as fast as her feet can carry her.

it was my two front teeth. it's all fine. but i vow revenge. or at the very least, i vow to never play with fiona again. so as the ringleader of the girls on my block, i rally them to ignore fiona. fiona does not take this well, so fiona rallies her brothers with motorcycles. they chase us down the street (and really, thinking back, what kind of freaks with licenses are going to chase little kids?) and we run into someone's backyard and just start jumping fences until we are waaaay down the street. and they have no idea where we have gone to.

and that's as much as i remember. but my young son will ask, "and did they find you?"

"did you see them again?"

"did you report them to the police?"

and really, after telling the story to him a dozen times, he should know the ending is not going to suddenly change. but he holds out hope that it will turn into a big shoot-out scene on a ship with pirates and aliens.

which reminds me. my husband has a dentist appointment tomorrow.

jon & kate + 8 = loserville

probably everyone knows more about jon and kate, + their 8, by now than they ever wanted to. if you live in a hole, or if you are my mother, this is a married couple with a reality show who have eight children.

cameras follow their lives. and now, surprise, their lives are falling apart.

because it seems that hubby here did not realize that perhaps he should not be canoodling with a 23-year-old teacher while his wife is gone on a book tour. he forgot, perhaps, that he was recognizable. did not realize, for a few days, that everyone now has a camera in their cellphone. and so there are pictures. and video. and witnesses. but hubby maintains he did nothing wrong, except make an error in judgment.

where. to. start.

firstly, when you pimp your family out to reality tv, it's not going to have a happy ending. look at nick & jessica, who ended up divorced. look at the osbornes, whose children both ended up in rehab. look at the girls next door, who all moved out of hugh hefner's playboy mansion.

but somewhere along the way, the fame becomes the thing. because have you seen pictures of kate before she got famous? oh, sister. it is a "before" pic if ever there was one. then in comes lighting and makeup and teeth whitening and hair bleachers and tanning beds. and a haircut that looks as messed up as her marriage.

but does she care? i don't think she really does. i think she will only care when the cameras stop rolling and the paychecks stop coming in. but i've never seen the show so i can't say for sure.

but the thing that blows my mind is that this is her children's reality. cameras. rolling. in their home. kate better start saving her checks for all the therapy these rugrats are going to need.

tonight i asked my son if he knew what porn was. i was asking him because there is currently a debate going on as to whether a 9-year-old really needs unlimited access to the internet. the answer is obvious, but he is not aware of the dangers that could pop up at anytime on google, youtube, or the mistyping of a website name. he said that no, he did not know the word.

i very briefly explained that if he were to ever accidentally end up on a site that contained nudity, or bad words of any sort, that he should immediately leave that site because it was very inappropriate. and i also told him that we, as his parents, would know because of a program that was installed on every computer or phone he might use. which is complete b.s. but nonetheless. i said it.

but what if cameras had been filming me? i cannot begin to imagine his great embarrassment to have a private moment broadcast. (yes, much like i am doing here. but hey people, i'm leaving out a huge chunk of our conversation, so there.)

and these very private, teachable moments -- they present themselves at the oddest of times. the day before i had an impromptu conversation with my youngest son about some kids at his school that i didn't much care for. and explained, in detail, why these were kids to stay away from.

soar with the eagles, i tell them.

i would never in a million years be able to say these things if cameras -- or even another person -- was in our home. it's too private. and they should feel free to say what they want to me. i'm their mother. it is a private, sacred relationship.

so really, jon and kate and all these others who sell their soul to the devil for a little fame and notoriety, are they really surprised when it all blows up in their face? they act surprised. like, oh, i had no idea. please. i almost feel just as sorry for the people who watch this garbage, but i won't open up that can of worms. (mainly because i watched all of the above-mentioned shows.)

i will be so glad when reality tv is a thing of the past. when writers and actors are back filling up all the primetime spots. because i don't really want to watch anyone's private life played out. it's not and could never be completely authentic. and i darn sure would not share mine. there is no price that could be put on a family's privacy.

you know who should own the rights to your family's history? you. not the network tv.

my invisibility cloak

over the years, i've been asked by some, "what do you do all day?" because i'm a stay-at-home mom. depending on what word is emphasized, i totally get the gist of the question.

well, first off, here is what i do NOT do all day. sleep late. let the maid in. go shopping. hang out at a salon. watch tv. work out with my trainer. talk on the phone.

there is no maid. there is no trainer. and i hate the telephone.

several years ago, i woman i know who stayed home did nothing all day. for real, nothing. her husband came home and the house was a wreck. no beds were made. dishes and cups were wherever the kids left them. clothes were here and there. blinds were closed. mail was unretrieved. she looked like crap.

he said, "what the hell happened here?!"

and she said -- you guessed it, "nothing." that is what nothing looks like. it looks like a friggin mess.

at different times, i have done different things. for over a year i delivered meals on wheels. i went to a bad part of town, picked up about a dozen hot lunches, and drove them to some old folks who were still able to live alone thanks to programs such as this. my kids went with me. did they slow me down? yes. did they complain? yes. did they see people who needed a helping hand? yes. they listened to some of these old geysers tell stories of their youth. they got cookies from others. they got a clue that life isn't always a great ride into the sunset.

other times i have volunteered at school. one year -- the worst year, i was paired with a nonstop complainer and was in charge of all the volunteers for every single function the school had all year. i've been in charge of school supplies. i've been in charge of sack patrol. room parents. i show up and help kids read. i shelve books in the library. i show up.

then there are times when i'm more to myself. i stay home more. i clean, because if you want to talk to the maid, just go look in the mirror. i cull my children's clothes, see what's outgrown, what they need. i clean toilets. i schedule the cars for routine maintenance. i waste hours of my time on hold to complain about an incorrect cable bill, or electric bill, i keep our calendar organized, i make sure my kids do all their homework and stay in the straight-A zone. i protest my taxes -- and win.

what do all of these things have in common?

they are invisible. if you do them well, there is no trace. there is always a juice box in the fridge for lunch. there are no late notices on any bill. the house always looks presentable if someone were to drop in.

it looks like a free ride, i am sure, from the outside. but, my dear, there are no free rides. not even a free lunch.

i can well remember, when i was a smart-ass teenager, telling my mom that it wasn't her money because she didn't work. it was my dad's money. and she very calmly told me that it was their money, that her worth was not tied up in dollars and cents because what she brought to our family was not payable in dollars and cents. i thought she was full of it.

and now, she is me. and i need to go clean some toilets. and call my mom to make sure she knows how much i love her.

happy mother's day

today is my 9th time to celebrate mother's day. i woke up to the sounds of fighting and name-calling, and quite possibly a small crash or two. i wasn't counting, and it's a little blurry to me. i've been up an hour and neither has yet remembered what day it is, nor wished me happy mother's day.

but that's okay. i forgive them. i always do.

being a mother is the single best thing that has ever happened to me. it has taught me unconditional love, firsthand. how you can be so steam-blowing mad at someone, so frustrated, so completely at your wit's end, and then everything can turn on a dime. they hang their head. they need you to be the big man first. they are just these little people, trying to find their way between who they are and what you expect of them.

you are their idol. they speak of you, in your absence, with great reverence. my youngest will tell my mother, "but that's not the way my mom does it." referring to anything from making a grilled cheese sandwich to making a bed to how i wrap up leftover food in the kitchen.

and my oldest, by virtue of being the oldest and the one often put in charge, is the soldier you would want to be huddled with if you were ever stuck in a foxhole. he will never betray you. he is the one who makes me want to be a better person. and so often, i fall short.

but they forgive me. they always do.

and today i think of my own mother. who is kindness incarnate...

i think of my friends here who i've cried with on the phone. me crying. them crying. it's not always easy to be a mother...

i think of the mothers who have left, because they didn't know how to deal...

i think of the mothers who have died, or are incapacitated, because i know a couple of those, too...

i think of mothers who have had their hearts broken by their children, which is perhaps the worst heartbreak a woman could ever suffer...

...and, again, i thank god for giving me these two little crown jewels, to enjoy and protect for these few short years. because it's one of the greatest gifts imaginable.

happy mother's day.