Day Fifty Two: A Lost Tooth and "The Final Countdown"

The tooth before it fell out.

Last night my son Mack lost a tooth.

The only problem was that he accidentally ate it. When he realized what he had done, he tried to regurgitate it back up, which made me shriek at him. Disgusted by the whole spectacle, my daughter Masana threw her hot dog on her plate, crossed her arms, and announced that she had lost her appetite.


Actually I did, too. But then I felt horrible for reacting the way I did once I saw the tears well up in the boy's eyes. Dave tried to comfort Mack by pointing out that the tooth wouldn't stay in his body, that it would come out the other end. When he said that, I thought, and then what, Dave? We go through the boy's feces until we get his tooth?? I shot Dave a deadly look and he quickly changed the subject. But he got the message: there would be no Tooth Fairy visiting Mack that night or subsequent nights. 

Lately, I am not a roll-with-the-punches kind of gal. I know that I could have come up with a creative solution if my head were not so loosely attached to my shoulders. Instead of maybe suggesting that we write a letter to the Tooth Fairy to explain the situation, I flatly said that Mack shouldn't be too upset for this one little missed opportunity and we couldn't do anything to fix the situation. There would be other loose teeth in his future and he could look forward to that.

Today I kept thinking how I let Mack down and how incredibly tired I've felt. Putting on a happy face is hard work. And how ridiculous is it to say that I'm tired of feeling tired?

While I'm sad that my Mom is not alive anymore, I think that I am more affected by the people who are still here. I can deal with the loss of my Mom; I can't deal with the strange behavior of the select few who make my life miserable. (They shall remain nameless because it would be unfair to call them out here and now.) So I've decided to remove myself from this current reality and head--where else?--to the beach. Just me and the sandy shores of some place other than here.

But not to worry. My "tipple" friend is coming to keep an eye on me, and because someone's got to hold my hair back when I talk to the porcelain god.

I leave in 3 days. Let the count down begin. This Europe song from the 80's will be my anthem until then, cheesy metal hair and all.

Europe/The Final Countdown