Note from Danielle: Today, we have a guest post from my mother who used to blog back in the late 1990s and early 2000s. I guess a lot of things have changed since then, but her humor certainly hasn’t. Enjoy!
Some days it is not enough to find out how bad a mother you are from your kids. On those days, I recommend that you visit the internet.
This weekend, I learned of a new failure in my parenting and not surprisingly it involves a failure to save some babyhood token. I believe things are to be used. Recycling and all that.
I understand, that I am not as sentimental as many people. Yes, dear daughter, I passed your first pair of ballet slippers on to someone else to use. How could I have known then that you would dance and dance and dance? How could I have known then that you would be attached to your ballet slippers? And it’s not like I save much of my own. My husband has run out and saved my high school graduation tassel on multiple occasions—for himself because I really don’t care. And anyway, what would I do with the slippers now?
But baby teeth? Even my packrat of a husband never suggested saving baby teeth. Yet there, on Facebook, was a call for sending baby teeth to the Autism Tooth Fairy Project (https://makelivesbetter.uthscsa.edu/autismtoothfairy) and there were my sisters, speaking of sending their children’s baby teeth. And it’s not like their children are near babyhood either. Although their children are slightly younger, those baby teeth were lost more than a decade ago.
Just think what I would have had to do to save those baby teeth. First, I would have had to find some place to put them—and the ballet slippers were gone. (It does occur to me that maybe I was supposed to save ballet slippers to have some place to put the baby teeth.) I couldn’t have put them with my sweetheart’s stamp collection. Teeth are bad for stamps. If I put them with the trains, it would have messed up the track.
Second, I would have had to retrieve them from the Tooth Fairy—and the Tooth Fairy who visited our house was not some little, glittery, butterfly-like dainty tidbit. The Tooth Fairy who visited our house was not only cheap but also was over six feet, wore a brown bathrobe, had a beard and looked overtired, cranky, and a bit seedy. What was I supposed to do? Wrestle him? (Well, on second thought, maybe that would have been a good idea, but I was too tired at the time.)
So, I’ll just live with the L for loser again and think bright thoughts until I go up on Facebook again—and discover that good mothers save diapers.