losing it

"how old do you have to be to lose your teeth?" liam asked me as we snuggled in my bed tuesday morning. i inwardly groaned. EVERYTHING these days is about ages -- not only the easily-answerable ones, like how old do you have to be to drive a car, but the ridiculous ones, like how old do you have to be to hang a picture on the wall. or use a hairdryer. or purchase a dadgum wii. while a few friends' kids have lost their first teeth at age five, i knew that if i responded with that number, a litany of questions would follow because liam IS five. so i naturally told him that most kids are six years old. that seemed to end the conversation.

then, a few hours later, as i was getting ready for my first job interview in seven years (more on that in a future post -- suffice it to say i am re-entering the working world after a half-decade hiatus), i heard liam discussing loose teeth with my father, who had come over to babysit. and a few moments after that, i heard my dad yell upstairs, "i didn't know liam had a loose tooth!"

i froze. maybe it was my dad's voice that did it, but i was instantly transported to my own childhood and the days of loose teeth -- scrutinizing my mouth in the mirror, running my tongue over the rough edges of the tooth in question, prodding it with my finger to feel the gummy hole beneath. i remembered the drama that unfolded around each loose tooth, with my exasperated father finally threatening to grab his pliers to put me out out of my misery. (it never came to that. daddy's more bark than bite, i quickly learned.) as i conjured up these memories, i began to become queasy.

i have always known that i would struggle with the teeth thing when it came time. i'm not sure why; i've been able to deal with other body maladies of my children so far with little trouble. vomit? no problem. poop, rashes, oozing eyes, chunks of ear wax -- none of it bothers me. but one mention of a loose tooth sends me over the edge. however, motherly love trumps queasiness, and, shocked at my dad's announcement, i ran down the stairs to see things for myself.

sure enough, liam opened wide to show me his bottom tooth, rocking in its socket, clearly on its way to falling out. and all of a sudden, i felt nauseous. i made it to the kitchen sink in time to dry heave. twice.

once i re-gained my composure, i began to wonder what had triggered it. i couldn't recall him hitting his mouth, or catching a ball with his chin, or anything else that could explain it. (he just turned five two weeks ago -- it seems awfully early to me.) so i asked him when he first felt it moving around. "it was this morning, when we were snuggling," he replied. "remember? when i rolled over and bonked your knee?" i did remember. that's when the whole initial conversation had begun. it all made sense.

i'll keep you posted on the comings and goings (literally) in the dental world of liam mann -- if i can stomach it. which makes me wonder ... do you think the tooth fairy might be adept with blogging and a digital camera? i'll pay overtime.