When Fantasy Explodes into Reality - by Cara Potapshyn Meyers

I woke up to the sound of my son sobbing twice over the past couple weeks. The second time I cried myself for a few minutes before I went in to console him. I already knew the reason why.

A couple weeks ago, my son lost a tooth completely without warning...at least to me. He hadn’t mentioned any loose teeth at all. He hadn’t been wiggling any teeth that I knew of. I was taken by complete surprise when he came home from karate and announced, “Mommy!! I lost another tooth! Quick! We have to tell Nute!!” Nute is my son’s personal Tooth Fairy. He wanted me to e-mail Nute to inform him that he had lost a tooth and request a specific, small gift. The e-mail wasn’t a problem. The gift was a huge problem. I had something similar hidden, which I planned to put under his pillow, but there was absolutely no way I could get the gift my son wanted with such short notice. And my son even added, “If Nute brings me what I want, then I’ll KNOW he’s real!” Ouch. Evidently friends of his with older siblings told his friends that the tooth fairy wasn’t a reality. And I could tell that my son wanted to prove them wrong.

I blame myself for this fiasco I found myself in. Every Mom I know only gives their children money when their children lose a tooth. I love lavishing my son with extra “goodies” whenever an event will allow it. I have him save up his own money to buy items he wants in between holidays and events. But I’m a sucker for my son’s happiness, especially in light of an impending divorce. I know I shouldn’t do it; I should either spend more time with him playing or give him extra attention, (and I usually do). But setting the precedent by giving him small toys as tooth fairy gifts is now not only making me want to kick myself, it forced my son to face reality in a terribly painful way.

Two weeks ago, I heard my son sobbing while I was still in bed. I panicked and raced out of bed and into his room. He was wrapped up with his covers over his head and the toy I had put under his pillow was thrown across the room. I didn’t even have to ask. I sat down next to my son and hugged him, rocking him back and forth. In between sobs, I heard, “Nute is not real!! They told me he wasn’t real and I didn’t believe them (evidently his friends)! But they were right! I hate Nute!! I hate the tooth fairy!!” The pain of reality was almost palpable. I started crying too. How do you apologize for wanting to be a really good Mom?? I tried to convince him that the toy was close to what he wanted and that maybe Nute just couldn’t get exactly what my son wanted? My son sobbed even more, “No!! There IS no Nute!! There IS no Tooth Fairy!! Nute would have gotten me what I wanted if he was real!! He’s not real!! He doesn’t exist!!” I didn’t say a word. I had nothing I could say that would take away his “growing pain.” The pain that every child has to feel eventually. The pain every child has to work through. The pain that slices through a Mother’s heart.

Fast forward to this past weekend. My son and I went to an Easter Carnival with some close friends and their kids. There were Hula Hoop contests and Sack Races, a Magician displayed magic tricks and crafts were available to make foam bunnies or sheep. Considering that it was indoors on a miserable, cold, raining day, it was perfect for our active kids. When the carnival was over and we all went back to my friend’s house. All of the children got into a discussion about what the Easter Bunny would bring them the next day. Knowing that my son is the only child on earth who doesn’t like anything sweet (definitely one of his redeeming qualities), he wanted the Easter Bunny to bring him the same toy that the tooth fairy failed to bring him. Damn! Why hadn’t I bought this toy and had it stashed?? Last year my son was obsessed with these toys called GoGo Crazy Bones. They are each small enough to put into a plastic egg, so I filled some eggs with the GoGos and put in other little trinket type items in some of the other eggs. The Easter Bunny ruled last year!! But what was I going to do this year?? I had nothing small enough to put into plastic eggs for my son. Or did I?

I have a basket that we put all of our spare change in. It is overflowing with pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters. I counted out five dollars in coins and dispersed them in some plastic eggs! This way my son could get a head start working to save up for the toy he wanted! How clever I was! I filled and arranged a basket and set it out for him to dig through when he woke up! I even included a seed packet of carrot seeds that we could plant because I remembered my son reminding me that we had to buy vegetable plants at the school plant sale that was coming up! I felt that I had redeemed myself after the Tooth Fairy fiasco.

The next morning I again woke to the sound of sobbing coming from my son’s room. I knew exactly why he was crying and I just couldn’t face my son’s pain so soon after his last dose of reality. I stayed in my bed, tears streaming down my own face as I listened to this heart wrenching pain. I finally dried my face and slowly walked into my son’s room. Coins were strewn everywhere. The basket was overturned and the shredded paper was pulled apart and littered the floor. Plastic eggs were among the shreds. My son sat on his bed, tears streaming down his precious face. Again, I had nothing to say. I walked over, sat next to my son and held him. He mumbled, “The Easter Bunny is a fake also.” I asked why. He replied that the Easter Bunny didn’t bring him the toy he wanted either. I halfheartedly tried to convince my son that the Easter Bunny probably gave him enough coins to come close for my son to buy the toy he wanted. I also offered to collect all of the strewn money and give him dollar bills in return. He just shrugged and continued to quietly cry. This time I not only wanted to kick myself, I wanted to give a swift kick to the fabricated Easter Bunny as well!

It’s impossible to avoid the growing pains our children must endure as they mature. If it’s not the Tooth Fairy now, it will be the rejection of a “crush” later on. And it will continue, right into adulthood when your child goes on a job interview, only to receive a call informing them that another candidate was chosen. Our children will survive each of these reality checks. And they will learn how to better cope each time another one comes along. But for a Mother, each of these will feel to her exactly like the first. And a little part of her heart will feel wounded with each “blow.” Many years from now, she even may find herself lying in bed, with tears gently sliding down her face. Almost like the very first time.

If I Wanted to be a Single Mom... - by Cara

I’m having a hard time thinking of how I would complete that sentence. I have been finding myself playing the role of “married, single Mom” now more and more.

I adore my son...I would give up my life for him. I truly put my own needs aside to meet his. But when my husband and I discussed having a child, we knew that there might be some complications both during pregnancy and afterwards. I have a chronic pain condition that rears it’s ugly head every so often. I felt confident that I would have a partner who would be able to chip in when I wasn’t feeling my best. And through the years I accumulated more medical conditions. But still, I felt that I had someone to help “carry the load,” especially with the addition of two dogs.

But now I feel completely drained. It could be my hypothyroidism, but I don’t think it is. I am drained of being the resource for a very needy child. My son needs his “emotional tank” filled to the brim every day. I am drained of his continuous high energy, and schlepping him from place to place to burn off that energy.

I am drained of two wonderful dogs that are a real part of our family. But their needs are rising as they are getting on in age. And two fish that are relatively maintenance free, but do need to be fed and have their tanks cleaned regularly.

I no longer have that partner who made a promise to me that he would be there for me if raising a child were too much for me to handle on certain days. I feel cheated. And at the same time I admire all of the amazing single Moms who willingly chose to become single Moms. My best friend is a single Mom. She always sounds frazzled. She also schleps her son from one activity to another. And she also has an aging dog. I continually wonder how she does it. She DOES have her parents to chip in when she needs a break. And a slew of close friends who are more than willing to watch her son when she needs time for herself. I have none of that. Which makes me even more resentful that my husband is bailing out of his promise to me.

So I have to ask myself: If I wanted to voluntarily be a Single Mom, under my same medical circumstances and lack of resources to help out when I need a break, would I still want to be a one? I honestly don’t know. I can’t imagine life without my son. But I feel as if I am getting older exponentially at the same time.

My son is getting more mature and is taking on more responsibility. In a few years, he won’t want to even acknowledge that I even exist! And I desperately want to see him mature into an adult. But right now he is so sensitive that he needs to know my every move, my every step. I guess instead of wondering, “what if,” I should slow down and try to capture each small moment with him.

He lost his third baby tooth a few days ago. And since my husband was on a business trip, I thought that the excitement of losing his tooth (at the Bronx Zoo of all places!) would be diminished without his father here. It wasn’t. At all. He squealed with excitement at what the Tooth Fairy brought him. His Tooth Fairy is named Nute and is a Surfer Dude. We sent an e-mail to Nute, apprising him of the situation! And that whole night was filled with excitement, even as drained as I was from the day!

I guess I can now assuredly place an ending onto my opening sentence. If I wanted to be a Single Mom, I would definitely want to be one! Gladly! Otherwise, I would go through life with regrets. And that’s the last thing I want. And this childhood phase is passing so quickly! I better hold on with two hands, because I am going to be going on the ride of my life! Together, with my beautiful son! Being the best Single Mom I can be!

The Tooth Fairy’s getting older!

My little one Melanie lost her first tooth the other day. It was a monumental right-of-passage moment in our family being that she is the youngest and last to go through everything. First there was crying because now she’d look different which then gave way to sheer excitement about the Tooth Fairy. We discussed the benevolence of said Fairy, how she gets in the house and if she had red or blonde hair. Was she in fact the same Tooth Fairy mommy and daddy had as kids? I told Melanie about the day when she was six months old and we discovered that tooth newly broken through her swollen gums.

Kelly, older and wiser at eight, reminded Melanie that she was lucky because it was Tuesday and the Tooth Fairy doesn’t come on Sundays or Mondays. Apparently I had missed one or two teeth-retrieving nights along the way and we gave poor Kelly a lame excuse that those were the Fairy’s nights off.

Melanie and I wrote a note on pretty paper, carefully put the tiny root-less baby tooth in a Ziplock bag and tucked it under her pillow. After a very hectic day and a glass of wine with dinner, I was exhausted and fell asleep early.

The next morning Melanie came running down the stairs into the living room where I was drinking my morning coffee and thumbing through the newspaper. She held up a fistful of coins and paper money and shrieked, “Mommy, Mommy the Tooth Fairy came. LOOK.”

SH_ _ SUGAR. I forgot. But…how? I was truly shocked opening my eyes and blinking to see clearly. For a split second I felt like the movie Peter Pan where everyone chants: I do believe in Fairies. I do. I do. Then my husband came upstairs from the den with a wide grin on his face.

“How much money did you get Melanie?” he asked. They counted out $3.68. Oh Thank God for him because this dunderhead mother fell asleep and forgot. I’m glad we didn’t have to cross out yet another day off the Tooth Fairy’s rounds.

That night eating dinner, I bit into a soft veggie burger and cracked off a piece of my back molar. It didn’t hurt and although grateful that I didn’t swallow it, I was horrified that I’m like an old woman losing teeth and next thing I’ll be sprouting stray hairs out of my chin. It is a weird feeling to lose your tooth or a piece of one. I understood why Melanie cried. I’m not happy that now they’ll have to yank out the filling that’s exposed and maybe even the rest of the tooth with it. I’m sure I’ll need root canal or a crown—expensive—which let’s face it who wants to spend on TEETH—let alone on me, mommy. I couldn’t even remember the last time I had been to the dentist. I think it was five years ago to fill this cavity that hurt over the years, but I ignored. It was just another thunk on the head in a long list of mommy not taking care of herself and my things that get put on the back burner.

The kids coaxed me to put it under my pillow and said I would definitely get money for even a quarter of a tooth, because “Mommy your teeth are way bigger.” Tom winked reassuringly at me. I couldn’t help but notice that the Tooth Fairy struck an uncanny resemblance to Santa Claus only with wings and a wand.

When’s the last time the Tooth Fairy visited your house or that you’ve been to the dentist for yourself?