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By Mom Unplugged, October 16, 2007 9:13 pm

It’s not easy being the Tooth Fairy. Especially when the 7 year-old who is shedding teeth like the cats shed fur is a light, light sleeper. Always has been. Ever since she was a baby.

My mother and I used to tiptoe into her room before going to bed ourselves, “just to peep.” We would be oh so quiet, but somehow she always knew we were there and the eyelids would suddenly pop open like the vampire’s did in the 1979 miniseries version of Steven King’s Salem’s Lot (back when I lived with a TV).

We would run screaming from the room (well, figuratively screaming) knowing that she would be awake for hours. It was truly the stuff of nightmares.

Now, it is worse. It is so stressful realizing that the Tooth Fairy must collect the teeny tiny tooth that inevitably ends up buried somewhere deep under the pillow and leave something…all without causing those eyes to pop open.

I always oversee the placement of the tooth in an easily reachable position, but by the time the Tooth Fairy arrives, it is always pushed way under the pillow which is somehow covered with her entire body at that particular moment in time.

While we were away on vacation this summer, the kids slept together on an air mattress on my Dad’s living room floor. His house is small, so we also used that room to store our suitcases and ever-expanding collection of “stuff.”

My daughter decided to lose two teeth while we were away and each time, the Tooth Fairy failed to ensure that a path was cleared between the door and the pillow. There is nothing like tripping and stumbling through a minefield of invisible objects in the dark when one is trying to be discreet.

Oh, and then there was that time that THE TOOTH FAIRY FORGOT TO COME. This scenario figures prominently in parental nightmares and is one of my best Mom of the Year Award moments (ranking right up there with the time I turned my back and found the baby sucking the toilet brush).

It was about 6 AM and my sweet dream was rudely interrupted by my daughter flying into the room wailing: “She didn’t come!!!” My eyes suddenly popped open like my daughter’s (or the vampire’s) and I sat bolt upright in bed. “Oh s__t!!!” was my first thought of the day, and I am really not a person who is easily given to uttering profanities.

Well, I quickly explained that:

“The tooth must not have been properly placed under the pillow and since the Tooth Fairy is small, you know, it is very difficult for her to reach a tooth that is not properly placed, of course the Tooth Fairy can come in the daytime under such extreme circumstances, in fact she is probably flitting about the house in great distress as we speak simply waiting for us to move the tooth to an easier location.” Blah blah blah….

I surely do not need to tell you that the Tooth Fairy made an immediate pick-up and drop-off as soon as my daughter’s back was turned.

And then there was the time that my daughter wrote this note to the Tooth Fairy and left it under her pillow with a tooth (all her own precious idea):

Translation:

“Dear Tooth Fairy,
Thank you for leaving a little treat for children when they “loose” a tooth.
Love,
(name) ”

I guess that makes it all worthwhile.

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By Mom Unplugged, October 8, 2007 12:29 pm

This weekend made me realize why I love where I live. Colder temperatures have driven most of the summer people back to Phoenix and Tucson and our little mountain community is settling back down to its normal, peaceful atmosphere.

Saturday was quite cold and extremely windy, but people bundled up and sat on the curb of our main street to watch the annual “Nutty for Nature” parade. It was so cold that honestly, if I had not had two children in the parade, I would never have considered leaving my warm house at 8AM to sit on the curb in the wind. But, motherly duties forced me out of my snug den and onto the chilly street. Much to my surprise, it was an uplifting experience.

My children’s small Montessori school had a “float” in the parade. The “float” was entirely designed and constructed by the students. I use the term “float” loosely, since we are not talking Rose Bowl quality floral here, but rather flatbed truck and bales of hay, but you get the idea.

The children were all vibrating with excited anticipation at the idea of riding on a “float” in a real parade. Surprisingly, judging by the large turnout, people were actually in attendance who did not even have children in the parade! Joy was in the fall air as the firefighters and floats filled with happy children drove by waving and laughing. Even the inevitable Shriners on their funny motorcycles were a hit with the crowd.

As if that wasn’t enough excitement, Sunday was “free ski pass for kids day” at the local ski area. Kids bring a can of food to donate to needy families, recite one rule (by heart) from the “Skiers’ Code,” and they can get a free season’s ski pass, worth hundreds of dollars.

It was a perfect fall day. Still cold, but the wind had disappeared. After getting our ski passes, we took a lift ride to the top of the mountain. We glided silently up through massive stands of aspen trees which glowed bright yellow against an impossibly blue sky. The air became chillier and chillier as we approached the top of the mountain.

Upon leaving the lift at the summit, it felt like being on the very top of the world. The clear dry Arizona air allows for a view that must be at least 80 miles in every direction. Not a sign of human habitation is visible in that view. Simply mountains and plains stretching out forever.

What I learned (or relearned) this weekend:

- I love living in a town where people cheerfully brave cold, windy weather simply to wave at excited children driving by on pickup trucks filled with hay and handmade cardboard cutout animals.

- I love it that I can stand on a mountain on a beautiful fall day and admire a stunning view of nature that remains unchanged by humans.

- I love where I live!

PS. I spent all day Sunday kicking myself for having forgotten to bring my camera, so these great photos are courtesy of my good friend Wishy‘s husband. Thanks Wishy‘s hubby!

This view is similar to what we see from the top of the ski mountain, but the ski view is much higher up:

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By Mom Unplugged, September 26, 2007 10:14 pm

My second grade daughter came home from school the other day with her reading and writing homework. Part of the homework was to write three sentences about what she wants to do when she grows up…or if she doesn’t know what she personally wants to do, then what some other grownup that she knows does. Did the teacher REALLY CARE what she wrote about?? NO! Obviously, he just wanted to see three coherent sentences!!

Ah ha, but you must understand that my oldest daughter is a Drama Queen (DQ for short). And not just any kind of DQ, she is a Perfectionist DQ. She has inherited all my “best” traits.

According to family legend, this particular daughter has been sent down to curse me for the Oscar winning performance given by “moi” when I was probably about my daughter’s age and had just gotten my tonsils out. I put on quite the show of theatrics and emotion, refusing to eat or drink for days. Goodness, it was so great that even I remember it!

My one-child performance was finally brought to a grinding halt by my no-nonsense physician-father who threatened me with an IV if I didn’t start eating and drinking ASAP. And wouldn’t you know it, I was CURED. Immediately. Completely. Sore throat? What sore throat?

Anyhow, back to my daughter who is way worse than I ever was. By the way, I know that she really IS worse than me because this fact is unanimously agreed upon by all family members who were direct witnesses to my Oscar winning moment. So let’s return to her writing assignment.

She didn’t know what she wanted to be. (Sob, sob, sob) And she didn’t want to write about Daddy. (Sob sob, sob) Didn’t want to write about Auntie. (WAIL! WAIL! Sob, sob, sob) Didn’t want to write about Pop Pop. (Hand on the forehead, WAIL, WAIL, sob, sob, sob).

After a careful explanation about how her teacher was really not expecting a Pulitzer Prize-winning three sentence chef-d’oeuvre, I made the mistake of saying:

“Well, what about me? What do I do all day?”

My daughter stopped sobbing and looked at me with an expression that said that she was completely perplexed that I would ever ask such a question.

Her response:

“Nothing.”

Yes. I do NOTHING all day long. My 7 year-old daughter is finally on to me. I lie on the sofa and take naps. I take long, luxurious baths with expensive French bath salts. I drink very old Bordeaux while reclining in the sun on the back deck.

Yes. The laundry does itself. Groceries magically materialize in the fridge and the pantry. Meals make themselves. Beds make themselves. The pets feed themselves. The house tidies itself. The litter boxes scoop themselves. The car drives the children to and from school by itself. The garden weeds and waters itself. The bills pay themselves. Cat vomit magically flies off the carpet back into the cat. And of course the baby changes and disposes of her own dirty diapers (don’t all babies do that?).

Admittedly, none of what I do now is very exciting to a child, or to anyone for that matter. But I did have quite an adventurous life pre-momhood, and my daughter knows that! I had kind of thought she might want to write about having a Mom who can fly a plane for example.

But no. All that is forgotten. Mom is just the dreary boring old thing that drones on about picking up the toys and doing the homework. The automaton. The background noise. The “snow” on our no-channel TV. The Nothing.

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By Mom Unplugged, September 23, 2007 10:21 am

Fall is coming with a vengeance here.

The tired old needles of the Ponderosa Pines are turning brown and falling to earth, creating our springy brown winter carpet. They don’t all fall off, but to a newcomer, seeing so many needles turn brown can be a bit disconcerting. The first fall I lived here, I thought all my trees were sick. But the trees aren’t dying, they are just going through their annual fall cleaning cycle.

Other fall colors emerge in the yard also. Bushes and maples are turning red, aspens are turning yellow. The oaks will be the last ones to cling to summer life. But, in a few more weeks, they too will succumb to the irresistible urge to sleep and the oak leaves will finally dry up and turn brown.

In the middle of the night last night I awoke to find my 5 year-old son climbing into bed with me as a wild thunderstorm boomed all around us. Lightning flashed and wind howled as he snuggled up to me, muttering something about a bad dream.

The storm brought with it blustery winds, cooler temperatures (55 degrees at 10:00 AM), and grey showery skies. It is the kind of fall day where you just want to curl up under a down comforter with a good book and a purring cat or two (or eight) as the rain patters on the skylights.

You can read more about our fall here.

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By Mom Unplugged, September 16, 2007 10:51 am

Fall is in the air. I can tell by the cooler nights (in the 40′s now) and how it takes much longer in the morning for the air to warm up. The heat has even come on once or twice, albeit very briefly.

Mostly though, I can tell by the light. There is a subtle shift in the color and warmth of the light. Summer light is gloriously warm, soft and yellow. Then one day in September I suddenly realize that the light has become sharply cold, harsh and white. In this photo I tried to capture this light and the way it reflects off the long needles of the Ponderosa Pines. When I see this crystalline glow, I know that daytime temperatures will soon cool down in anticipation of the snows we hope to have despite our long drought.

My thoughts begin to turn to “nesting.” Sorting junk to make room for the long winter of being mostly indoors. Cooking soup, and squash, and pumpkin bread. Putting the garden “to bed” for the season. Monitoring nighttime temperatures so as to bring all tender potted plants indoors before the first frosty night.

Most of the summer inhabitants begin to leave to return to the warm desert areas that are gradually becoming tolerable as we here become cold. Traffic eases. Those of you in big cities will laugh at me when I talk of “traffic.” In the winter we can always make a left turn almost immediately. In the summer it may take a whole three minutes to find a break in the traffic! My goodness, do we permanent residents complain about that!

With the migration of the “Summer People,” as we tough “Year-Rounders” call them, our small Safeway grocery store decongests. The narrow aisles are no longer clogged with Summer People attempting to find (unsuccessfully of course) the same gourmet organic capers that they buy in Phoenix (“The Valley” as it is known here).

The overworked cashiers seem relieved at the exodus and there is something of a camaraderie that builds between the grocery store staff and the “Year-Rounders.” They know us by name and we discuss the weather, the growth of our children, how much snow we might get, and other weighty matters.

The golf course behind our house is gradually depleted of golfers all fleeing the cold. It will close on October 1st and then will become my children’s winter playground. No longer restricted to before 7 AM or after 7PM, the kids run wild out there, flying kites on windy days, having picnics on sunny days, and building snowmen on snowy days.

I think my favorite part of the approaching fall is how the cooler air begins to smell deliciously of pinyon and cedar as those of us brave enough to stay for the winter start to have our evening fires in our fireplaces. If I could bottle the smell of burning pinyon I would make a scratch-and-sniff blog post for you all to enjoy. Even the Wikipedia entry on “pinyon” points out that: “The fragrance of the wood, especially when burned, is unmistakable.” If you have never been in the cold parts of the Southwestern US in the wintertime, open your spice cabinet and find some cumin. Give it a sniff, and that is the closest thing I can think of to the heavenly smell of burning pinyon.