“Mom!” I heard my son yell as he came pouncing into my room. I had just laid my head on the pillow after my husband arrived home. This day, in particular, was one of my most challenging as a mother of three.

I spent it with a teething baby on my hip, sipping lukewarm honey tea as much as tiny, curious fingers would allow.

Mothering three children while battling the flu is not for the faint of heart.

“MOM!” I heard again as his voice got closer and my ears echoed with the noise.

“What is it,” I replied with my own scream of desperation.

“I lost my tooth!”

“I know you lost your tooth, buddy,” I said once he arrived at my side. “I was there when you pulled it out this morning, remember?”

“No, I mean, I really lost it! It was on the counter and now it’s gone!”

After months of wiggling and tugging on his loose tooth it had finally fallen out when he bit down too hard on his breakfast. He was so excited for the tooth fairy to visit that night. And I had all but forgotten about it as the day came to an end.

He explained to me how the tooth fairy works while I secretly cursed the amount of fictional characters society has created. I realize it’s for our children’s enjoyment but I can’t help but think of how many minutes I have left before the precious Nyquil I’ve been coveting all day kicks in.

It’s clear, however, his begging will not cease until I make some sort of effort to findthe lost tooth. So I gather what strength I have left and start down the stairs.

I retrace my steps of the day. The tooth fell out during breakfast. Then I placed it ona Kleenex and set it by the sink. A Kleenex, I repeat to myself. Therein lies the problem.

There’s no shortage of runny noses in our germ-filled house and I remembered gathering and tossing a plethora of tissues filled with bodily fluids I thought I’d never see again.

But that’s the challenge of parenthood, isn’t it? Just when we think we’re done with something—it often makes an appearance once more.

“I think it probably got thrown away on accident,” I said. “But don’t worry! The toothfairy keeps a record that it fell out. You don’t have to have the tooth under your pillow for her to come.”

“But, but, but . . .” he stammered. “You could look through the trash, mama. I bet you’ll find it.”

I could see that my 6-year-old wasn’t about to accept defeat. Although I was exhausted, I sensed that this moment was important to him. His first baby tooth, lost. A milestone we could never get back.

So I did what any mother who wants to see her children happy would do. I rolled upmy snot-stained sleeves and dug in.

It was in that moment I realized how much I truly love motherhood. When my son came to me crying because after weeks of anticipation his tooth had finally come out. I was searching through the disgusting trashcan, pulling open every single plague-filled tissue, hoping to find the one with my son’s baby tooth tucked safely inside.

It was in the moment I finally found it stuck to a paper plate of leftover pizza. When we held hands and began jumping and high-fiving and spinning around in celebration.

Because, to my surprise, I was just as excited that the tooth fairy would come after all. Because I’m the tooth fairy. I’m Santa and the Easter Bunny and the voices of their favorite characters in books. I’m the performer of lullabies and the booboo fixer, the child psychologist and the taxi driver. I’m all of it.

It’s my greatest privilege to dig through whatever pile is put in front of me, trash or treasure. Knowing their toothless smiles will always be the best reward.

***

About the Author

Molly Shalz

Molly is a mom of two boys and one girl. She writes about learning to live among the mess of motherhood on her blog . She loves traveling, photography and sipping hot coffee when little fingers will allow it.