Being a self admitted control freak and having only one very agreeable, soft spoken, content child I was feeling quite joyous about this special occasion. I was fulfilled and wholeheartedly believing that I was entirely in control of everything (my career, my finances, my house, my husband and my quite adorable, happy, well rounded, agreeable son).
I was up at the crack of dawn organizing old clothes, toys and furniture, meticulously pricing every item in preparation for my first attempt at a garage sale. Riley ventured out of bed making an early morning appearance to organize his goods along side me. He was full of anticipation speculating how much money his old toys would yield him. But after an hour of manning his station the Murphy’s arrived with their fair share of goods to sell and Riley quickly became distracted and ventured off to play with Jacob and Aaron. Mid-afternoon when the shoppers began to dwindle the boys lost all interest in making money and they were off on their own adventures down the street.
A rush of afternoon bargain hunters found us scrambling to keep up with the five million questions from each customer and dreading their idle chit chat as they inquired about every object in our garage. So when Jacob came running and between haggard breaths announcing that Riley needed me I was quick to dismiss his request:
Me: “Can Riley walk?”
Jacob: “Yes”, still panting and wearing a confused look his face.
Me: “Well, tell him I am in the middle of helping this customer so if he needs something he’ll have to come home.”
Jacob ran off and I returned to my conversation with a customer - trying desperately to explain the nuances of an old stubborn baby gate to a very demanding and talkative 90 year old woman. Jacob returned seconds later with Riley in tow. Behind the woman (who was still talking) I looked up to see Riley sauntering up the lawn looking forlorn but not clearly displaying any life threatening injuries so once again I began demonstrating how the baby gate should work.
One short second later I’m sure my heart stopped beating when I heard Elizabeth gasp and whisper “Oh my gosh”.
You see, Elizabeth is one of those really easy going parents that we all wish we could be. She is not a control freak, she does not obsessively worry about her children getting hurt, she does not inhale every last bit of oxygen in the room and gasp or shriek a high pitched squeal each time her children appear to be headed toward a skinned knee or an impending bruise. She contends to keep her children well and happy but she so easily recognizes that bumps, scrapes and bruises are all part of life as a child (or an adult if you’re inherently clumsy like me!). She takes these inevitable accidents in stride – no gasping, squealing or drama – just a hug, a kiss and a band-aid and sends them on their way. Obviously I am much more about the drama. I come by the gasping, squealing and incessant worrying by nature. It’s something I consciously have to monitor and keep under control.
So when I heard the gasp escape from Elizabeth I knew it was much more than a bruise or a bump. I turned to see Elizabeth cradling Riley’s face in her hands as she mouthed the words “it’s his tooth” to me.
I dropped the baby gate, left the old woman still talking and ran to Riley preparing myself for the worst. I cupped his face in my hands, took one look at his gnarled mouth and felt the tears well up in my eyes. I was sure my beautiful babe was maimed for life and I envisioned him enduring years of ridicule as he went to school with a missing front tooth. I abandoned the garage sale and carried him inside laying him gently on the bathroom floor. I was panicking and overridden with anxiety as I used a warm washcloth to wipe the dirt and blood of his teeth and absorb with the damage. Riley was quiet, obviously unscathed other than the broken tooth. No other cuts or bruises and only a minimal amount of blood seeping from his permanent front tooth that broke off cleanly just slightly below his gum line.
I was near bawling when I called the dentist to convey the accident. The dentist asked us to find the tooth and put it milk but warned me that there might not be much he could do right now. Depending on where the break was he explained that the tooth might have to be pulled and a bridge put in place once all the surrounding permanent teeth were in place. Well that could be years and I began contemplating Riley’s return to school in the fall minus his front tooth and I lost it. Through my tears I almost angrily asked if he was telling me that Riley would have to go through life without a front tooth. Apparently they make you take psycho therapy in dental school because my dentist was so patient and tried desperately to calm my fears but set realistic expectations. It didn’t help me – my mind was set – Riley would be ridiculed when he went to school without his front tooth.
I got off the phone, sent the boys out in search of the missing tooth and found Riley now crying. I wet the washcloth and got the Tylenol worried that he was now feeling some pain - but when I asked him where it hurt he just barely whispered that he was sad that he would be ugly without his tooth.
I never realized my reaction could cause him more pain as he saw through my tears and realized my panic. I was simply overwhelmed with unsubstantiated worry and shallow pity – unable to think clearly and remedy this situation myself I was obviously out of control. I was in utter agony over his imagined life long suffering (all conjured up in my anxious thoughts). I mistakenly desired to shield him from any and all suffering – something I realistically would not be able to control. And now I was the one who was causing him to suffer because I was so worried over a simple broken tooth and anxious about a future I would not be able to control. He saw my tears and felt my fear for his well-being and my heart was breaking all over again as I watched the reality of my reaction set in, polluting his innocent mind with needless worry.
But Riley’s tears and innocent reaction to my desperation quickly made me realize that the only thing I could control in this situation was my reaction. I always preached that beauty and confidence are found deep within. But I was clearly advocating a different message that day when I cried over his broken tooth – sure that he was ruined for life I lost sight of the fact that Riley still had all his arms and legs and most importantly his heart and brain and all senses were unscathed. I was unconsciously invading his thoughts with worry and he too began to focus on an unrealistic reality. I overreacted when I found myself in a situation I could not control – an injury I could not fix with a band-aid and a hug and a kiss.
My worst case scenario mindset led me to panic and my panic clearly clouded my reality. But I now knew what I had to do. Somewhat reluctantly I let go of that which I could not control and focused on the attainable. I couldn’t fix Riley’s tooth but I could calm his fears.
My tears subsided, my thoughts were no longer clouded with panic and I felt an overwhelming sense of peace – finally grasping the reality of the situation and realizing that everything would be all right. I laid Riley’s head in my lap as I reminded him it was just a tooth. Missing teeth do no determine or alter our paths in life. They are simply cosmetic and have no bearing on who are, what choices we make or how happy and fulfilled we choose to be. I held him tight, quieted my mind, opened my heart and offered peace instead – trying desperately to start all over and erase his worry. Riley quickly understood – that’s probably what he thought all along (until my near panic attack). He proceeded to ask me if he’d have to go to the dentist today and if he’d still be able to play with his friends. My impractical worry and unlikely fears were no longer polluting our minds.
We laughed when the boys returned with the tooth and we bravely made our way into the dentist office. Dr. Tran was able to bond the tooth back on (albeit temporarily he warned) using Portland cement of all things. In less than an hour’s work we were back home, Riley was teasing his friends about only imagining he broke his tooth and we were off to my 30th birthday party at Sarah’s house. I was feeling completely out of control, knowing that Riley would probably have many more accidents that I could not shield him from or fix with a kiss and a band aid, but nevertheless feeling very confident in my newfound insight – remembering that what I could control would be my reaction.
This “temporary fix” stayed in place for 5 ½ years and took a head on collision with a sled and a parked car to dismantle the tooth once again. Needless to say I handled that accident much, much more maturely… insisting Riley pose for numerous pictures of his mangled wires, which dangled his dismantled tooth and laughing hysterically when he conveyed the story of covering his mouth, feeling his floating tooth, walking over to his friend and smiling widely, asking how it looked - only to hear his friends gasp and stutter “oh, oh, oh” (progressively getting louder) “you should call your mom”.
After all, it is just a tooth.
Now, I can understand how sledding into a parked car can knock out a tooth but on that first fateful break, my 30th birthday, he was simply walking across the street when he tripped and fell - falling face first, perfectly planting his tooth directly on the edge of the curb, cleanly breaking it off, devoid of any other scrapes, cuts or bruises in, on or around his mouth. How does that happen? Each year on my birthday I ponder that question and remember this lesson that Riley so innocently taught me… so many years ago.
And just a side note… if I could figure out how to download pictures from my phone to my computer I would share the dangling tooth with you all… until then just let your imaginations run wild! It was quite a sight.
So beautifully written! I never realized the first one was from tripping over his own feet. :) He got that from you!
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