Tattoo Story #6 - Emergency Tattoo

Disclaimer: I don't think tattoos that aren't well thought out (for years if you are in your 20s, months if you are over 30), are the best idea. This one was an exception. I have Val's permission to post, to be honest about what we are struggling with, to open a curtain of stigma and fear, and maybe in the next week or so, I will post more on this topic. Given the title of this blog though, this seemed a fitting way to start, while the ink is still fresh and the tattoo is starting to heal. Hopefully healing continues...

We battle an illness in our house that is chronic, can be debilitating and at times is life threatening. It’s a triple threat of OCD, anxiety and depression. I say we, but I’m just the support person. I’m not the one who has to suffer at the hand of a genetically inherited illness, that while classified as mental, has real physical causes and effects. It feels physical too. It comes with a crushing weight of fear and sadness, and though I may not be the one with the brain wiring and chemistry that is off, I feel that.

This illness sucks the life out of us sometimes. It exhausts us when it goes on for weeks at a time.  It isolates us from others as we fear what they will think of us, what label they will put on Valentine or on our family. Sometimes as we struggle to deal with it together it even makes us battle each other.  It sucks soooo bad, but there is more to our lives than this awful, gut wrenching cloud of sadness.

There are good parts of our life, really good ones. Friends, people who don’t look at Val like he’s crazy or me like a drama queen when we tell them what’s happening. Friends who may not get it, but they get us and they love us no matter how sad or scary things get. Friends who know what’s wrong just by looking at my face. Friends who clear their higher paying tattoo client schedules to fit us in and put a tattoo on my husband’s wrist, so he won’t obsess about cutting it and he can battle those horrible thoughts.

Whatever is good, noble true etc, whatever is praise worthy and excellent. It’s an edited for skin space version of Philippians 4:8. It is beautiful script but tiny, and packed into a small space, it breaks some standard tattoo rules. It isn't a tattoo for aesthetics or art, It is a tool for coping, for healing. We will think on these things. We will think on these things when the fears of suicide seem to overwhelm us.  We will think on these things when we cannot get out of bed or off the couch because there is so much sadness.  We will think on these things and we will fight like crazy against this suck.

I will fight for you Valentine Hellman, because you are totally worth it. My life is better EVERYDAY because you are in it. Everyday that I can hug you, that I can laugh about our kids, or the ridiculous new horse of a dog that you were generous enough to let me get, my life is better. Every time I get a text from you, even if it’s one that tells me you are struggling, my life is better, because you are a part of it. You amaze me with your strength, with your ability to work and provide for us even on your worst days. Everyone that meets you (well the ones that are worth your time anyway) thinks you are wonderful, and you are the best part of the Hellman family. You are sweet and creative and sensitive and kind. Your playful spirit brings wonder and excitement to our house. You may struggle with depression, but that is not who you are.

All work done by Michael Facchini
at Blackhole Tattoo (West) in Beaverton, OR

That’s why I got the tattoo too. I am on your team. I will grieve with you and I will rejoice with you, and I will never give up on you. Ever. Your tattoo faces in so that you can read it. Mine faces out, so you can read it.  I know others will read it too. I know there will be questions. I Thank you for letting me share our story. Thanks for letting me reach out for help as I support you. Thank you for being bold enough to help others find a voice too.

Actual text of tattoo: Whatever is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable- if anything is excellent or praiseworthy, think about these things.

Tattoo Story # 5 - Trying To Be Hopeful

All work done by Michael Facchini
at Blackhole Tattoo (West) in Beaverton,OR

Along with the balloon (see tattoo story #1) this tattoo has more conflicting emotions than any other. 

Some friends had a baby last week and of course everyone was interested in the babies name. It didn't occur to me until two days later, that I have a nephew with the same name. I have never met him, nor have I met his brother. I wouldn't recognize them if they walked up to me in a room. That realization was devastating. How could I not make that connection with my own family?

While I have a few fond memories of my sister, I have a truckload of painful ones. Memories like sitting alone in the rec. room of an inpatient facility for troubled kids as a nine year old, as my parents went to yet another therapy session with her. Memories of my parents and grandparents fighting about what the next best step was for her. Memories of my niece being ripped away from us and the stable home we provided as she was taken back to uncertainty. Memories of the #2 worst day of my life #1 also being related to the balloon. 

I won't share the details of that day. I can't, a blog is far to public a place for such things. Sufficed to say it was devastating. She made a choice that ripped me apart inside.  I know that choice was not made lightly. I know that choice was born out of crushing pain, and fear that she was dealing with. I don't judge her for that choice, but it was devastating none the less. 

That day I made an unconscious line in the sand. I tried to be there for her in the aftermath, calling, checking in, but slowly, I found myself checking out too. I was checking out of my emotions for her, for whatever her future was to hold. I was locking away parts of my heart that were already bruised and battered and trying to shield them. 

I know she is not a bad person, she struggles with things I will never know about. Life has not been easy for her emotionally and there are things going on in her brain I can't even begin to fathom. I'm a sinner too, not immune to bad choices.  I am saved only by the grace of Christ, I live by grace, and she needs that grace too. I just don't know how to share it with her anymore. I don't know how to get past all the bad choices, all the things that have happened. 

All work done by Michael Facchini
at Blackhole Tattoo (West) in Beaverton,OR

I got this tattoo, not long after that day. It is always in front of me. Even as I type the wing peaks out from underneath my forearm. It is a reminder that my sister is precious to God too. He takes care of the birds, so how much more precious are each of us. It may sound silly, but it helps. It helps me to switch off the anger, the hurt, and see her as a precious child of God, free to receive the same grace and mercy that I rely on. Broken and bruised just like me.  This tattoo and the balloon it holds in it's beak are the two tattoos I have that have never healed right. My arm just couldn't hold all the ink well, and infection set in. Even when touched up by our amazing artist, they still have spots and imperfections, scars that won't disappear.  I'm sure the emotional scars will never be erased either. 

Hopefully this holiday season, our paths will cross; I will meet my new nephews, and we will have grace with each other.  She will forgive me for not reaching out to her more, not taking the time to be a part of the lives of these kids, and I will look at her and not see the painful memories. I work at having hope that we will make new ones. I'll make sure to wear short sleeves, so the bird is right there staring at me. Hopefully she will find a way to fight through her fears and the obstacles in her life to make better choices, and take responsibility for the things she has done. I try to be hopeful things will change for her in good ways and she will live into the full potential she has as a child of the amazing God. Maybe she already is; her name is Hope after all. 

I'm a proud Proverbs 31 failure: Why I love A Year of Biblical Womanhood

As I gaze at Proverbs 31, the supposed Biblical list of what a woman should be, a "Biblical Woman", I realize just how far short I fall. Reading it,  I feel like a failure, an outcast a freak.  I can't rise early, I can't sew a straight line, I can't cook gourmet food, and truth be told I don't want to.   I can't be a Proverbs 31 woman. What I can do is put together one heck of a mission trip, write awesome curriculum and preach a damn good sermon. Sadly in some Christian circles that in itself brandishes me a failure. To them it's sinful for me to be in a leadership, especially if men are involved and learning from me. Even the big "hipster" churches that would welcome my tattoos and my colored hair, would never let me on their leadership team, because I have a vagina. So like many women I could easily look at what the Bible has to say to and about women, see the way the church classifies qualities of leadership, and walk away feeling more broken, hurt and confused. Alternatively I could try and conform, trading the gifts, God has given me for things that make me miserable and crush my spirit.

It's not just the circles of Christendom that cause me to feel this way. Society puts pressure on me as a mom, my family traditions too. I went straight for the epidural. I served my babies mixed drinks of breast milk and formula.  I won't wear the high heels and make up that to my mom, symbolize a grown woman. I dye my hair colors that can't be found through Loreal or Clairol, and I have gone and covered up God's "natural Beauty" with a bunch of man made art. I have never sewed a Halloween costume for my kids. My house is only ever somewhat clean, and only when company is coming. I am a womanhood failure on many fronts.

It hurts to live with that idea of failure, and it hurts even more to realize that as marginalized and discriminated as I feel, there are women that are truly oppressed and enslaved, simply because of their gender.  I abhor this, and I despair at the thought that the Christian community is part of this. I want more conversation about women's equality, I want all churches to fight for it. This is why I was so eager to read, A Year of Biblical Womanhood. In this book Rachel Held Evans takes this conversation to a whole new level. I have been reading Rachel Held Evans blog for a while, and when the opportunity came to be a part of her Launch Team and read the book early, I was all over it.

Rachel Held Evans decided to challenge these scriptures and these ideas about the roles of women in her book, A Year of Biblical Womanhood. She does not shy away from them, or let her failure crush her spirit, she confronts them head on, and tries to put them into practice, literally.  From calling her husband master, to camping out in a tent during her period, Rachel wrestles with the Biblical mandates. The results of her experiments in Biblical womanhood are quite funny, and I identify with a lot of them, especially her struggle with sewing. This line sums my sewing frustrations up, "the skills required for sewing just happen to include four things I stink at - patience, cutting a straight line, working with machinery and fractions."(p.80).   As Rachel tries to live up to the ideals that some have extracted from scripture, it makes for a very fun read, that helps you appreciate just how entertaining the Bible can be.

Rachel also examines the roles women have taken on in different faith traditions, from Quiverfull, Amish, Orthodox Jewish and more.  With grace and humility Rachel finds that there is no right way to be a Biblical woman. She also learns from the women that she once judged and made fun of, and finds practices that she actually wants to employ herself. Rather than tearing women down, Rachel celebrates their faith, even if it weirds her out. As a sarcastic, snarky person myself, it was awesome to see Rachel find beauty in the practices of many faith movements that she had once made fun of.

Rachel's husband Dan adds a lot to the conversation too. Some of his journal entries from the project are included, and they reveal a husband who struggles with these things along with his wife.  His support and the challenges it presented to him, make this book a must read for guys too.

Some of my favorite parts of the book were Rachel's profiles of women in the Bible. On careful examination of some of the prominent and also lesser known women of the Bible, Rachel finds that they were all different, all flawed, and all used by God to reveal himself to others.  She forces us to look at these women and the story that God told in their lives, even when that story is ugly.

Rachel's honest and educated attempt to wrestle with challenging scriptures was a breath of fresh air. I love what she challenges us as readers of the Bible to do "For those who count the Bible as sacred, interpretation is not a matter of whether to pick and choose, but how to pick and choose."... "Are we reading with the prejudice of love, or are we reading with the prejudices of judgement and power, self-interest and greed?" (p.296). Rather than throwing Bible verses at us, she reveals what it means to chew on God's word.

Rachel also reminds us that the discrimination we face in American Christianity as women, is nothing compared to what women around the world face.  She gives an account of a trip she took to Bolivia with World Vision, and puts faces and names to these women. She reminds us that women everywhere are fighting for their lives and the lives of their children, and she calls us to action.

Rachel researched, challenged and practiced just about all of it. She saw how impossible it is to live up to these supposed Biblical Standards, but she also saw there is no such thing as one set of standards for Biblical Womanhood. In her research she releases all of us to be the women that God created us individually to be.  She doesn't hold us to a standard, rather she shows us the standards are impossible. She gives us all freedom to be Proverbs 31 failures, and to celebrate the different ways each of us lives out our faith. I cannot say enough good things about this book. Whether you are a Christian or not, it speaks to our insecurities as women and forces us to confront the ideals and traditions that have been handed down to us. It is hilarious, inspiring, humbling and quite simply fantastic.

The official release date is next Tuesday, but you can already find it on Amazon, and in some stores.

Sticks and Stones, Jesus and Vaginas

"This CD has three songs that don't say Jesus, I want my money back", "They said butt on this cd, I want my money back", "they said sucks on stage, I want my money back for this T-shirt", these are all things I heard while working my husband's Christian band merch stand. Never mind the fact that we were touring the country in an Econo-van, spending our nights listening for hours to teens all over the country trying to encourage them, and have some good, "clean" fun. The guys in the band, us wives, we weren't Christians apparently because we didn't say the right words. Maybe they had never read the canonized holy scripture, that does not contain the words God or Jesus, the book of Esther. Words it seems are very important to Christians, and if you say the "wrong" words, or you don't say the "right" words, well, you don't get to be in the club anymore. It doesn't matter what the message is or how hard people are working to share the love of Christ, if the words are wrong, it's invalid. This CRAP infuriated me then, and it infuriates me now, and yes I know crap is an unacceptable word for Christians.

Now the exclusivity of acceptable words and Christians' ideas that they have the power to judge something Christian or not, is rearing it's ugly head again, over the word vagina. Rachel Held Evans wrote an amazing book, A Year of Biblical Womanhood, in which she examines what it means to live out the words that scripture has in regards to women, literally.  I'm halfway through her work, and it is a wonderful examination of scripture that has been used to hurt and subjugate women for years.  Words used out of context.  Rachel examines different cultures within Christianity and how they live these words out, and she does so with grace, gentleness, and humility. She also does it with honesty and correct anatomical language, she says the word vagina. That word apparently disqualifies her work. The Christians at Lifeway have decided that her book cannot be carried in their stores because of the word vagina. They seem to care more about the offensiveness of that word, than the discrimination women have faced because they were born with a vagina.  The message of Rachel's book is lost to many because of a word.

Censorship in the vagina-gate form, or in the form of not accepting something as Christian because it doesn't say Jesus, is hurtful and has no place in Christian community. Worrying that we are going to offend someone in our presentation of the gospel just because we used a word, is limiting what God can do and is doing through us. I do not try to create controversy when I speak in front of groups of people, be they groups of youth or a congregation of people on a Sunday morning. I speak the message that God and I have wrestled with, the words he has laid on my heart.  I speak honestly in the language that comes naturally to me.  When speaking to certain groups, I do try to be sensitive to those that are hearing me. I try to know my audience and present my message accordingly.  I do not want my message to go unheard because I offended someone. If a word like crap slips out, or sucks;  I expect some grace, especially from a Christian audience. If I mention the problems of homelessness, the environmental crisis, people terrorizing abortion clinics, or my tattoos, I don't expect to be censored, and yet I have been.  The entire content of my message was lost due to these things, I was branded liberal by some and unchristian by others.  It seems we Christians have little tolerance for words or each other.


Jesus used a lot of words, they are the red ones in that book in the hotel drawer, in case you were wondering.  He used words that shocked his audience, because as a "rabbi" he talked in everyday language, so that every person could see and understand God.  He used words that turned his audience's way of thinking upside down, like when he said, "blessed are the poor". The words that Jesus said were not okay to say, were the ones used against another person, to hurt them. Calling your brother raca was elevated to murder. Elsewhere in scripture we are encouraged to use only words that build one another up and encourage. Jesus also talked about not judging. His emphasis seemed to be not on the words used, but how they were used, were they used hurtfully?

 A major Christian chain deciding not to carry the book of someone who has spent over a year researching scripture and earnestly trying to live it out with grace and humility, because they used the correct word for a part of the female anatomy, is hurtful.  Christians should be more offended by the fact that people are treated differently or badly because they have a vagina, than the word itself. This form of exclusivity is bullying.  It is saying, "you don't talk like me, so you don't fit in here, you are out". It's equivalent to sticking your fingers in your ears and shouting, "la, la,la" because someone is saying something you don't want to hear. When, when will we Christians be able to focus on living out the words of Jesus, and not the words we hear or don't hear from our family of God?

Tattoo Story #4- It's got nothing to do with luck

All work done by Michael Facchini
at Blackhole Tattoo (West) in Beaverton,OR

As the phelbotomist put the blood draining needle in my arm on the claustraphobic bus turned blood bank, she asked me if 13 was my lucky number.  I get asked this question on a regular basis, as I knew I would. I have after all, an orange and yellow star emblazoned on my arm with a 13 in the center. That 13 has nothing to do with luck though, and everything to do with a good choice, covenant and a God who can get you through anything.

13.5 years ago, I made one of the best choices ever, I married Valentine. He made the same excellent choice in choosing me.  We continue to  make that choice everyday, and have for these 13 plus years.We had a whirlwind long distance relationship prior to that day in May, but we knew for certain that we had chosen well. Val and I met in line for the bathroom at a show that some friends were playing, and he happened to be in the opening act. We realized we had a lot of fun together. We could make each other laugh with our twisted, sarcastic, bitter humor. We enjoyed a lot of the same things, and we just loved to be together, though we were hardly in the same state. So we didn't wait year and years to get to know each other, we just knew and we dove in and made a choice. We got to know each other very quickly as we traveled in a van with 7 other people for much of the first years of our marriage, sharing a bench seat together. We moved in and out of various apartments.  We finished college, started our careers and most importantly, or life changing, had two kids. Over the years we learned a lot about each other, some good, some bad, but somehow we always managed to have fun.We made a good choice, but it wasn't just a choice.

We made a covenant. We made a covenant with ourselves and God that we would stick by this choice for good or bad. It is a sacred promise. Thankfully, we both made the same promise and commitment. Whether times are fun or not, we are in this together, till death do us part. We work at this choice, together. There were no easy years, every year had it's own joys and struggles.  Each year on our anniversary though, we both knew we had made the right choice in making this covenant and choosing each other. We are committed to that choice too, whether we happened to like each other at the time or not. Marriage is a choice, every day, to live with and submit to each other. Some days we are good at that, a lot of days we aren't, but we still choose each other. Some see that choice as a shackle, but to me it is freedom.  There is freedom and peace in knowing that I get to spend the rest of my, or his life with him, with the person I want to be with most everyday.  No matter what, unless it's death or debilitating brain injury, we have each other. Why would I not want to be with the person who loves me most in the world? We entered into this contract together and we both take it very seriously.

The God that we entered into covenant with has our back too.  He keeps up his end by helping us through, and between the two of us, we can usually see how he is working in our lives. He is there for us, so it's not just us alone. We have a third party, and intermediary, someone to turn to, when that other person is driving us nuts, or when neither one of us has the strength to encourage the other.

Work on the right done by Michael Facchini
at Blackhole Tattoo (West) in Beaverton,OR

On our tenth anniversary we got the sugar skull tattoos.  Sitting in a tattoo shop as two artists give each person a tattoo at the same time may not be romantic to a lot of couples, but that is part of what makes us perfect for one another.  To us it was special, it was a one of a kind (they match but they are each different) reminder to each of us, that we made the right choice for till death do us part. We had stars put on for every year of marriage, and each year we celebrate by adding another.

Our thirteenth year was particularly difficult. Deaths, Illness and floods made for difficult days together. Just as we would clean up the mess for one thing, we would get slammed by something else. At the end of the day though, that same sick sense of humor would get us laughing, and God brought friends to our rescue on more than one occasion. We survived all of it together and we wanted to celebrate that with a special star, a victory star.

I made a great choice over 13 years ago, and our marriage has nothing to do with luck.  I have an amazing husband who loves me.  I never make the bed, I leave messes behind me as I go about the business of workaholic youth pastor, and I continue to tattoo my body.  He may not like the messes, but he puts up with me, and he loves each new tattoo I get. While they turn some people off, well, let's just say for Val it's the opposite. He loves me, he makes me laugh, he fathers our children well, he works hard to provide for us no matter how hard, or annoying the job may be. He perseveres through depression and anxiety to be there for us.  He also gets ridiculous tattoos so that when he is old and decrepit we will still have something to laugh about, he lets me put swings up in the kitchen, encourages the addition of my dream dog/horse to the family and allows painted chalkboards on the walls. He encourages me to be my best self, he challenges me, and he makes me laugh, just about every day. I didn't get lucky, I made a damn good choice, and so did he.

With great power comes a HUGE amount of responsibility...

Pardon the almost Spiderman quotation, but I can't get it out of my head. There is this huge responsibility that weighs on your shoulders as a parent, that strikes fear in your heart and it has nothing to do with your powers to provide, but with your child's powers to do things in the world.  You wait, and wait for this baby, hoping and dreaming and decorating.  Then you bring the baby home, and sometime between the feedings and the diaper changes you think to yourself, "My God what have I done," and it's not because you are tired and sick of diapers, it's because you realize you now have to help mold this person to be a good member of society, a decent human being, and you suddenly doubt your ability to do that. What will they do?  You may be confident that you can sleep train, and potty train your kid, but can you really teach them to make good choices, to treat people well?  Typically then the icy feeling of fear grips your chest, but luckily you are so sleep deprived, it doesn't keep you up at night, at least in the beginning.

I got that jolt of icy fear recently as we brought a new baby into our home. Ted Theodore Logan (by the way it's from Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure) who we call Theo, is a Great Dane puppy.  He is not a human baby, we can put him in a crate and leave the house, his diet is simple and while he has issues sleeping through the night, and we are cleaning up his crap, he is easier than a kid.  Never the less, that fear gripped me like it has not done before with our other dogs. Unlike all of our other dogs, Theo will outweigh us.  He will be taller, bigger and stronger than Valentine or myself.  So we have this HUGE responsibility to mold him into this gentle giant.  Luckily, as with our kids, genetics are on our side.  He is predisposed to being a decent, nice dog.  His 200 lb. dad sauntered up to us very gently and leaned very lightly into me as my kids pet him and hugged him.  Still though, we have to train him, we have to practice good behavior with him, we have to show him the ropes. We have to give him structure and discipline.  Again, this will probably be easier than it has been with our kids.  We will be able to better control his environment.  He won't be going into the world very often without us, and certainly never unescorted by a chaperone.  He might be easier to deal with than our kids, but that sense of responsibility and that cold icy fear are there. He will be a very powerful dog, and it is our job to help him learn to use that power responsibly.

As I think of trying to help my kids, and my dog learn to use their powers wisely though, it causes  me to question my own.  I have great power, but do I use it greatly?  I get to speak into people's lives, especially young people, on a daily basis. People find out very quickly when I meet them, what I do, so they know that I follow Jesus.  Do I show that well?  Am I a good example?  Do my actions and words accurately depict a good image of Christ?Do I use the influence given in good ways?  AAGH, the icy fear is creeping back into my chest. Luckily it isn't only up to me, I am not alone.  I have God with me, I just need to listen to him.  I have a community of other believers in my church, my friends, my family, to hold me accountable, to help me to be the follower of Jesus I need to be. Just as with child rearing and dog training, thank God, I am not alone. Still, am I being responsible with my great power?  Are you?  Is there structure and discipline in your life of faith, are you training yourself well to follow Jesus, are you listening to him? With great power comes great responsibility...

Long live the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus and their crazy little Leprechaun friends.

My daughter yanked out her loose tooth on the bus to school the other day.  She then preceded to stash the thing in her pocket all day so she could put it under her pillow for the tooth fairy.  Her dollar was found the next morning, under her beloved Curious George toy, that has to be in bed with her every night.  I delighted in all of this, I treasure it, because as unremarkable as it may seem, she is in 5th grade, and she still enjoys the magic of the tooth fairy, and a good stuffed animal.  I love this!


When people hear that our kids still enjoy and entertain the mystery of the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, the Leprechauns, the Easter Bunny etc, we have been given mean looks, literature, exasperated sighs and more. Some have told us that introducing our kids to these characters will cause them to question God, faith and the existence of Jesus, because we have lied to them.  This infuriates me, possibly more than other parental judgements that are put out there, like breast milk versus formula.

As far as magical, mythical, characters, and the carrying on of their traditions goes, if it adds to the fun and wonder of my children's childhood, AWESOME! Their childhood threatens to be over too fast, every day.  They are not sheltered from the hard things in life.  They have experienced death of friends and loved ones, sickness, and the general struggle and unfairness that life can bring. Reality is not hidden from them, but we encourage, perpetuate, and revel in the continuation of the delight they have in Santa, the Tooth Fairy and friends. We want them to have fantasy, wonder and fun and we will work to continue that for them for as long as we possibly can, and then we will do it for their kids too!

As for their faith, I want them to question what they have learned.  I don't want them to take what I say about Jesus to be the ultimate fact that they must believe whole heartedly, and never question.  Because if they never question it, well, their "faith", or more accurately, my faith will implode on them.  It will cave like a house of cards. Faith, following Jesus, believing in God all need to be personal to them. When the veil of fantasy is lifted on the Tooth Fairy someday, they may wonder what that means for God.  While they look to the santa tricks, and the pretend games they will see us, but, when they look to the stories of how our family was formed and has come through things, I hope they will see God. I hope that they will know and see Jesus because He has been in front of them daily through the people in their lives that are following him.  As we and our friends try and apply Jesus teaching to the ways we live our lives, and treat others, I pray that we are able to model faith, and who Jesus is well.  As we attempt to learn scripture and apply it to our lives in our decision making, in our joy and struggle, hopefully they will see who God is, and they will decide to trust in Him too. I hope our love for them will model the unconditional love and acceptance of Jesus.  They know our church community is flawed, they have a pastor mom, but hopefully in the love, care, and fun they have experienced there, they will come to know their place in God's body. From us they will see all kinds of things modeled good and bad, and they will hear lots of conflicting messages. They will internalize all of those things, and the choice will be up to them.  I don't know what they will choose, but I do know, good or bad,  those things will speak louder than any thank you note from Santa.

If you do not want your kids involved with the likes of these questionable characters, that's cool. That's your deal, you can create fantasy and wonder for them some other way. Just don't roll your eyes at me, and keep your literature with studies and such to yourself.  Oh, and if you are the person that ruins this for my kids, watch your back.

The girl may know differently, but if she does, she keeps it to herself and plays along.  She eagerly awaits the fun, the magic, the escape from the day to day. And you know, even when she is far past that, when her wisdom teeth are removed, she is still going to get a visit from the tooth fairy.  When she does, I doubt she will be bitter and angry about the deception her parents perpetuated.  She may roll her eyes, but I suspect she will delight in the fun and wonder, and the memories of teeth under pillows, plates of cookies for Santa, and green Leprechaun footprints on the counter.