Some people love summer.
I can totally understand that if you live in a sitcom. I mean really, vacations and state fairs and block parties and laying out by the pool? I could totally get into that.
However my summers are never like that. Never.
1. I go to school. I don't have time for that whole "summer break" crap. I need to make some money, which means I need to finish this college nonsense as fast as I can, which means no breaks.
2. My children are young which means they don't get to just "go outside and play". If they go outside to play that means mama is either sitting at the screen door or sitting out in the hot sun sweating like a pig and bored out of her mind. I don't want to sit outside perspiring and bored. I want to sit inside where there is air conditioning.... however if the door is open and I am sitting at the screen door, that means the air conditioner is off and I am inside sweating like a pig. Either way, Mama is sweating like a pig or the kids are stuck inside with cabin fever and fighting like two cats in a burlap sack. Neither of these scenarios are my idea of a good time.
3. We don't have money for vacations. I don't get paid for going to school, I don't get paid for taking care of my kids, and I definitely don't get paid because I have fabulous fashion sense. Some day I will make gobs of money and bring my girls on fabulous vacations to Europe and Texas. (My oldest wants to go to Texas and while I think this is completely absurd... I'll probably take her there anyway) We just have to be patient, but we'll get there eventually.
4. Bugs. Summer is the worst time for bugs. They are everywhere and they seems to grow in size and sheer audacity in the summer. Mosquitoes, moths, spiders. Ugh. Even the word spiders makes me break out in a cold sweat.I just broke out in a cold sweat twice as I was writing that.
Summer for me means I spend every waking moment with a fly swatter in my hand just in case. It means I refuse to sit down anywhere outside without thoroughly inspecting the area first. I'm always on guard. It's like I''m fighting in my own private war and every bug I kill is a battle. I'll never win the war but I will sure as shit never be caught in a battle without my fly swatter.
5, We don't have a pool and even if we did, it wouldn't be my thing because I am not a strong swimmer and we are surrounded by trees crawling with insects (refer to paragraph above).
There are reasons that I love summer. I love it that the kiddos and I can totally sleep in which means they get to stay up really late with me and I don't feel like the worst mother on the planet. I love it that the days are longer and I love that when the sun shines through the windows it motivates me to get off my tush and clean the house...
If I'm going to be honest (which I try to be on here, because if not, what's the point?) the good parts of summer probably outweigh the bad. My life is pretty fantastic in the larger scheme of things and I really have no complaints... but as this blog post comes on the tail end of me killing a huge spider (cold sweat) in my guest bathroom.... I cannot wait for Fall.
Friday, December 16, 2011
I have decided to use this free time on my hands (I just finished the fall term, and I’m on winter break) to write about something that isn’t my usual style on this Blog. I am not a politician. I honestly know very little about politics. I am a simple mom of two girls who loves her country and is proud to be an American. However, this is something that has been on my heart for a while now, so I’ll just say my piece and then let it go. Hopefully.
I’m talking about… you guessed it, the Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell repeal.
Can I just say- It’s about time?!
Ok, here I go.
First of all- how did we dare as a country to put qualifications on who can be willing to give their lives for our freedom? That seems a little like looking a gift horse in the mouth. Who are we to pass judgment, or force people to hide their sexuality just so they can do something for our country that many of us are not willing to do? This seems absurd to me. Like any gift, I believe we should graciously accept this gift and give a resounding Thank You! I don’t care what religion, background, or sexual preference you have- if you are willing to fight so that my children and I are protected- kudos to you.
Second of all- to those of you (and I have heard this argument numerous times) that are disgruntled because you may have to shower or share close quarters with someone you know is gay, and that makes you uncomfortable? I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but they were gay before you knew that they were. They have always been there, and haven’t made you uncomfortable before now. Just because they may live with you, doesn’t mean they are attracted to you, so frankly… get over it.
Third- There are plenty of heterosexual and homosexual males and females who choose not to serve in the military, and that is fine. We don’t persecute them for their choice. So why on earth have we persecuted homosexual males and females who chose to make the ultimate sacrifice by joining?
Fourth- Our military is made up fully of volunteers. These people are VOLUNTEERING to go to war for us should the need arise. And before now, many homosexuals did it willingly, even though they knew that they would have to hide a large part of themselves or they could literally be court marshaled and go to military jail or be dishonorably discharged. They felt strongly enough about protecting our country that they were willing to take that risk, even though as civilians they could have been able to live their lives as they saw fit. That puts things into perspective, doesn’t it?
So put your prejudices and hate aside. Say thank you to those who serve, no matter what their sexual preference. And be grateful that they no longer have to feel fear that they might be “outed”, because no matter who they decide to love, those people have been trained to keep your family safe- and to lose even one to prejudice in the military judicial system would be a shame.
Ok, I’m hopping off of my soapbox now. I’m sorry if you don’t believe I’ve been politically correct or disagree with what I’ve written. I would just like to point out that I have many family and friends serving in our military at this moment, and I don’t care if the people watching their back are gay, lesbian, bi-sexual, heterosexual, or completely celibate. If they are choosing to watch my family’s back- that’s good enough for me.
Oh, and If I don’t have time to blog before it get’s here-
Have a Happy, Healthy and Wonderful Christmas and Holiday season :)
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
I thought over and over about what this next blog post would be about. I have tons of witty, interesting stories to tell, but I just kept coming back to the same thing.
I’ve decided to dedicate this blog post to my Mom.
I was a pain in the… neck. I had the worst attitude, especially during my teen years, but I always knew she loved me. Even when I thought SHE was a pain in MY neck. (Really. I cringe at some of the behavior I remember. I was never a rule breaker; I was just rude and selfish. I can’t decide if that is better or worse.)
Oh, the things we learn once we become parents.
She loves Michael Jackson. Loves him. It is one of the funniest things about her. One of my earliest memories is her cleaning the house with MJ turned up really loud. She was singing along.
She rocks out. Any pop music is appreciated. She dances, and snaps her fingers, and plays karaoke on the Wii… and she has no shame. The lady belts that music out.
She buys me little presents, just because she thinks I will like them. Usually clothes, because she knows I don’t buy any for myself.
I look just like her.
She digs in the garden. Her house is surrounded by shrubs, trees, and flowers.
She can name the flowers she has.
She lets my girls dig with her, and she knows every flower they have planted. Then when we are outside with her, she points them out and tells us all how wonderful they are doing because they were specially planted.
She lets me borrow her clothes. While some of them are a little too conservative for me… she also has some awesome ones. I sometimes wonder if she buys clothes with me or my sister in mind, because many times, when I borrow something, it still has the tags on it. Hmmm sneaky…
She once drove six miles to my house, in the middle of her dinner, to kill a huge spider for me.
She sometimes babysits my kids, just so I can have a break.
She was a strict parent. I thank God for that every single day.
She kicked her nail biting habit.
She also kicked her cigarette habit.
She takes literally thousands of pictures every year. Probably tens of thousands. She can produce pictures from any even she has attended in the last 10 years.
She once danced at a wedding with purple satin gloves on her feet.
My cousin Kate called her Auntie Daddy for years, because she was with my aunt when Kate was born. When the doctor asked who should hold Kate, my mom said, "give her to me, I'm the daddy." The name stuck.
She was also called Auntie TeeWee when she was about 13, because my cousin Shelly couldn't say her r's. That name has stuck for... many years and my cousin Shelly still uses it. (don't worry mom, I won't say exactly how many years)
She flew out of state multiple times when my sister and I had our babies.
She walks every year in the March of Dimes "March for Babies". She spends the rest of the year gathering money to donate.
She loves her grandkids without reservation.
She loves her children without reservation.
She worked every day of my life so that I could have everything I needed.
When money was short, she used credit cards for Christmas and Birthdays and back to school shopping. It wasn’t until I was an adult that I realized she must have paid down those bills just in time for the next holiday. I always assumed we had enough.
She made me believe we always had enough. I never knew she worried, even though she must have. She let me be a kid.
She married a guy that drove me crazy. He was the bane of my existence while I was growing up. He was also one of my biggest supporters, and still is. The man would walk through fire for me. She realized it, even when I didn’t.
Here is the biggest reason this post is dedicated to my Mama.
She loves me. It doesn’t matter if I am sweet, mean, skinny, fat, lazy, funny, annoying, rude, happy, or a pain in the neck. I have never for one moment ever doubted my mom’s love for me. She is a rock when I need one, a shoulder to cry on, a pain in the neck, and absolutely 100% lovely.
And I bet she is crying right now.
I Love you Mom!
Monday, May 9, 2011
Hello Friends! Remember me? I’m that amusing girl that you just can’t get enough of… that dropped off the face of the Earth. Well, no worries! I’m back!
Sorry about the long absence. I’ve been busy… being a mom. Surprising, no? All joking aside, it feels really good to be writing a letter to my friends again. (that’s you by the way)
I’ve thought of a ton of things I wanted to write to you about, but it seems there is never a free moment in this house! I decided in honor of Mother's Day, I would break my blogging fast. (It sort of sounds like I am using "blogging" as a swear word in that last sentence, but I'm not, I swear.) Right now, I am finished with all homework due, as I am a full time college student… but the house is a disaster. I am writing to you instead of doing the dishes. We all know how I feel about dirty dishes.
Okay, enough about how very sorry I am that I have ignored all 12 of you who read my blog. I love every single one of you, but this blog is about me.
I have recently become very curious about the things children learn when they are little. Some kids know their ABC’s song by the time they are two years old, and others are far older than that. Some five year olds tie their shoes, but mine doesn’t! I imagine its because of the parents. For instance, I don’t buy shoes that tie for my girls, they are a pain in the neck and are always coming untied. So my Mads has no reason to learn to tie shoes. Some parents may not sing very much with their children, hence their children don’t learn the ABC song until they are in preschool. No way is right or wrong, just different.
We sing a lot in my house. My girls love music and at one point or another have owned a tiny piano, 3 guitars, a play saxophone, maracas, tambourines, and a set of bongos. Actually, the bongos are mine, and before you envision some Matthew McConaughey-esque scenario, let me tell you that my Grandmother gave them to me because they belonged to her brother. And If you don't know what scenario I am talking about, please brush up on your pop culture.
I would like to share some of the songs my girls sing on a daily basis. Remember that they are 2 and 5 years old, and my 2 year old can sing all of them. They are all from such different genres, it makes me giggle a little. Once you have seen some of the different songs my girls know, you will understand why I am so interested in the things people teach their children. Enjoy.
The first is one of Roo's favorites. She can sing the whole chorus. I obviously mute it during any risque parts... I cannot explain how many times my 2 year old has requested this song before bedtime. The Lazy Song by Bruno Mars.
Next is a song that my mom taught me. It's funny the way these things get passed down. I never payed attention to the words before I started singing it to my own kids, but I'm pretty sure this is a warning for girls to not get too skinny. You decide.
Alice, Where are you going?
Upstairs to take a bath.
Alice, with legs like toothpicks
and a neck like a giraffe-raf-raf-raf
Alice, stepped in the bath tub
pulled out the plug,
Oh my gracious, oh my soul!
There goes Alice, down the hole!
Alice, where are you going?
Glug, glug, glug!
The next song I have to admit... I totally love. We sing this at the top of our lungs in the car. This girls voice is amazing, but I'm partial to the version my girls sing. There's nothing quite like hearing a 2 year old singing about "lying like a coon dog". You Lie by The Band Perry.
Another song my Mom passed down, that my children love to hear.
I think it may actually be a recorded song, but I'm not sure who sang it. I found it in a singing greeting card once.
I love you
A bushel and a peck.
A bushel and a peck
and a hug around the neck.
Want to hear another song? Yeah, me too. My girls love this song. Love it. They can also sing most of it, except for one second of the song I have to mute of course. They also have no idea that the original version has a very very naughty word in it... so we listen to this version, which I like much better anyhow.
And last, but certainly not least, we have a song my Grandma taught me. She was in the Marines, and this is one of the songs they taught her during school.
Be kind to your web-footed friends,
for a duck may be somebody's mother,
they live in a place called a swamp,
where its always cold and damp.
You may think that this is the end...
well it is.
Do you see what I mean? My girls have very eclectic tastes in music. I think it is all a matter of instruction though. Mads' best friend at preschool knows every Michael Jackson song, and I'm pretty sure at his age, I did too. (at least the ones written up to that point)
All parents are different. I teach my kids Marine Corps cadences, songs my mom learned in Girl Scouts, and a smattering of Top 40. I'm sure some children hear mostly classical (why? ick.), or jazz, or hip hop.
Do you want to know the secret to being Mother of the Year?
I sing right along with the girls,
no matter the song...
at the top of my lungs.
It's amazing how becoming a mother erases all sense of embarrassment when doing rediculous things. Happy Mother's Day to all of you mothers, especially the ones that taught me to act like an ass in order to see my kids smile.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Never judge a Mama until you walk a mile in her slippers.
I’ve heard a lot of comments about how stay at home moms are lazy or have no ambition.
Not true!!! (and rude!)
Moms work harder than anyone else on the planet. We have a job that requires our attention 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Most of us don’t have time to ourselves… ever, and when we do, we spend that time cleaning up the house while there are no children underfoot, or in my case doing homework that never ends. We don’t get to come home at the end of the day and stop thinking about our job. Our job is everywhere.
I thought I’d walk you through a day with me. These things don’t happen EVERY day, but I can honestly say they happen most days.
First I wake up to Mads crawling into bed with me around 4 am. This actually doesn’t bother me, because she brings her blankie with me and we share it. This blanket was mine until my little darling decided she needed it for herself. Eventually Roo decided that she needed it to, and now the blanket has been cut in half and re-edged in silky fabric. Princess silky edging for Mads and Nemo for Roo. I love Mads’ half, but Roo’s always smells sort of like dried spit so I keep it in her crib.
Finally we get out of bed, much later and I go get Roo out of her crib. This is always like entering enemy territory. I open the door as slowly as I can, and then take a quick look around the room to see if anything is out of place, and sniff the air to see if it is fresh or if I’m going to be inhaling toxic fumes.
I have 2 pairs of pajamas that I know Roo can’t escape from. When she wears them I know that I won’t find a naked child in the crib come morning. However she can’t wear these every time she is supposed to be sleeping….
This leads me to tell you about the grosses mom job I’ve had so far.
When I went in to wake Roo from her nap yesterday, I noticed that she had taken off her pants and her shirt was around her neck, but her arms were out of the sleeves. As I walked closer and saw that she was covered in dirt… wait that’s not dirt. Ugh. I woke her up and brought her directly to the tub. The poor thing was still half asleep while I cleaned her up and was fussing the whole time. Once she was clean, I sat her on the toilet, and had to trim her nails and clean under them with a toothpick. *shudder*
Here’s what I do in a day.
Laundry that never ends. Literally. Because at any given moment there is at least three pairs of clothes being worn.
Dishes (sometimes). I’m not going to lie, the dishes don’t get done every day. I hate them. But they get done… frequently. By hand.
Feed the kids. Sometimes easy food like bagels and cream cheese, sometimes pot roast.
Wipe their bottoms.
Dress them, over and over because they usually get messy (mostly Roo) or they want to be a princess and they can’t get their dress on. (mostly Mads)
Brush their hair and teeth. Hair usually gets done more than once.
Save Roo from falling off of whatever thing she climbed on top of.
Comfort Roo when she falls before I can save her.
Tell Roo to stop pulling Mads hair, stop hitting her, stop bugging her in general.
Tell Mads to be nice to her sister!
Find something that Mads has colored on and shouldn’t have.
Hang up Mads artwork on the refrigerator.
Watch Mads change her clothes 5 different times.
Put away the clothes that Mads has discarded.
Run whatever errand needs to be run that day. We need milk, bread, pudding...
Do more homework.
Wash Roo’s bedding, because she has inevitably gotten it messy somehow.
Drive Mads to school and pick her up.
Watch my girls argue over a toy, book or seat.
Break up the argument when I get tired of “letting them figure it out themselves” or when one of them starts crying.
Kiss the top of Roo’s head.
Give Mads a squeeze when she’s sitting on my lap.
Sing along to the radio, dancing around like maniacs. (For you that read this who aren’t yet parents, parenthood turns you into the weirdest human being. You do things to make your kids smile that you never thought you would do… for example: you dance like a maniac while completely sober.)
Get them ready for bed, if I’m lucky Roo is wearing her babyproof pajamas.
Tuck Mads in and give her a kiss.
Tell her no she may not have another snack, a drink of water, or a puppy.
Sing Roo a song, or four songs.
Tell her to have a good sleep.
Go into the living room and enjoy the quiet.
Tell Mads to “GET BACK IN BED!”
Start on more homework.
Stress out because there is still so much to do.
By bed time, I am exhausted, not only physically but emotionally. But it is a good exhausted, because in the morning, I get to snuggle with Mads and share our blankie. Then I go to Roo’s room and sneak in to find a stinky, messy, mostly naked SMILING baby, and she’s waiting just for me.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Mads was born on February 16, 2006. I would like to say that I was patiently awaiting her arrival, with a calm Mona Lisa smile on my face. Truth? She was 12 days late. I was ready for her to COME OUT of there.
We had everything planned. My mom would be there for Mad’s birth, then a week later my husband’s mother would come down, and a week after that my sister would come to visit. This way everyone would have their own time with us and the baby.
Wait a second, let me backtrack. My family is from Oregon, but my husband was stationed in California, so we were living down there. (I flew home a lot.) So when it came time for the baby to be born, we made a lot of plans for my family to visit.
Back to Mads’ story.
So we had made this elaborate plan, with all of the family taking their turns to visit. This way, after I got out of the hospital, I would have a couple weeks of company and help with the baby. Except…it didn't work out quite the way we had planned.
My mom arrived around the time I was due, and we waited. (Keep in mind that my mom works full time, and had to take the time off work) No baby. Then a week later my mother in law came…still no baby. A week after that, my sister came, and there was still no Mads! I was…losing my patience to say the least.
When we would go grocery shopping, people would ask when I was due. My reply? “3 (or 4 or 5 or 6) days ago!!”… then the person asking would quickly take a step back. I don’t know why this always happened. Perhaps they saw me as a ticking time bomb. Back away from the pregnant lady, her water may break and get you! Or maybe they thought I would go into labor and THEY would have to deliver my baby in the Costco bread isle. It was pretty funny now that I look back, but at the time it was a little mortifying.
Finally the day my sister arrived, we went out to dinner. I had contractions all day, but it wasn’t until about 8pm that they started getting good. We ate at this place with hard wood booths, and I was extremely uncomfortable. The service was the worst I’ve ever experienced to this day, and it took them an hour to get our check back to us. By the time we left I was exhausted and in a nasty mood. We finally got home, and I asked my mom and sister not to go back to their hotel, because I thought I might need them. We went to bed, and less than an hour later my water broke.
I turned into a blubbering, crying, scared mess.
I took a shower…cause eeeewww. Then I had my sister braid my hair like she used to when I was little. We finally headed off to the hospital to get checked in.
I won’t go through every single detail, because I was in labor for about 22 hours after I got to the hospital. I also won’t complain about their ridiculous policies (I couldn’t get out of bed to walk!). Finally after all that time in labor, the head of the maternity ward talked me into having a c-section.
I was really scared. It was terrifying. Especially to a girl that had never even had stitches before. I had given myself a pep talk daily about giving birth naturally. People have been doing this since the dawn of time etc. But now they were changing everything! Umm, no thank you, I really don’t want you to strap me to a table and cut me open while I’m awake. I’ll just keep this baby in here forever…
It turned out ok. The doctor ended up giving me some sort of tranquilizer, so I wasn’t aware of anything for a while. However I knew exactly when she was born. It’s like I snapped out of a trance the minute I heard her cry. The most beautiful sound I had ever heard was her screaming at the injustice of being pulled from her cozy little nest into that freezing cold 76 degree room. They brought her over to me so that I could kiss her, and then they whisked her away to the nursery.
I had told my husband that I wanted him to stay with me in the operating room, so we asked my mom to stay with Mads in the nursery so she wouldn’t be all alone in there.
Here’s the story about Mad’s birth that makes me emotional every time.
When the nurse came out into the little room my mom was waiting in, she had Mads in her little incubator bed and she said, “Here’s your baby!” Instead of feeling relieved, my mom said, “No, I want to see MY baby.” That nurse brought my mom over to the operating room doors and opened them so my mom could wave at me, and see that I was ok. I saw her, barely, but I didn’t have my glasses on so I couldn’t tell who it was. But my mom got to see that I was ok, and that was what mattered.
The rest of my stay was… horrid. Truly. I had this crazy Ukrainian nurse that acted like I was starving my daughter because I was breastfeeding, and Mads had to have her little stomach suctioned out (which happens with c-section babies sometimes), I pretty much got walked all over for the rest of my stay. I was too young to know better, I felt like the doctors and nurses were in charge. Big mistake. (no worries though, by the time daughter #2 came along, I wasn’t taking any crap from anyone!)
And you know if you’ve ever read one of my stories before, that there is always one last thing that goes wrong. So here it is. By the time I got out of the hospital, all of my family was gone except for my parents. They had to leave the night I got home. My mom was so upset about that, but she had taken 2 weeks off of work already and HAD to get home. So it was just me, the husband and Mads.
Every single minute of those horrible doctors and nurses, every time I was scared, every minute I waited, every little pain (and big pain) I had was completely and totally worth it. I would do it all again, and smile. I’d kiss those doctors that cut me open, right on the mouth. I’d punch that Ukrainian nurse in the face… but then I’d help her up and give her a hug as I ordered her out of my room.
In short, it wasn’t so bad after all, because look at the present I got to take home. Lucky lucky me.
So now for the pictures! My favorite part!
Here's the first picture of Mads. That's my mom's well manicured hand in the picture. She didn't even hold her while she waited, she just held her hand and talked to her. My mom wanted me to be the first one to hold her. I think that hour they spent together must have imprinted Mads somehow, because she is extremely close to my mom... sort of like those baby ducks that see a dog when they hatch and end up following it around.
Here's the first time I held Mads. (outside my belly) Please cut me a little slack for the greasy hair... I had just spent over 24 hours in labor... you sweat a little.
Here she is at 6 months old. Where did all that black hair go?! Look at those blue eyes. Lovely.
1 year old.
She wasn't walking yet, but she was talking. She never said just one word, It was always these long sentences that no one could understand, with one or two words that were recognizable.
2 years old.
She loved getting her picture taken. She would pose and smile every single time she saw a camera come out.
3 years old.
She seemed so big to me then, because Roo had just been born,and she seemed so much older when compared to a newborn. Now when I see this picture she looks so little! My baby.
And here is her this fall. Almost 5 years old. My beautiful girl.
Not everyone gets perfection on their first try.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Today was one of those days as a mom, where one has to hike up her pants, put on her deodorant, and survive on pure bravado.
I try not to toot my own horn on here… but I totally rock on those days.
I have an ability to get stuff done. I can be nonchalant, and act like something is no big deal, even when I am having a panic attack inside. I would like to say that all mothers have this, but I don’t think that’s true. Some moms are total patsies… and some moms are warriors. The patsy moms are of course, willing to fight fire for their children, but sometimes balk at the thought of joining them in a hospital room, or dentist chair.
I am blessed to know one of the warrior moms actually. Attilla the Hun would run from her. Her name is Janis Keller, and she is the mother of my best friend Johni who grew up with Cystic Fibrosis. A more formidable mom I have yet to meet. I would like to think that I am a warrior, but nothing quite drastic enough has ever put my battle skills to the test, and hopefully never will. However, I am quite possibly a novice warrior… yeah I think that fits.
Today, my almost 5 year old Mads had to get two pulpotomies on her back bottom molars. This is when a dentist… eh I wont bore you. Think of them as baby root canals.
Here’s the scoop.
Today we woke up at *ahem* 7am. It I got up and got Mads dressed, rolled my 2 year old out of her crib, and we left at about 8am. My cousin was planning on watching Roo at her house, so I didn’t bother to dress her. Big mistake. I didn’t give us enough time to bring Roo to my cousin’s before the appointment, so she had to meet us at the office. So we show up bleary eyed, with Mads and I dressed like normal people and Roo…not. She has started taking her clothes off in the mornings before she wakes me up, so I have had to improvise. Today she was wearing a backwards pair of sleeper pajamas, the ones that zip up the front. In order to get them to fit properly, I’ve had to cut the feet off, and cut a little notch in the front (back) so they don’t choke her. Then I added some socks, no shoes and a sweater that didn’t even vaguely match. The poor thing looked like a ragamuffin, and was totally oblivious to the fact. Plus, she was running around the office in her socks. *shudder*
When we got there, I found out that our insurance doesn’t kick in until March 1st. A whole month away. Ok, then I will pay for this first visit out of pocket, and ask the dentist if perhaps we can wait a month before doing any procedures. Unfortunately, the previous dentist of doom we visited took bad x-rays, so there is another $50 dollars for today. I can handle that…barely.
We went back to see the dentist and Mads was an angel. She sat quietly while they did x-rays again, and while they checked out her teeth.
Me: "Is there any way we could wait until the insurance starts on March 1st, before doing any of the procedures?"
Dentist: "blah blah blah… she may lose the teeth if we wait that long… or she could be fine."
Me (thinking in my head): well that sure clears things up.
This next part I will try to speed through, as it was the most annoying.
I went to the front desk, and was told they could do a partial fix, and then we could come back later and finish them up. Ok, I say, lets do that.
The partial fix was $450 with no insurance. Time to call Mad’s dad. I have to admit, for all the complaints I have with the guy, he certainly pulled through. While I am trying to get it figured out with him, and giving him the number to the dentist while he tries to call his insurance and see WHY THE HECK ITS NOT WORKING YET… my phone goes dead. Completely dead. No juice.
Lovely timing… piece of junk phone.
We finally got it all figured out, with the dentist considerably richer in the process. And it was time to take Mads back for her procedure.
I really did not want to do it. Really, really did not want to do it.
The dentist assured me that I could be in the room if I wanted to, but that most children did considerable better if a parent wasn’t present. And I totally trusted the dude.
Before I go any farther, let me describe Mad’s dentist.
When I first saw him, he was wearing jeans, lace up boots and a sweatshirt. Not a sweater, a sweatshirt with some sort of writing on the front. Bless you normal dentist, you just put my mind at ease with your inappropriate work attire. He is in his 60’s I would guess, and built like Santa without the beard and unruly hair. When we first met he told me he had 5 children. If you are a mother, you know why this would make me even more comfortable with the guy. He asked Mad’s about her ratty old blankie, and told us about how his son would use his tie as a lovey while they were at church. Could you please come home with us Mr. Dentist? Because you are adorable.
I took Mads back, and got her situated on the chair.
Me: “Ok, I’m going to go out to the front now so I’m not in the dentist’s way. They might have to put the nose thing on (laughing gas) like we talked about, no big deal right?”
Mads: “Ok mom.”
Me: “Give me a smooch, I’ll see you in a little bit”
And I was out of there, but I didn’t go far.
I quickly walked out to the waiting room to let my mom know that Mads was doing just fine. Then I sat down for… about 23 seconds, and I was on my way back to where Mads was.
Well that’s not true. I had myself a quick freak out, because I left my tiny baby back there on a huge dentist chair without me. Then I went back totally dry eyed to check on her.
I expected the office ladies to shoo me away, but I actually ran into one while trying to sneak back, and she gave me a big smile. Okie dokie, guess this dentist office isn’t worried about crazy parents checking on their kids. What a relief.
It was awful. Not Mads, she was fabulous, the situation was awful. She just lay there, quietly letting the dentist do his thing. I was so impressed. The dental assistant put Taylor Swift on the radio especially for Mads. I got teary eyed again, and sniffed it back. I could see that she was fine without me, but I just stood there around the corner watching them work.
And here’s where my warrior came in.
She started whimpering. And her legs started fidgeting. And I knew that she was upset, but the rest of her body lay completely still while they finished fixing her mouth. I KNEW that if I went in to comfort her, she would lose it. And I knew that they had to finish what they were doing. But it was one of the hardest things ever, watching my baby be upset, and very brave, and knowing that I would make it worse if I went to save her. My heart was breaking, right there in the dentist’s office. And I continued to sit there and watch, even though she didn’t know I was there. That is strength. Doing something for your kids that they don't understand, something that may be painful or scary, and never letting them know that you are just as scared as they are.
When they sat her up, she just looked at the floor and sat with her arms hunched in, not talking. I swept into that room like a hurricane and picked her up as quick as I could. The moment I held her she put her face in my neck and started to sob. My poor baby. She was freaked out about her face being numb, but I calmed that fear down, and then she started to cry when she told me it hurt. Have you ever felt so horrible that your chest actually ached, physically ached? I knew I was doing what was best for her, but I still felt horrible for doing it. (a mother’s prerogative)
I told her how brave she was, how good she did, and that I was just outside the room the whole time. I never left her. She says that she wasn’t brave because she cried. I told her that bravery is when you do something because you know you have to, even though you are scared. I figure we were both pretty brave today, but I didn’t tell her that. As far as she knows, I still think it was no big deal.
Here’s the coolest thing about today:
My four year old got baby root canals with no sedation. She was not strapped down. She didn’t even need laughing gas because she was so brave. .. and she’s not even scared to go back next month.
Maybe my baby is going to be a warrior too.