Screams With Her Mouth Open

It takes a special kind of person to be a children's dentist. I took Zoe in to have a cavity filled. After her traumatic tooth-injury and pulling during the summer, she was truly terrified to go back. We tried, in September, to take her for a cleaning and exam. She screamed and kicked and cried and flailed as though we were pulling teeth (which she probably assumed we were.)

So I suggested that we wait 3 months to let the fears abate before confronting the dental chair again. This time we were at least able to get Zoe to lie back easily and open her mouth (while holding my hand and sobbing,) which was a huge step up from the last visit.

Then Dr. Tim administered the "sleepy-tooth juice," and I must say, this is really and truly a performing art form. The giant needle was kept hidden from Zoe's view at all times, and he was able to remove it swiftly and hide it during those few times she started grabbing, pushing and rolling. All the while he was speaking soothingly, gently patting her hair, and wiping the tears away. And of course, no one said the N word or talked about pain!

I am going to go ahead and give myself a giant star, here, too, because I didn't even cry! Go mom! While they were working on the filling, I told her I could see her tooth and see how nice it was looking and how strong it was going to be. To console her screams, I said,"Yes, I know that juice tastes really bad. Sorry about that. You can spit it out soon."

I wonder if she was thinking, "DUH Mother! I'm crying because it hurts, not because it tastes bad!" But, you know, focusing on the minor annoyance may have helped her to take her mind off the giant drill hammering her tooth into her skull.

When it was all done (and so QUICKLY, by gosh! What TALENT!), Zoe was relieved and recovered instantly. Gentle Dr. Tim, with his sunny disposition, remarked that she seemed none worse-for-the-wear and deserved a nice helping of ice cream. He commented, "the good news is, she screamed with her mouth wide open the whole time!" :)

MOVIE: Clementine Slide Show

A slide show of my growing belly and the new baby.
Photos by Gala Gardiner (except the self-portraits of my belly!)

My Newest Chindogu

Last evening I took all the kids to Toys-R-Us to do some Christmas shopping. Xander was quick to point out that the name should be "Toys are We," and we decided that even if you have poor grammar, you can still get rich selling toys, which is not a very good way to promote college.

Well, helping four kiddies shop for each other WHILE the others are present can be tricky, so I brought along several dark green reusable shopping bags. These green bags have become really popular lately- everyone seems to have them. Anyhow, the idea was that as each child chose items for siblings' gifts, they could keep them hidden inside the "don't peek" bags until we got to the registers.

Each of them had already done some holiday shopping at the thrift store, so I think they appreciated the difference in price when visiting a big shiny toy chain. The boys were a little reluctant to spend a whopping lot of cash on gifts, so I agreed that if they plunked down $5 of hard-earned allowance toward each sibling gift, I'd cover the rest. Zoe had a hard time even grasping the concept of imagining what someone else might like to receive as a gift. She continually whined about not being able to buy gifts for herself. Hm. We'll have to keep working on that!

Well, things were going well until I needed to use the bathroom (browsing takes a really long time, you know.) While I was occupied, Zoe climbed into the cart and peeked in one of the "don't peek" bags! Argh. I don't think she understood what the item was that she got a glimpse of, so I'm hoping I can still surprise her.

When we got home, I took each child in turn into the wrapping room, where they chose paper and bows and tags for each gift. Then all the presents went up under the tree. In reality, the kids are already enjoying playing with the gifts- arranging and rearranging them like building blocks and stacking them to make forts and displays. Who needs to unwrap when gifts are so fun!?

So although the evening was a delightful success, I'm thinking it could be even better with my newest invention: the Spyfree Shopper-cart (AKA Peek-a-boo basket). Plastic walls and lid modify your shopping cart to make it impenetrable to peeky-eyes and make Holiday shopping a breeze. Just crack open the lid and toss in a few Bakugan, then slam it shut and pretend you were looking at the My Pretty Ponies. Swiftly toss in some Wii games while the kids aren't looking, then spin around so it looks like you probably were just buying a cell-phone charger and batteries. When you get to the checkout, be sure to choose any candy-filled aisle, and the kids will be so busy comparing flavors of Nerds that they won't notice you removing items from the cart. Order now and get a FREE green opaque bag to carry items home in.

Just call 1-800-SPYFREE before your Holiday gifts get spied on!

To make this blog entry more enjoyable, google the word "chindogu".

Prepubescent Portent

The other day, Guy had his first phonecall from a girl, Celia. At age SIX, I think this is just too early. No growing up allowed!

I could hear her giggling and shrieking (and I think she had a friend at the other end of the line, too.) Guy liked the attention and was making silly jokes and laughing as well. After 5 minutes I said, "Let your friend know you have to get off the phone soon," and he dutifully did just that. Phew.

So, here I am, one of the LAST people I know to hold out and not get a cell phone, and my kids are slowly nudging me toward the lip of the friendly phone-calls, facebook, personal-email-accounts, cell-phones abyss. You can bet I got plenty of flack for not having a phone when I was 9 months (and then some) pregnant. I just hate the idea of yet another monthly bill, and I'm also not so interested in figuring out how to carry a phone on my person. Yes, I'm also holding out against carrying a purse or a diaper bag! I am just an easy "jump in the car and go" kinda gal. (Did I mention that before jumping into the car I have to make sure 5 people each have on 10 different sub-zero-temperature protective clothing items, AND help them into seatbelts AND remember the gym bag AND reusable shopping bags?)

Jumping in the car to dash someplace means taking 30 minutes to GET in the car. And who wants to add a purse or bag or phone to that mess? I put a diaper, few wipes and a hand-sanitizing spray nudged in the baby's seat, and my wallet comes along, and we go. Enough already.

But, then, the other evening at a Christmas party, I sheepishly borrowed a cell phone to call Doug and let him know that the party was starting and he'd better come on over (he'd been at the holiday physics show with the boys - WHAT?! - don't YOU go to the holiday physics and chemistry show each year? You should!) The owner of the phone wisely stated, "Aahh, but when your kids are teenagers, THEN you'll really need a cell phone of your own."

And sadly, I think he was right. Now someone please tell me that "teen" does not begin at age six!

Bad Day, Worse Day

When I was in high school I sometimes played a silly game with a friend. It was "bad day, worse day." The first person thinks of a BAD scenario, and the second person thinks of what could make it WORSE (and/or comical).

It goes something like this:
BAD DAY: On the way to work in the morning, you get stuck in a 45-minute traffic jam.
WORSE DAY: AND you ate four bran muffins for breakfast.
BAD DAY: Your date notices you picking your nose.
WORSE DAY: It was a football date, and everyone else looking at the jumbo-screen saw it, too.

And so, I found myself saying "Bad day...worse day!" when this happened to me in real-life yesterday:

BAD DAY: While shopping, I got 25 one-dollar bills, to use over the next few weeks to pay my kids allowance. I stuffed the roll in my back jeans pocket and forget about it, until later, when dinner was boiling over and the baby was crying for a diaper change and the kids were fighting. I planned to take care of everything just as soon as I relieved my bladder, so I ran in the bathroom, whipped down the jeans and....the roll of bills flipped out of my pocket and landed in the toilet!

WORSE DAY: I didn't notice the bills in the water until AFTER, uh, they got even WETTER. Then I had to fish them out, set them aside until the other emergencies were resolved, and later spend some time washing them in soapy water and laying them out to dry.

BAD DAY: You get roped into money laundering.
WORSE DAY: It's the kind of money laundering that involves toilet water.