September 2008


September 2nd — Not even an act of God could keep from me the dentist last week.  Which is a pity really, because I really, truly hate the dentist. 

 

I live in Charlotte, aka the City of Trees.  In fact, we have such a massive tree cover on the back of our house it’s hard to get a good read on the weather. And for 360 days a year, Charlotte is a great place to live.  But on those rare occasions when the rains flood and the snows freeze, it’s a real pickle.  Trees snap or fall over from the roots.  Creeks overflow.  Houses built in the flood plain flood (I know, people live in homes in a flood plain).  And traffic becomes so snarled and backed up it takes me an hour to get to my dentist’s office (which is a stone’s throw from my house).

 

So I stay in touch with the doc’s office to tell them it’s not looking good.   That I am boxed in my neighborhood by fallen trees, flooding streets and busted traffic lights.

 

And this what I’m dealing with every, single time I call.  “Good morning, thanks for calling Charlotte Family Dentistry and the offices of Dr. Tooth and Dr. Decay. This is Tiffany and how many I help you with your gums today?”  Seriously, cars are being carried off in the tides of Hurricane Fay and I’m on my cell phone every fifteen minutes with the world’s perkiest dental receptionist. 

 

And every time I try to rain check (sorry, I couldn’t help it), Tiffany is hanging in there.  “Keep trying, hon.  We have time to see you.”  Well, no wonder, everyone else who was scheduled to get their teeth scraped was smart enough to stay home on the ark.  In fact, when I arrive at the office of Dr. Tooth and Dr. Decay, everyone is standing around waiting for little ole me.  Including Tiff.  “Come on in, hon!”  

 

The weird thing about the dentist is that it doesn’t really hurt and yet…it really hurts.  My jaw aches.  My toes curl.  My shoulders are scrunched up.  And my ears are ringing from that freaky cleaning apparatus that sends sonar signals to bats, I’m sure. 

 

And my teeth are fine. 

 

Well, of course they are! When you’re 41, all your teeth have been filled with metal (or some sort of substance that will survive nuclear war).  And I have a lovely little root canal, too, that I picked up when I was 40 weeks pregnant with my first child.  Good times.  Anyway, there is little left to be done when it comes to my teeth.  Apparently, it’s my gums that are wreaking havoc.  Well, no wonder – when someone is paid to stick a small, insanely sharp fishhook in my gums to see if they bleed, I’d say havoc is wreaking, wouldn’t you?  Apparently, I need to come to Dr. Tooth and Dr. Decay more often…say every three months, so they can stick that small, insanely sharp fishhook into my gums to see if they bleed…or not. 

In case you didn’t read the memo – tender gums are bad.  They can cause all sorts of digestive, heart and internal issues.  And I thought bad breath was a problem.

September 2nd – So my kids started school last week.  I swore that “back to school” would be different this year…we wouldn’t be rushed…I wouldn’t be stressed…Brad wouldn’t be crabby…I would make a healthy and hot breakfast…my children would look well-groomed and pulled together…and one of my children wouldn’t need to take an 18-minute poop right before we needed to walk out the door.  Well, I made scrambled eggs and that was about it.  NOTE:  I make great scrambled eggs…

 

I wasn’t sad when my kids left for school.  I didn’t weep or even tear up.  I didn’t flop down on the couch in quiet reflection of what this year might bring.  I didn’t pull out picture albums of my kids and run my fingers over photos of their sweet little faces (as I don’t have picture albums of my kids). 

 

Instead I hustled out the door and went to school with my kids to serve as a greeter for parents who are dropping off their kindergarteners at “big kid” school for the first time ever.  And that’s when I cried, if you can believe it.  I teared up with some mom I didn’t know from Adam (or Eve) as she watched her little guy walk down this interminably long hallway into his classroom.  Then, I walked in a new kid and his mom who had moved here from California…yesterday.  And I swear I wiped a tear.  I mean, come on – this is hard for a kid (and for me!)  New house, new school and new teacher – all in 48 hours? I needed to fall out on my therapists’ couch just to process it all.  I became melancholy and reflective – over other people’s children. 

 

But that’s always the way, isn’t it?

 

I mean, I’m about to fall apart that my niece (aka The Third Child I Never Had) will start kindergarten. I’ve had to restrain myself to keep from showing up at HER school to walk her to her new classroom.  That’s a task I must leave to my brother and his wife, but I’ll be there in sniffly spirit, I suppose.