Glad I Didn’t Get a Babysitter

I had to go back to my oral surgeon’s office today for my follow up visit and to get my stitches out. I had briefly considered finding a babysitter for Quinn, but then dismissed the idea because I figured he could sit and play with his Leapster.

My appointment was at 11 a.m., and Quinn and I pulled in to a nearby parking garage at 10:43. I was back on the street driving away at 11:01. And that includes time spent encouraging Quinn to climb up two double flights of stairs.

I didn’t get a chance to sit down on the electric blue couch before they took me back into the exam room. Quinn didn’t get a chance to climb up on the neon green stool they wheeled in for him to sit on before the dentist got there. And I didn’t have a chance to make any embarrassing snarky comments before the dentist said, “Looks good! We have some papers for you at the front.”

He looked in my mouth for maybe—maybe—ten seconds. And that includes the time he spent snipping out my stitches.

Now THAT’S how you run a doctor’s office.

Although even though I had threatened/bribed Quinn with treats, he didn’t even have time to be bad, so he got to pick out a treat at 7-11.

He chose ice cream.

*****

My sister on getting her wisdom teeth out: “They gave me a shot of local anesthesia, told me to take ibuprofen, and I had to walk home.”

I know. Total bummer for her, huh?

Run Down

Wow. One wisdom tooth. It wonked me harder than I thought it would. Not pain or discomfort or bleeding, because that mostly got better in the first day or two, although my socket does get achy toward the end of the day.

But I have been so tired. I’m finding it hard to decide if it’s left over tiredness from the anesthesia, the Vicodin, and my recovery or if it’s just my regular tiredness that I finally have an excuse to indulge. I am currently so run down that finding a half hour or an hour to nap during the day no longer seems optional, but imperative.

Quinn has really been enjoying sitting on me and watching an episode of The Wonder Pets followed by an episode of Max and Ruby every afternoon while I lay down and rest. I’m not sure that’s normal. (The daily napping—I’m pretty sure toddler-love of The Wonder Pets and Max and Ruby is normal.)

I was so wearied this afternoon that I completely lost my cool with my kids—especially Jack, who chose today to not just be defiant about his homework, but to express his defiance about his homework. “Nothing can make me do my homework,” he repeated over and over.

See, he had to write sentences, and he doesn’t like to write sentences. If I had been more available, I might have tried to find a root of that. As it was, I ended up with my head in my hands and Jack ended up with tears streaking down his face as we sat at the table with unfinished homework in front of him.

Alex had planned to stay at work until late tonight to catch up on some work. But he came home and fed the little dudes the dinner that I made while I crammed in a quick nap. That hour I spent unconscious on the couch while he fed, bathed, and put the guys to bed saved me for all the work I have to do tonight—work I fell behind on while I was sleeping all weekend. Alex saved Team Stimey tonight, that’s for sure.

I’ll pull my shit together. I always do. But all I really have to say is that I am really looking forward to the day that all of my kids are in all-day school. I’m really looking forward to doing my work (and my napping) during the day, so I can be less run down after school and in the evening when they need me.

I also think it will be good for me and Alex. At night now he watches TV and the back of my head as I work away on the computer across the room. I’m looking forward to spending my evenings with him.

That day, when all of my kids are in school all day, is a long way away. Quinn won’t go to kindergarten until fall of 2010. I know I’ll still be busy then, and that all-day school is not the complete answer to my work at home mom/full-time stay at home mom problems. But I think it’s going to help.

I’m not sure where I was going with this long, rambling post that started in one place and ended up in another. I think it just kind of needed to come out. And mostly it’s a long way of saying that it’s hard to fit everything in, isn’t it?

DCMM: My Spa Vacation, Courtesy of the Dentist

Note: It is possible that I might still be high on Vicodin. Adjust your expectations accordingly.

Up to three weeks ago, I hadn’t been to the dentist for multiple years. So when my lower left jaw started to hurt on and off, I was a little concerned for what might be happening in there. My dentist told me that what was happening in there was that my bottom left wisdom tooth was decaying at a rapid speed.

After a couple of weeks of procrastination and some escalating tooth pain, I made the appointment to get my tooth yanked. As the day of my surgery approached, I got more and more excited. Not only would the nagging pain in my face be going away, but I would have free license to sleep all weekend.
Friday morning before my appointment I put my laptop, some magazines, bottles of water, and the TV remote on the bed next to my pillow. I put my electric blanket on standby next to the bed in case I needed it.

I felt this same way when I was ready to give birth for the second and third times. I looked forward to my hospital time because I got to relax in my hospital bed for two days. Getting a wisdom tooth out is even better because you don’t have to breastfeed the tooth every two hours. Nor do you have to stay in the hospital.

I’ve whiled away the past couple of days napping, taking my medication, and watching bad TV. When I need something, I call downstairs to my husband and he brings me things like soup. And ice cream. And he’s been sympathetic and happy to do it.

When I’ve seen my kids, they’ve been happy to see me and well behaved. I haven’t had to count to three all weekend to make someone do something.

All together, this has been one of the better weekends I’ve had lately. I may have to get my other wisdom teeth taken out soon. One tooth—and one weekend—at a time, of course.

Original DC Metro Moms Blog post.

Jean also blogs at Stimeyland.

I Like Napping. And Vicodin.

Hello! How’s things? I’ve been asleep for two days. Except for the brief period of time I was conscious at the most stylish dental office oral surgeon’s office facial enhancement specialist’s office before I got my IV in order to have one of my wisdom teeth yanked.

I even took a nap before I went to my appointment. I’m that run down that I needed a nap even when I knew I was going to get to sleep for three days straight.

We got hopelessly lost on our way to the doctor’s, so I rushed in apologizing for being late. The receptionist introduced herself by name and took my coat. Then I sat down on a super modern, electric blue couch and looked around at the subtle, yet lovely decor.

Almost immediately I was ushered into a consultation room outfitted with blue and red plastic modular chairs.

It’s possible I was in an iPod commercial.

The doctor tried to upsell me by offering to take out my other wisdom teeth too. Don’t you worry, I didn’t fall victim to scare tactics like “long-term health” and “these teeth will eventually cause you problems.” They were getting exactly one tooth from me.

Then I laid down in their chair, pointed them to the vein they were going to want to use, and wondered how long it would take the sedation to take effect. And then the doctor said, “It went fine,” and they led me to the recovery room.

Alex and Quinn came to pick me up. Quinn was eating a chocolate doughnut, which was apparently a chaser to the brownie Alex had given him first. “You have red teeth,” he told me.

Before I left, the nurse gave me a Moo card with the time of my follow up appointment written on it, as well as a CD called “Scintillating Your Senses,” plus a post card telling me about the doctor’s podcast.

I think this office may have been the hippest place I’ve ever been. Which is a little sad.

The other thing they tried to give me when I left was someone else’s coat. It took the receptionist three times to come up with my coat. In retrospect, I should have taken the first coat she offered because it was much nicer than mine.

I’ve been at home in my bed since then. Alex has been bringing me soup and ice cream and stuff when I use the intercom feature on our phone to call down to him. He’s been a trooper, if not suitably enthusiastic when I call him to bring me things.

He was kind enough to hover outside the bathroom door and bring me water the first time I threw up. After the second time I threw up, I figured out that my stomach does not care for a penicillin and Vicodin combo on an empty stomach. I’m not making that mistake again. It’s a waste of perfectly good Vicodin, which I like because it makes my legs feel content.

Seriously, that’s the best way I can describe it.

I’ve been kept company by my awesome cat Izzy.


She has remained plastered to my body for the past 30 or so hours. I like her. She’s licking my soup bowl clean right now. Which is better than yesterday, when the dog woke me up by slurping out of my uneaten bowl of soup. Jerk.

I’m feeling good, and staring at my computer screen isn’t making me nauseous anymore, so I hope that means I’ll feel better and be up and out of bed by tomorrow. (Don’t tell Alex though, or he might stop answering the phone.)

I’m a Winner! I Mean, a Whiner.

I would like to state for the record that I love Sam a whole lot. And he can be a very generous and selfless boy. And I feel a little like I’ve betrayed him by writing what I did. But, oh my God, that kid knows how to whine.

I don’t have the slightest idea from whom he learned it. [hangs head]

On a totally unrelated topic, I’m the featured whiner over at ShallowGal and Marinka‘s über-popular new website, Secret Spineless Whine.

See, spineless…
I can’t even tell you how fired up I was after writing that whine. It’s been brewing for a while.

Also, ShallowGal and Marinka‘s blogs are hysterical and two of the funniest things I read. I might just go over to Secret Spineless Whine and complain about how I want to be as funny as them.