Sunday, March 20, 2011

And that's why I hate the dentist.

Both my kids are sick.
 Avery has a respiratory infection and little Lan-man has a serious case of (who knows what) seasonal allergies (??).


So with a 2:30 dentist appointment on the horizon this past Thursday, I felt like I was counting down to a tropical vacation all day. Couldn't wait to detach from my whiney, snotty, miserable children (whom I love) (no seriously I do).

Finally, 2:15 rolled around, Troy got home from work, and I sprinted to my childless car. After the lingering Barney-induced ring in my ears  subsided, all I could hear was, well, nothing. It took me a while to pinpoint the euphoric feeling as "relaxation". Felt soo good. I found myself wishing that my dentist was located in a different state (country) so I could just steep in the silence of my car for as long as possible.

Anyway.

I got to the dentist, sat in the lobby, read a parenting magazine, learned nothing about parenting, then was called to the back.

I sat in the chair and in walked the dentist.

Dentist: Hey! How have you been? What brings you in today?
Me: Well, I need a cleaning and I need a chip in my front tooth fixed. The bond from a previous chip needs to be re-bonded.
Dentist: oh yeah? How'd you do that?
Me: I'm not gonna lie, I think I chipped it on a beer bottle last weekend.
Dentist: Ha!  Well, when did you chip it the first time?
Me: In high school. Maybe 16? 17?
Dentist: Oh yeah? How?
Me: Um. Well. On a beer bottle. I think? I could be wrong. (I wasn't wrong)
Dentist: Oh.

Then I started panicking because clearly he thought I was an alcoholic. For like, a long time. He was kinda weirded out and attempted to change the subject.

Dentist: So what else is new with you?
Me: ::shrug:: I just had a baby?

Then he left and called CPS.
Or the producer for "Moms Gone Wild"

Either way it was embarrassing.

But that wasn't even the worst part!
The cleaning. 

This nice Mormon lady who, while jamming all sorts of tools into my face, repeatedly asked questions that required full-length answers. I had to challenge myself to answer each question with one word, preferably an "uh-huh", even if that meant I was completely lying. 
For example.
(Keep in mind my mouth is packed with both her hands and floss or a pick or that little tiny mirror on a stick thing.)

Dental Assistant: Are you from here?
Me: Uh huh (not true)
Lady who talked too much: Do you plan on having more kids?
Me: Uh huh (not necessarily true)
Lady with Seven Kids: Who do your kids look like, you or your husband?

This is where I, again, started to panic. Because I knew I had to use a word at this point. AND she was using the air sucker thing so I was screwed. 
But, I went for it.

Me: Husb- 
And this is where my word was sucked right out of my throat by the saliva sucker tool. 

I just gave up and that point and opted for awkward silence.

And that's when I couldn't wait to be home again with my sick, miserable, kids. 

Couldn't get outta there fast enough.

Aaannndd that's why I hate the dentist. The End.


Wednesday, February 23, 2011

I love birth control.

I began this morning optimistic about my first trip to the gynecologist with a 2-year-old and a 2 month old. 

I thought, "I see kids in the waiting room all the time, and they seem to be well behaved, what's the worst that could happen?"

Ohhh Sofia. You and your optimism. You need to stay where you are most comfortable- in a dark cloud of negativity. Yeah, that's it.

I got the kids ready and in the car without a hitch- smooth sailing. 

We get inside, Landon is sleeping, and Avery is LOUDLY sweetly saying adorable things like, 

"Doctor is going to take Mama's temper-chirp (temperature)?" 
and 
"No shots for Avery. This Mama's doctor."

I think,"We can do this. We'll be in and out."

Then the receptionist informs me that "all the doctors are in delivery" and explains it's going to be a bit longer than I had anticipated.

I look at my well-behaved angels and agree to wait, it's going very well.

Another 2- maybe 3- year- old comes in and Avery immediately latches on to the poor little girl. She goes off into a corner with the ripped kids' books and 7-year-old issues of Highlights and I sit back and wait while feeling quite content in response to the behavior of my children.

I overhear a 30-something hot mess of a mom tell another equally terrifying mom how she likes to flick her son in the mouth when he talks back and how when she gives him a "spankin'" he laughs at her because he's such a brat. She goes on to explain how her husband had to give him THREE "spankins" until he agreed that it hurt. Because he's such a brat. (?!)

"No wonder her kid is a brat," I think, "his mom is an idiot." 

Then I glance over at my "much better-raised" daughter. She is throwing a book on the ground telling the little girl to "get it". Over and over. 

Awesome.

After a half hour or so of emptying the candy out of my purse and baby bag (at 9am) to get Avery away from further verbally abusing the little girl, we get called back.

All three of us go into the examining room which has the square footage of a Pop Tart. I, as instructed, undress from the waist down. 

Doctor comes in, Landon starts screaming as a result of starvation, Avery starts to lose it due to boredom. 

Doctor says, "You can hold the baby if you would like."

I thank her and agree to do so -- before I had realized that I'm going to have to walk across the room with no pants on and bend over to unbuckle and take him out of his car seat in front of the doctor. So, yeah, I did that and prayed to god no one was going to walk into the room while I bent over, bare-assed, while fiddling with the seat straps.

After the very disturbing couple minutes of soft porn I had just performed for the doctor, I lay down on the table and put my feet in the stirrups while I held Landon upright on my stomach. Avery then exclaims, "DRUMS!!!" and starts to pound on the biohazard trash can. 

I nervously laugh and apologize and the doctor begins to insert my IUD (SO I DON'T GET PREGNANT ANYMORE) while I beg and plead with Avery to relax. 

Then I hear a, "Mama's feet dirty! Yuck!"

and

"I have to go poo poo!"

and an extra loud, "I see Mama's pee pee!" 

I cringe and apologize and pray to everything ever to make the minutes go by quicker than usual. 

Thennnnnn I hear "I'm gonna lick your toe!" followed by, well, my toe being licked. (Extra awful because I couldn't see who was doing it-the doctor or Avery. Kidding.)

Anyway, we made it out alive and basically I have to change doctors now.

They sure are cute.... 


... but I'm cool on having anymore for a whiiiile. 
I love you IUD. <3



Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Muhahahaha

It's amazing to me what levels of fucked-upness I will stoop to with my two-year-old in order to get things done.

My iPhone is a life saver to distract Avery. She knows how to watch videos and play games and stream Barney on Netflix. Sure, she loves to get into my Words with Friends and forfeit my games because it makes me cry, but it's worth it. 

Its the best thing ever ever ever. She especially loves interactive games, and especially loves Roby the Robot. Roby dances and repeats what you say in a creepy robotic voice and she loves him. 

Roby really came through today when I discovered that you could type a message for him to repeat in afore-mentioned creepy robotic voice.  

Perrrrrfect to trick an illiterate toddler into thinking the cool dancing robot is giving her orders instead of Mrs. Lame Boringmommypants (that's me). 

Watch and Learn:



  







Muhahaha the power!


In other news, I am still fasting. Felt pretty good this morning, nearly chewed on my steering wheel driving home from Gymboree, and am kinda just existing right now. 

Only 3 and a half more days... I can do it!