Dust off my WHAT?

So my dentist's name has many synonyms: uncontrolled, unruly, uncivilized, barbaric.  He is none of these things in the office.  He is smart and friendly and funny.  He seems to be in control of himself and his staff, follows expected rules, and carries no whiff of barbarism.  His name can also mean "deviating from the expected or normal course."  It is the latter that comes to mind today.  

I don't know who programmed his musical offerings today but I think they were messing with the N2O nozzle before they set up the playlist.  There was come classic office friendly soft rock, then something that sounded like the Mexican Restaurant next to his office, a little Sinatra, and then Amy Winehouse.  But not the "Rehab" you might expect.  It wasn't even "Cherry" which is my favorite because it is clever.  It was the *explicit* cut of "Fuck Me Pumps".  Not generally part of your typical dentist office repertoire.  I was numb up to my eyeball at the time (have you ever not been able to feel yourself blink?  It is a little freaky) so I forgot to point it out when he came back in the room.  

But I think it is safe to say while he is generally civilized and completely ruly, he definitely deviated from the norm with that one.  But now I can't stop giggling thinking about what the older lady in the room must have looked like if she caught the words: half numb, slack-jawed, and wide eyed wearing her clip-on bib.  There is no mistaking the lyrics in the last line of the song as Amy so thoughtfully enunciates and slows down just like her third grade teacher taught her to when speaking publicly.  

Pro Rida (subtitled, Go With The Pro)

The new packaging on my tampons says "pro comfort." I wonder if they mean professionally comfortable or rather that they are in favor of comfort. Having used their tampons for 2/3 of my life, I would like to think of myself as a professional caliber user in favor of a cozy product. It seems silly to have to mention it but I guess I certainly wouldn't buy anything for my chocha marketed as "anti comfort." Perhaps just being next to the "pro comfort" on the store shelf implies that the other would somehow be less than that. Like they are against your being your most cozy during that special time. Or perhaps that the others are merely amateurish attempts at feeling good while managing your flow.

they call him The Streak

According to the contents of the Lost and Found at school, Big C appears to have come home partially clad on multiple occasions.  I don't remember picking him up barefoot (twice) or topless (thrice).  But I must have.  I'd like to review the security tapes.  I really can't imagine how that could have slipped by me.  What does this say about the possible decline of my once-impressive powers of observation?  And what does it say about the quantity of outerwear that kid has that I can find two sweaters and a sweatshirt in that stinkity pile that I never even knew were missing?

Nevermore

Qualifier: I could not make this shit up.

The conversation at the dinner table about what each person's patronus (expecto patronum!) would be was quite interesting.  Miss M would have a raccoon (dexterous, puzzle solving, similar eating habits).  Big C a loyal, protective dog.  Moose would have a bear but not a moose.  Little C would have a playful and clever otter.  This is what I got:

Miss M: Mom would have some kind of bird...

Mama: A duck?

Big C: No, a turkey.

Moose: What?

Big C: Because they are so intelligent.  They are like the smartest bird ever.  Benjamin Franklin thought they should be our national symbol, not the bald eagle.

Miss M: Is it the crow or the raven that has the messy feathers and spends it's time alone?

Mama: The raven.

Miss M: Then you are the crow because they are more social.

Little C: I think a crabby bird.  Geese are crabby.  Cause mom, you are always crabby so I think it would be a goose.

Big C: She is only so crabby because we are so naughty.

Moose: Little C, apologize to your mother.

Mama: (If it wasn't for that shot of gin in my lemonade tonight I'd be going goose on all your asses right about now.  I think that raven thing sounds better and better all the time.)

I am under-qualified for this

How do you decide which horrible, nasty drug to give your kid in an effort to try and put his horrible, nasty condition into remission?  When the milder things do not work and you move up a level to shutting down his immune system, how do you decide which medication you should poison him with?

a Fresh New Author

Here is a book written by my very own 6 year old!  

"My mom and I watch Tv.

My mom and I read Instruchons.

My mom and I play Legos.

My mom and I eat Petzza.

My mom and I go to School.

My mom and I like to Talk."

We DO read instructions together!  He loves it.  And I love his amazing phonetic spelling.  Then...and this is great...he drew me with some super long legs!  And, he modestly scribbled a black-out bar across the chest of my stick figure.  No pants, but the girls are covered.

Runny Fabbitt

At physical therapy today the pain in my hip had finally subsided enough to address the SI issues.  My therapist told me I should start to thinking that I might not be able to run.  Ever.  Without some surgical intervention to fuse my pelvis.  Youch.  I can deal with no more running.  But then I started listing all of the other things I like to do and as long as they don't hurt and don't jar my joints I am all good.

He showed me how to self-adjust my SI joints and you know what?  I was sore after hitting golf balls but tried the little maneuver in the car at a stop sign and it worked!  When I got out of the car I felt great.

Also, he adjusted my pubic bone.  That one always shocks me as it is accompanied by some loud noise.  I think the people in the next room over might have heard it.  He showed me how to have Moose help realign it at home.  To which I said nothing.  I sort of froze.  Mostly because two things popped in my head at the same instant and I couldn't decide which response would be funnier.  One of them is true and one is false.  Can you guess which?

A.  That's assuming he could finally find my pubic bone!

or

B.  It's only fair as he's the one that keeps knocking it out of place!

Your mother's mental hygiene

Dear Cygnets,

Do you truly believe in your heart of hearts that brushing your teeth before school matters?...I don't care.  But actually brushing your teeth...that matters.  So I am proposing a little social experiment.  It will run something like this.

I (the mother/researcher) will give you some directions.  You (the children/subjects) will follow them.  In order to make this work I promise the following:

1. I will not make up stupid crap for you to do just to waste time.

2. You can trust that if I am asking you to do something it is because there is a good reason to do so.

Please humor me and assume there is purpose behind these seemingly tedious things.  Some of which may include but are not limited to: so you are not the stinky kid in class, so your teeth don't rot in your head, so you do not grow up accepting savagery as the norm, and because a group of beings living in a social structure must have some agreed upon rules and organization in order to survive.  By organization, I mean that I am the ALPHA of this little pack.  And by rules I mean the ones I make.  They are reasonable, even!  I can no longer tolerate the constant negotiating of every thing I ask.  There will be consequences for non-compliance.  Some natural (like the extra tartar scraping at the dentist that you hate) and some imposed (like me bringing your toothbrush with to school and making you brush them there).  

Love, The Mama

P.S. It has crossed my mind that if we were of a certain religious persuasion, I could pull an Auntie H on you and say "Jesus wants you to brush your teeth and if you don't you'll burn in hell."  How simple that would make my mornings if you only believed that the state of your everlasting soul is dependent on your dental hygiene. 

     

A Reptile Dysfunction

After a month and a half of some impressively thorough research, Big C is officially an expert on Greek Mythology.  The assignment was, after all, to pick a topic and become an expert on it.  

The required element of a poster was hard for him to narrow down but he settled on 14 goddesses and gods.  He started with the big 3, filled in the next most popular 9, and tossed in 2 more for the heck of it.  He could have added all of the Heros and their adventures, the Titans, and The Illiad...but I had to talk him down from over-extending.  The poster, as it stands, is complete and focused.

He picked an extra-credit project too.  The boy chose a PowerPoint claymation movie of Perseus slaying Medusa.  (He could have gotten away with a few slides of some artifacts.)  This is the whole reason we were testing out the process about a month ago.  Since the project was a huge undertaking, the whole family pitched in.  Big C insisted on giving everyone their props when the credits roll.  He is so magnanimous that way.  But the work done by the boy was intense and time consuming.  He even did an extra-extra credit piece by comparing Greek gods to Norse gods.

This is the "The End" page.  It is Perseus (clay-man) greeting Pegasus (Schleich figure) who, by the way, just "sprang forth out of Medusa's corpse" as Big C likes to say.  (Medusa used to be a beauty who was doing Poseidon and all was going well until they hooked up one night in Athena's temple.  After watching them first, Athena decided she was ticked that they left a mess on her alter and so she turned the pregnant hottie into the hag with the bad hair we all recognize.  So when Perseus whacked her head off a winged horse [that she was impregnated with for ages] came out of her neck--my words not his.) 

He also made two advertisements that he inserted in the movie!  One is for an extreme vacation on Crete to solve the labyrinth and battle the Minotaur.  The second is for Aphriditiss Love Potion.  I thought he should do one for RD--reptile dysfunction.  Thought it should spoof all those Cialis and Viagra ads but use Medusa's snake-hair instead.  The snakes could all be limp and shriveled and then she takes Pythagra or Cialhiss and they all swell to thrice their normal size and stick straight out.  Then he could have a little clock show it is four and a half hours later and she could be at the hospital with the snakes still all rigid wearing pained expressions on their little faces.

New Mantra

A big thank you to the preschooler walking in to school holding his dad's hand this morning.  Buddy, I think you have this whole life thing half way figured out.  Not bad at 3 years old.  Think of what you could accomplish by 6.  I look forward to following your work.

This little guy was saying over and over, "bugs eat bugs."  Try saying that in rapid succession.  What a pleasing thing to say.  Also, the message is a good one.  I think it is the theme from Elizabeth Edwards new book as well.