"The folks have been here today, but have gone to their homes. The clatter of racing feet, the laughter and babble of tongues have ceased. We are alone, we two. We two whom destiny has made one. Long ago, it has been sixty years since we met under the June trees. I kissed you first. How shy and afraid was your girlhood. Not any woman on earth or in heaven could be to me what you are. I would rather you were here, woman, with your gray hair, than any fresh blossom of youth. Where you are is home. Where you are not is homesickness. As I look at you I realize that there is something greater than love, although love is the greatest thing on earth. It is loyalty. For were I driven away in shame, you would follow. If I were burning with fever, your cool hand would soothe me. With your hand in mine, may I pass and take my place among the saved of heaven. --Josh Haslem Clark"
I repeat it today and say that I love you and your loyalty. Where you are, is home. Where you are not is homesickness.
Loves,
S
PS. I am sorry that tonight will not be very romantic and that you will find Claire and I laid out on the couch watching TV when you come home. I didn't even know that the dentist could cauterize your gums. Turns out he can. And it's outrageously painful.
It's the new year. And you know what that means--my maxed out dental plan restarts so I can go back to long disgusting appointments in the dentist's chair.
Here are a couple of things you could hear from the dentist chair that might be an indication that you are in for a long (as in more than 4 hours), painful and very expensive ride.
"Looks like we're doing teeth 2,3,4,5 and 30. Can you remember that. Don't worry. I can."
[turning to the assistant] "I have not seen water come out of a tooth in a very long time"
"This is deep. Really deep."
"There is a lot of blood here. I mean a lot. We would have been done a while ago but I just can't get this to stop bleeding."
I am assuaging my pain with jamba juice and cheese toast and maybe I will make the hubbs take me to Taco Bell for dinner.
**Remember that Usher video from yesterday? I've watched it a couple of times in the last day and I have come to one conclusion. If, when I was very upset, my first reaction was to take of my shirt and strut around half-naked I don't think I'd have as much trouble with wanting to binge eat candy when I'm upset.
I'm taking that into consideration--there may be more half-naked strutting happening around my house.
Last night I had such a horrific kitchen disaster that I had to go buy new drip pans for the stove. True story.
And, while I was yelling obscenities and pulling the pan off the stove Claire peed all over the living room carpet.
On the upside, I texted the hubbs to let him know what was happening (he was out with a friend visiting a new family in the neighborhood). His friend sent him home with a bar of homemade man soap which I have been coveting for weeks (did you know that it takes 7+ weeks to make your own soap).
So I guess we're going to call the evening a wash.
These days it takes us 5-10 minutes just to get out the door. We live on the first floor (up one flight of stairs--21 to be exact. I've had lots of time to count them recently) and Claire now insists on making the trip up and down all on her own. She has one hand firmly on the rail and I hold the other. She still teeters and falls and I have to catch her a couple of times going up and down. It would be frustrating except that every time we do it I remind myself that I am just getting closer and closer to my dream of packing her with a little backpack so that she can help lugging the groceries up that narrow staircase.
1) Make amazing artesiean bread in no time and with little to no effort. Delicious bread with a thick crunchy crust (On Saturday we ate it with homemade yogurt and it was like being in France)
2) Make the best pizza dough I have ever tasted and I have been to Italy more than once
3) Step on the scale 2 weeks after having the book arrive to find yourself 3lbs heavier than you were when it arrived.
Consider yourself warned.
*****
So remember when I went to the dentist and he drilled into my tooth and a stench like you would not believe filled the room? And I was diagnosed with periodontal disease? Well, this week I went back to the dentist for my checkup and things are going well. Turns out my gums are reattaching themselves to my teeth. It does show the sad state of things that I'm calling it a successful dentist appointment because the only super duper gross thing that happened was they jammed a slow release antibiotic under my gums to help with the reattachment.
*****
Two nights ago at 2 am when Claire was up for the 4th time and screaming and screaming and the only thing that would calm her was rocking and singing I busted out another and perhaps the most brilliant piece of my brainwashing repertoire. For those of you who are not going to watch the video I'll just put the lyrics right here for you to commit to memory. Somehow singing this as a lullaby makes 2 am way easier to stomach
First thing I remember knowing,
Was a lonesome whistle blowing,
And a young un's dream of growing up to ride;
On a freight train leaving town,
Not knowing where I'm bound,
No-one could change my mind but Mama tried.
One and only rebel child,
From a family, meek and mild:
My Mama seemed to know what lay in store.
Despite all my Sunday learning,
Towards the bad, I kept on turning.
'Til Mama couldn't hold me anymore.
I turned twenty-one in prison doing life without parole.
No-one could steer me right but Mama tried, Mama tried.
Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleading, I denied.
That leaves only me to blame 'cos Mama tried.
Dear old Daddy, rest his soul,
Left my Mom a heavy load;
She tried so very hard to fill his shoes.
Working hours without rest,
Wanted me to have the best.
She tried to raise me right but I refused.
And I turned twenty-one in prison doing life without parole.
No-one could steer me right but Mama tried, Mama tried.
Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleading, I denied.
That leaves only me to blame 'cos Mama tried.
So...let's say you are at a patriotic themed dinner party (where you provided this darling red, white and blue salad) and during dessert you were messing with the table and a carving knife fell off and sliced a new acquaintance's foot so that it bled really a lot and possibly needed stitches. What would you do the next day to show just how sorry you were?
And if you have ideas for what you would do for the hostess because your baby also had a leaky wet diaper on their carpet I'd take those suggestions too.
I've been hesitating to write for a couple of days. I have a couple of half-finished posts that just weren't coming together. At first I thought it was because I didn't have any stories to tell. My week has been terribly void of remarkable stories though full of trips to the beach, the pool and the gym. I felt like writing them down was resigning myself to being a mommy with an insipid life. So it wasn't that I didn't have the stories, it was that I didn't want to document them because I was afraid of what they would show. That's also tricky because I like who I am. I like the life I have. (he's a pic of Claire's post-beach hair)
One of the reasons I started this blog was because I missed the act of writing. Like a muscle I had left too long unused, I felt like my ability to write was sloppy and weak. I have loved the exercise and I feel like my writing is getting stronger. This blog is helping me to be a better writer.
Some day I will start working on other stories, but for right now the story that I have chosen to tell is my own and I need to be comfortable with the subject matter. My life may consist of trips to the beach, pool and library but I can find interesting ways to talk about them and somewhere in there is a good story.
In an attempt to embrace the story of my own life, I now present the undocumented tales of the week:
1) Did you know I make my own yogurt now? True. Weird, but cheap and delicious and true.
2) Claire's new love is banana applesauce mini muffins and yesterday she ate 4 at one sitting so I could probably start making them normal size but there is something so darling about a chubby little hand holding a tiny muffin and trying to shove the whole thing in her mouth at once
3) I went in for my deep root cleaning this week (that's where the dig into your gums and clean the roots of your teeth--gross, I know.) And two days later my jaw is still sore. There was a whole dental disaster and I was crying when I left the office because I had been in the office for 3 hours and still left without my permanent crown (That means ANOTHER dental visit!!! ahhhhhh)
4) We switched to 1 nap a day instead of 2 which means that we're hitting the gym at 8 in the morning instead of 11. Sadly, we've said goodbye to the mafia and the older men working out in pleated kakis but we've said hello to the older Orthodox Jewish man who works out in full Orthodox regalia and skull candy headphones. The gym just gets better and better.
5) I got a new job at church. It's going to be time intensive and maybe a little stressful but I'm excited.
6) Claire has been through a major right of passage for a girl. First pony-tail ever. (not everyone can pull off the side pony but I think she does it with just the right amount of pzazz)
On Friday our book club is talking about Tinkers. I haven't finished the book yet and it's due back at the library today. I tried to renew the book but someone else has a hold on it. So guess what I'm doing. I'm just not handing it in. Being able to finish my book for club is totally worth the 90 cents it's gonna cost me in library fines. (I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I'm not normally a rule breaker and breaking the library rules makes me feel a little uncomfortable but that's just how I roll.) Rebel rebel.
Remember this post last week? The one where I told you all about my easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy root canal? Today I went back to the dentist for my follow-up appointment (2nd of 3) and because it had been so easy I decided to go sans vicodin and valium. Bad idea. 3 hours later as the dentist was literally ripping my gums away from my teeth so that he could have a place to anchor my crown my anesthetic started to wear off and I was very, very sad that I had not asked to be sedated. New rule. Any time I'm going to have to be in the dentist chair for more than an hour, I'm going to be sedated. I am currently on the max dose of ibuprofen and vicodin.
The good news is that babysitting co-op today was at a house full of little girls. Claire L.O.V.E.D it.
That last one is Claire giving high-five. One of her new favorite games. We took these pictures right after we got home. She was still sort of on a co-op high and wearing the crown she came home with.
Before I start this I feel like I need to warn you that this post is not for the faint of heart. No gross dental detail will be left out.
Yesterday I went in for my first-ever root canal. I was terrified. I've been hoarding babysitting co-op tickets for the last two weeks so getting Claire taken care of was not a problem. I should have done my wiki research but, to be honest, I didn't even know how a root canal worked (and after seeing those terrifying pictures maybe it's best that I didn't do the research). I just knew that almost everyone who had had one had a horror story and the only crown I've ever had was HORRIFIC. I also had terrible dental experiences as a child and on more than one occasion I have seen blood spatter all over my dentists' glasses.
When my dentist went to numb me up I said, "which of my anesthetic options will make me remember the least of this experience?" He smiled and swore that I wouldn't feel any pain. I said, "will I see any blood spattering on your glasses?" He laughed and then said, "let me get you a little something." He called to his nurse and asked for a Vicodin and a Valium. Done and Done. Sedation dentistry means that you can still hear the drill and smell the burning smell but you don't care.
My dentist took a picture of what was left of my tooth under my ill-fitting crown so he could show it to me. It was gross. But not as gross as when he opened up the tooth. The nerve was badly infected and an awful dead-animal smell filled the room. The dentist then said, "Yes, that's infected. Can you smell that?" I. Was. Mortified. and totally grossed out (this was also after he had told me that he once had to ditch a blind date because he could smell that she had periodontal disease--not just bad breath, he clarified, but periodontal disease). It was kind of the equivalent of letting a stinky fart and then having someone point it out. How can I ever look him in the eye again?
The good news is that the dentist told me that he couldn't believe I had lived with the pain for that long and even though my jaw is sore, I already feel better. Overall experience was just not that bad. I'll take a root canal (with a little Valium) to the kind of pain I was in last week any day.
I'm getting ready to dip into savings* to have more than $3,ooo worth of dental work done. You read that right. $3000. Oh yeah, and we have insurance so the real cost of the work is more than that. Turns out that when I was young I had a dentist who gave me huge fillings where I didn't really need them and now, at the age of 31 they are falling apart. Pregnancy didn't help my dental disaster either.
A couple of weeks ago I scheduled an appointment for a root canal which needed to be done after my dentist in Salt Lake left me with a crown that didn't go all the way up to my gums (a different dentist than my childhood one but obviously just as lacking in dental skills--boy do I know how to pick 'em). I scheduled the appointment for this week because the dentist was booked before I left town. While visiting my family last week, said crown erupted into the most excruciating pain I have ever experienced. Holy Crap. I've been through 8 hours of pitocin-induced contractions and they were nothing compared to the pain of an infected tooth. My San Diego dentist sent me prescriptions for an antibiotic and Vicodin to get me through until the appointment. I spent several days in an pain-killer induced haze (sorry if those blog posts were a little hard to follow) but thanks to the miracle that is modern day medicine I am now mostly back to my cheery self. Now that I'm out of the woods on the bring-tears-to-your-eyes pain I only have two things to say,
1) Did you know that you can take max doses of ibuprofen and acetaminophen at the same time? Turns out they work differently and don't interfere with one another.
2) Dear Liver, I'm sorry.
*this savings account is what I call my plastic surgery fund. It's money that I had saved before we got married and if there is still any of it left after we're done having kids I am going to have a tummy tuck and get my hoots done. Of course I may end up spending it on the actual having of kids (they don't come cheap you know) or getting my teeth fixed after they come but the plastic surgery dream nice to hold on to.
