"Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to let you in."

-- Robert Frost

Thursday, April 22, 2010

the king

Dentist day. It's the one day that can make or break that "mother of the year" feeling. And I'm not sure why it is but no one has the power to cut a mother down to size or put her on a pedestal better than a pediatric dentist.

With six kids -- five with teeth -- nothing starts the trip out in a sweat like running late with the knowledge in your head that you have all of the dental hygienists and chairs tied up waiting for your tardy arrival.

Never a good beginning to walk in five minutes behind schedule with all of the office staff standing in the lobby ringing their hands and waiting on you.


Nothing makes a mother pat herself on the back like walking out with only one child having a single enamel imperfection to look after. I'm celebrating, deserving or not, that is, because lets face it, who really has time to brush and floss six sets of teeth twice daily -- one being their own -- seein's how that's somewhere in the ballpark of 124 teeth give or take a few.

Funny though. I try not to let other people's opinions or comments determine my self worth. Except, in the world of motherhood, somehow the dentist became king.


  1. No STINKING kidding. I'm about this tall in my chair when they say (as they always do) "These children need HELP brushing their teeth."

    I mean, I do help them. But you think I'm telling the dentist that after he's said that to me?

  2. Oh my gosh. My kids have BAD BAD dental genes, and it's always humiliating. Completely.

  3. I'm with Cindy. I feel like I spend the entire 40 hour dental visit (because with 8 children it seems like it takes that long) explaining repeatedly that I am the one who brushes and flosses the 4 littlest ones EVERY night. That if they have cavities, it cannot possibly be a poor reflection on me as a mother.
    Yet somehow, with each visit, I come away feeling like a failure.
    I am jealous!

  4. It's judgement day every time. I would celebrate even if there were just one cavity -- and then they would stare at me as though I were nuts because their scale is different than mine. One's a whoohoo in my book ... maybe even two!