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Oh Mama!

Laugh and learn as this blog is a forum to share stories that will likely leave me out of “Mother of the Year” contention. The idea of “SuperMom” has been replaced by a philosophy of “real deal parenting” where a marathon mom tries to keep pace with a 5-year old providing constant on-the-job training. A great outlet for those who might not have it all, but dearly love what they have.

Going to the Dentist -- It's like Pulling Teeth

Yesterday Dylan got to breathe giggle air, and his sugar bug disappeared. 

Translation-- We went to the pediatric dentist for his first-ever cavity.  His back teeth are "groovy" (not in a 1960s way) and tightly spaced.  One of those teeth started on a "watch list" but then needed a filling -- to me it's like we've gone from petty theft to the most wanted list. 

Before the appointment, I had a whole new language to learn. This "dental restorative visit" is supposed to be as pleasant as possible, so I am NOT to use words that will scare Dylan.  So cavities become "sugar bugs," shots are "sleepy juice" and a drill is just a "tooth whistle."

I feel my job is to make this sound like a grand adventure. A dental all-inclusive vacation! I prepped him for a couple of days telling him we'd go to the dentist with heavy emphasis on giggle air and the aftermath (a smoothie of his choice at Jamba Juice.)

Then the day arrived and my explanation comes out in a rush.

"Hey Dylan, we get to be super silly today at the dentist. You pick a flavor of giggle air that will make you feel like Goofy! Now your mouth will feel a little funny while you breathe the air, but they need to get that sugar bug!"

"Mom, how will they get the sugar bug?"

"Well, the dentist will just pluck it out really fast!"

"Pluck, what is pluck?"

YIKES!!! I have deviated from my prescribed terminology. How to explain in nonthreatening terms? My brain is racing, and obviously so is Dylan's...

"Mom, will I get a shot?"

Yes he would, but since he'd be lying there high on nitrous oxide, wearing sunglasses (for the overhead light,) the dentist office assured me chances are he would not know it.

"Uhhh... I'm not totally sure how that part works," I say, which is technically true since I am not a dentist. (OK, I lied, let's face it!) Luckily before he can fire more questions, we arrive and he races for the video games in the waiting room, a stroke of genius to make kids actually want to go to the dentist.

I can't imagine many jobs more challenging than a pediatric dentist, but this woman is a pro. She has perfected the nonthreatening vocab -- she talks about her "sunshine light" (overhead light) and her special specs the "granny glasses." I muse that it would be a kinder world if could do away with those hurtful words. We could all hang out under the sunshine light, pick our personal flavor of nitrous oxide and feel a little floaty... maybe there's a kids' song in that...

The dentist shows Dylan all of her tools (minus the shot). She will "paint his tooth" and he might feel a "mosquito bite" (shot) that he notices, but not too much. Before I know it, he picks Bubble Gum giggle air, and up, up and away he goes.  She reiterates about every 30 seconds his only job is to breathe through his nose. Before I know it, he is singing along to some song (not sure if it's in his head or piped in music.) The whole thing is over in about 10 minutes. Dylan emerges cottonmouthed; ready to play more video games.

Hanging out in the waiting room I feel guilty seeing kids who undoubtedly are there just to "have their teeth counted" (an exam) versus my son who is lost in some video game with a fat lip. He's only 5, so the fault lies with me. I know I've been lackadaisical on brushing (especially at night when resistance is down, my desire to drink wine is high and desire to battle it out before bedtime not strong.)

So the war against plaque is on. We are brushing twice a day and even flossing -- it floored me when the dentist said FLOSS Dylan's teeth. Most moms probably say, "Oh yeah, I do that," but my guess is that they are: (A) lying or (B) doing it once in a great while to ease their otherwise guilty conscience. Kind of like packing veggies in your kid's lunch even though you know your child will not eat them if they were the last food on earth.

This thought about flossing and perhaps brushing is confirmed as another mom informs me her son, who is the same age as Dylan, is there for his second stainless steel crown.  While I'm not the Mom of the Year, maybe I'm not so bad after all....

 

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