Friday, May 27, 2011

SnaggleTooth and why I hate the dentist

I chipped a tiny part of my front tooth. It was microscopic and went that way for years. Until I chipped a not so tiny part of my tooth. Which required me to get into the dentist stat. And since we switched insurance last year I have to find a new dentist. Stat. My least favorite question at a new dentist is always: When is the last time you were at the dentist. I am not great about 2x a year let me confess. I am great about cleaning, flossing and brushing but not great about visiting the professionals to talk about, poke, or Xray teeth. So I like to give vague, broad strokes of time. Like "not too long ago" when it was actually January 2010.

I blame our childhood dentist who reminds me of the guy in Full Metal Jacket. He didn't even like children but my Father's stance was "zip your yap" about our opinions on the old, former military and mean dentist. And then he would say mean things in a harsh way like "YOU HAVE TO BRUSH IN CIRCLES" and then "DROP AND GIVE ME 20 YOU WIMP" So this is how I developed hate for the dentist. I have known other great dentists but I once had two root canals and two crowns put on in one day which pretty much felt like what I suspect an afternoon in a prison yard would feel like: bad and ugly. 

So yesterday, I hop to the dentist like a bat out of hell. I have to get a check up and cleaning first since I am clearly past the 6 month mark. Oh, and some Xrays. Which, by the way, those giant plastic pieces they put in your mouth just about gag me everytime. The good news: my teeth look great. Except for the snaggle. So the dental tech tells me I should not get the chip fixed. She thinks I don't need it. She shows me her chipped tooth and says, "See that? You can't even tell unless I point it out."

Ummm, except for the part of your chipped tooth I can see from 25 feet away, easy.  Even with my eyes closed. And then she tells me I should keep it because it has character. Well, my tooth isn't auditioning for Glee so it doesnt need character. And a chip is not the same kind of character as a Lauren Hutton or David Letterman gap either.

But the more I talked to her, the more hilarious she was which helped reduce my dental angst or what I like to call damn you are a baby when it comes to the dentist.  And the new dentist comes in and he is great. Although I clarify that I will NOT need a shot of any kind to fix the tooth. He laughed. I asked if they told him I was a baby. He laughed and said "no" even though you know he was politely warned. I confessed up front. Let's put all our baby cards on the table.

And he fixed my tooth with high tech hand-held gadgets and high tech formulas.

So after all the chores, I left the dentist after three hours. But with a smile. And happy that everyone in this dental group was great. And clearly know how to calm down fussy adults. I know the dentist is important and skipping the dentist is not necessarily wise. So don't be a baby if you are and go! Oh, and I left with this advice for my new and perfect front tooth:

Dental Hygienist: Don't bite any food with it.
Me: Hmmmm. For today?
Her: Do you want to keep it?
Me: It is highly likely.
Her: Well, front tooth location is tricky so I would avoid it. Is that going to be a problem?
Me: Hopefully not. But since just about the only job my teeth have is to bite food, I will have to let you know.

SnaggleTooth fixed. Hopefully for good.

Have a gorgeous holiday weekend if you are celebrating. We have giant fun plans this weekend. More to come on that bit.

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

10 steps to a great vacation

Wow. Vacation is delightful. This is our third trip to Disney in the past 8 months. We know just about every nook, cranny and shortcut at this point. And MiniMac is at the perfect age to enjoy even more and more rides and shows. These are 10 steps to a great vacation in Orlando.


1. Take your 4 year old to see Bon Jovi. There is amusement and irony watching him sing every word to "You Give Love a Bad Name" because he certainly does not know love in this context and he certainly has not learned the ways in which to give it a bad name.  We had fantastic seats and hopefully, his retinas and opinion of woman and how woman should dress, look and act will NOT be based on the parade of sassy harlots we saw at the concert. But bravo to you Jon Bon Jovi because if you wanted to be a dirty dog, you had about 19,850 willing participants that night. One woman that was standing behind us was gorgeous but gorgeous in a "Whitesnake" and not really a "Lancome" kind of way. She had a tiny and VERY sparkly shirt on which barely contained those girls under there. Luke saw her. Smiled (because she was blond) and said, "I like your sparkles."

2. Have an awesome husband who hires a driver to fetch you and take you to Amway Center from Disney to see Bon Jovi concert. NICE. Think you don't initially need a driver because you won't have a cocktail because you have  your toddler with you. WRONG. You are going to Bon Jovi. You haven't seen this many sparklers or boobs on display since you went to Mardi Gras. Drink up. Enjoy the driver.

3. Have a waterslide at your resort that your son begs you to go down. Laugh that you secretly know regardless of age, you never have to have your arm twisted to go down a water slide. Love that your son will patiently sit there with Daddy while you go on it 10 times. Ignore the fact you are three times the age of any one else in the waterslide line.

4. Have a blast on the giant lazy river also at the resort. Enjoy your casual, floaty, leisurely pace. Place your son on your lap and rejoice in all his smiling and happiness. Ooops, pay attention to the giant sprayers. Ooops, too late. Fail to realize that getting douched in the face by a giant water cannon will make your son laugh endlessly. Hope that never happens again. Realize you should have spent your energy on other wishes because it happens again, and again.

5. Every morning when you wake up and prepare to spend the day at Disney, find your bottle of patience pills. Select two or three, Swallow them down. YUM. Why do you need them? Because it is Disney. There are so many great families, smiling faces and fun opportunities. There are also fools and some kids so bratty that you want to put soap in their mouths. But you can't. Because that isn't the Disney way. So gobble down your patience pills.

6. Feel free to skip rides you don't want to go on. Unless your child asks you to go. Like the rickety clackety rail road roller coaster at Magic Kingdom. Oh, it's called Thunder Mountain. And should be called "Rickety Clackety" for sure. MiniMac asked me to go on it. I have clearly expressed on this site I no longer enjoy the company of roller coasters. But his tiny voice said, "It won't be scary" to which you respond, "Umm, who is scared?" So you go on it and right before the first big plunge, he shouts, "LET'S HOLD HANDS!!" and you think you need a hand to hold more than he does. But you also love these numbered days where holding your hand is all the comfort your child needs.

7. Laugh and smile to yourself watching your grown man of a husband hug characters like Winnie and Tigger because it makes your son feel a little more comfortable. Know that this is something your husband would NEVER have planned to do or enjoy. But he does it because he really wants your son to have the best time possible. Smile that he is also willing to wait in line for 30 minutes for your son to meet Buzz and Woody. Even though you both look like sweet patient angels, you are rejoicing for the fact you both have your phones with you so you can send pics instantly to grandparents (and check Facebook.) Also smile and give God a high five that you have a boy and do not have to wait in one "Princess" line. Except Rapunzel, because your son has a crush on her. Oh, and that line was 2.75 hours long when we got in it. Buy your son a pic of Rapunzel and skedaddle away from that line and get back to the fun rides.

8. Take your son up in a hot air balloon. Admire that he is not the LEAST bit fearful of it. We did this and it was a first for both of us. AMAZING. Sunset over Disney? Here you go:



9. Find your favorite ride. Go on it as many times as you want. Two rides I love: Test Track and Soarin'. Single rider line is the one perk parents with a kiddo get. One stays with the kiddo and the single rider line is your fast track to the front. And when your child is old enough, take him on the ride and see if likes it. Applaud when he does so you can go on it even more.

10. If you are going to Disney for a week, rent a place with separate bedrooms and a kitchen. And stock that kitchen with some healthy snacks and plenty of beverages. I will starve to death before I eat a hotdog at a Disney park. And the perfect way to end a full day at Disney when your toddler is off to slumber is a giant glass of wine. In fact, "giant glass of wine" might be perfect in any situation involving many children.

Friday, May 13, 2011

Rock the Casbah: Let's try that one more time...

It is not fun when I think I am posting my blog update via iPad and it gives me a big fail. This is take two.

Any of you who know me, know I think our son is pretty cool. Oh, I know, 90% of all parents think their kids are cool, but I actually truly think MiniMac is cool. There are many reasons and just one of them is because his heart is Rock and Roll. Many of you have seen the previous videos, but those who don't know the true extent, here is proof:





We took him to see The Eagles last summer and he.loved.it. So imagine his reaction when we told him we were leaving for Florida this am. For a week. For sun, fun, the beach, the pool, Disney, AND taking him to see Bon Jovi. Yes, Bon Jovi. Sunday night he will be rocking out to Living on a Prayer, You Give Love a Bad Name (and no he does not even know what that means. Yet) and We Got it Going on. And while he may not be Rocknig the Casbah. He WILL be rocking the Amway Center Sunday Night. How do I know? Because of these:


and


and my favorite:



Yes, he has to wear special noise reduction headphones. No, it doesn't impact his fun at all. And even if you like kids as much as you like shingles, you have to admit, this is pretty cool. We teach him all about the classic rock and roll. And our house will never be struck with Beiber fever.

Oh, he is excited about Mickey. But he is THRILLED about Bon Jovi. In fact, last night, MiniMac "picky eater" decided he would decline the invite to once again try something new I made for dinner. So when he looked at it skeptically, and asked what it was, I replied, "oh, a recipe I got from Jon Bon Jovi's Mommy."
"Really," he inquired.
"Really," I responded.
ANd he ate an entire bowl. Which he NEVER does. My first thought was, "You have got to be KIDDING me."

My second thought, "Damn, you are one powerful woman Jon Bon Jovi's Mom." But it worked. And no, I don't feel bad for lying.

Now, I am in Florida. About to hit the pool. And have my first vacation cocktail. Be back on the 23rd! Have a fantastic weekend and week.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

There is nothing 'lite' about it..

Last night, running on the treadmill, a woman gets on the treadmill in front of me. She looks healthy, fit and fabulous. As she was running, I could not help but notice that she had the one thing I think all women despise: cellulite. She was probably a size two and had highly visible cellulite. Causing me to wonder several things:

1. What the ____ is the point of cellulite? oh, a layer of chubby cells for warmth? No thanks. If I want to be warm, I don't need to wrap my legs in down pillows of fat. There are other methods for layering and staying warm that aren't ugly and they are called Patagonia and North Face.

2. If fat cells wanted to collect together and have a party, why not in the breasts only? Or at least give us a selection.

3. Men don't get this at all? EVER? Nice. Why don't you just hand us menopause and PMS too? Wait, you already did that. 

3. Even a girl who is a size two gets cellulite? And it isn't just one girl who happens to be a size two. It is many, many women. Apparently if you are over the age of 18, you can be a victim.

4. What the _____ is the word 'lite' even included with the root word? This is silly. And misleading. And sounds like a diet drug. Why not call it something more apropos? Cellumallow.

4. Besides diet and exercise, genetics are the primary instigator of cellulite. So pardon me, Mr. Guy at the Kiosk in the mall, when I call B___sh___ on you. First, work on your approach. Best way to not get a lady on your good side is to stop her and ask if she wants help with her cellulite that you can't actually even see. I saw you do that last week when I popped into my favorite store near your sector.

Also, no, I don't believe you when you promise your little bottle of lotion has been proven to eliminate all cellulite because unless that bottle is full of pure grain alcohol which would impair the vision enough to create the effect it has diminished cellulite, your claim is not sound. How do I know? Because if you truly did have a cure for cellulite you would not in fact be selling it out of a kiosk in the middle of the mall which is the equivalent of living in a van down by the river, but you Sir, would in fact be doing much bigger things, for example, owning the universe.

Monday, May 9, 2011

Mamma Mia

I hope everyone who celebrated Mother's Day yesterday, or celebrated a special person in their life who influenced them in a motherly way, had a beautiful day doing so. We had a great weekend and thought so much about the evolution of us. Not just the basic of being born, growing up, living and dying. But the evolution of how we go from being carried everywhere, to chasing after our Moms, to running away from them at some point. They are our favorite person. Then our least favorite person as we grow and stretch out to fill ourselves. We need the  guidance, and then we don't want the guidance like a pendulum.

As I see our son grow, I feel that same evolution. For so long I am his favorite person. Then one day with no precaution, I am not. Or he needs me for everything, until he doesn't and simply says, " I can do it by myself." We want that but seem a bit ill-prepared when it actually happens. I want to ebb and flow with him. But be a leader, set good examples. And not wince when he doesn't want to know what I think. Be someone he can respect. And trust. And one day he may look at us and think, he does want to be just like us. And when he doesn't want to be just like us, be ok with that too. What I hope we avoid is raising our biggest critic. We all go through our own evolution in which we traverse the distance between baby and adult by needing no one more than our parent or guide so feeling so wise and established we need no one less. MiniMac told me the other night, " I do not have to do what you tell me to do." My response, "That is HILARIOUS. And incorrect." It is merely a test of his own ability to stretch. And at least for now we can absorb those comments with humor and redirect. But the biggest thing I have learned from becoming a Mom is wow, we are always learning. A woman I really respect told me yesterday that I am one of the best Moms she knows. It made my heart sing a bit. While it may not be accurate, it is the job at which I strive to be the best. And while it is the hardest job I will ever have, it certainly is the best.

I hope everyone of our Mother's or grandmothers or guides feels the very same way when they think about us. We might not be perfect. We have certainly hurt their feelings, been disrespectful on occasion, and in some cases been disappointing because we were selfish, or bratty because we felt they didn't understand us at all. Or perhaps understood us too well. We have all said an ugly thing stemmed from frustration. We didn't mean it but the sting still comes. Or we have sometimes scared them when we were reckless with ourselves. Or with their love. But I hope those moments are the minority. And the rest are filled with all the ways we made them glad our lives connected the way they did, and brought value, and laughter and moments that no two other people could possibly create.

And tonight, while I am feeling happy of heart. And poetic in my mind, I will also add that it is pretty bad ass when your husband and son bring this home for Mother's Day: The Macs have gone Mac!

I feel like I have turned a significant high-tech corner. MiniMac (and his Daddy) certainly know how to hook a girl up. The Macs have gone Mac! I have much  to learn as a long-term PC user but I am thrilled about it! Any tips you have, share them.

Have a fabulous  Monday.

Friday, May 6, 2011

Sorry other contenders, the role of Big Dumbarse has been filled

I know everyone has different gifts but could everyone at least have (and exercise) the gift of common sense?  I know we have all talked about fools. Oh, they abound. And some even get promoted to the next level, I like to call DUMBARSE. And while it is not necessarily make fun of them, it sometimes is a must to point them out as a public service announcement as reminders of things we should never, ever do. So all other contenders, I am sorry to say, the role of Big Dumbarse has been filled.

By this girl?

My husband works for a Fortune 500 company of which he has been employed for a long time. He has also amassed a team of over 50 people who report to him directly and indirectly. Many of them are women. This works well since my husband loves to talk about his feelings. Or the opposite. Ditto for hearing about the feelings of others ad-nauseum. But, he does have one direct report who, while nice as pie, does talk too long and too often about feelings at the work place. My husband appreciates she is a hard worker but dodges her like a silver bullet when feasible.  Recently she requested a one-on-one meeting to discuss an urgent issue. When she arrived in his office she seemed flustered. He was all ears to help her solve her problem. She starts with: I am very upset. He asks: Did something happen with the customer? And here is what went down:

Her: I am very upset
Him: Did something happen with the customer?
Her: Yes, but  I am more upset about something else.
Him: And?
Her: They cancelled All My Children.
Him: (waiting for the punchline. It never comes. And I am pretty sure he made this face he likes to make right about now. And its not a face that screams “Tell me more!”)
Her: I really can’t believe it. They cancelled All My Children after all these years.
Him: Silence
Her: I wrote a letter to the head of ABC.

Pssst: Hey ladybug, I wish I could have interrupted you here. First, you know you are taking your grievance about the cancellation of a show about fake people's lives to your boss, right? Secondly, let me give you a heads up about that face he is making. It is a cross between "WOW" and "Are you __________ kidding me."  Third, are you reading his body language? I can almost promise it is NOT GOOD. Fourth, there is a only a modicum of possibility that he would ever have this conversation about ANY show. Maybe and only maybe if you were talking about LOST would you even have a shot. But All My Children? You might as well be talking about America's Got Talent or any piece of news from US Weekly.  And then what you should not do is tell him you wrote a letter to the head of ABC about the cancellation of this or ANY show. Ever. And this meeting you called was for an urgent company issue. Let's talk business, ma'am. This isn't the watercooler. Or the lunch line.  Or your sister's house.

Finally, my husband indicated “time is up” by standing up. If he had a secret button to magically turn her chair into an ejector seat, he would have pushed it. And she was surprised time was up. She asked if she couldn't have just a few more minutes. My husband, in his dry tone, said, "You actually just used 29.5 minutes on a discourse regarding All My Children. Probably not a good idea for the future, agreed?" She smiled, agreed, and he knows this will happen about 200 more times this year. As I have said before, people in the south like to use a common phrase in these situations: Bless her heart. And NOT in a good way. People from all other parts of the country might say: WOW, what a big dumbarse. But thank you lady I don't even know because you made me feel awesome about the one time I said "A**hole" in from of my boss. 

But she might not be the biggest dumbarse I have heard about this week. Shocking, I know. How about this guy, who clearly, takes the cake:

Christian Boncorps was drunk at the airport. That is about all you need to know that this story doesn't end well, wastes many people's time and resources, and causes big, fat delays at JFK. But Christian was sauced. And they wouldn't let him on the airplane. So instead of wobbling back to the bar and waiting to bitch up a storm, he instead says he is Bin Laden. AND he has a bomb. Really Christian Boncorps. Bin Laden AND a bomb? WOW. You really didn't want to go anywhere, did you? Oh, I meant, you didn't want to go anywhere but the pokey. Do I need to explain to you that NO ONE wants a reference made to Bin Laden, especially in NYC? And have you not been in the US for the past ten years? You simply do NOT slip "bomb" into conversation at the airport. In fact, you don't so much as threaten that you are carrying a &^@%(! # plastic spork from KFC without getting the stinkeye from someone in uniform and then, getting tossed in the pokey. Lucky for you, the clerk at the AirFrance counter was also a dumbarse and didn't call the police. You didn't immediately go to jail so it was your lucky day. But you still take home the title: BIG DUMBARSE.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

The day you died...

I saw someone that looked like you the other day. It seemed like I was looking at a twin. As I moved that direction, instinctively, I thought I would be fine. Say hello even. Remark on the similarities. Think about you. But as I got within a few feet, I realized only too late that I was not fine at all. And instead of having this great moment swathed in your memory, I started to cry in the immediate vicinity of a several complete strangers. I certainly can be tough, but I have such a soft spot for you and all the memories reverberating from a single thought of you. I quickly explained I was terribly sorry. But I had this impression I would be calm, if not delighted to see the resemblance but it became just another moment of realization that I seem to be having trouble getting over you. Or more specifically, getting over your absence.

The day started out as days in our house do, busy with movement, voices, laughter. My entire family was in town for a huge party we were hosting. JMac took you out for a morning run, yet when you returned, you were still fired up and playful. I took you out in the yard and played soccer ball with you and laughed as I watched you leap like a little deer as you chased it. I had no reason to think this morning would be any different than the roughly 2,500 other mornings we had spent together.

But something shifted, and then slid. And you went from fully living to dying right in front of my eyes. I tried to keep my voice calm as I opened the downstairs back door and yelled to John. He ran downstairs because the panic in my voice was enough to make him hurry.  And I faltered between staying with you and making a call to someone who could tell me how to fix the situation.

And I called the vet who asked me to bring you in and when I ran back to your furry body, John shielded me from you. And somehow even though I knew, I could not begin to accept it. And there it was, an ordinary morning gone terribly sideways. 


I think the saddest part of all is not that we lost you, but that I don't have you now. Now when MiniMac would try to ride you around like a circus animal. Or now when you would kick your tiny heels up in delight over the inordinate amount of our child's food that somehow still makes it to the floor. Or that the air outside is perfect for long runs and walks at the park. And that you aren't here for MiniMac to love. Because he still talks about you. And how you live in heaven. And that when he was a baby, you certainly loved to give him kisses. Most significant in our loss is the fact that you were by far the sassiest, liveliest dog a girl could have asked for. Oh, you were sassy. And by the way, you were a big traitor too. You were mine and the minute you met JMac, well, you basically realigned your allegiance. And reinforced it daily. 


I miss you. I think I am over you and clearly, I am not. Maybe I won't be. Maybe I won't reach a place where I can think of you and laugh about the time you ate your own poop. Or, I do laugh about that and then my word, I still cry. You were beautiful and perfect. And sassy. And a back talker. But I loved that about you. And I understood why people get a new pet so soon after they lose one. Because there was a giant chasm where your lithe body wagged. But I want someone who not only looks like you, but someone who acts just like you. MiniMac asked me over the weekend when we were "getting you back" and I wish I had an answer.

The day you died was a really hard day. But a day I realized the extent that I was capable of loving. And losing.

The only thing I regret (besides the incident in which you ate your own poop which had grave consequences for both of us) was that when MM was born, I wouldn't let you sleep in our bed anymore. Although, MANY times when I was getting ready for bed and JMac was already in bed, somehow you would end up there too which you and JMac feigned big surprise like HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?

But  now, I realize, that your cuddly, sweetness was only mine on loan. And I would have made a permanent place for you.

I don't regret loving you. I only regret that I was incapable of giving you bionic or supernatural powers. Or a drink from the fountain of youth so I could still have you here with us. With your velvety head, perfect for kisses. And your sassy mouth.And a girl like me deserves nothing but a sassy dame like you.