“Waiting for ice cream”

  Act I: Cookie and Princess, sisters, peas in a pod

  Act II: Their ice cream is ready as big brother Gameboy saunters into the shot, noticing nothing but his book

How my teeth got too sharp at age 36

  I was at the dentist today and got to thinking about my teeth. I never had braces, so they're not movie-star straight, and in this age of tooth whiteners, they're kind of yellow. But they're strong, and I haven't had many fillings. Most dentists say I have nice teeth, and I like that.
  But after our previous dentist retired, I had a hard time finding a dentist I liked. The dentist who bought his practice was OK, but his office would call me to say I hadn't been to the dentist in awhile. "I know," I'd say. "I'll make an appointment when I want to." I told them specifically to stop calling me for this. They could call to remind me about my appointments, but stop calling just to drum up business. The last straw was the 7 a.m. phone call. I am asleep at 7 a.m. Ask anyone.
  Then there was "Dr. Sparkle," who was fresh out of dental school. He wrote the kids fluoride prescription for two different doses and was evasive when I asked him to explain the discrepancy. (I just needed to understand! I'm not suing you over the fluoride prescription! Sheesh!) When I asked for information about sealants, he handed me a marketing brochure from the company that makes the stuff. He didn't seem to understand what kind of information I was talking about.
  His partner, "Dr. Foppish," said right in front of my daughter, "Oh, she's going to need braces, I can see it right now!" He said it as if she were a dog or horse. I don't want a dentist planting insecurities; if he has a concern, he should talk to me privately.
  And speaking of planting insecurities, I saw Dr. Sparkle one more time, and after my check-up, he said that my front teeth are too square and pointy at the corners. "We'll smooth those out for you one of these times you're in here," he said. "You'd be surprised what a difference something small like that can make."
  I laughed out loud looking him right in the face. I got out of the chair saying "I can tell you right now; there is no way I'm going to have you grind down the edges of my teeth!"

  How much money would it cost to grind down teeth that had served me well for 36 years? Shouldn't I instead be buying food for my children? I firmly believed it would be vain and stupid to let his comment bother me and yet, I couldn't help but look at my teeth for the next week every time I passed a mirror. This made me pretty mad.
  NOTE TO DENTISTS: Don't tell your patients you're going to perform cosmetic procedures on them! Ask first! Ask if they have any concerns! Ask if they'd like to hear about cosmetic services you provide! The answer might be no!
  The next dentist was "Dr. Old School." His office was dirty and I think they might not have had a computer. He was often on the phone trying to find the lowest price for stuff. He had a plan to jerry-rig some device to straighten my son's front teeth so we'd be spared the expense of orthodontics. He never asked whether we'd want to avoid the expense.
  So now we're happy with our new dentists, who are a husband-and-wife team. They gave us a nice referral to an orthodontist, which turned out well. And neither one of them has told me my teeth are too sharp.

Yukon ho!

  Sometimes in the middle of the night, I get the manic urge to wake the children and drive somewhere fantastic. They could stay in their pajamas, take a blanket to wrap up in, and we'd start a road trip to the Grand Canyon or Ozarks. We'd stop for snacks when they got hungry, and find a K-Mart or something when they decided to get dressed.
  But I don't. Instead, I go to bed and wake up the next morning too tired to even make it to the library before noon.

My Prince of Tennis

  We have been playing tennis every day for three days. We'll probably go out again tomorrow. Why? Because Gameboy is reading the "Prince of Tennis" Japanese manga series.

  Who knew tennis was so cool? I even made a call about taking lessons this summer.
  Gameboy seems to like the physical act of the sport, but really, I think he's more interested in the rules and scoring. It does seem mysterious, the way tennis is scored. Love-15? 15-30? 40-all? Deuce? It seems like it was invented by a kid.

Mmm ... tacos

  Today the kids and I went to Taco John's and I had a stuffed grilled taco, which is making a special appearance on their menu.
  Three hours later, I picked up the kids from play practice. Driving home, I wanted another taco. We went through the drive-through. The cashier was the same person I had bought my other taco from. I found this embarrassing. Sure, I'm a grown woman, and I can eat two tacos in a day if I want, even the stuffed, grilled kind. Still, I was waiting for him to say, "Back for more, eh?"
  I turned back to the kids and said, "Oh no! It's the same guy!"
  They thought it was a little funny.
  Then I turned back to the window and saw that he hadn't closed his window and probably heard me.
  I turned to the kids again and loudly whispered, "Oh no! I think he heard me!"
  I was reminded of a friend's blog post about sneaking back into a store to buy more candy even though it was supposed to be "six per customer." He wore a disguise the second time, a black hat.
  I told the kids this story as we waited for our food. Then I suggested to them that I put on my hat before taking the bag of food. This got them laughing.
  It was getting late, and I got the giggles bad enough that the cashier might have thought I was drunk-driving a van full of kids.
  Or maybe he sees this kind of thing all the time. Hazard of the job.

Another reason to like Florida

  On our recent vacation to Florida, I noticed every day that the second I woke up, I had an instant hairdo. I didn't even touch it, and it was curly and bouncy. If I'd grown up in Florida, I'd probably think of myself as a person with curly hair.

  Our travel back to Minnesota started by waking up at 1:30 a.m., catching a bus, getting to the airport, flying home. It was a long, tiring trip. I caught a look at myself in the bathroom of the Minneapolis airport. The hair I remembered was back.

Pants crisis

  Here is a screen shot of glamorous movie star Julia Roberts in the 1989 movie "Steel Magnolias." Please note that she is not supposed to be wearing her husband's clothes here; she's just wearing the high pants and big shirts that I remember so well from high school.
  I'm not saying I want pants like these.

  Though my mom jeans come close. I got them at Goodwill and still wear them. Looking at this picture, I think I should stop tucking shirts into these pants. I don't was my breasts to hang below my waist band, and with these pants, I fear I run that risk.

  I bought some orange corduroy pants online and wear them a lot. It occurred to me one day that really, they're too big. I held out the waistband to assess how big they are and surprised myself. "What am I doing wearing these pants?" I wondered. I had my daughter take a picture, which looks like it's out of a weight-loss ad.
  Yet I still wear the pants.

  I recently bought some news pants at Sam's Club. (Sam's Club, yeah, I know, whatever.) There is nowhere to try on pants at Sam's Club, but I was pretty sure they'd fit.
  I didn't know until I got home that I'd just bought low pants. I don't want low pants! I'm 38 years old, and I don't want to show off my mother-of-three tummy stretch marks, not to mention the paunchy thing that happens when I sit down. Of course, that's just what's going on in the front.

  In the back, the low pants show off my red plaid underwear that I bought at the Victoria's Secret after-Christmas sale. I'd rather keep them my secret.
  I could bend over further and show off my butt, but this isn't that kind of blog.
  Am I going to have to go to a store and try on pants and spend brand-new-pants kind of money on them? My leanings right now are to start making my own pants instead. Or troll the Goodwill more carefully. There must be a pair of pants out there that fits me.

  I suppose low pants can look good if you're standing there having your picture taken, but if you're trying to move around and sit down? No. Not so good.
  On the other hand, if Julia Roberts has evolved, why can't I? Don't answer that.

At long last

  A lot of attention is paid to “happy firsts” in a child’s life. The first smile, first laugh, steps, words, tooth are gladly anticipated and marked in baby books. But today I’m thinking about “happy lasts.”
  Happy lasts are harder to keep track of. It can be several months before you realize, “Wow, it's been months since she did that.”
  Some candidates for happy lasts would include the last time a child spilled milk, wet the bed, got lost in a store, drew on the walls. My biggest would be the last time they hit me in the face with their head. Still waiting for that one.
  My 4-year-old hung onto that first-thing-in-the-morning nursing for a long time. She would climb into bed with me and nurse for literally less than a minute. I was usually too sleepy to even wake up. The she’d go back to sleep for awhile, until we both got up.
  The last time she did this, she nursed as usual, then let go abruptly and said loudly, “I won't be doing that anymore.” Then she rolled over and went back to sleep. I found the complexity of her verb tense amusing, considering what she was talking about.
  I didn’t believe her, but months later, I see that she was right. It’s nice to have a clear memory of the last time she nursed. And it is a happy last; I don’t miss it one bit.