Go Back to Your Oppice!

Little One is attempting the art of bossiness.  How do I know?

When told nap time had arrived, she bellowed at me (yes, preschoolers can bellow):

"Mama!  Go back to your oppice!"  (Uh, that was "office.")

She has issues with her "f" sound.  "F" does not come out properly when one is missing three front teeth.

Despite her utterly cute and endearing "oppice," she was quickly informed that taking that tone and using those words with her mother results in undesirable consequences.

I do not care for being ordered around by my children.

There are other things I do not care to see in/from my children.  One of those things is whining.

Do not get me started on whining.  I loathe whining.  Whining hits a nerve in me that instantaneously makes me want to snatch the whiner bald-headed.  But that requires a whole 'nother blog post.

Yes, I am a Southern Mama.  Why do you ask?

~ G

I Am a Shallow, Horrible Woman

This is one of those posts that could possibly get me international attention as the worst mother in the world.  I promised I would say it like it is and be truthful.  This is an anonymous blog, so I should be able to lay it out there, right?  The following could possibly cause my comment box to be filled with nasty, vile declarations of how wretched I am.  I accept that.  Here goes:

I'm crushed by Little One's appearance sans three front teeth.  Darling says he can't tell a difference.  A dear friend who came over yesterday said she couldn't tell.  But I can.  I can tell.  She doesn't look the same to me.  Her upper lip caves in a little, like an old man who needs to put in his dentures.  I keep looking at her, trying to focus above her nose, hoping to see my little girl's face like I know her.  She doesn't look the same to me.  I don't think the lack of teeth makes her cute.  Her face looks like I've done something wrong, like I've failed.  This isn't like a broken limb or a cut that will heal in a few weeks or even a few months.  This is the way it is until her permanent teeth come in several years from now.

I'm afraid that because she doesn't look the same I will treat her differently and it'll affect how she grows and what kind of woman she becomes.  I'm afraid that because she isn't as impossibly cute to me without those top front teeth that I will subliminally treat her as if she's less than.  And she isn't.  She's still herself.  She's still hysterically funny and precious.  She just doesn't look the same.  I'm shocked at how much her appearance bothers me.  I'm shocked by my shallowness.  I've always been the one who doesn't care about clothing labels or hair styles or anything much beyond basic hygiene and comportment.  My reaction has stunned and shamed me.  How shallow and horrible am I?  How terrible am I that her appearance matters so much to me?  Or am I just saying what most mothers would feel and are too ashamed to say?

I keep imagining what the women at the park will say or ask or think.  It's a looped litany in my head: What a horrible mother for not paying close enough attention to her daughter that she got hurt enough that her baby teeth were so damaged three of them had to be removed.  What are they - white trash who can't afford a dentist?  What does she feed her that her teeth rotted out - nothing but sugar?  Do they not know to brush their kids' teeth?  What's the deal - three kids and by the third they don't care enough to keep close watch on them?  They shut down by the third?  Well, that's what happens when you have more kids than you can handle.  That's why you should only have two kids - one for each hand.  What trashy people.  What a bad mother.  And the worst: She'd be cute if only she had her front teeth.

Darling came home early last night.  Yesterday afternoon was rough and my wonderful husband came home early to alleviate some of the pressure.  While the kids were outside playing and out of ear shot, I fell apart in his arms and told him everything I was thinking and how horrible I feel that she doesn't look like herself and how I'm a terrible, shallow mother for being upset about her appearance and how I'm afraid it'll change our relationship.  He hugged me.  He held me.  And then he pointed out that Big Kid has a mouthful of weird-looking teeth because his face hasn't grown enough to accommodate his permanent teeth and we don't even notice anymore.  Big Kid's our son and we love him regardless and soon I'll forget how Little One has changed.  She's still our baby.  He reminded me that the surgeon looked at the x-rays and assured us she didn't damage her permanent teeth, as we'd been warned, and that she'll just have a toothless grin for a few years.  A few years in a long life is nothing.  My man is so smart.  God knew what he was doing when he matched us.

So here I sit, watching her play.  She ate lunch and is now drawing circles.  "Circie" she says.  She's happy.  She's not upset at all that she doesn't have her top front teeth.  It hasn't even phased her, except now she bites into food on the side of her mouth, not the front.  Today she ate more comfortably than she has since the accident.  I know I'm completely transferring my worries onto her.  She's healthy and she's happy.  And... she smells like herself again.  And she feels the same in my arms.  She snuggles into me the same way.

Eventually I'll forgive myself, right?

Clueless about this whole post?  Go here and then here.

~ G

Thank You for the Prayers

Little One's surgery was this morning.  Things went well.  Her appointment was moved up because they had a cancellation, so we got in earlier.  We signed in and moments later we were moved to a surgical room.  They were so kind and gentle with her - and with us.  Everything was done quickly and kindly.  Within a minute of it being over, Little One was meowing again.  (Yes, she likes to pretend she's a cat.)  The whole staff turned out to coo over her as we left.  Well, there's not much cuter than a toddler in her jammies and rainboots, holding her blankies and bear.

We got back home and cuddled on the couch. Darling went on to work.  Little One had some ice cream.  She's napping comfortably now.  How am I?  Well, my mama heart is on the mend.  

Thank you for the prayers.  Today felt covered in prayer.  Thanks be to God.

~ G

More on the Mouth

We saw the oral surgeon yesterday.  He agrees that three of Little One's teeth need to be extracted.  He doesn't want to do general anesthesia unless we're at the hospital.  He thinks numbing her up and then just pulling them in the office will suffice.  Given the risks of general anesthesia on a two year-old, Darling and I completely agree.  So, Tuesday morning we'll give her some Motrin an hour before we go in and then that'll be that.

Yesterday, I had to stay after the appointment and talk to the billing lady about how we're paying.  My eyes got misty thinking about coming in to remove my baby's teeth.  She smiled and said I wouldn't be the first mama who cried.  She said she and all the other women cry when the mamas cry because they are mamas, too.  I'm glad to know I won't be the first to blubber up.  Good grief.  It's only teeth.  But she's my baby.  And she's too little to know what's happening.  And I can't explain it in a way she'll understand.  Somehow that makes it worse.  Or maybe it doesn't.  I don't know.  What I know is that should all go well, the day after the extraction, she'll be able to eat normally again and that's a good thing.  Right now she's very uncomfortable.  Sigh. 

Motherhood is not for wimps.  

~ G

Again

Again my brain is focused on Little One.  We saw the pediatric dentist today who said three of her teeth needed to come out - like yesterday.  Lovely.  We have an appointment to see an oral surgeon on Monday and may have to wait for the extraction surgery until later in the week.  Right now I'm waiting to hear from another office about getting in tomorrow and maybe even doing the extraction tomorrow.  We'll see.


So,  the "Faker Truffles" recipe and the Attachment Parenting post will have to wait.  Again. My brain can't focus on much more than caring for the fam right now.  Certainly that's the right order of priorities. 


And if anyone's out there reading... please pray the extraction's easy and quick and that Little One heals like a champ.  Thank you.


~ G

Baby Teeth

The plan today was to write about Attachment Parenting.  It's been on my mind a lot lately and I've been trying to arrange my thoughts into some semblance of a coherent post.  But, it's not going to get written today.  My mind is focused on Little One and her teeth.


Remember me telling you that she might lose 1-4 baby teeth? (For the whole story, go here.) Well, things were looking good.  The bruising lessened.  Her teeth felt firmly planted in her gum.  We've even brushed her teeth properly.  She started eating normal foods again this weekend and now those front teeth look crooked and weird.  I finally reached in her mouth today and one of the front ones wobbles terribly.


I panicked.  My calm and cool in the face of emergencies still hasn't returned.  If you see it somewhere, please send it home, because I really miss feeling calm and cool and collected when things look bleak.  So, I panicked and I called the pediatric dentist who said to put her back on soft foods for a month.  A month.


He also suggested calling the oral surgeon to see if the teeth could be saved, but we're probably talking about  root canals - on a 2.5 year old.  It would require general anesthesia.  On a 2.5 year old.  And lots of pain for several days.  And lots and lots of money.  But, I made an appointment with the oral surgeon, just for a consultation. 
 
I tried calling Darling, but he wasn't available.  I decided to call the orthodontist and the speech therapist to get more opinions.  Going to great lengths makes no sense unless not having those teeth will make a big difference in her future life.  The orthodontist said if she loses all four teeth that she'll just have a gappy smile longer and her permanent teeth might come in sooner, neither of which are bad things.  The speech therapist said if she's already articulating her sounds then losing her teeth won't necessarily wreck her speech.


So.  Darling and I just need to sit down and talk about it.  I can't see putting a toddler under general anesthesia just to save a few baby teeth she will definitely lose in a few years.  Darling might have another perspective.  Making big decisions can't happen until we talk and I'll feel a little at odds and ends until we talk.  In the meantime, here I am, blathering on about it.


Little One doesn't have much of an appetite today.  She acts like herself.  She doesn't appear to be hurting.  Me, on the other hand, I'm a little sick at heart and a little sick to my stomach.  I realize in the big scheme of things, this is not a big deal.  I get that.  I do.  I know there are things that would make me wish we were only talking about losing a few teeth.  But, like I tell people about grieving, emotions are emotions and you can't compare your hurt and ache to others.  Mama Worry is Mama Worry.


~ G

An Evening in the ER

The long and the short of it is Little One fell off or jumped onto her brother's foot board.  We were finishing dinner when I heard her long, painful scream.  Blood was everywhere - gushing down her chin, pooling on the foot board, dripping onto the comforter.  I scooped her up and grabbed a baby washcloth, shoved an ice cube in it, and tried my best to calm her down. 

She had bitten deeply into her lip, the blood wasn't clotting after 20 minutes, and a top tooth was shoved back behind her front teeth.  All this time she was screaming and crying.  How do you explain to a toddler that she'll be okay?  Or that you'll do her best for her?  How do you even know she'll be okay?

After calling our new Dr. and not getting a return call from the Dr.-on-call, I called our old Dr. and immediately got a return call from the nurse-on-call.  (Make no mistake, after I call our new Dr and give him a piece of my mind, we're going back to the old Dr.)  The nurse suggested we call our dentist.  I called our pediatric dentist who heard my voice and immediately said he'd meet us at his office.  

She's most likely going to lose the tooth, possibly the three around it.  Hopefully she didn't damage the permanent tooth forming above the root of the baby tooth.  Our pediatric dentist strongly suggested we go to the pediatric ER just to make sure we weren't dealing with head trauma and to see if she needed stitches for the deep gashes in her lip.

Two hours later, we were headed home from the ER.  No head trauma.  Stitches were another story.  If she'd been cut that deeply anywhere else, she'd need stitches.  Since the wounds cut into her inner lip, she'd probably chew them out anyway.  The wound expert at the pediatric ER said we could do stitches, but leaving her alone would net the same results - just without the anger and crying from getting stitches.  We were sent home with instructions to feed her soft foods, no salt, no acidic foods, and lots of popsicles.

Her lip looks huge.  She looks like she lost a nasty fight.  Her lip is swollen.  Her teeth are a mess.  She's very tired.  And wants to eat pretzels.  Aside from her annoyance that we won't let her crunch on salty pretzels, she's just worn out.  But she's going to be fine.

Darling was perfect through it all.  Well, mostly.  I about lost my mind when he couldn't find the Dr.'s numbers on the fridge, but that was me and not him.  He was the picture of calm.  I've never seen him so steady.  Thank God for two parents.

Me?  How am I doing?  I'm a wreck.  I'm an emotional basket case today.  Last night I was jittery and hyper-alert.  Today I'm ragged.  Suddenly, all the emotions and grieving I thought I'd processed thoroughly after two miscarriages in a row and then pregnancy with Little One jumped up and ripped into me.  The fear that we won't get to keep her leaped back into the forefront.

I remember being pregnant with her and desperately trying to keep myself from thinking about our new baby too much.  We already had two healthy boys.  I'd miscarried our first baby and then had two healthy, perfect, full-term babies in a row.  The next two pregnancies ended early and horrifically.  (Is there such a thing as a non-horrific miscarriage?  Didn't think so.)  So when I got pregnant with Little One, I managed to build an emotional fortress around my heart.  I numbed myself.  I was convinced we'd come home from the hospital without a baby in our arms.  No where in my heart did I think we'd get to keep her.  I know God's got it, but the miscarriages taught me that just because God has it doesn't mean it'll work out the way I want.  His will and my will are not always simpatico.

After Little One was born, it took time to settle into the idea that we'd get to keep her.  Bear with me, because I know this next part is a leap, but I had to give her back to God to be able to keep her.  I had to thank God for her and then tell him I knew she was in His hands, not mine and if he chose to take her, she was His.  Somehow, in that act of on-my-face humility, I was freed to love her and revel in her presence in our family.  And I did.  And I do.

And then last night she got hurt and all those emotions from being pregnant with her and those early newborn days have come flooding back and I feel like a wreck all over again.  Thoughts of what could have been keep rushing into my head.  I keep thinking back to last night and what if I'd gotten up and insisted on her bath, instead of letting her go play?  Why didn't I make sure her brothers had put up their door gates to keep her out of their rooms?  The "what ifs" and "why didn't I's" will paralyze me if I don't process this.

It was just a minor fall.  Her lip will heal.  Her permanent teeth might come in with spots from where her baby teeth roots bumped them.  But that's minor.  She's here.  She's healthy.  She'll heal.  And yet I'm reminded again we're here on a string, by the grace of God.  And it's overwhelming.