Raise your hand if you hate the dentist. I mean, not the dentist, he’s probably a nice enough fellow but raise your hand if you hate going to the dentist. You can’t see but both my hands are raised.
Getting me to go the dentist is like pulling teeth. Har har har.
I hate it. A lot. I managed to avoid it for nearly two years because I was pregnant and X-rays and any other excuse I could tell myself. At least once a week I wake up from a nightmare involving my teeth crumbling out of my head. Today that became a reality. Kind of. They told me I’ve started to grind my teeth when I’m sleeping.
“Impossible!” I replied. “I haven’t been sleeping. I have a newborn.”
After he courtesy laughed at my new mom joke the dentist said “No. I’m serious. You’re grinding your teeth when you sleep. You need a night guard”.
A sexy, sexy night guard. Um, yeeeah. There’s nothing a stretch mark-scarred, overweight, not-fitting-into-any-of-her-clothes new mama needs like a night guard. I can’t wait to slurp good night into Serge’s ear. “Sssshhhweeet dreamsssshh Shherge.”
The stress of being responsible for the life of a newborn 24/7 (not to mention a very busy toddler), even when I sleep, slapped me pretty hard today. This is exhausting, you guys! And it’s not like when you have a hard day and can look forward to collapsing into bed for a good night’s sleep. The nights are just as bad what with getting up every three hours and even if Henry sleeps for a four hour stretch I still jolt awake certain disaster has struck. When I ascertain the house isn’t on fire I tune my ear toward Henry’s room like an old man with a hearing aid, straining to hear what noises the little guy is making. Is he awake? Is he about to wake up? Is his diaper messy? Did he lose his binky? I think I heard his binky drop. Is he suffocating under the blanket? Should I check on him? I better check on him.
I think I’ve been on autopilot this past month and now… Well, now I’m sitting on the couch having a very quiet anxiety attack accompanied by The Fresh Beat Band and if you’re familiar with Nickelodeon’s The Fresh Beat Band you know this can only add to the anxiety.
Swiper no swiping. Wait. What? Help me.
It gets better, I know it gets better. Tomorrow is a new day. Light at the end of the tunnel and all that. Perhaps this is a direct reaction to the intense snowstorm that ambushed our beautiful spring weather and has no plans of leaving any time soon. Being cooped up with a newborn, a toddler and two frisky black labs, and oh yeah, The Fresh Beat Band would make anyone twitchy.
It’ll get better, I know. In the meantime there’s Thursday’s root canal to look forward to. You think the doctor would be pissed if I showed up drunk?