Author Archives: momsranting

snot season

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whattoexpect.com

It’s that time.

A couple weeks into the school year, we start with the sniffling, sneezing, hacking, sore throat, whining, complaining…. and that’s from the 17 year old.

Of course it spreads.

It’s too late once it’s invaded the house. Even as my oldest describes the feeling of razor blades every time she swallows, I’m less concerned about her–too late to save–than the ones who are still healthy. “Don’t touch anyone! Don’t kiss anyone!! Wash your hands!!!”

The four year old is next.

“How’s your throat Sammy?” I get a sad face, “Still not good”. He wants weak tea, basically warm sugar water… and cough drops. this is his excuse to avoid eating chicken at dinner, and stick to fruit and jello.

After a couple days, all seems well.

Hubby mentions “Hey, look who didn’t get sick!” as he gestures towards the unassuming toddler.

Because he doesn’t know how things work.

Next day, during nap…..sounds like she’s gurgling in her nose.

Wakes up, we run to the store.

She sneezes.

WOW.

A face full of snot. Just hanging off of her, and I’m standing at the trunk of the car, unloading groceries as she looks to me for some help with this. For once, no Kleenex or wipes in reaching distance.

I have nothing. So I do what any respectable mom does….

I grab it. A  handful of snot.  And I debate who should I wipe this off onto…. her or me…

She wins, because I really like her sweater. So it goes on me. Just a little keepsake.

Mom of the year over here. Or just really gross and unprepared. Maybe both.

 

learning how to take soap in the mouth

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Me and the two little ones were reading a book upstairs.

We love the “David” series. “David gets in trouble”,  “No! David!”,  “David goes to school”. They are written by a former child delinquent turned successful author….named David…..

This kid David is a horror, eating the dog biscuits, leaving home with no pants on, messing up and breaking things all over the house. At the end of each book he finds his conscience or just starts to realize what a little jerk he is….and apologizes.  the adult he’s been terrorizing, usually mom or his teacher, then affirms their affection for him, lots of hugs going on, and we close the book with a happy little sigh.

Some of the things David does in these books are the SAME THINGS my kids do at times. Crazy, I know.

So today, it was “David get’s in trouble”. We get to the page where he is sitting with a bar of soap in his mouth….saying “But Dad says it!”

david

Sammy is fascinated. Remembering his own single experience with soap in the mouth.

“Momma, how did his mom get him to sit still? Because when you tried to put soap in MY mouth I moved all around!”

“Well, because David is still good enough to know that when his mommy needs to put soap in his mouth, he should sit still”

He looked thoughtful.

The event leading up to getting soap in his mouth was pretty traumatic for both of us. He had just turned 4. We were at the drug store, he wanted me to buy him another gun. I said no. First, those cheap pieces of plastic don’t even last 2 days and they are ridiculously expensive at that. And second, I had recently decided that he was too obsessed with guns, shooting all of us and the babysitter at every chance. I was trying to be a decent mom and so put my foot down and said no more guns.

He didn’t just have a tantrum. He may have been possessed, yelling, crying, gnashing his teeth. I was beyond humiliated, but tried to act unaffected, wishing I knew for sure if there were security cameras in the parking lot or not. I actually had to drag him out of the store, as he tried to lie down on the floor to spite me. On the way home he was still screaming, adding a few “I hate you’s” to spice it up. KICKING the back of my seat the whole time. I recorded it with my phone for my husband who blindly believes this kid is the most innocent and gentle angel ever to exist.

We get home. At that point I am dangerously calm. I drag him into the house, still screaming, and tell my husband not to interfere as I take him upstairs to dole out THE PUNISHMENT. For this temper tantrum, for telling me he hates me, he is going to taste soap for the first time. I tell him this, and bring him to the sink. I grab a bar of Dove, extra sensitive, and tell him to open his mouth.

Are you crazy!???!! His eyes spoke to me as he clamped his hands over his mouth. No threatening would work. I tried to pry his hands away, tried to hold him in my lap, it was like wrestling with an octopus. I could not restrain him enough and finally called it after I got the soap to scrape against a single tooth by pure luck. He choked, gagged, drooled huge amounts of spit as he refused to close his mouth. I let him brush his teeth, then sat on the floor in a sweaty heap of failed motherhood.

He did not have a tantrum again. We both still remember that very vividly. He asks me sometimes if I remember it, and definitely seems to have learned something from it, as there is no more asking for guns at the drug stores. He is learning to be a lot sneakier and working on the guilt factor to persuade me to buy him other things that he wants. Now, when I say no, he gets tearful and says in a lost voice ….”so, I guess you just don’t love me anymore…” I can tolerate this much better, I can deal with the guilt and ever present need to over compensate all the time, lest any child feel they are not loved as much as the others.

But I thought David taught us a valuable lesson today. And maybe the more we read that book, it will reinforce it.

See?… David lets HIS mom put soap in his mouth. Good boy, David. Good boy.

david1

 

 

Desperation and dangerous deliciousness

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I’m a snacker.

I love to have something sweet, especially when I’m up at night, enjoying my freedom from everyone else.

This is dangerous, because I no longer have the metabolism to support my shameless snacking. And I’ve developed a habit, a real habit for snacking on garbage.

So I went through all the cycles one must go through when confronting their snacking habit. I ignored it. I lied to myself about it. And to others, if they dared question where their mini snickers bar went. Really, why would  you even try to keep that where I could find it? I pretended if I just went back for ONE piece of candy, 50 times… that it was better than just grabbing the bag and eating all of it. Finally I admitted it. I had a problem.

So I thought I outsmarted my weak willed self, by not buying any candy! No snacks for me. No hidden licorice or jelly beans to grab. No chocolate covered anything. No mini chocolate donuts.

Sigh.

That lasted a couple days. And tonight I’m scavenging for something. Anything to feed this craving. No, I don’t WANT an apple, or a yogurt, or peanuts…. or any of the completely delicious and healthy things I force my kids to snack on every day.

No.

I want sugar, the kind that puts holes in your teeth. The kind that pulls out your fillings, sweet, chewy, delicious and bad for you. And I have NONE.

So on my 3rd round through the cabinets, looking for any morsel that may have been hidden too well from myself…. I find my fix. Delicious and gummy, coated in sugar. How did I not notice these before? And assorted fruit flavors! It might just work.

gummy

So happy to be vitamin D deficient right now. Don’t even talk to me about the dangers of overdose… I’m a medical professional, I’ve got this covered.

school sucks

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samschool14

 

Oh. Look! There he is.

First day of “real” preschool. Ready to face the world.

Ready to make more friends. Ready to color inside the lines…… ready to LEAVE ME!!!!!

Oh. God. School sucks.

You would think after sending two others down this same path, I would be better with it.

Actually, I think BECAUSE of that, I am NOT better with it.

Look, right now, this kid love ME the most. It all starts and ends with me. Me and him. Us. I mean, yes, I also have this bond with the baby….because like him, she doesn’t know any better. But the older ones, it’s over for me with them. And if I had to pinpoint a time that the separation started…… it was when they started that damn school. Now, well, they laugh at me. Usually, behind my back. But sometimes to my face.

They know…. and he will soon know…. that Mommy doesn’t really control the world.

And that is the beginning of the end.

I just want more TIME!  And it’s crazy because after starting him in this school, my husband and I are panicked that he is already “behind” because we heard about a girl his age already reading at a first grade level. His class will be assessed this month and then the teacher will let us know how he falls within that class at conferences. I feel like I need to cram with him, all the while wanting to keep him home to myself and damn those stupid letters and numbers!

He will make friends. he will color inside the lines. He will leave me.

Never again will I be the beginning and the end for him. Sure, it won’t happen in a day. But it will START to happen, and then continue, snowballing with each grade level. He will question me…..question ME!! Can you even imagine? And just because I tell him something, he soon won’t automatically believe it. He will start to doubt me, and think maybe I don’t know everything. He may even talk about me. Actually complain about me to his friends. Laugh at me too…..

But today, he’s still mine. And I looked into those big eyes, as he talked all excitedly about his day…. and I could not help but smile at his happiness. And then smile 5 minutes later as he passed out in the car, exhausted from his new experience.

sammysleep

He is mine. My special boy, my preschooler, no one will ever love him more.

And if he likes his teacher too much, she will be punched.

kidding. kind of.

I hate that kid

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It’s confession time.

Sometimes….. I don’t like your kid.

It’s weird, this dislike I find myself having. I think sometimes these kids I find myself despising might not seem so bad if I didn’t have kids of my own…. but since I do have kids of my own, other kids have-on occasion-become the enemy.

I’m not proud of it. But I also don’t see myself improving until my kids start having the guts to be the aggressive ones on the playground or at the toy table in the coffee shop.  Because that’s how it starts…my inner kid-hate…when I see my innocent little angel looking confused as they are fleeced of domino’s by some little 3 year old bimbo who doesn’t understand the concept of sharing.

That’s what happened the other morning. I had just dropped Sammy off at his new preschool, so I may have already been a little unstable emotionally. I met my bestie at a little coffee place that had a cute little section for kids with some puzzles, books, and other toys. Jenna thought it was great.

gb5

See?!  Look how innocent she is!! So trusting!

So all is going well, until these other moms come close with their own little girls who head right over to the table with Jenna. Now, these girls were a bit older, you could see it in the hardness of their eyes as they looked Jenna up and down, sizing up the competition. They knew an easy mark….. so first the curly haired one moves a globe away from Jenna, so she can’t spin it anymore…. all the while glancing between me and my baby, to see what I would do. I tried the death stare….nothing. These kids were tough. Now, the key is to give a look to that kid that says “step away from my baby before someone gets hurt”…. but at the same time appearing cool and unconcerned to the mom who may or may not be glancing over at the table, waiting for YOUR little one to start something with THEIR baby. *snort*, As IF!

Then Jenna starts playing with the domino’s. There is a whole container of the things, and she’s got a few in hand. Of course, evil kid number 2 decides there are NO other good domino’s to be had…..other than the ones my sweet angel is holding. She creeps closer to my unsuspecting daughter, like a tiger stalking her prey…. watching me out of the corner of her eye, but Oh so boldly continuing on. Her hand comes out, takes one from Jenna. I look at the other moms, Oh, Of COURSE they are not paying attention to the future criminal over here… too engrossed in their own conversation. Now it’s on. Obviously, she’s got no soul. She must be stopped. She takes another one. My GOD…. I can’t take it anymore. For the love of all things holy, I must save my daughter!

“No-No” (in a sing-song voice), don’t take them from her, look, take them from this box!”

So, I sounded sweet. But SHE knew, and I knew what I was REALLY saying. “Do it again. And no one can save you…”

Then I played with them at the table. Just marking my territory…….

Crisis averted. I had rescued my little one. My innocent Jenna-Bean, full of goodness and light. Protected her from the harsh world a little longer…. kept her away from the predators.

Feeling pretty good about myself.

Turn my back for 30 SECONDS.

Glance back at my daughter. My innocent, sweet, perfect example of all that is right with the world.

What?! Is she….. Oh….oh no…..

Curly hair got a cracker from her mom. Jenna honed in like a retriever. Stalked her around the table. I glanced over as she swooped in, and NABBED it. Oh, thank god…it dropped…. Grab it Curly, Grab it and get away! She did, Whew…… made it….

And I watch Jen.  Sharing a stare with Curly’s mom. Licking crumbs off her finger. Pretty sure she’s saying “next time lady…. just wait”…..

So….. we moms shared a laugh.

Mutually despising each others children, and somehow bonding at the same time.

Hibachi Awkwardness

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It was a rare night of just me and my two girls, so we decided to go eat Hibachi somewhere.

We love the idea of someone cooking right in front of you,

we love the rice, the shrimp, the vegetables,

we LOVE the Yum Yum sauce…..

But we hate the awkwardness.

You know, the hibachi awkwardness that is bound to happen when you don’t have enough people in  your own party to fill up a table. Walking in there, just the three of us…. we didn’t have a chance. So we follow our hostess, past tables already full of people…. oh, maybe we’ll get lucky and there will be no one to sit with!  Nope, they found a table with about 6 people seated already, and placed us at the end.

There are plenty of reasons this feels weird to me. I felt we were already at a disadvantage, having less people in my party than the one already seated. So THEY are going to dominate the “table talk”.

Not that there is much talk between us…. because we all act like we can’t see or hear each other, at the same time totally seeing and hearing each other. I’ve seen it both ways, either the group you get seated with wants to introduce themselves, shake hands, etc…, or, more commonly…. eye contact is avoided at all cost. It’s acceptable to laugh when someone takes a piece of shrimp in the face instead of the mouth… but just a quick laugh, you can’t fully commit to it.

Bringing kids into the mix can really illustrate how awkward it can be….. because if your baby is being bad, or really good, doing something adorably cute, or falling flat on her face on the floor next to the table….. people WILL look, and sometimes laugh, comment to each other…. but at no point do they say these things to ME… so I never know how to respond, and end up doing what I do best, just pretending that I don’t hear them….because you know, I can’t see them….

Once, My husband and I took the 4 year old to eat Hibachi. I think before the toddler was born, so he was probably not yet 3.  We were seated, of course, next to another family. This one had a couple kids. They were not clued in yet about the whole “ignoring the people next to you” thing…  One took a liking to my husband, and proceeded to run and head butt him several times. His parents then had to acknowledge us, apologized, but could not stop their son from groping my husband with his very greasy hands. And then rubbing his face on him for some reason…. the whole time the parents are begging him to stop, the kid doesn’t want to stop, and hubby is all “Oh, don’t worry about it, it’s ok!”

This was funny to me, because anyone who knows my husband is aware that he is nothing if not polite. Ridiculously polite. Especially to strangers he doesn’t know. AND… he really goes CRAZY about his clothes getting food on them, and kids with dirty hands touching him. Or his clothes. So he sits there, smiles, laughs, Oh, that is so cute….how your son is putting his whole hand in his mouth….and then wiping it on my shirt… Oh, I love it! And as soon as we are out of the restaurant, he is almost shaking, desperate to get out of those clothes, and wash the spit off of him.

So it’s not the ideal situation…. eating at Hibachi. But we still do it, probably for the Yum Yum sauce more than anything. And the fire. And the little plastic guy who pees on the fire, if you’re lucky enough to have a chef with one of those on his cart…..

ebay.com. Weepy the wee wee

ebay.com. Weepy the wee wee

 

Secret Bollywood Addict

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One summer, back in the days when I had time to watch movies, I came across my first taste of Bollywood.

Lagaan.

An Indian drama involving a man, a woman, another woman, her brother, the British, an Indian village, and a Cricket match.

Ohhhhh.

lagaan

 

I was hooked. Passion stirred in my heart, I loved the characters, the story line, the dancing, the singing. The subtitles! I loved the subtitles, because it was not in English, which is a big turn off for some people, I know.

Drawback? It was long. It took commitment to watch, for 224 minutes. (that’s like, almost three hours).

I think the only reason I initially had the time for it, or any movies at that time was that I watched them while I studied at night, and everyone else was sleeping. I needed something on TV to keep me awake, but I loved the movie so much…I had to share it with my family. But how would they take to it?

With love. Lots and lots of Hindi love.

My oldest kids at that time were about 5 and 1. They loved the singing and dancing scenes, and begged to replay certain ones over. and over. and over.

Then came the costumes.

Rachel needed a Sari. And the Bindi for her forhead. Both purchased on Ebay, thank you very much.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

It wasn’t long before she had memorized the songs, and the dances to go with them. The kids would ask for “the stick dance” (really, watch the movie, you’ll get it). She’d run and get her costume on, and they would grab the Lincoln logs to use as the sticks in the movie. Watching them dance and enjoy it was so funny, and I really couldn’t believe they would actually watch the rest of the movie too. Not all at once, but pieces and parts.

After Lagaan, came a plethora of other Bollywood films. I bought another of my favorites, a bit more modern: Monsoon Wedding. Not as appropriate for kids with it’s more adult story line, including an extra marital affair, an arranged marriage, and a shocking revelation of child abuse. HOWEVER…. also loved it. Watched it lots of times. I DID also share the singing/dancing parts with the kids. Hmmm, maybe I’ll have to stay up super late and watch that one tonight…….

Funny thing, it’s been years since I had the time to watch any of these movies. The other day it just came to me, maybe I was sick of watching “Potty Power”, which the toddler loves to have on in the background. “Hey guys, I have something you are going to LOVE!”…. ran and found Lagaan, and popped it in.

I was amazed to find the 17 year old and 13 year old STILL love it, complained even when I just skipped to the dance scenes for the little ones. And the youngest two?? How did they like it??

lagaan1lagaan3lagaan4

Well, it makes them break into spontaneous and often very weird dance moves, but they absolutely love it as well.

So, I’m glad the subtitles don’t get in their way of enjoying a film. I love that they are all open to experiencing a glimpse of other cultures, not just the one or two we are familiar with at home.

Will my love of Bollywood help make my kids more culturally aware, and therefore more accepting and open to all people, from everywhere?

I hope so.

It’s a baby step, and a fun one at that.

 

 

 

 

 

The expectation….and the reality.

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kidss

 

Having kids is a fun way to learn to NOT have expectations. It’s also funny that my husband always seems surprised and even perplexed when the little ones don’t cooperate with his plans for a fun afternoon together.

Take today, for example.

He had the afternoon off, and wanted to take the kids to the zoo. Perfect day for it, not too hot, still nice and sunny.

His expectation: A beautiful bonding experience, complete with shared laughter and warm feelings, as we all enjoyed our day and each others company.

The reality: Horrible traffic getting there. 4 year old falls asleep 2 minutes before parking and required vigorous waking up. Toddler won’t sit in the stroller, won’t hold hands to walk, wants to run in front of every zoo vehicle, screams like a howler monkey when we are forced to man handle her for her own safety. I carry her under my arm like a rolled up rug part of the time, sick of fighting with her to keep her alive and not flattened by a random tram. We can’t find the seals, where are the damn seals! We give up as the zoo closes. Get stuck in rush hour traffic on the way home, as toddlers shoe falls off in the back seat. And she SCREAMS. On and off, for 40 minutes.

As I drove, in bumper to bumper traffic….. I kept peeking over at my husband. Just waiting for him to start stabbing himself in the eye with something. The screaming from the back was the kind you hear when your child is PISSED OFF….it goes on, and on….slowly tapering off. You start to think you’re safe, you made it through…as she sits quietly for a few minutes. But no…. she was just taking a break. And it starts again, and hubby’s eye starts twitching…. hand desperately clutching a pretzel rod.

Oh, don’t think she’d stop if we would just put on her shoe. Trust me, I WISH it was that easy. When she gets pissed lately, there is no quick fix. Replace the shoe, buy her new shoes, take off both shoes…..doesn’t matter. She will cry until she decides she’s done. Not usually sooner, but later.

Now, ALL of our outings do not suck this much. BUT, I never expect them NOT to suck. Because then I can be happy when we have fun, and not all surprised when we don’t.

But still, my husband just doesn’t seem to understand how the world works with children. I don’t know if I should call it hopeless optimism…. or just feel sorry for him and his lack of ability to deal with reality. Sometimes it’s endearing, and sometimes it’s just annoying.

Like when we get a chance to go out to dinner together, us and the little ones again.

His expectation: We will sit, speak to each other about important or interesting topics, and we will eat our meal.

The reality: we sit. Then I get up about 30 times to take Jenna potty, because she MUST visit the potty every 4 minutes every time we are in a public place. We talk, about why is he letting Sammy run around wearing Jenna’s blanket as a cape when I’m off in the bathroom? I talk a lot to the kids, things like “Stop that!”, “get out from under the table!”, “sit down!”, “please eat your food”, “don’t spill that!”, “leave your sister alone”, “leave ME alone!”….. and between this I steal bites of food.

Sometimes things go better. But you know if you have little ones….going out to eat is not like….easy or fun usually. You have to be ready for anything, which is tiring even if nothing actually happens. Because it COULD happen, and you must maintain order at all cost.

Sounds like a lot of work huh?

At this point, based on my experience, my own expectations are more realistic.

Expectations: I will not participate in any lengthy adult conversation or activity while my children are anywhere around me. I will eat mostly standing up, and my food will usually be cold. I will never pee alone. If walking up the stairs, I will be either carrying a toddler, or a laundry basket. Or, a toddler IN a laundry basket. I will never have time to do my hair. I will steal kisses a million times a day from anyone who has previously resided in my uterus.

The reality: see above. Honestly, not so bad. And one day, I will probably even sleep through an entire night again…..

 

On getting older

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old

 

When I was 29, I wrote what amounts to a blog post about getting older. Except I didn’t know what blogging was at that time, so I just typed it up on the computer and saved it. I think I was going to submit it to magazines, knowing the world would want my fresh perspective about how it feels to age from the standpoint of someone STILL IN THEIR 20’s.

Don’t worry. I just smacked myself.

There I was, worried about turning 30.  Stressing about the expression lines in my forehead and what department I should shop in, was I too old for Junior’s? God knows I was too young for Women’s….. and the waistbands there…….

I think back to that person I was. That young, silly girl really…..

She had NO idea. None. That girl, because certainly I didn’t feel I’d matured to the point of real womanhood yet, was so afraid of being 30. That girl wasted her entire 29th year in fear of what would happen upon turning 30. Guess what?

She lived.

I have settled comfortably into my 30’s, and finally found an acceptance of myself that I never had in my 20’s, or before.  Call me crazy, but I’ve liked my 30’s a lot more than any other age so far.

Why?

Because in some magical way, I’ve learned to care more about what I think about myself that what YOU think about me. Most of the time. I’m still critical of myself, but for my own sake, not anyone else’s. If I didn’t like something about myself 15 years ago, it was probably because I was worried it wasn’t good enough, didn’t look good enough for the approval of those around me. Now….when I want to cry about what having 4 kids has done to my body, it’s because I don’t like it….not because you may not. Get it?

And getting past 30, and then DEEP into the 30’s, gets you over the fear of being that age. Because every morning I still wake up, and when I look in the mirror I see the same face. Entering “full adulthood” hasn’t ravaged me. yet.

And when I think of turning 40….which is just a short year and 2 months away….. I’m not scared.

I wish I could have saved that girl I was from worrying and wasting a whole year, living in fear of a number she thought would define her in some horrible way. I would love for her to know how much better life gets when you become comfortable with yourself, and stop living in fear of losing your youth.

Now my sister is going to be 30. I remember being her age, looking ahead at what was surely going to be the start of “the end” for me….and being so jealous of her, at that time still so early into her 20’s. I was so sad for myself.

Now… I’m just happy for her. Because she’s going to find out what I already know.

At 30, things are just starting to get good.

 

 

 

 

My sick family

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So my sister recently blogged about how she is turning into a hypochondriac….like my dad. You can read it here: http://pattyparobek.blogspot.com/2014/08/i-have-my-dads-looks-humor-and.html

But while her self awareness is impressive, I don’t think she quite understands how it feels to be related to someone with her condition.

Here I am, already used to the calls from dad, requiring urgent medical care or at least a quick consult for the superbug he just acquired. His toe’s are numb, there is a twinge in his back, and why does THIS look like THIS???

He once opened a bag of undershirts, just bought from the store, and put one on.  At the end of the day, he noticed some dead type of insect stuck to the T-shirt. As I remember, it was maybe a day or so later, he found some sort of red rash on his skin, and immediately linked it with this mystery insect. He then did some research on where the T-shirts were packaged and came to the conclusion that he had contracted Leishmaniasis, a parasitic disease spread by the bite of sandflies. Clearly there was a hostage sandfly packaged in his T-shirts, just waiting to bite and infect the first person to open them. He went to the doctor, heart in mouth, and probably a little proud of himself for the brilliant diagnosis.

He felt a bit sheepish I believe, on his way OUT of the office.

I love my dad, and I truly love these moments as well. He is a great sport, and will laugh at himself the hardest of all.

the real deal, leishmaniasis...courtesy of wikipedia

the real deal, leishmaniasis…courtesy of wikipedia

Dad is a great believer in popping pills, for anything and everything. He WILL get sick if you happen to visit him and then mention feeling ill at anytime afterwards. His own secretary years ago wanted to test his sensitivity to the powers of suggestion. He came to work in PERFECT health one day, and after she looked at him with concern, telling him he looked a bit under the weather…. he actually felt horrible within mere hours and had to go home and rest.

So, I’m used to this from dad. For fathers day, I found myself scanning the drug aisle at Target, looking for any bright new bottles of special supplements that he might not have….

But now, for my sister to follow in his footsteps….. We are supposed to make fun of him together! I can’t do this alone!!!

I didn’t notice it starting with her, I don’t know how. I do remember some phone calls, but to be fair, I’ve always had her pegged as pretty stable so I’ve given her the benefit of the doubt. Even when she started going to the doctor, the minute clinic….. and plugging way to many things into WebMD. Her eagerness to need antibiotics for something, anything!…. should have tipped me off, but didn’t.

This last call though….. I can’t make any more excuses for her.

A bone, part of her own jaw, noticed for the first time and panic quickly follows. A call to me, just to inform me about her probable mouth cancer or at the very least, her abscessed tooth.  After her visit to the dentist, we talk. Um…it’s not cancer. It’s……my mouth.

Long pause.

Sigh.

Guess dad isn’t the only one getting bright colored pill bottles for Christmas this year.