Dental Duty

Recently, I took all of the kiddos to the dentist. By. Myself. Now, instead of skipping ahead to the part where I shoved a whole chocolate covered marshmallow heart into my mouth on the drive home, I shall start at the beginning.

We went early. Again, my version of early is not an early birds version because our appointment was at 9:30. Amazingly, we are ON TIME and this was not because I strapped them into their seats thirty minutes early so I could finally put on some pants. Well, maybe a little. Número UNO keeps telling me that they frown on pantlessness in this town and since I'm past the age that anyone would want a full on panty show, pants I must wear.

Into the car I plunged and was instantly surrounded by complaints, demands, and disgruntlement which predominately stemmed from my desire to keep their little choppers clean until the dentist could see them.

D: Mom! Mom! Mom!
Me: Yes, Drew?
D: Can I play my DS? Huh? Can I? (Wiggling in his seat like he's just downed three espressos.)
Me: When (abruptly cut off)
Savannah: Where's my milk baba?!
Abby: I want my blankie!
Savannah: I want my baba!
Drew: MOM! Where's my DS???
Abby: (Sobs beginning to shake her little body) I want my blankie!!!!

Me: (mentally contemplating probability of car ride completion without caving to overwhelming desire to stick head out of the window for remainder of ride.) OKAY!

Deep breaths. Gulp some hot chocolate. Scald tongue. Mentally swear. Drink some more. Don't feel a lick of remorse since it is not my dentist appointment.

Me: (Handing blanket behind me.) Abby! Here is your blankie! Drew! Your DS is in your bag. Play away. Savannah! Here! (Twisting arm into impossible contortion to hand back sippy cups.)

Silence. Absolute silence.
Blessed quiet broken on by the quiet beeping of Drew's DS.

Thirty seconds later,
Savananah: I need some goldfish!
Me: No.
Savannah: Mommy! I. Need. Some. Goldfish!!!
Me: N.O. Not until after we see the dentist.

Savannah's mouth opens, a yet unheard scream of protestation, when relief of relief, we are there.

Me: Too late! Time to get out of the car.
Exiting the vehicle involves going to both sides, putting shoes back on little feet, shoving all requisite toys and blankies in to my enormous bag which is still NOT big enough, locating sippy cups hurled into the floorboard while still keeping them from running into the parking lot to be squished like bugs.

Me: Everyone to the sidewalk. Up to the door! Don't push! Here we go!

Into the building we go. The dentist's office is actually a little ways in and we have to traipse through a common area for a doctor's office to get to the giant cardboard toothbrush heralding our arrival. A brief wait and I'm not saying that they hurried to get us for fear we would dismantle every cutsey sign and display out there but that receptionist looked a little too happy to usher us into the back.

Now for a little back story. We've been to this dentist before. He came highly recommended from some other people with kids and since these people have not turned out to be Ted Bundy's in disguise, we were willing to give their recommendation a shot. When we went, Abby was not having ANY of this. She gripped me like I was the last life preserver on the Titanic and when I peeled her little arms from my neck to let the dental assistant take a gander at her teeth, clearly visible due to the screaming mouth, she shot me such a look of betrayal, I half expected her to spout, "Et tu, Mommy?" But that would have required ceasing the rage and there was none of that. Obviously, dentist, not her favorite person and she required much bribery before she would kiss me again. Okay. I had her with a handful of goldfish but those eyes! Narrowed with distrust and exhausted tear ducts. Massive mommy guilt for at least ten minutes. Chocolate mutes a lot of things.

Current day.

We are walking down the hallway towards the backroom which has three examination chairs and set ups all in the same room. The siblings who are uncomfortable together, are traumatized together. Same backroom as last time. I'm walking behind the monsters, all the better to keep them on the path to clean teeth. As we walk, I notice Abby starting to lag a little. Her head slowly swivels around and she stares at the walls and doorways of other exam rooms as we pass by. Feet slow even more. I can see her little eyes narrow as she attempts to make the connection of why this place feels so familiar. Roughly five feet from the backroom entrance, she stops completely, turns, and stares at me, mentally thrusting a pudgy finger into my face as the light-bulb clicked on over her head, and begins to cry.

Abby: NOOOOOOOOO! (She feints left and runs right in a attempt to flee but is weighed down by her trusty sidekick, Blankie which wraps around her legs long enough for me to swoop in and grab her.)
Me: (False cheer over the sobbing.) Okay, kiddos! Everyone in!

Savannah and Drew are quickly seduced into chairs by shining things that spray water and make awesome sucking noises. Abby's not falling for these shenanigans again and clutches me even closer, loudly weeping and demanding to leave. And if leaving isn't on the table, she'll have some goldfish - crack of toddlers. After we pry her mouth open for the dentist to count her teeth and estimate how many thousands of dollars we'll need in orthodontic work a decade down the road, she re-clutches herself to me, fingers white at the knuckles from clenching my shirt. Her relentless crying finally relents and the dental assistant in an attempt to plant seeds for positive rapport and to reduce the need for physical restraint, offers a toy from a Tupperware box. She shoves it away and turns to me, glaring once again and in that look, I could hear her little voice, "You'll be paying for my therapy, Mom! ALL OF IT!!"

And that's how I ended up raiding my emergency chocolate store that I keep in the car (No, Numero Uno, I will not disclose secret location to you!) and covertly shoving it into my mouth as we drove Drew to school.

Okay! I gave the girls some, too, after we dropped Drew off. He wasn't scarred for life and had spend most of the return trip gloating about how easy it was! I'm pretty sure Abby was getting ready to hurt him, but hadn't acquired all of the necessary implements when we finally got to school and that's the main reason our dentist trip didn't lead to the ER.

I'm thinking Numero Uno can take them next time. He's a PoPo. They're used to trauma and screaming and I'm sure I wouldn't have to go pick up the kids from the side of the road after he leaped from the car.

Well, pretty sure, anyway.