I am not one for dentist visits. Even a little 30 minute visit makes me nervous - the xrays, the foreign objects in my mouth, the dentist asking questions when all you can do is nod your head or move your eyebrows up and down. But the worst is when I know I will have to have my mouth open for an extended period of time. Our dentist is wonderful - he plays classical music for me or lets me watch movies while he works on my teeth but I still leave feeling stiff and sore. No matter what he does or how I try to relax, I just can't.
I suppose it has something to do with me always wanting to be in control. And seriously, as an adult, there aren't many places I allow myself to go when I don't feel like I'm in control. But, at times, the dentist office simply cannot be avoided.
I knew a visit was on the horizon a few weeks ago when I bit down on a leftover Christmas candycane and suddenly felt a large jagged edge on my back molar. I gave a silent prayer that it was just a piece of candy cane that was stuck to my tooth - but to no avail. It was a broken tooth. And based on the size of the jaggedness, I knew it meant yet another crown for me.
The saga of the crowns all started when I was pregnant with Lucy and had a craving for Milk Duds - every single day. Until part of a tooth broke off right in a milk dud. Our dentist was able to patch it up with a temporary until after she was born and then he did the real work - but that crown turned into an emergency root canal as well as a crown. As did the next one. By the time I needed a third crown two years ago I suggested we just book an appointment with the endodontist right away. We didn't but I did need a root canal. Finally, on the last crown I made it through without a root canal. My mouth, and our pocketbook, were both pretty happy about that.
And here I am - day five post dental work for my fifth crown and all is well. Here's hoping it stays that way until the permanent crown is in place. If you have any connections with the tooth fairy, please put in a good word for me.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
Tastebuds or Funny Little Bump Things
Over lunch Dave and I were discussing the bumps you get on your tongue every once in awhile. You know what I mean - the little red bumps that are sort of like a cankersore but on your tongue. I said I thought it was a new tastebud growing in and he called it "a funny little bump thing." So who was right?
Apparently neither one of us, or both of us - depending upon how you look at it.
They are actually inflamed papillae - where the taste buds are. According to this site, the bumps are an injury caused by hot food or drink or a self-inflicted bite. Which totally makes sense for me as I had a two-hour dentist appointment followed by a few more hours of a numb cheek and tongue last Thursday.
So, Dave was right in that they are indeed funny little bump things and I was somewhat correct in that they had to do with the tastebuds. And there you have it - new, useless information for you to share with others as you see fit.
Apparently neither one of us, or both of us - depending upon how you look at it.
They are actually inflamed papillae - where the taste buds are. According to this site, the bumps are an injury caused by hot food or drink or a self-inflicted bite. Which totally makes sense for me as I had a two-hour dentist appointment followed by a few more hours of a numb cheek and tongue last Thursday.
So, Dave was right in that they are indeed funny little bump things and I was somewhat correct in that they had to do with the tastebuds. And there you have it - new, useless information for you to share with others as you see fit.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Ode to Dakota (from John)
Dear Dakota,
I love you so much. When I am at school I can't wait to see you.
From John.
Dakota
Dakota is one of four featured dogs on the webpage of Wag-N-Train - check it out here. If you live near us and your dog is in need of training or boarding, we think you should give them a try. It's been wonderful to work with Carlene and Jo - we'll miss them when we're done with our five-week training package but Dakota will still get to see them on occassion.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Why I Stay Home
There’s a new commercial on television – I think it’s either TLC or HGTV – featuring a woman entering her office and going straight to her computer. We can see the pictures of her kids on her desk but her eyes are on the 300 messages in her inbox while her ears are focused on listening to her voicemail messages. We see her go throughout her day – being frustrated with the copy machine, walking the halls with blueprints, and thanking her assistants as they drop off more blueprints and files at her desk. Finally, in the last few seconds we see her home all lit up in the evening hours and she walks through the door and is encompassed by her children who eagerly hug her and show off their homework. For the first time all day she looks relaxed and happy. The message – come home to your comfort.
I’m all about home and comfort but when I watched the commercial I felt sad. It reminded too much of when I was teaching at UND and was constantly questioning myself. “Am I doing right by our kids?” “Am I doing right by my students?” I was like the woman in the commercial in many ways – I had pictures of the kids on my desk, their artwork was posted on my office door, under my desk was a Rubbermaid container full of toys and books for when they visited, and when they were babies there was even a pack-n-play in my office right next to all the books about literacy. But when I was at work, I was at work.
And I liked to think that when I was at home, I was at home. I dropped the kids off and picked them up from school each day. We had a wonderful young woman, Dana, who came to our house each day for a few years so we didn’t have to take them out to daycare. One day a week, usually when I taught my night class or met with grad students, she came after lunch and stayed late. That meant the kids and I got to hang out for the entire morning. And I tried not to think about cleaning the bathrooms or doing laundry during that time.
But when I decided to “retire” from teaching at age 38 I was, frankly, relieved. It meant I no longer had to put the kids in bed and then stay up until 2 am grading papers. Or else get up at the ungodly hour of 3 am to grade those papers. It meant I no longer had to choose between raising our children and trying to be a teacher, mentor, and parent to twenty year old college students who often needed the same kind of parenting as our young children.
I was, and am lucky, that Dave was supportive of my decision. Even though it meant we weren’t stacking away money into my retirement account and even though it means we pay for health insurance out of our own pockets.
And it meant I could take over the household – something I hadn’t done much since we’d had kids. As I write this I realize I’m not sure the last time Dave cleaned a bathroom, vacuumed or did a load of laundry. That doesn’t mean things are perfect – after all when he left for his last business trip he didn’t have any clean white shirts because I’d done all the laundry, except for that particular load. Oops. Dave certainly still does his share of the cooking and some of the grocery shopping – but I blame that on him being so darn picky – not that I can’t cook.
And my professional ego is OK with all this – perhaps in part because, as my Theresa is quick to point out, I still have my foot in the professional world. With my work with the Red River Valley Writing Project I get a salary, am able to work with teachers and students, and get to do most of this from home.
All these points were brought home to me yesterday when Mike, a friend and incredible handyman, was irritated with me that I didn’t take him to Lowe’s to get insulation for 817’s attic. In his snit he even went so far as to say all I did was hang out all day long. Let’s just say I was a little peeved at that comment.
Yesterday, for instance, was Day 5 of Dave being gone for 7 days. Our bed had been a revolving door the night before with Sophie in with me at 3 because of a nightmare and John with me at 4:30 because his tummy hurt. When he threw up an hour later I knew he’d be staying home with me. And that was just fine – because I didn’t have to resent the fact that Dave was at a business meeting and I was the one who would have to miss work. So yes, John and I sat on the couch and snuggled and watched movies all day long. I drank a lot of coffee, made a lot of soup, and got the gazillion pictures on the computer organized – something I’d been meaning to do for over a year. But no, I didn’t get to take Mike to Lowe’s to get insulation. But that’s because my kids come first.
It isn’t that I wouldn’t like the thrill of teaching again. It isn’t that I don’t long for stimulating conversation during the day. But I am home because emotionally it was too hard for me to do it all – and do it all well. As you can probably tell from many of my blog entries I’m somewhat of a perfectionist. So when I didn’t feel I was doing a good job at any of my jobs – wife, mother, professor – it was time to stop. And most days, I don’t regret it. But yesterday I found myself going over Mike’s comment again and again and rationalizing what I do.
And what I cam up with was pretty darn important – I stay home with my kids. Going back to the TV commercial – how much do you want to bet that woman has someone right there at home with her kids, taking care of them and helping her be who she is. And aren’t those kids what is so very important in our lives?
I’m all about home and comfort but when I watched the commercial I felt sad. It reminded too much of when I was teaching at UND and was constantly questioning myself. “Am I doing right by our kids?” “Am I doing right by my students?” I was like the woman in the commercial in many ways – I had pictures of the kids on my desk, their artwork was posted on my office door, under my desk was a Rubbermaid container full of toys and books for when they visited, and when they were babies there was even a pack-n-play in my office right next to all the books about literacy. But when I was at work, I was at work.
And I liked to think that when I was at home, I was at home. I dropped the kids off and picked them up from school each day. We had a wonderful young woman, Dana, who came to our house each day for a few years so we didn’t have to take them out to daycare. One day a week, usually when I taught my night class or met with grad students, she came after lunch and stayed late. That meant the kids and I got to hang out for the entire morning. And I tried not to think about cleaning the bathrooms or doing laundry during that time.
But when I decided to “retire” from teaching at age 38 I was, frankly, relieved. It meant I no longer had to put the kids in bed and then stay up until 2 am grading papers. Or else get up at the ungodly hour of 3 am to grade those papers. It meant I no longer had to choose between raising our children and trying to be a teacher, mentor, and parent to twenty year old college students who often needed the same kind of parenting as our young children.
I was, and am lucky, that Dave was supportive of my decision. Even though it meant we weren’t stacking away money into my retirement account and even though it means we pay for health insurance out of our own pockets.
And it meant I could take over the household – something I hadn’t done much since we’d had kids. As I write this I realize I’m not sure the last time Dave cleaned a bathroom, vacuumed or did a load of laundry. That doesn’t mean things are perfect – after all when he left for his last business trip he didn’t have any clean white shirts because I’d done all the laundry, except for that particular load. Oops. Dave certainly still does his share of the cooking and some of the grocery shopping – but I blame that on him being so darn picky – not that I can’t cook.
And my professional ego is OK with all this – perhaps in part because, as my Theresa is quick to point out, I still have my foot in the professional world. With my work with the Red River Valley Writing Project I get a salary, am able to work with teachers and students, and get to do most of this from home.
All these points were brought home to me yesterday when Mike, a friend and incredible handyman, was irritated with me that I didn’t take him to Lowe’s to get insulation for 817’s attic. In his snit he even went so far as to say all I did was hang out all day long. Let’s just say I was a little peeved at that comment.
Yesterday, for instance, was Day 5 of Dave being gone for 7 days. Our bed had been a revolving door the night before with Sophie in with me at 3 because of a nightmare and John with me at 4:30 because his tummy hurt. When he threw up an hour later I knew he’d be staying home with me. And that was just fine – because I didn’t have to resent the fact that Dave was at a business meeting and I was the one who would have to miss work. So yes, John and I sat on the couch and snuggled and watched movies all day long. I drank a lot of coffee, made a lot of soup, and got the gazillion pictures on the computer organized – something I’d been meaning to do for over a year. But no, I didn’t get to take Mike to Lowe’s to get insulation. But that’s because my kids come first.
It isn’t that I wouldn’t like the thrill of teaching again. It isn’t that I don’t long for stimulating conversation during the day. But I am home because emotionally it was too hard for me to do it all – and do it all well. As you can probably tell from many of my blog entries I’m somewhat of a perfectionist. So when I didn’t feel I was doing a good job at any of my jobs – wife, mother, professor – it was time to stop. And most days, I don’t regret it. But yesterday I found myself going over Mike’s comment again and again and rationalizing what I do.
And what I cam up with was pretty darn important – I stay home with my kids. Going back to the TV commercial – how much do you want to bet that woman has someone right there at home with her kids, taking care of them and helping her be who she is. And aren’t those kids what is so very important in our lives?
Monday, February 09, 2009
So what exactly is a dungeon?
For those of you who haven't been to our house, there have been some questions about our dungeon - so let me explain. We don't actually keep prisoners down there - just a chest freezer from my grandparents, random tools, old paint cans, and oh yes, exercise equipment in the form of a treadmill and recumbent bike. Our house was built in 1911 but the dungeon and the family room above it were added on to the house in 1979.
According to Sophie, it is old and a storage place for odd things. (I agree with her, but the thing is, keep in mind it is actually the newest part of the house.) We started calling it the dungeon because it's a place we just don't love to go. And it's the place where, when objects do go, they are often not seen again for a very long time. If ever.
Take John's little hockey figurines and net. They got broken - they were placed in the dungeon to be fixed - and we haven't seen them in two years. What about Sophie's Christmas ornament? Same story.
Lucy recently had something that was broken and she wanted Dave to fix. I, of course, suggested the dungeon, but she got an alarmed look on her face. "No, Mom, no! If we put there I'll never see it again." I laughed, only because I knew she was right.
But I am a bit nervous about losing the latest occupant of the dungeon - it's a pretty special plate John drew and painted a few years ago during one of our Arizona visits. His sisters accidentally broke it and for weeks I kept the pieces on the kitchen counter - not wanting to put it in the dungeon for the very reason Lucy voiced.
So it sat on the counter and Dave did work on it. Every few days he'd take out the gorilla glue and piece one more ceramic shard onto the plate. The problem is, there were many pieces... and it wasn't long before he left for his infamous trip to Acapulco.
So, while he was gone, I carefully placed the broken plate on his worktable in the dungeon. I put the gorilla glue beside it and found Sophie's Christmas ornament and put it near the pile. And now we'll wait and see... and hope they don't get swallowed up in the dungeon.
According to Sophie, it is old and a storage place for odd things. (I agree with her, but the thing is, keep in mind it is actually the newest part of the house.) We started calling it the dungeon because it's a place we just don't love to go. And it's the place where, when objects do go, they are often not seen again for a very long time. If ever.
Take John's little hockey figurines and net. They got broken - they were placed in the dungeon to be fixed - and we haven't seen them in two years. What about Sophie's Christmas ornament? Same story.
Lucy recently had something that was broken and she wanted Dave to fix. I, of course, suggested the dungeon, but she got an alarmed look on her face. "No, Mom, no! If we put there I'll never see it again." I laughed, only because I knew she was right.
But I am a bit nervous about losing the latest occupant of the dungeon - it's a pretty special plate John drew and painted a few years ago during one of our Arizona visits. His sisters accidentally broke it and for weeks I kept the pieces on the kitchen counter - not wanting to put it in the dungeon for the very reason Lucy voiced. So it sat on the counter and Dave did work on it. Every few days he'd take out the gorilla glue and piece one more ceramic shard onto the plate. The problem is, there were many pieces... and it wasn't long before he left for his infamous trip to Acapulco.
So, while he was gone, I carefully placed the broken plate on his worktable in the dungeon. I put the gorilla glue beside it and found Sophie's Christmas ornament and put it near the pile. And now we'll wait and see... and hope they don't get swallowed up in the dungeon.
Email to my husband in Acapulco while we're in the middle of an ice storm...
Hi - guess what... Mike's here painting the dungeon and it looks fabulous. Except where there's water on the floor and walls since we've gotten so much rain and the snow is melting - aughhh.
I'm also not parking in the garage anymore as I slightly hit the inside pole with the left bumper. No worries though - Modern Auto Body does not need to be called.
We're skipping all activities tonight as it's been raining all day and everything will be a giant skating rink. It was nuts this morning - everything was icy.
When I left Phoenix after being in John's classroom I heard someone calling out and looked down the alley - a man was flopping around like a walleye and yelling. When I asked him if he was all right he gingerly got up and just said, "Not a good day to wear Converse."
Then when I went to pick up Sophie, Lucy and John after school I looked around the playground and kids were dropping like flies - no matter where I looked. I guess we all should have just got out our ice skates today. :)
Tomorrow is supposed to be a snowstorm - on top of all this ice... yikes! Maybe we should consider moving somewhere warm...
But all in all we're doing good here - everyone's happy. I love you, Marci
By the way - Dave, being the good husband he is, called home within five minutes of my sending the email. Secretly, I think he was worried about his Suburban and our tiny garage but he insists he'd picked up his Blackberry to call home and saw the message. Hmmmm... sound like a bit too much coincidence?!
I'm also not parking in the garage anymore as I slightly hit the inside pole with the left bumper. No worries though - Modern Auto Body does not need to be called.
We're skipping all activities tonight as it's been raining all day and everything will be a giant skating rink. It was nuts this morning - everything was icy.
When I left Phoenix after being in John's classroom I heard someone calling out and looked down the alley - a man was flopping around like a walleye and yelling. When I asked him if he was all right he gingerly got up and just said, "Not a good day to wear Converse."
Then when I went to pick up Sophie, Lucy and John after school I looked around the playground and kids were dropping like flies - no matter where I looked. I guess we all should have just got out our ice skates today. :)
Tomorrow is supposed to be a snowstorm - on top of all this ice... yikes! Maybe we should consider moving somewhere warm...
But all in all we're doing good here - everyone's happy. I love you, Marci
By the way - Dave, being the good husband he is, called home within five minutes of my sending the email. Secretly, I think he was worried about his Suburban and our tiny garage but he insists he'd picked up his Blackberry to call home and saw the message. Hmmmm... sound like a bit too much coincidence?!
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Sunday Morning Coffee
A photo essay by John - the title being "My mom likes every drop of her morning coffee.
And Dave, if he were here instead of Acapulco, would say with a smile, "Open up those eyes Marci."
Hockey John
According to John, he's going to play hockey "his whole life long." I think he's taking a lesson from his dad who still plays on an old man's league on Sunday nights. Or at least when he's in town and his knee isn't bothering him... or his shoulder isn't stiff ... or he's not too tired from choppping wood all weekend. It'll be fun to see how hockey plays out with John and what he's like at 42.
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
Kitchen Facelift
Before
Blame it on the cold weather over the last few weeks, but as a direct result I've spent a lot of time bundled up in the family room with the television turned to one home improvement channel or another. And now we've got new cabinet hardware to show for it.
After
As you can tell by the "coffee station" I'm still working on getting the hinges changed out - but give me a break as I had to buy 18 knobs, 15 pulls, and 36 hinges. Only 22 hinges left to go and we'll call it good.
It's not one of those things most people will probably even notice - but I feel like it's more of a match now. The knobs, pulls and hinges match the stove and dishwasher now instead of being gold brass. Now, if only a new counter was in the budget. Hmmmmm... I think that'll cost more than the $115 I spent on hardware, don't you think?
Blame it on the cold weather over the last few weeks, but as a direct result I've spent a lot of time bundled up in the family room with the television turned to one home improvement channel or another. And now we've got new cabinet hardware to show for it.
After
As you can tell by the "coffee station" I'm still working on getting the hinges changed out - but give me a break as I had to buy 18 knobs, 15 pulls, and 36 hinges. Only 22 hinges left to go and we'll call it good.It's not one of those things most people will probably even notice - but I feel like it's more of a match now. The knobs, pulls and hinges match the stove and dishwasher now instead of being gold brass. Now, if only a new counter was in the budget. Hmmmmm... I think that'll cost more than the $115 I spent on hardware, don't you think?
Monday, February 02, 2009
The Big Haircut Hits our Home Again
Almost two years ago Sophie donated her hair to Locks of Love; this time, it was Lucy who decided to grow out her hair and then donate her newly-cut braid to an organization that makes wigs for people who have had cancer or other diseases where their hair doesn't grow. We actually sent Lucy's hair to Pantene Beautiful Lengths instead of Locks of Love or Wigs for Kids because Lucy definitely had 8 inches, probably 9 to 10, but she didn't want her hair really short.
What a wonderful thing for a little one to do. We're proud of her... and here she is with her new look.
Sunday, February 01, 2009
Musical Discover: Car Horns
After yesterday's post I wanted to do a bit of research about car horns. But this is far more interesting material - go to Car Horn Organ and click on the green link to the right of the page "Hear the Car Horn Organ." Then, if you want to hear more music, go to the middle of the page and listen to "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" as played by the car horn organ. You're sure to laugh out loud.
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