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Be a dentist…

I love going to the dentist.  The song from Little Shop of Horrors is one of my favorites.  I’ve never been bothered by any of the lovely dental work I’ve had, including having wisdom teeth removed or root canals.  I got my “adult” teeth early.  When I was 12, the dentist (who clearly hadn’t read my chart) asked how I liked driving.  I said I didn’t drive because I was only 12.  He thought because of the wisdom teeth I was older.

Younger son had a follow up visit at the dentist on Friday.  Six months ago he had his first root canal (yep, at the tender age of seven-he was completely unfazed by this).  Still, he needed four more fillings.  Younger son sat in the chair and asked his questions about the equipment.  (He enjoys going to the dentist too.)  The dentist came in and started poking at the cavities, asking if it hurt, and younger son repeatedly said it didn’t hurt.  She opted to take another x-ray before doing the fillings because it should have hurt when she poked.  She came back in and told me she wasn’t doing any more fillings on his upper molars and was going to pull one of the teeth instead.  She kept referring to the x-ray, but I wasn’t getting it.

Finally, the dentist explained the two rows of teeth I was looking at.  The bottom row were not his bottom teeth but his baby molars being pushed out by the adult molars making the top row.  The nerves had already been wiped out by the adult molars.  The pressure of the adult molars is what caused the pain when he chewed, not the cavities.  The dentist couldn’t believe that in only six months time younger son’s adult molars had shown up.  I told her about my dental development and she said he has my teeth.

Well, one extraction later, younger son expressed surprise when the dentist told him he was all done and could have ice cream for dinner.  Boy, did he milk that.  He has to return in two weeks to check the left side of his mouth.  Soon, he’ll have shiny new molars and we told him, these are the last ones so take care of them.

The dentist couldn’t believe a seven year old boy is getting his adult molars.  Younger son is enjoying the fact that he freaked out the dentist just a little bit.

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psych

The boys have finally begun to like Psych.  This is a big deal for me.  It’s truly the first time they have been interested in one of my shows, though younger son always had a sweet spot for Monk.  We watched the 100th episode on demand.  “100 Clues” is a loving tribute to the amazing movie Clue.  The boys love that movie so it offered a natural bridge into the world of Psych.  I’m very excited about this development…with one small exception.

In “100 Clues”, Shawn and Gus sing a little song to the tune of “We Just Got a Letter”…remember that song from Blue’s Clues?  Yeah, so the boys really know the melody.  Only the words Shawn and Gus sang were…

“It’s a secret party, 

It’s a secret party, 

It’s a secret party,

Let’s go see some boobs.”

The boys have combined the two songs as follows…

“We just got a letter, we just got a letter, we just got a letter, wonder who it’s from?

It’s a letter inviting us to a party!

It’s a secret party, it’s a secret party, it’s a secret party, let’s go see some boobs.”

And repeat. 

Truly, the episode beautifully pays tribute to Clue, as well as offering tips of the hat to Murder by Death and (obviously) Blue’s Clues.  Must thank James Roday and Dulé Hill.  My boys will never be the same.  I’ll never watch Steve or Joe get a letter with a straight face again.

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Squeak

Squeak

Now when God sits down at His desk,

He’ll hear a little Squeak demanding attention.

The unknown is the most terrifying aspect of a person’s life.  It can grip you with a fear so intense that everything else in the world stops.  You lose all track of time.  These unknowns can be major events in one’s life-college, marriage, parenthood, or simple everyday moments.  The unknown can sneak up on you and catch you off guard, knocking the wind right out of you.  When the unknown is looming out there, it is simply better to stay put.  In your house.  Hiding.

Many days in my life I have spent hiding in my home.  My lovely, cluttered, book-filled home where lots of safe escape options exist (remember it’s book-filled).  When I haven’t been up for dealing with the real world, I travel to the safety of a book.  Or to those wonderful delusions of grandeur.  Many thoughts have been drifting to the idea of intelligence and the application of one’s intelligence.  I truthfully do not use all of mine in any given day.  That surely sounds like the cockiest statement ever written and makes it seem that I need a piece of humble pie.  But I don’t like to think as much as I can, I don’t like to climb Bloom’s ladder if you will, or rise up through Maslow’s hierarchy, because then I find myself knee-deep in the quagmire of thought, longing for Walden’s Pond to live deliberately.

To sit and truly think deeply about motherhood and the awesomeness of it would blow my mind away and probably send me to the padded room where I would no my sons no good whatsoever.  I examine it in small pieces, snapshots.  Marriage is the same way-to think about the power of that bond too much makes my mind and heart fill to the point of bursting.  These two particular topics also bring up the worst-case scenario-ist as I then start to worry.

And there are so many other things I would love to learn.  I don’t want to go for my PhD…I don’t need the pretty piece of paper. Though I wouldn’t mind processing each year at commencement with the PhD hat-it’s much nicer than the mortar board-plus the velvet on the sleeves!  But choosing to pursue a degree simply for fashion is more Elle Woods than I can muster.  Besides, if I don’t earn a PhD in a related field, it really does me no good in my professional life.  I like where I am in my job.  My plateau is far and wide with many caves, paths, and tributaries to explore.  No, if I ever go for another degree, it will be in something like science.  Still too afraid of the great unknown of mathematics, but science is intriguing.  Perhaps neuroscience or biology…not chemistry, I fear there may be too much math in that as well.  But some type of science that enables me to better understand how people work.  Physics could also be fun, but again the bloody math.  To face an unknown like neuroscience would be fun.

Other unknowns are less fun to fathom.  The boys decided to creep themselves out tonight when we got home.  They swore they saw a person hiding next to the house.  I allowed myself to get sucked right in and stared at the yard a little more closely.  They are exploring their limits for fear.  I feel like my limits for fear (on the fictional level) are neverending.  My real life fears relate back to those unknowns.  What will my sons grow up to be?  Healthy and happy, I hope.   But what will they do, what will they contribute to the world?  Am I teaching them what they need to know to be a compassionate human being?  Am I teaching what they need to know to navigate their way?  Will they know how to respond to different situations that they will inevitably face throughout their lives?  Those situations when I can’t be there with them?  Will they feel my support, love, even if I’m not standing next to them?

Other unknowns linger in my past.  What mistakes have I made that have had an impact on others in ways that I can’t see?  What may I have done or not done that altered something…in my life or possibly others?  Then I start that circle of knowing that you can’t worry about the past, present, or future unknowns because they are exactly that.  Unknown.

The known is a safe place to linger.  But I try to carry the past, present, and future with me in the known.  I hope with those three moments in time with me at all times I make the smartest choice I can in any given moment.  The world looks a bit differently to me in certain ways and the skewed perception sometimes creates problems, but I have known safety checks in place to help balance that when necessary.  I wrote of the moment when my thinking becomes straight again during an episode.  Until I that moment happens during an episode, the unknown is known.  Anything is possible and reality blurs with the creations in my mind.  During those times, I was always deep in exploration of the unknowns, but those alternate worlds were real.  I could, in those times, know the unknown.

That reality was a known.  And then that was the safety of the known.  It was a beautiful place.  No pain, no mistakes.  You could redo anything you needed to when it didn’t work out quite the right way.  You could fix injustices.  It felt quite like being a superhero.  A mythological creature.

Truth be known, sometimes I miss that unknown.  It was far more easy to exist.

The house is filled with the footsteps of my old friend.  It crept in between 11:00 and midnight.  The locks had been changed, I thought, but still it has a key.  Insomnia is a pain in the ass.  Actually, it causes a pain in my head.  It hasn’t visited for a while.  Tonight is not a good night for a visit.  Tomorrow is a busy day to the end of a busy week.  I really need it to be Saturday.  And a watched kettle never boils.  If I keep watching the clock, it will never move.

Time to toss and turn.

I’m approaching five years of full time “out of the house” work.  It took a long time for me to find the balance, but I think it was about a year ago I started to find my way in feeling like I was managing home and work pretty well.  This past month I think I have been hitting my stride.  Now I don’t want to jinx myself-yes, I am stuperstitious.  I have a lot of superstitions I follow.  Recently I’ve been enjoying the one for dancers and saying merde a lot.

The spring season brings the end of a semester and the dear tutors and students have been creating many Mr. Holland moments-a simple “thank you”, a “I get it so much more than I did before”, a “can I meet with you during the summer too?”-simple words that fill my heart with joy.  A lovely and thoughtful letter of thanks.  Anticipation of events being planned for next fall.  Happy recollections of the past few years that built up to this-graduation for many.

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(Seniors “walking the plank”.)

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Sprinkled into the Mr. Holland moments are memory making moments with my sons.  Spring concerts-oh, yes…more cow bells!  Last night older son had his first band concert and he played snare drum, bass drum, and cow bell.  Younger son had his choral concert tonight-he did great and they sang Octopus’s Garden!  Several of the songs were performed with the music teacher playing acoustic guitar-my favorite.  Tomorrow night is older son’s choral concert.  The art show was this week at school as well.  Field trips, baseball games, brain teaser games at home, and family dinners.

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The grass needs to be mowed, three loads of laundry need to be put away, and piles of stuff need to be sorted, but who cares?  Happiness has been filling my heart.   Balance is flowing in.

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Yes…our home is musical tonight.  I’m honest.

We had baked beans and hot dogs tonight.  Younger son helped Hubby grill the hot dogs on the barbeque.  (Older son had helped Hubby last week.)  Hubby made his famous baked beans too.  He used the recipe from one of older son’s cookbooks.  The beans were delicious.  And created so much humor and laughter in our home.

Younger son loves to say the word “fart” over and over again.  Still we cuddled, read a wonderful story, giggled, and tickled.  As I was tickling him, he said in the cutest voice, “I’m going to pee my pants!”  It was too cute!  We talked about how he has been managing in school.  He told me that one of the kids told him to stop moving his head.  Younger son calmly explained to the boy that he can’t help moving his head.  Younger son told me he felt fine about it.  He’s taking ownership and finding his way with the tics.  He feels smarter lately.  He feels like he has super powers.

Older son and I had a long talk about how school is going.  He said classes are fine, but socially….  He is working so hard to not talk as much and he is making huge improvements-at home and at school.  But the other kids are used to him talking too much and he’s stuck with that role in their minds.  His awesome teacher is trying to help break that pattern and he’s going to talk with her tomorrow about the one student who keeps telling him to shut up even though he’s not talking.  He also worries about being cool.  I reminded him that he decides if he’s cool or not.  If he believes he is cool, others will see that and want to hang with him, to be his friend.  I struggled with that for years-I’m hoping, with the way I told him, he’ll understand it sooner.  I explained to older son that while it’s dorky for his mom or dad to give him this pep talk, There Can Be Only One would tell him the same thing (except he would say it in an even cooler way).  I reminded him that There Can Be Only One thinks both older and younger son are cool and a great, huge smile spread across his face.

Family comes in all forms.  Families can be formed through many ways.  Even when a member of the family isn’t in the house, the presence can still be felt.  And all these conversations tonight came together because of the musical baked beans.

How easy it would be to escape into the delusions of grandeur that once filled my mind.  No more worries about the world, bills, commutes.  No more awareness about that type of stuff.  I suppose there would be less tension in my entire existence.  To literally sit and be delusional all day would certainly be easier to manage.

Why not escape into the simple existence?  Hubby and my two sons.  I couldn’t stand to leave them.  Though I would be in the house with them, I certainly wouldn’t be fully with them.  I would miss my sons growing up, their discoveries about the world and life.  I would miss the heartaches that they are beginning to learn.  The injustices (big and small), the fading of childhood beliefs, the challenges to faith.  Those experiences hurt and I could drift through them without a clue, but what would I be doing for my sons?  What would I be teaching them?

I just wish there didn’t have to be secrets.  Intrigues.  I wish stigma could be washed away.  It would be easier to manage and life with each person’s own situation-whatever each person faces stigma for…wipe the stigma all away.

That’s what I am.  A worst-case scenario-ist.  This past Tuesday one of my worst cases came true.  I was driving to work in the ’92 P.O.S. (actually, it is a ’92 Chrysler LeBaron.  Yeah, living the high life).   The rear axle of this particular P.O.S. has been breaking for about four years.  Each day it would clang, clang, clang like a trolley, ding, ding, ding like a bell, noises to make one’s heart patter, and making my commute to work hell.  Tuesday morning I heard a new ping, checked that the rear tires were still on, and rode to work.  As I drove from the parking lot next to my staff job at the university to the parking lot next to my faculty job at the university, I heard many new and exciting sounds.  I figured by the time I was done teaching at 10:00pm, the tires would be tilted in and I would be waiting for the tow truck.  But to my joy, the car looked fine!  I headed to the highway.

Once the car went over 50 mph it was not good.  Sounds of breaking metal echoed through the automobile.  I pulled over, called Hubby, and told him I would be late.  I also mentioned that I was pretty sure the rear axle had finally gone.  Hubby offered to drag the boys out of bed and come get me, then sending a two truck for the car-I declined.  An hour and ten minutes later, I pulled in the driveway after driving 40 mph with flashing hazards down the highway.  People seemed to think that because it was them driving 75 mph coming up behind me  in the right lane that I would move.  No, no I wouldn’t.  Wednesday morning the mechanic (who is sometimes called Tim) confirmed that the “hub went which broke the axle”.   I have no idea what a hub is.

Well, the P.O.S. is back in action.  We have now replaced the  rear axle, a hub, the transmission, the driver’s side window, some kind of shaft thing that was apparently really important for one of the tires, part of the air conditioning system, and installed a thermostat (since it didn’t have one).  We’re almost done rebuilding this car.

I’m going to dress Christine up with new floor mats, a steering wheel cover, some Jolly Roger decorations to show how bad to the bone she really is.  Yes…Christine is officially her name.  No, she doesn’t actually rebuild herself, but clearly she thinks we’re game for it.

Oh, did I mention the radio doesn’t work?

Hello gentle readers!  If you are still out there!  Sorry for neglecting the virtual world but have been busily involved in the real world.  I have given myself a boo-boo in the upper right quadrant of my back so this will be a short hello.

We took  the boys to see Jurassic Park on Friday.  It was just as good as it was on opening night 20 years ago.  They brought some of their JP dinosaur toys.  The theater had new seats and they were so comfy-recliners for everyone!  I want them for my living room.  The boys were simply in awe.  The 3D has come such a long way compared to the cardboard glasses with the blue and red plastic pieces of junk that I saw Jaws 3D with so many years ago.  That had been the last one I had seen…partly because of how crappy it was!

Then at home we watched Lost World.  And Ultimate Dinosaur Collection.  It was a very dinosaur-filled weekend.

The boys go back to school tomorrow.  There is great sadness in the house tonight.  But I reminded them that the end of spring break means summer break is just round the corner!  I can’t wait for summer.  Hopefully we’ll take some lovely day trips and go to the lake on Fridays.  Just a calm summer-which will end with the boys at camp…together…for a week!  They’re each going twice this summer but one of the weeks is together.  I can’t even imagine this house without them in it.  What will Hubby and I do?

Well, back to Wallander.  And more ice on my shoulder.