Awaiting the Resurrection

I'm feeling old.

I know. I'm only 34 and, unless you're my 10yo son, that's still a summer chicken. But yesterday I got my first ever crown and, for some reason, I associate that process with being old.

I went to the dentist with a complaint of discomfort on one molar whenever I ate things that were hard - like carrots. (No gutter thinking people!) I've had this complaint for the last year but my dentist in Cottage Grove, while one of the kindest people I know (he did some dental work for free when we were poor), was not a very good dentist. So, since he couldn't find anything wrong, I didn't push it.

My new dentist (the one I grew up with) thought the filling in the tooth was poorly done and also thought that the pain may have been caused by a fracture in the tooth which the filling was covering. So I went in hoping that we would merely be replacing a filling and left, 1.5 hours later, with a temporary crown. (Apparently, I clench my teeth. And apparently, clenching is not good for teeth. In fact, apparently it causes said teeth to fracture.)

First, let me whine that holding your mouth open for an hour and a half HURTS, yes it does. I think my joints are still feeling pain.

Second, let me further whine that I cannot stand the sound and smell of the drill and when you're getting a crown, the drill goes on and on for.ev.er.

Third, the point of this whole post, is that my tooth was gone. G.O.N.E. Okay, the roots are still there and there is a small post to hold the crown but without the crown there is a large gap between my second bicuspid and my second molar. And that made me sad.

Really sad.

And all I could think of, and yes I KNOW I'm being melodramatic, was, "Well, I guess that's another reason to look forward to the resurrection: I'll be getting my tooth back."

Of course my other thought was, "One down, 27 more to go."

Life After Death

Ironically, my children's school, while failing to make "adequate yearly progress" for the last two years, still manages to have guitar classes during music period and rollerblading for PE class, complete with helmets, elbow and knee pads and wrist guards. I know. This would be unheard of at my children's old school.

Today I was off to help Q's class with the rollerblading (it takes awhile to put all that equipment on 20+ kids). One of the girls was complaining about having to wear all the gear. The PE teacher was telling her how important it was to wear it and that he hoped she would still wear all this gear even in college.

I said, "Well, you should at least always wear a helmet; it's hard to live without a head."

Cassandra replied, "Oh, I could live without a head. I'd just be a zombie."

Wow. Hmmm..

"But," I countered, "Zombies don't get to eat chocolate and ice cream."

She laughed, "That's okay."

"Really? You'd want to eat human flesh?! Blech."

Anna joined the conversation, "When I'm dead, I'm going to be a vegetarian."

But apparently not now. Life is not to be wasted on eating vegetables.

Kids.

Born Again

This week has been unusually hard. I'm prone to drama - I know, I recognize but I also must admit: I can't stop it. I try and breathe. I try and think. But ultimately, the emotions well up and I act from pure emotion.

I do try and apologize or fix things after wards, but frankly, I think New Orleans would have been better if Katrina had never hit rather than all this slow moving fixing going on.

Rob and I had a . . . moment, for lack of a better word. I think it was the first time I ever really felt crushed and heart broken - not bad for 12 years of marriage. But the madness and sadness descended and I started pulling in - I deleted the blog, I canceled Facebook, I refused to go to my Thursday night class and dinner was made, on time, every night this week and the dishes promptly done. I kept the kids with me all the time rather than relegating them to their father's care. In short, I tried to become the perfect wife.

Of course, like all my dramatic moments, the moment passed. I haven't talked about it all with Robert yet - I'm not sure how to do so. Sometimes, I think the hardest part about my marriage is feeling like the other person really hears what I have to say; that he see ME and not the image of me he holds in his head.

So, I'm starting my blog again. Reopened my Facebook account and am going to choir today despite telling myself that I wouldn't (Robert doesn't like me going to choir).

At the end of the day, I am me, beauties, curses and all, and my marriage will never work unless I am me.

So.

Breathe.

Turn the page.

And start the next chapter. (But NOT as a Stepford wife.)