What I want for Christmas (and it's not teeth)

It is practically a car payment for this attachment. Our Kitchen Aid itself was probably about the same price when we bought it 10 years ago. It makes our sandwich bread weekly - even despite the hiatus while our kitchen was being worked on, more of our baked goods were homemade than not this year. I'm pretty proud of that. The baking station has already seen several batches of biscuits and a couple of pie crusts prepared on it in the couple of weeks we've been back to business.

This attachment, exclusive from Williams Sonoma, makes macaroni noodles, fusilli, and spaghetti. I'll admit it - pasta is a standby meal in our house. A box of macaroni noodles makes two meals worth of mac 'n' cheese and stowed in my freezer is quicker than delivery. I can't even imagine how much better it would be with Fresh Homemade Pasta.

Tantrum Season

When you hang out with a 3 1/2 year old person, things are volatile. Especially if you're doing stuff that doesn't directly benefit that 3 1/2 year old person, like say, going to older sister's Thanksgiving play and feast at school.

Lindsay was great for the short, 4-act play. She even managed to sit patiently while every other table in the classroom was dismissed to get the snack - the yellow table was last. She navigated the line, retrieved her snack, and sat proudly next to big sister eating.

It should've occurred to me when snack was finished, and the teacher began playing a number game with the second graders that this was a fast track ticket to boredom for our heroine. She began playing on the map of the United States carpet behind where Lauren sits, running from East coast to West, and back again. When I asked her to sit, she refused. The second time she refused, I said we would have to leave if she couldn't sit. She began to protest loudly, so I slung my bag on my shoulder, whispered to Lauren, "See you outside after dismissal," and ran out the nearest door with the little person secured like a sack of flour at my hip. A caterwauling, kicking sack of flour. Of course, I was 3 doors away from the dismissal door, so I set Lindsay down and said, as calmly as I could muster, "Are you ready to listen?"

"No." she shouted.

"Ok, then I will have to carry you again." I made my way over with a kicking and screaming Lindsay. When we arrived, I sat her down between my ankles, holding her firmly so that she couldn't run off, as she screamed.

"Wow." Kimberly said. "Good party?"

"It was good." I replied thoughtfully, "but a little too long."

"I can see that."

"You just never know when it will be too long."

Kimberly nodded. "You just never know," she repeated.

Girl Power

When I got into my bed last night, all freshly made up with clean, white flannel sheets, I was asking for trouble. I don't own white pants any more for this same reason. No matter what time of the month it SHOULD be when I wore white pants, it was always my time. You know. I had girl power. Yippee. Or, well, you know. Not.

It's a couple of days until Thanksgiving, so I had it in the back of my mind that I still have a couple of things to pick up at the grocery store because Wegmans didn't have bags of cranberries (?) and had run out of pecans on Sunday. I also had to make one other more pressing purchase. You know, for the girl power.

Lindsay and I headed in to our local Stop and Shop. I hate the local Stop and Shop. But driving the half hour to Wegmans for 3 items seemed like sort of a waste. And, it was entirely possible that the only cranberries were still the local quarts they'd priced at $3 per.

Lindsay is fascinated by the new Chiquita banana stickers that have funny faces on them. When we see them, we have to examine all of the funny stickers and discuss which ones we like best.

I braved the store with just a basket (the local S&S quarter-locks their carts I'm sure just to irritate me). It was cumbersome. I'd remembered mid-shop the conversation I'd had with the room mother for Lauren's class about bringing apple cider to tomorrow's Thanksgiving play, so I picked up a gallon and a half. Three packages of cranberries. A package of pecans. A half dozen pumpkin donuts. I tucked the final item in the top of my basket and stood in line. There were only 2 cashiers and about 4 people in each line.

"Hi Lauren," said a man's voice behind me.

One of the dads from Lauren's soccer team. Of course.

"Doing a little shopping," he asked.

Seriously? "Yep."

At that moment, Lindsay tried to pick up the basket, and I discouraged her.

"She's really strong."

"Yeah, there's a bunch of cider in my basket..." I said, my voice trailing off. Wait, did I just encourage this man whose name I can't remember to look into my basket? Ohemgee, now he totally knows I have girl power. Sigh.

He said, "I'm going to stand in this other line now."

I replied, "That's a good strategy. I always seem to pick the slowest line."

I placed my items, with my reusable bags in front of them, on the conveyor belt.
And then I remembered the biggest reason why I don't shop at Stop and Shop. Although they sell reusable bags, they won't bag your groceries if you use them. At that critical moment of checking out, the cashier started scanning the next person while I simultaneously try to put away my change, receipt, keep track of small person (who was mercifully distracted by the Red Box machine) and put my items into 2 grocery bags. As I struggled to put the last item in, the cashier said, "Thanks for bagging. It's so busy today. It's been busy since 6 AM..." I tried to force a smile, but I couldn't. At that moment, my girl power had gotten the best of me. I slung the bags on my shoulder, collected Lindsay and headed for the car.

A little less wise, but otherwise OK

This post is for Rose. It's probably way more than anyone else wants to read about teeth.

The Good

I was worried that I would be aware of what was going on during the surgery since I knew IV sedation wasn't going to make me unconscious. I can say I only remember sitting in the chair and then getting out of it some time later with the help of a nurse.

My family and friends are awesome. My kids have been well cared for and entertained even with my hubs having to go in for a meeting on Thursday morning. I've been brought syringes for rinsing and ice cream. My hubs has been an all-around awesome nurse/stay-at-home dad/working parent.

I got some awesome advice via Facebook. Icing a lot. Eating regularly and especially (dairy, who knew?) before meds, has staved away the nausea and swelling and made things pretty tolerable.

The swelling is not too bad, and the only bruise I have is from the IV.

I went out and bought my fave comfort food. Campbells Chicken and Rice Soup. Ginger Ale. Saltines. It was a good idea.

The Bad

Once I got in the chair, I was given nitrous. Which probably would've been a "good" thing if I'd know that was what was going on. Instead, I had a panic attack, and then realized I was still sitting in the chair. I asked, "Am I ok?" and my voice sounded strangely far away. The doctor replied, "Um, I don't know. Are you ok?" and I heard my far away voice say, "The room is spinning." "Oh," he chuckled. "That's the nitrous. We can turn that down a little."

Having a milkshake post-op was a very good idea. However, I should've taken my first pain meds along with it. when I got home, I got to bed and took my meds, and then was in the Worst Pain Ever. For some reason, I decided a shower would help. I think it made things worse. Alec called the doctor to ask if I could take more. The doctor said no, but I could alternate it with Advil every 2 hours. That was a very long 2 hours. That first day, pretty much all I did besides sleep was count down 2 hour intervals.

I'm slightly terrified of drugs, so I probably didn't take as much of it as I needed. I also decided to stop taking it yesterday, which meant I slept the entire day.

The Ugly

My mom had said, put a towel on your pillow because you will probably have bleeding. I have no idea why I didn't heed that advice. Ew.

I knew I was losing 4 teeth. I didn't realize I'd lose quite so much from the insides of my cheeks. Also? Had no idea I'd have stitches. When the pain med wore off, all I could feel was those damn stitches pulling. It kind of makes me woozy to think about it.

I'm up and about today, which is about 72 hours after having had the teeth out. Someone had said to me yesterday, "You'll feel much more like yourself by Tuesday", which I think is probably right. I'm only planning to go to a meeting and to sit for a family portrait (great timing on that), which I imagine is going to completely exhaust me.