Saturday, February 9, 2013

I Don't Do Teeth...Ever!

As a mother you learn to handle anything and everything your kids can throw at you.  I would like to think over the last sixteen plus years I've done pretty well at rolling with the punches, but everyone has their limit.  Mine is teeth.  I don't do teeth...EVER!

I'll change wet or poopy diapers.  I'll hold your head and your hair while you're over the toilet. I do not fear the baby with the grumbly rumbly tummy.  I can get something out of your eye. I'll look at your infected whatever, or feel of your strange lump or bump. 

But do NOT spit your dentures in a cup and ask me to brush them or come to me with your mouth thrown open to assist with the pulling of your loose tooth.  I'm not your girl.  And in this one instance do not consider me your mother, daughter, wife, granddaughter, friend, helpful neighbor, concerned coworker, compassionate fellow church member, or any other such title that would leave you with the impression that I'm going to be of any use to you.

My children learned at a young age that Momma doesn't do teeth.  My idea of helping you pull a tooth is to give you a sugar daddy sucker and instructions to bite down hard.  You think you might swallow it?  It's a baby tooth, it's small, it'll be OK.  Yes, I know I'm putting my Mother of the Year Award in jeopardy...again.

So when one of the few baby teeth NG has left began to loosen she was thrilled, I went into denial.  Lalalalalalalala.....

And tonight when she finally loosened it enough to actually be pulled it was L that got a pair of pliers (that's right, I said pliers) and finished the job for her. 



Now we can all breathe a sigh of relief.  NG doesn't have to worry about accidentally swallowing that useless to her now 2 year molar, and I'm no longer being held hostage by loose tooth updates. 

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