Would you rather wake up at 4:30 in the morning with a mind numbing, throbbing pain radiating from your ear to your jaw, with the inability to stop the pain? Or give birth to triplets in 100-degree weather in the middle of the desert with no drugs? I personally, would choose option number 2.
As Murphy’s Law would have it, option number 1 happened last Saturday morning and we all know that tooth pain can never come to us on a Monday at 9:00 a.m. NO! It has to come as early as possibly on the weekend so we endure 48 grueling hours of pain and discomfort.
I don’t know how you all deal with pain, but I don’t deal well with it. I become this enraged, psychotic monster and tend to give tongue-lashings to anyone who looks at me cross-eyed. I was fairly close to grabbing a set of pliers from Mr. Fricken Awesome’s tool barn and ripping the tooth out myself. Luckily Mr. Fricken Awesome saw the desperation in me and managed to talk me out of self-inflicted pain.
I was able to get into the dentist this morning and after copious amounts of numbing agent, antibiotics and painkillers that were pumped into my tooth, I am able to think clearly for the time being. However my face is numb from my eyeballs to my chin and I cannot drink, eat or talk without slobbering all over myself. The 10-year-old smartass that I’m raising is finding that this may be the only time he is allowed to make fun of me. Here’s how our conversation went when I arrived home:
Him: Yay! You’re home! How did it go?
Me: It went fine, exthept I’m numb and can’t really tock.
Him: (laughter)
Me: It’sth not funny thon. My fathe isth numb.
Him: (more laughter)
Me: What do you want for lunch? Isth a quethedilla ok?
Him: Thur, a quethedilla thoundth great!
Me: Really? You want to go there?
Him: I’m juth trying to make you feel better.
Me: By mimicking me?
Him: Yeth.
Me: I thee how it isth.
Him: It could be worth, you could not be able to talk at all.
Me: How do you want your quethedilla?
Him: (laughter)
Me: ...
Him: Could you juth say ‘quethedilla’ again? Itsth hilariouth!
(more laughter)
Me: …
Him: Ok, ok, for real. Can you make the quethedilla not tho crithpy?
(hysterics)
Me: …
Him: I crack mythelf up.
I can’t get mad. I’m actually a little proud. Mr. Fricken Awesome and I have taught him to ‘be one with your sense of humor’.
Thatsth all for now. I’m off to thudy for my teth.
Great kid !!! Good for you and the Mr for teaching a sense of humor is most important in anything. Ummm about those options though. Can I take #3? You know, the one where you leave me alone in that desert with a 38 special? I dont want to do either of the other 2.
ReplyDeleteI'm very pleased you're raising your child to be bilingual. Sarcasm is a second language.
ReplyDeleteMMH: No, I'm sorry, there is no 'door #3' - this isn't 'Let's Make A Deal'. But I do have to say that I agree with you completely on the 'sense of humor' thing. ps - just read your blog and I'm fairly certain I haven't laughed that hard in a while.
ReplyDeleteCul-de-sac-ed: See! I was raised with sarcasm being my second language, and potty mouth is my 3rd.
Haha, love it. I never could explain why things like that always happen right before the weekend either. My dog just ate a bunch of toys and some serious amounts of string. On Friday at 5pm. Yep, had to go to the emergency vet.
ReplyDeleteSingle Dad Laughing