Monday, February 05, 2007

Coming up next...A plague of locusts or the land

Don't ever say to yourself, "I sure wish something would happen so that I would have something to blog about."

Saturday, about, oh, fourty-five minutes after arriving home from the yoga class that made me cry, Erik hollered that my dad was on the phone for me. I asked, "My dad?" He said, "Yes. Your dad." "Are you sure? Really? My dad? On the phone? For me?" My dad is NOT a phone guy, and I can count on one finger the number of times he's called me in the recent past.

After about .5 seconds of small talk, Dad told me that his mom, my granny, was failing fast, and that the CNA where she lives had told him (or my cousin, or someone) that if anyone wanted to say their goodbyes, they'd better get right to it. So some ninety minutes after that, I found myself in the backseat of my folk's Durango (aka, the Republican Cruiser) en route to Logan.

I'm not all that close to Granny. She has always lived at least a day's drive--sometimes two--away, and her focus has been on my aunt and her kids. That's fine with me. They needed her way more than I ever did. Thing is, that has left a pretty wide rift--distance leaning toward down right dislike--between my dad and his sister. With Granny failing, that rift is more and more in the forefront of our lives.

We spent most of Sunday holding Granny's hand (and our noses. Why do those places have such an awful smell?) and trying to draw her into conversation, but she was just done. She didn't have much to say, and listening seemed to be more than she could really manage as well. The hours ticked by, and it was sad and awkward and then sad some more. At about 3:00 I just couldn't keep it up anymore and I kissed her cheek, told her goodbye, and went out to the waiting room. We left soon after, and frankly, I doubt I'll be able to make the trip again before she passes.

I don't really want to blog about how weird it is/was to know Granny is on her way out; I love her, but she isn't now and never has been part of my day-to-day. I'm so sad for my dad--he has a lot of emotional work to do on this one--and I'm sad that she's so, so, so exhausted, but beyond that, my feelings are pretty ambiguous--especially to me.

We got home around 10:00. Soph and Erik had stayed home, and she was still awake--some 3 hours past her bed time. Needless to say, she was totally wrecked, and so was her dad. What I didn't know because E didn't want to bother me with it in my absence, was that Soph had a terrible toothache the whole time I was gone.

This came as no surprise, because her dentist appointment 7 months ago confirmed that she has a mouth full of cavities, and I never took her to the pediadontist because I was afraid to. This morning I took Soph in to work with me because I had to be there at 7:30 and the dentist office didn't open until 8:00. My prep period is 1st, from 8:00-9:20, so in my dream, the dentist would say come right over, he'd do some dental hocus-pocus, and Soph and I would be back at our respective schools by like 9:15.

Of course that didn't happen, and we were squeezed in at 9:50. That meant I had to find a sub for my 2nd period class. I swear I've had more subs this year than in all my years of teaching combined. As I said, I never took her to the pediadontist; I don't know if I thought the cavities would go away, or her teeth would just fall out, or what, but as the dentist kindly (and pointedly) showed me, the cavities grew like crazy in the time between appointments. The hocus-pocus I was hoping for turned into some pretty major dental work. One of her back molars just had to be pulled, and another had a pulp cap. Soph was an absolute champ though. She cried during the shot to numb her face, but bounced right back and kept her mouth open and held still for the better part of an hour. She couldn't very well go to school, so E came home and stayed with her for a couple of hours, and then she came to school with me for the last little bit of the day.

Guess what I promised her for being brave?

Any Bratt doll she wanted.

I totally caved. Shit--why not? I'm already a failure of a mother; if I'd taken her to the damn pediadontist last summer, she wouldn't have had to loose that tooth.

Plus, the tooth fairy is making a visit tonight. We wrote her a note explaining that even though we don't have it, Soph lost her first baby tooth today. I'm thinking a nice crisp dollar bill will go a little further in assuaging the guilt.

Tune in tomorrow. I'm fully expecting it to rain frogs, or for there to be a plague of locusts or the land.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
I'm SO glad I've been paying that extra fifteen bucks per month for extended dental coverage.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
The guilt

5 comments:

JJisafool said...

Oh, God, the guilt. I thought my mother's version was tough. Daddy guilt is WAY worse.

But, I really popped in to say that it is way cool that you've been posting so much after saying you probably wouldn't. Seems Beigey did the same thing a while back.

Keep writing so I can keep reading.

Katy said...

Apparently Granny's doing better today. We're magical...

Anywho, sorry to hear about Sophie and the dental trama. She is my new hero, as are you. The awesomeness that abounds when you are near is just oh so very...uhm...awesome. Love you.

NME said...

All this fantastic posting and I'm being so sadly absent - sorry. I can SO relate to the Granny stuff having experienced a couple of family members passings that were mostly sad because I wasn't more sad. It's great of you to be considering your Dad in all this - and I'm sure he really appreciates you being there for him.
As for the dentist stuff - it's baby teeth. They don't count.
And weighing in late on the yoga stuff - I'm astounded, baffled, mistified. Is that woman insane? Seriously. I think the only situation it might be safe to ask out loud "Is she expecting?" is if a woman's water breaks right in front of you, perhaps on your shoe. It'll be tough - but I hope you find the bravery necessary to go back to that class. And don't forget to spit on that woman.

~A~ said...

Oh man, I'm disappointed. Bratz, really, did you have too? I mean, Bratz. The rest of that, well that falls in to shit happens when you're a parent. But Bratz? You should have called me. I could have talked you down.

Now do the, they're all out of Bratz and buy something else.

Or maybe the Bratz doll will run away to ho-town.

Sorry about the granny.

xoxo

A Man without a Band said...

One last weigh-in re: yoga.

You know I love you (wouldn't say this otherwise), but can we find another word besides "retarded"?

Oh, and I'm pretty sure I have a cavity or two as well. Also hoping it will go away on its own.