Tuesday, 14 June 2011

Flossing 'eck.

I bloody hate visiting my Dental Hygienist.
This is because am not Particularly Partial to having painful exploration of mouth, and hearing Tutt Tutt'ing as rubbery fingers make their squeaky way round my molars, forcing my mouth open in position that is, quite frankly, wide enough to fit a small automobile in.
My teeth are, after all, My Teeth.
I think my Hygienist thinks they are Hers.
She almost weeps as she stabs at them with what appears to be an Extremely Sharp Utensil.
'Well, have you Flossed?'
Have I 'eck.
Since my last visit to her six months ago I flossed like Mad Woman for six weeks. Urged my husband to Floss. Friends to Floss. Strangers to Floss.
I was Floss Queen. Smug too. Looking in mouths for signs of Flossing.
'Ah.' I'd think. 'That Person Does Not Floss. Look at those Yellow Bits.'
Well. Time passed. And the flossing phase was over. Each night I'd look at that damned little plastic floss container and feel Floss Guilty. To make up for it I'd swill a bit of Mouth Wash round the old tombstones. Grin maniacally in the mirror. Grimace to show the teeth at the back.
And not Floss.
But now its time to see the Hygienist Again.
Feel like rather Cross and Grumpy Adolescent.
Have dusted the floss container and flossed last night. Sulkily.
And again this morning.
HATE going to my Hygienist.
I go next week.
Bet she Sighs Heavily and asks,
Well, have you Flossed?
Have I 'eck.

Sunday, 5 June 2011

Daughters... a mixed blessing?

Half term was upon us and we had done Bugger All.
'What are we doing today?' would ask Daughter, aged Almost Eleven, twiddling with her hair and looking bored, even though it's only 7.05 am.
'Um.' I'd say. Which is all I seem to say when asked that question.
That question makes me paralysed with Crap Mother Paralysis.
When you can't think of a good answer because you don't want to do ANYTHING today except eat breakfast, drink coffee and read the paper. And then go back to bed.
Had no courses booked.
Had no friends booked.
Had nothing planned, bar visiting family over the first weekend.
And was loving it. Except for Bored Daughter asking what we are doing today, we would have had rather a nice time.
I had thoroughly cleaned the kitchen.
I had thoroughly cleaned the top of my desk, papers not needed any more chucked out, and the rest put carefully away into the right files.
Except for Bored Daughter.
Who managed to instill panic that am Crap Mother by her tones of quiet resignation that today would be another Boring Day.
Oh, dear.
So. What to do?
Had asked her to ring her friends and arrange a play date.
No friends are around, it seemed.
Had asked her to get her swimming things out, and we would Go Swimming with her brothers.
'But you will hate that,Mummy,' she says.
'No, I won't,' I lied.
She looked miserable AND bored at the same time. Amazing combination.
We decided not to go swimming.
I arranged a riding lesson for her at the end of the week.
'But that's ages away,' she complained, looking irritated, miserable AND bored.
Again, impressed at the mix of emotions.
And so I arranged a little visit to one of my friends, with loads of children.
She hated it.
'They were all much younger than me, Mummy. It was SOOO boring.'
Aside from beating her with a concrete pavement, was flummoxed on what to DO with the girl. Until I realised that maybe, just maybe, she needed a hug.
And so she got one. Arms tight round her, and breathing in her hair type of hug.
And I felt her misery and boredom leaving her, as she hugged me back.
'Sorry, Mummy,' she whispered.
And I kissed the top of her head.

And here she is... throwing herself into a lake after a sailing lesson... (NOT booked this half term)