Today I have two dentist appointments, back to back. One kid at 2:30, the next one at 3:30, and me parked in the waiting room in between, trying to look like a woman who has her life together. I do not. I have a purse full of snack wrappers and a coffee that went cold somewhere around noon, but I am sitting up straight, so nobody can prove anything.
The waiting room is its own special kind of purgatory. The magazines are from 2019. The fish tank has one fish and it looks as tired as I feel. My kid is on the chair swinging their legs and asking the receptionist, at full volume, whether the dentist is going to drill their whole head off. Ma'am, I am so sorry. We have talked about inside voices. We have talked about it many times. It has not taken.
Then comes my favourite part: the hygienist asks if they floss. My kid looks me dead in the eye and says, "Every day." Every day! The lie comes out so smooth I almost believe it myself. Meanwhile I am sitting there thinking about the floss I bought in March that is still sitting in the bathroom drawer, unopened, judging me.
Somehow we survive both appointments. Two cleanings, two sticker bribes, two little mouths going numb and slurring their words all the way home like tiny drunk pirates. I am driving, they are in the back giggling because they cannot feel their own faces, and honestly? It is the funniest car ride we have had all week.
By bedtime I am wiped. Teeth brushed, jammies on, everybody finally horizontal. And then the house goes quiet, and I step out onto the porch for my little exhale. Just me, my mommy's magic flowers, and the beautiful silence of a house where nobody needs anything from me for at least the next eight hours. Dentist day: survived. Mama: still standing. Mostly.
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