Wednesday 23 November 2011

Take a break – Go to the dentist.

This will crown you!
I had a little break from the boys this morning.  OK, it was only for an hour and it involved a numbing injection followed by some nifty drilling. After which I was relieved of ninety euro but nonetheless it was still a break.  I enjoyed it so much, on the way out I made an appointment for the same time, same place next week.  I got to sit in two different chairs without anyone once demanding that I get up to fetch them a drink of some kind.  One of these chairs was of the padded type and it reclined with the press of a foot pedal.  The last time that happened it was a wash and dry over the Easter Bank Holiday weekend and the chair vibrated so much, (I still can’t believe some people actually enjoy this!) I was in bits for two days after it.    But back to my mornings sojourn.  They had magazines as well. And they were current, not three years old which was lovely.  I got to read an article from beginning to end without having to stop midway to wipe a bottom or break up a fight.  You’ll be glad to hear I am now fully up to date on Kylie’s new love interest.  While my face was slowly numbing from the bottom lip up, I enjoyed a banal, frothy piece about a Victoria’s Secret model and her lifestyle.  Hey, she has a new baby.  I couldn’t resist!
I was positively purring with the pure luxury of it all when someone I know and hadn’t seen in quite a long while came in.  We had a lovely chat without being interrupted by sticky hands or demands for Arnica to be rubbed into fresh bumps and bruises.  The only thing missing was a nice cup of tea!
Honest to God it was miles better than going to the hairdressers.  There was very little chance that warm water was going to get sloshed into my ears or down the back of my neck.  I felt completely rejuvenated and refreshed.  It’s amazing what a little sit down and chat can do for you on a Saturday morning.    
There was only one downside.  Afterwards, I was unable to enjoy a cappuccino as my numb gob made it impossible to swallow anything before it dribbled down my chin and onto my clothes.  Small price to pay, folks.  Small price to pay.
See, in my house, it doesn’t matter if it’s soft and squishy (the couch) or hard and has a hole in it (the toilet seat) once my kids sense that my butt has made contact with a surface, they react.  Loudly.  They just hate to see it.
When you live with a clutch of kids who have a pathological hatred of you sitting down, you learn to appreciate these little chances to relax on the rare and infrequent times that they present themselves.
I wonder how those people who used to complain about the delays at their ante natal appointments feel today.  Do they ever look back and remember what it was like to take for granted those golden days when no-one was dependant on them and regret not enjoying them more?  Does anyone?    
Sure, who knows?  Maybe one day I’ll need another root canal procedure.  But this time I’ll appreciate those three and a half hours.      

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