I Remember!

In the past I have invited people to parties and they have said, "OK, but you'll have to remind me." I immediately think two things: 1) I will not be reminding you and 2) I will not be ever inviting you again.

If someone needs a reminder, they probably don't want to come in the first place.

My children's dentist gets this concept. In a big way. No one (except my sister Olivia of the perfect teeth) likes going to the dentist. I think this is why they may send a reminder postcard or a phone call.

My children's dentist must know the depth of my feeling. They have sent us three separate postcards and one reminder phone call. They know how much I am dreading and loathing this appointment we have this afternoon.

I may or may not dislike it more than Emma...they call her "honeybun" and she glares at them. When I chide her she says, "How would you like to be called honeybun?" I guess she has a point.

They lecture me though. Which hurts my feelings and wounds my pride. I try to be a good mother. I don't buy sugared cereal, I try to limit my kids exposure to sunburn and McDonald's. I really am trying. But I don't floss Mark's teeth. And they don't like that. They ask him in their sing songy voice, "Does Mom help you floss?" Mom is sitting right there but they don't ask her. Mark gives a hearty "Nope," and they look at me with shock and dismay and then the lecture starts.

And I feel bad.

I go home and floss Mark's teeth.

For a few days.

I have no good excuse and no one to blame. Except for maybe Adam. He's just as lackadaisical in all of this oral hygiene as I am yet he gets to go to work where no one considers him a bad mother (at least I think that's his experience). I asked him if he'd trade me places, just for the day. He echoed Mark's hearty "Nope."