Monday, August 16, 2010


When I picked up the kids today Grace proudly announced that she was the new owner of a magic wishing rock.

Just in case I missed it she reminded me a few hundred times before dinner and bedtime, always ending with a stern, "but I CANNOT tell you what I wished for, or it won't come true."

Right before I went to tuck the twins into bed Grace whispered in my ear.

"Can me & Mia sleep in your bed with you tonight?"

She asks this almost every night, and as adorable as they are, I rarely say yes because, frankly, my bed is not exactly big enough for a slightly oversize mommy (me), a very close snuggler (Grace), and a thrashing-all-over-the-bed tornado (Mia). I told her I'd think about it.

When I came out of the twins' room Grace looked at me with a hopeful expression.


I sighed. "Sorry, sweetie. I really need a good sleep tonight, so we're all going to sleep in our own beds."

Grace's face fell. "Aw, dangit," she griped. "I guess I just wasted one whole wish from my magic wishing rock."

Feeling a wee bit of mommy guilt for denying her such a simple pleasure--and feeling oddly touched that, when given the option to wish for anything, what she wanted most of all was just to sleep in my bed for one night, I asked if that had been her wish.

"Not exactly," she muttered disgustedly. "I wished that you would always do what I want you to do. Forever. And I wished we could go to Disneyland. But since you're in charge of going to Disneyland I guess that wish is wasted, too."

The next few minutes were filled with Mommy trying to catch her breath between fits of laughter, and Grace's murmered complaints--"I KNEW that magic wouldn't work on you. Stupid wishing rock. Next time I am NOT wasting a wish on Mom."

When I finally caught my breath Grace said, "You can go ahead and put this on the internet. Because I know you're going to, anyway."

My smart, smart, magical little girl :).

Tuesday, August 03, 2010

Why I Love the Dentist

Despite my previous post, this is not about my undying devotion to my dentist because he thinks I look like Susan Sarandon, though that is a perfectly rational reason to write him into my will.

Tomorrow I'm scheduled for a root canal and I realized for the umpteenth time that I really don't mind going to the dentist. Kind of look forward it, actually. Even for root canals.

My dentist claims that mothers of young children are the only patients who enjoy spending time in his office. I think he's on to something.

From the time I wake up to the time my head hits the pillow, I run the world. I keep four little beasties fed, clothed, bathed, behaved (sort of), alive, and relatively uninjured. I keep a house from falling apart or being condemned by the health department. I keep my car maintained and repaired and running. I keep myself maintained, repaired, and running. I go to work and keep my department running. I plan and strategize and oversee and delegate and follow up. At home, at work, at church; I cajole and entreat and sometimes nag. I keep track of all the details--what size shoe each child wears, what level of certification each employee is at, which child needs what shots before school starts, which keys are checked out to which employee, who is due for vision exams or training sessions or playdates or promotions.

There are very, very few places in my life where I can let the burdens slide off and let somebody else take over. The dentist's office is one of those places.

When I get in that chair I'm not in charge anymore. All I have to do is lay there with my mouth open and do nothing. I've been known to fall asleep while he's drilling. No happy gas; it's just the unadulterated bliss of surrendering control.

Zen at the dental office.