Make it go away

I should be enjoying my precious few hours of sleep right now, but I can't get the terrible images of this morning out of my mind. I crept out here to unload on you, kind reader.

I was beaming with pride this morning. My boys were sitting on either side of me, whispering politely and waving to the dentist as he hurried into rooms filled with noisier children. When it was our turn, Charlie climbed the chair easily, looking over his shoulder to assure Jimmy he wasn't scared and that he had been to the dentist lots of times. Just as I had planned, Jimmy watched in wonder and obvious envy as the dentist and hygienist oohed and awed over Charlie's straight, white teeth. He laughed and pointed whenever Charlie closed his lips around "Mr. Thirsty". Charlie was the perfect patient, and even tried to wink at Jimmy, which was heartbreakingly sweet and awkward at once. I was so lost in the moment that the reality of what was coming next didn't hit me until Jimmy started to climb the chair for his turn.

Billy's and my genes didn't divide equally between our children. Charlie got every bit of my DNA, from my sensitive skin to my underdeveloped calves, my talkativeness to my need for order. Fortunately, he also inherited my straight, strong teeth. Jimmy, on the other hand, can thank Bill for his olive skin, amazing metabolism, easy laugh, and a mouth that will someday help an orthodontist's child attend an Ivy League school.

To make matters worse, brushing Jimmy's teeth is scary and painful (thanks to his vicious biting), heart wrenching (you should hear his screams. If you live nearby, you probably have) and just plain difficult (the whole ordeal has to be choreographed ahead of time). I admit that most nights I feel like we did a poor job, but it's a wonder we accomplish it at all. I also have to admit I haven't gotten a good look in his mouth for a long time, but I could guess that what was going on in there wasn't pretty.

Jimmy, of course, wasn't thinking about any of this. He was too determined to climb onto the chair like his brother. When he reached the top he lay down in the correct position, opened his little mouth, and waited. The look in his eyes was unmistakable--he was excited. The sight of his tiny body alone in the big chair, skinny legs peaking out from the suddenly ridiculously wide holes of his shorts, smooth baby hands unsure of where to rest and so tapping tentatively on his tummy...I wanted to snatch him up and take him home. I wanted him to drift off at nap time with a little smile as he remembered the fun morning we had had at the dentist office.

Instead, the hygienist got one look at his mouth and let out a worried sigh. "Dr. Barnett!" she called across the room, to where the dentist was chatting with another parent, "will you come take a look before I start the cleaning? We have a lot going on with this one." My heart started pounding. This was not good. As she began scrubbing at the plaque, Jimmy looked confused, then annoyed, then angry, then terrified. He screamed terrible muffled screams for what felt like an hour, all the while clenching my hands and looking at my face. The hygienist had to continuously wash frightening amounts of blood from the brush and Jimmy's face was smeared with blood, snot, and tears. Meanwhile the dentist lectured me (not unkindly) about Jimmy's unfortunate mouth-size to tooth-size ratio, the genetic softness of his teeth, and the beginnings of gum disease. I tried to tell him we really brush Jimmy's teeth every night, and that we even floss his teeth many nights, but suddenly I was crying. This was all too much. Jimmy was suffering and it was my fault. It was horrible. When they were done, Jimmy collapsed in my arms, making my heart ache even worse when he choked out "All done. Thank you. Bye." to everyone we dealt with on our way out. Charlie followed close behind, eyes like dinner plates.

When we got home, Jimmy seemed to have made a full recovery, and he was even chipper when he told Billy the gruesome story. (In case you're wondering, it went something like this: "Charlie big boy! Jimmy big boy, too! Jimmy mouth big owie. Jimmy cry. Jimmy happy!") I, on the other hand, was thoroughly traumatized, as evidenced by the ten minute brushings both boys received this evening and the length of this entry. I can't be alone with my thoughts.