I took the girls for their six month cleaning and check-up with Dr. Kohlrabi today. Despite Ellie waving, “Hi Dr. Wasabi!” the first chance she got, we were actually off to a decent start. Unsure of how she had connected wasabi, an unpleasant Japanese mustard she immediately scraped from the sushi tray before digging into her California rolls, to a visit to our family dentist who is not Japanese will remain a mystery.

We arrived on time—check.

We brought diapers—check.

The sun was shining so we didn’t have to run from the car into the building becoming soaked before soaking our shirts with fountain spray and drool—check.

I’ll admit, once again, my personal appearance could have used a tweaking and fully anticipated a few “you look tired” nods today. I was awake from 2:27am thru 3:14am with Chloe who insisted on reading some books in her rocking chair. Knowing I am at her mercy, I am a slave to her demands at that ridiculous hour for fear she could shout and wake her sisters, so yes, you might say I was dragging (and sagging) a bit.

Chloe and I played in the waiting area awaiting our lecture on how the older girls were doing on their general oral hygiene. It was quiet other than one other person and the stack of appointment reminder calls the two receptionists had fully committed to character for at the long desk in front of us.

The chime on the door went off indicating someone was entering the building. A young man about my age, somewhere between 36—40 opened the door. He was sporting the early stages of salt & pepper hair and was dressed in casual attire.

Chloe: Hi Grappa!

Awesome. My two year old has just ruined this young guy’s day by calling him a Grandpa. I could have tried to pretend she was saying Grappa! My favourite digestif after a big, Italian meal but weighing both scenarios, I think I would rather she aged the stranger than outed me as an alcoholic.

I began to smell something lingering in the air and noticed the other two in the room making an exaggerated effort to flare their nostrils and look to the ceiling as though I should probably have recognized by now that my baby had soiled herself.

No problem, off to the car we went to change. I had thrown a few extra diapers in my purse, a couple in the backpack in the van, one on the passenger seat—you can never be too prepared. What I hadn’t thought of was a package of wipes. This was going to be a dry change which nobody really ever recovers from. Stashing the diaper in the very back of the van knowing it would be frowned upon to deposit it into the small bathroom in an even smaller dentist’s office, back we went for the results.

The girls were in the treasure box filtering through Dollarama plastic sunglasses, some of them already broken before being assigned a home.

Both the Dentist and the hygienist confronted me with the following news: Your kids are great but you need to do a better job flossing. Just like that I felt like crying. It wasn’t as though I had just been outed in front of underage-Grappa and Sniffy-Mc-Hides-Behind-Magazines, like I hadn’t finished my homework. It was as though I was being told I didn’t even understand the instructions on the flossing assignment.

“I know you’re busy” they must have thrown into the conversation at least a half dozen times.

I was thinking about how Ellie wanted me to teach her how to type and how this flossing thing might interfere with the two spare minutes every day we currently have reserved for that.

I agreed we would work tirelessly to floss daily.

En route to the dentist, I tried to talk to the girls about products and services and how they are not free. We have to pay for things and we have to live within a budget without going overboard.

I handed the confirmation twins my credit card and as I punched in the PIN number Ellie asked, “Mom, is that your debit card or your credit card?” I told her it was my credit card. She replied, “That’s good Mom. You don’t want to go into overdraft.”

Greg has an appointment in two days. The desk ladies both asked if I would like a reminder call later today. Sure, but don’t fight over me. Like most people, I already have it written down, right next to my reminder to do a better job flossing the kids’ teeth.