Teeth

Well, I am nothing if not consistent, if by consistent, you mean absent, but the sickopalypse continued, plus I had two work deadlines, and that meant lack of sleep and lack of many things, but sleep! I missed sleep a lot.

What’s crazy is that I cannot figure out WHY I am so pathetically tired on a level I wasn’t before I had Sam. What the EFF, right? I mean, I used to work until well past midnight and then get up for work at 6, but now when I try ANYTHING close to that — getting up at 7 or later, even! — I am DEAD. DEAD. FOR DAYS. WEEKS, EVEN. (And before you mention it, I’m already medicated for my thyroid and other stuff, so it’s not medical, it’s that I’m a wimp. Either that, or my job is much more, um, physical, I guess.)

It’s like the Pussification of Jonna, up close and in the flesh. Just now I whined in Adam’s general direction that he had to set an alarm for 7:15 tomorrow morning because it’ll wake us all up earlier than I’d like. Bear in mind, please, that my preshus offspring usually sleeps until 8, and here I am, most spoiled mother in America. And yet I am exhausted.

I went to the dentist today, and as it turns out, I do NOT have a failed root canal, and Deb was totally right, in that it was referred pain because the tooth is RIGHT under my sinuses, and it was (OMFG) SINUS PAIN. And also, I grind my teeth like a mo’ fo’, and which reminds me, GET THIS: So the dentist is all up in my shit because I’m wearing my teeth down to nubs and then — THEN! — he’s pointing out that my teeth should never touch, which is something I did not know, honestly. Do your teeth touch when you’re just sitting there? Please check and report back. I’ll wait.

Obviously mine do, AND I grind them horribly, but what killed me is that he stared at me as I was doing this and very gravely announced, “Relaxed people do not do this. It’s a stress thing. You really need to relax.”

And I’m like, hey dude, for starters, my day job involves running around after a small person who yells at me constantly, and when she’s not yelling at me, she’s clinging to me like an extra appendage. I never, ever sit by myself. I sit down for five whole seconds, and Sam’s all up in my grill and then Sunny! Sunny has to sit on me, too! I DO NOT SIT ALONE. EVER. I don’t even pee alone. I haven’t peed alone since 2005, because Sunny hasn’t let me pee alone, and now Sam and … oh, man, I forgot what going to the bathroom unwitnessed was even like, because there are FOUR EYEBALLS on me when I pee, OK?

Both of those people need my assistance in some way to poop (shut up, Sunny is people). I wipe someone else’s butt multiple times a day. Then, when I get a reprieve from the small person, I get to go outside and fish dog poopsicles out of the back yard and fold laundry and then when Sam goes to sleep? Then I get to do my other job, and we haven’t even TALKED about the last few months involving death, pregnancy loss and divorce of some of my closest friends, and I’m ALL WHY DON’T YOU RELAX AND HAVE YOUR TEETH NOT TOUCH, BUDDY. WALK A MILE, KNOW WHAT I’M SAYING?

I didn’t say any of that. I laughed awkwardly and agreed, but I just wanted to say it! I wanted to! And I never get all martyrous (kind of not a word), but I do not KNOW, I just think this is what happens when you don’t get enough rest and you find yourself spiraling towards burnout.

(For the record, I have nothing due in the immediate future, so I will recover nicely. PLUS, we are really and truly scheduling a child-free vacation AND this mini-breakdown made me realize I was definitely right in turning down a big project recently, because although I would have secured more regular child care for it, I just … well, I am fried, clearly, can you tell? If not, I can rant more about how HAAARD my privileged little life is, if you want to. I’d want to smack me, if I were you, so if you tell me I’m a spoiled brat, I don’t blame you one whit. First-world whining, FTW!)

Separately, I have five cavities and apparently need TWO cleanings with the hygienist to get shit done in there, and when I defensively mewled, “But I brush! I FLOSS!” he simply responded, “Yes, everyone says they brush, but …” and then he just trailed off.

Do you guys … is he implying that I DO NOT BRUSH MY TEETH?

Oh man.

(I do. I swear I do.)

Back later with less teeth and a lot less whining.

Happy Wednesday!

*Gaga, natch.

53 comments March 1st, 2011