Aren't these the prettiest colors? Now, remember I didn't have a camera so you have to use your imagination. Look at this picture and then imagine mounds of sprinkles, red hots, M & M's, chocolate chips, and so much whip cream you can't even see the ice cream. Included with this, of course, is "fruit" juice and multiple other candy items from classmates-the perfect ticket to a dentist's retirement package. With this mental picture in our mind, let's all take a moment to vomit from a stomach ache and wake up from our sugar coma.
O.k.-I am back. Are you feeling better now?
As I looked around the room at my son's 2nd grade classroom, I just imagined all of the kid's teeth rotting before my eyes. I know. I know. I didn't have to let my son partake in this activity at all, but I did. However, I tried to limit his intake as best as I could (more on that later); but I do wish the other parents and teachers would help. Now, I am probably going to be blasted for that comment, because I shouldn't expect other people to parent my child; nor should I try to tell other parents how to raise their own children. But here is what I mean by that comment-I found myself trying to encourage the kids to save some of the toppings for everyone else, hoping that the amount poured would only be 1 pound instead of 5 pounds, and was told, "Oh, it's o.k. We have plenty." Well, when kids hear that, they just pour more! This is why I am not an elementary school teacher, because I would be the party pooper that limited the sugar intake on really cool, fun days (instead I became a registered nurse. Are you surprised?) Bless those teachers' hearts. They just don't get paid enough to handle kids in sugar induced comas. Both my kids' teachers are wonderful by the way. I am so thankful for them.
Anyways, I tried to limit my own childrens' intake, especially my son's. You see, he is a sugar addict. The more sugar the better is his motto. Thankfully, he likes vegetables to hopefully counteract the sugar. With two kids, however, you find yourself going from classroom to classroom. When I walked back into my son's room, I found him with 2 suckers in his mouth, after he had eaten his sugar explosion ice cream, and with 2 empty "fruit" juice boxes on his desk. One little boy even told me that he would probably be on the potty all night due to a stomach ache from all of the candy-and then he proceeded to eat more. Gotta love kids! I almost went into nervous tics right there. I just thought of all of the cavities that were for sure forming in my son's little mouth, because we all know how well 8 year old boys brush their teeth. After I walked in, I promptly confiscated one sucker and threw it in the trash, much to my son's disappointment. Before you label me as the mean, party pooper mom, you need to know one thing-I am totally o.k. with that label; and let me tell you why. . .
Going to the dentist with my son is a very difficult event. Let me say that another way. I don't like taking my son to the dentist. Period. It is a stressful event, and one that I would like to keep to about 2 visits a year. The one time he had to get sealants on his molars went something like this . . .
Young boy drinks $175 liquid that is supposed to make him drowsy. Instead, this liquid gold, that insurance doesn't cover, made this young boy very hyper and very mad; he almost acted drunk. Since that didn't work, this young boy got laughing gas which didn't make anyone laugh. He ripped that thing off of his face so fast, the dentist didn't know what to do. I tried to explain to her that my son wasn't just being bad; he has oral dyspraxia. He has made tremendous strides with this, because he spent 3 years in speech therapy. If you didn't know it, you would never guess he has it-until you took him to the dentist. Anyways, back to the relaxing dentist visit. They finally got some of the work done which involves using a sand abrasion technique. Let's just say this didn't turn out so well. One of the issues he has with the dyspraxia is a dislike for certain textures in his mouth. A mouth full of sand isn't one he really cares for. I, on the other hand, just love to feel and taste the grit of sand all in my mouth and to feel like I am choking. I am just kidding on that last comment. Who likes sand in their mouth, dyspraxia or not? I again tried to help the dentist understand this, but she couldn't really stop in the middle of her work. We had to finish so she thought she would try to go fast. Well, after a few more screams, a couple of "You are all liars!", a few "I don't like you" comments, multiple times spitting without caring who was in his line of fire, and one more attempt at breaking out (I had to chase his wobbly, drunken little self down the hall. He had gotten the mask, blood pressure cuff, and pulse ox off!), we called it a day. This momma was tired and felt sorry for this young boy. I decided teeth were highly over rated anyways.
This dentist is a good dentist, but the trauma had been set. We decided to find a dentist that specializes in children with special needs in regards to dentistry. Enter Dr. Caldwell.
We saw Dr. Caldwell today after the sugar coma party. You know, the day I figured my kids' teeth were rotting away. Praise God, my little boy did great! He let them clean his teeth and do all of those special things. He even used Mister Thirsty. That is a huge step. I was so excited and thinking that maybe we had moved past the "going to the dentist is really not fun for momma" stage. I was about to do a little jig in the office; that is, before I heard these words-
"Well, mom. His teeth look great, except. . ."
"Wait. Did you just say except? No. There is not allowed to be an except. You don't understand mister."
"Except for this one spot right here that I think we need to get filled. He has a small cavity right here, and then we should go ahead and finish the sealants on the other teeth."
Dumb Valentine's Day party, because we all know that the cavity formed in less than 24 hours. (I have to find something to blame).
My little boy has already told me that he will not, under any circumstances, get his tooth drilled on. "What are you trying to do? Kill me mom!" And reasoning with him about the importance of dental hygiene doesn't help either, because "I don't care if all my teeth fall out" is what he says. Needless to say, the doctor wrote the order for some medicine-a different kind that should work this time. Unless, you are my son who said "I will fight that medicine. It won't work on me." I feel sorry for the person who has to get him to drink that stuff.
On the way home, I told them how proud I was of them for being so good today and letting them clean their teeth. From the back of the van, I hear this, "Well, you won't be able to say that to me on March 1st, because I am going to kick them all in the shins!" Well, isn't that nice. Makes a mom feel good with the manners I have taught him. Please feel free to send me the Mother of the Year award whenever you have time.
If you are reading this, please pray and fast on March 1st. It isn't easy on my little boy, or on this momma who struggles with anxiety (I don't like the thought of the medicine he has to take-if they can get it down him that is). Maybe I should ask for my own bottle of that stuff.
P.S. To add to my mother of the year award, after the kids went to bed, I threw away all of the candy they got from their friends. A mom has to do what a mom has to do. I have no shame.