HM's Bad Mouth

Ooh, boys, it's hot!

I can't take the heat. That is one reason I stay out of the kitchen. That, and the kitchen smacks of work. M-O-O-N. That spells, "Hillbilly Mom does not care for W O R K." It has been hovering around 100 degrees here for days. Even Poolio does not look refreshing. The boys say it is like swimming in bath water. HH likes it. They had to fill Poolio about 4 inches the other night. That is done by running the garden hose from the well. The garden hose spouting 50-degree water. The boys love it. HH, not so much. It was supposed to hang over the side and fill Poolio. Then HH said the boys could spray each other. They took that to mean, "Put your thumb over the end of the hose and blast your sibling directly in the face, preferable in his piehole and snout, so he can't breathe, or in one of his eye sockets, so you can displace an eyeball, and every now and then, 'sibling' can mean ME, your loving father, your paternal family unit, who hates to get sprayed with a forceful hose of 50-degree water." Now HH has rescinded hose privileges. The boys went on strike yesterday and refused to get into Poolio. HH was not observed to shed any crocodile tears as he floated alone on his inner tube down his very own lethargic river

I went to the dentist today. I had full-head x-rays, and a 'crown prep'. Don't get excited. It had nothing to do with ruling Hillmomba. I found that out the hard way. At the tune of $360. And, my pediatric dentist of whom I am so very fond let his assistant do a big chunk of the work! I'm still not sure what they did. They worked in tandem to blast the temporary filling off the tooth I took them last week. A perfectly good temporary filling! I could have gotten a couple years' use out of that thing, by cracky! Then they stuck some green goo into my mouth and told me to bite lightly and stay that way. If only I could do that to my kids. Then they fiddled and faddled and the dentist forsook me for some kind of child, and told the assistant to do something about the crown. I couldn't understand him. I think he was saying one thing and using secret dentist hand signals, maybe with flags on sticks, to tell her what to do. You know, so as not to alarm me, like when he tells me something horrific he's about to do, and ends the sentence with 'Babe'. I hope he means it in the endearing way, not the pig way.

Anyhoo, at least this girl was gentle and moved slowly and did not upset me. I think she was new. There were only two issues I had with her. One was that she did all the digging and gluing and pressing and hosing and sucking like an expert, but when it came time to pick the pretty yellow color to match my real teeth, she could not make a decision, and called over a colleague. They debated about 5 minutes, until I closed my mouth and said, "Not that many people are going to see it." Sweet Gummi Mary! It's that last molar. And the colleague said, "Yeah. You might as well have a gold one." Hmpf. A gold one would probably be cheaper. The second issue was that the assistant sat up my chair, took off my pink paper bib, and said, "We're done." And then the dentist came back, put on some gloves, and stated, "We have to do an exam." The assistant giggled and said, "Just kidding. Lie back." She re-attached the same bib, and cranked my chair back for lift-off.

I am in need of 4 crowns, a couple of fillings, and a bridge. Perhaps I should go to the dentist regularly. Nawww. I hate going to the dentist. It's almost a phobia. They can forget the bridge. I ain't havin' a bridge in my mouth. I've had a hole there for over 12 years, since HH told me I was getting that one tooth pulled instead of a root canal. What does he know? He has a partial plate. I'm not taking his advice any more. I've had the root canals. Now I'm getting the crowns. I figure that between my insurance and my raise, that will just about cover it.

Sometimes, it's not so much fun being Even Steven.