A little trip to the dentist

"Peanut & Walnut"

I used to think a trip to the dentist was a simple affair. Schedule the appointment and go. Easy. The last couple of years it's become a bit more challenging. Schedule the appointment, find a babysitter for Peanut, take Peanut to the baby sitter, go to my appointment, pick up Peanut from the babysitter. Still pretty easy.
I guess I was feeling rather optimistic today and decided to forgo the whole babysitter altogether. (I should probably say that I didn’t decide, I forgot). Either way at 11:30 I end up in my dentist's office with Peanut and Walnut and a diaper bag full of tricks. I'm not so tricky as it turns out.
The nice office staff was kind enough not to roll their eyes as I walked back to the chair with my little shadows in tow. First, the nice hygienist tries to convince Peanut to sit in the little cubical next to mine to watch "Nemo" all the while trying to ignore the fact that Walnut is screaming his little guts out. Walnut for some unknown reason has decided to scream when anyone walks into my little cubicle, which someone does every few minutes. I try to concentrate, I mean really, all I have to do is lay there and hold my mouth open. Nemo must have lost its appeal; Peanut is wondering through the office, I call "Peanut, Mommy's in here". Peanut's reply, "I want to see this man in here". (Oh man, are we done yet?) "Peanut, please come in here". Peanut says "Mommy, look they have squirting water!" (Oh, please be done soon!) Walnut is screaming and trying to wiggle off my lap, which I might add is several feet in the air. To the bag of tricks, yes! I have a juice bottle.... did I mention red juice? A soaking wet Peanut has now decided to visit my cubical after making the rounds, "that was a fun squirter mom" (I'm just praying he missed the other patients). A wet Peanut sees Walnut having all the fun riding mommy and decides to crawl on up. Have you ever held a 2 year old, an 8 month old, and a bottle of red juice while trying to balance yourself in a dentist's chair laying head down with your mouth full of sharp instruments trying to answer whatever ridiculous question the hygienist has just asked you? Enough said. At this point the receptionist rescues me by taking the baby. I think she wanted to cut the distractions for the dentist and get me the heck out of there. Poor girl, 5 minutes later she returns my chubby little baby to me, covered in red spit-up, that was the GIRL covered in spit-up not the baby! (Can I just die now)?
I'm home now, my boys are napping, all is quiet, but my mouth is killing me. Oh well, if my only punishment for today is sore gums from a record fast cleaning and floss, I deserve it.