I went to bed last night with a smile on my face. Then I dreamed I was failing a test in differential calculus. (I woke up humming Gilbert and Sullivan's "Modern Major General". Apparently my dreams are very well acquainted with matters mathematical). The dream topic was rather surprising. I assumed I would dream about melting faces and breast implants after having watched part of the Annual Hollywood Botox Convention last night. (Seriously, what happened to Billy Crystal's face? I'm willing to subscribe to a theory that his body was sent to the ceremony courtesy of Madame Tussaud's).
I should have known that a math-related dream was a bad omen.
It all started this morning when Matthew face-planted with a sippie cup in his mouth and managed to turn one of his front teeth completely sideways. A stellar beginning to a day, if there ever was one. This meant I had to arrange an emergency visit with a pediatric dentist, which is tricky when one doesn't actually have a pediatric dentist lined up. But, I managed to find a dentist willing to see him, and, after a bevy of phone calls to arrange for childcare and a screaming-bloody-murder dental appointment, we now get to play the waiting game for a week to see if the tooth will have to be yanked or not.
Poor little Matthew. He looks like he is auditioning to join the British Book of Smiles. His little mouth is so swollen and his twisted tooth so tragic-looking that I have to resist the urge to kiss him every time I'm within three feet of him. Which has pretty much been all day, considering he is now a permanent fixture of my leg when he is not whining in my arms.
Michael has joined in the whine-fest (he was already in full mope mode owing to his father disappearing into tax season, but he decided to up the ante after all the attention Matthew was getting), so, after what has been a long day for all of us, I bribed him with the chance to play with my phone and gave the babies full access to the cupboard of DVDS so that I could take fifteen minutes for some sanity blogging. The house is a mess, my bed isn't made, and I am resisting the urge to eat an entire bag of Doritos for dinner and call it good.
Or maybe a 5 or 6 Cadbury Eggs. Surely there is some nutritional value tucked into the middle of those.
Is it bedtime yet?