“We’re almost done here,” the dental hygienist said to me a couple of weeks ago as she picked and prodded at my gums with some amount of finality.
“Oh, please take your time,” I pleaded. “Really, I’m in no rush. Did you need to take X-rays today? Would you mind flossing my bottom row again? How about getting that scraper tool back out for Round 2 on those top teeth?”
I don’t mind trips to the dentist because my teeth are in fine form. But I actually look forward to the dentist because it’s one of the few times I am ever entirely kid-free for up to a whole hour in the daytime, which means no one is pulling on my pants leg, poking my back or pinching my face.
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There might have been a time when I thought as a mom I’d get some alone time if I could just escape to the bathroom, but when my older daughter started crawling, she’d sidle right up to me when I was on the toilet and whine until I hoisted her onto my lap, at which time she’d play with my eyelids—and by “play with my eyelids,” I mean she insisted on twisting my eyelashes until she was satisfied that a sufficient clump had been pried off and were plastered inside her chubby little fists.
Having her on my lap while I was on the toilet made wiping rather messy, and it meant I had literally not a moment to myself during waking hours (it also meant I had to look into an eyelash transplant or fake eyelashes, which always made me think hard to try and remember why it was I ever really wanted kids in the first place).
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Now, at age 4, my older daughter has finally learned what it means when she sees the bathroom door is closed. Which is to say, one in every 14 times it’s closed she might knock, but even then, she knocks and rushes in before I have a chance say either, “Come in” or “Go away” (we disabled all locks on all doors in our home ages ago after a certain someone locked herself into her bedroom and couldn’t figure out how to unlock herself out, and the fire department was nearly dispatched with an axe to break her free).
