The day started off innocently. There’s a mess of dishes and many wine bottles after I hosted book club the night before, but I cleared most of it out of the way while I assembled my breakfast. There’s Beavers that night, after we both go to work. There’s a kid with red eyes, but it doesn’t look like pinkeye to me. It looks like allergies or something. We move through the morning with the assumption that everything will go according to normal routines.
Then the phone call from the school, just before lunch, with the news that the child has convinced the office he has pinkeye. So the nanny has to awaken the toddler that has just gone down for his nap to go back to school to collect said child. Then the husband has to go home to take the pinkeye child to the doctor to get it checked out, convenient for him because he’s about to pass out from man flu.
So the baby’s not napping, the kid who is supposed to be at school all day is not there, and I’m trying to coordinate all of this from my desk while dealing with fifty other things. When I get home, there’s a boy who it is confirmed does *not* have pinkeye (when do I get to say I told you so?) but there’s a baby and husband napping. At 6 pm. Oh no no no no, this is not happening on my watch. I throw some chicken and noodles on the stove, slice up some veggies, and run upstairs.
I woke up the toddler. More like, I awoke the Kracken. He proceeds to scream at me for the next 45 minutes.
I can’t actually even eat my dinner, because he won’t settle down.
The husband comes down at about 6:45, when I am supposed to be taking the older two to Beavers. He holds the toddler, who of course calms down because Daddy is the most wonderful thing ever (total BS), and I try to scarf down my food.
Except, in the middle of it, a crown fell off my tooth.
I thought, at first, that half of a tooth had just fallen out of my mouth and I may have freaked out just a little bit.
Google was very unhelpful when I searched for ‘emergency dentist west Toronto’ so I ended up calling my old dentist. The receptionist calmed me down and confirmed that I did have a crown on that tooth, done in 2009, and that I could wait a couple of days to have it re-cemented.
I’m really missing my crown. It’s hard to eat, but it’s even harder to drink anything. Hot or cold is painful, and coffee through a straw is awkward. I’m getting it fixed Saturday morning, thankfully.
I’m really missing my other crown. The one I wear when I’ve got my working parent shit together. Not this week. Maybe next week.