Carry On, Warrior: Thoughts on Life Unarmed by Glennon Doyle Melton

Author:Glennon Doyle Melton
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Scribner
Published: 2013-04-01T18:30:00+00:00

Transcendentalist

One November morning, my children were very, very bad—due to the Halloween candy sugar-high, obviously. After lunch, I insisted that their teeth were going to fall out and they could have no more candy ever, ever, ever. The problem is that I love candy. So I told them not to eat it and I hid the stash, and then throughout the day, I ate it. Later, as I was putting the clothes in the dryer, I found a pack of mini-Twizzlers in Chase’s pocket. They were all gummy and jacked up from going through the wash, but this was not a strong deterrent. Because: Twizzlers! I ripped the package open and started chewing. Joy.

But then I bit down on something hard. Weird. I examined the messy gob and found a tooth in it. A TOOTH. Upon second glance, I realized it was one of my crowns. I was terrified. It was like having one of those dreams in which your teeth are falling out and you wake up so relieved it was just a dream except that my teeth were actually falling out. No waking up. Tish walked in and I showed her the tooth, and she started crying. I thought she was worried about me, but no. Not Tish.

Tish: What’s that red stuff in that tooth? Are you eating candy without me????

Me: Yes, Tish. I was.

Tish: And your tooth fell out???

Me: Yep. I told you.

Tish: Uh-oh. We better ask Google what we should do.

Google is her third parent. Actually, it may be her first parent.

So I ran to the computer and entered: What do I do if my crown falls out? Got some good info. Thank you, Mama Google.

I took Mama Google’s advice and made an appointment to get the crown replaced. I made sure to schedule it during the day so I could get a sitter and avoid telling Craig about the debacle. I cannot talk to my husband about the dentist. Craig is a total dental goody-goody. He goes to the dentist every six months, on the dot, and he flosses every day. Twice a day, often. I do not floss. I have no idea why not. I can do hard things, but not this easy thing. I’m too tired. This makes Craig insane. He leaves dental floss by my toothbrush every night. He sends me annoying links about gum disease. He buys me fresh toothbrushes every few months. He panics every time I open a package with my teeth. It’s exhausting.

When I say that Craig is the poster boy for dental hygiene, I mean it literally. There is a mammoth poster of him on the wall at our local dentist, smiling his huge lily-white, healthy gummed smile, mocking all of us terrified, sweating, miserable anti-dentites. The entire dental staff adores Craig, and he loves them right back. He gushes about them while I glare at him. When he visits, they treat him like their son who’s just come home from college. They ooh and aah. When I visit, they just eeewww.

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