"I (don't) want to be a dentist!"

Ah, who wouldn't love that weirdo little elf on the old, extremely politically incorrect Rudolph claymation show.

But this isn't about elves.
Or Rudolph.
Or holiday anything (because it's still too early dangit!  stop playing Christmas music!)

It's about dentists.

You see, I don't like dentists.  Courtesy of Seinfeld we lovingly refer to me as the "raaaaabid anti-dentite!" It's entirely too accurate.

I had a dentist that was good.  Then we moved and I got tired of driving 45 minutes to visit him.  Yes I still drove over an hour to get to my OB, and almost an hour to get to the Pediatrician, but really, living "too far away" was a nice excuse for me to avoid returning to the dentist for some time.

I don't like going to the dentist.

I do not like having my mouth worked on.

I detest having cavities filled.

I told my previous dentist that I would rather give birth (this was when I only had 6 kids) than have my mouth worked on.  He laughed and commented that with epidurals he wasn't that shocked.  He wasn't laughing anymore when I told him I give birth without pain meds and that I really hated dentistry that much.

Aaron has been bugging me for months to make dentist appointments.

The kids have been asking "when do we get to go back to the dentist?"
"get to"?  Whose children are these??

With all that was going on during my pregnancy with Sam I had great reasons not to think about the dentist.  So I pushed it off even further, reasoning that I'd like to just concentrate on one thing that I was worried about and after he arrived we'd see how things were and go from there.

Gosh, I love my baby even more for giving me an excuse to put off the dentist!

Well, Sam arrived, things have been BLISSFULLY wonderful and uneventful with him, so the full press to get to the dentist has resumed.

It peaked two months ago today with Aaron using my (expensive) sensitive teeth toothpaste to send me a message:

I left it on the mirror for two weeks just to drive him crazy.  Take that!

Well people, last night it went too far.
He told me that I was pathological when it came to dentists.

Ok.  I may be irrational, extreme, and a tad bit excessive when it comes to my dislike of dentistry, but "markedly abnormal"?  Nah.  I know lots of people who hate the dentist.

Ironically none of them are elves.
Maybe that's why smiling is Buddy the elf's favorite.  That whole dentist/elf connection.

Also, labels are almost as politically incorrect as that Rudolph show.

But I digress.

People, be proud of me, I called the dentist and booked appointments this morning.  The kids go in in a week and a half.  I do get to wait until December 13th, because I wanted my dear husband to have his appointment the same day as mine, and thus have the pleasure of accompanying me to this blessed event.  Also that way Sam can come with me and Aaron can hang out with him while I have my turn.  Plus we get to hang out for a bit without the rest of the herd.  Uninterrupted conversation!  Woo-hoo!  Trust me, it's a wonderful thing even if it does happen in a dentist's waiting room.

So at least I know I can relieve myself from being hounded by the minions and my dear sweet wonderful husband, to whom I sent the following note:

Dear Husband,
You win. Dentist appointments are booked. But, I chose the dentist & to fit your schedule, I get to wait a few weeks till I have to suck it up and have this done. Also, your appointment is immediately following mine so you have to deal with me. 
Much Love, 
your wife the rabid anti-dentite who is not pathological about seeing the dentist but would still rather give birth than have my mouth worked on

Amen.