Dallas Morning News, The (TX)
Holiday battle
I went a full three rounds with Thanksgiving, says GINA PERALES HETHCOCK of Plano
GINA PERALES HETHCOCK
Published: November 30, 2007
Round 1
On Wednesday, Thanksgiving circled the ring, stared me down and punched me hard in the stomach. But it was my daughter’s teeth it knocked out.
The morning began with an 8 a.m. trip to the dentist office to have five teeth pulled. Not mine, but those of my 7-year-old, whose mouth is too tiny for her gigantic incoming adult teeth. (I blame it on genetics; it’s all my husband’s fault.)
Now, I know what you’re thinking: I’m crazy to have scheduled that dentist appointment the day before the all-you-can-eat turkey and dressing buffet. But I reasoned that 13 people, including four children her age or older, would be there to take her mind off the sore gums. And I could spend some cuddly time with her, since the other two would be at day care.
I should’ve known better.
Three teeth into it, and I was sweating. I had no idea dentists pulled teeth that way. It begins with a forceful push on either side to loosen the tooth. Once loosened, the dentist pulls them out like carrots. When the carrot-pulling technique didn’t work on the fourth tooth, he reached for a set of pliers. Well, that’s what it seemed like.
He gripped the tooth, put his foot on the head of her chair and assumed the attack position. He pulled with one hand and with the other hand pushed my daughter’s jaw so far down I thought she would never look normal again. Then Brooke, whose mouth was entirely numbed, squeezed my hand and began to cry.
The pain in my stomach gnarled. I was the worst mom in the world. My daughter, who left the dentist’s office looking like a Jack-O-Lantern chomping on a piece of gauze, crossed her arms, climbed into the car and refused to speak to me. I had told her it wouldn’t hurt and that she’d have a beautiful smile.
Thanksgiving 1, Gina 0.
Round 2
As if the punch in the stomach wasn’t enough, Thanksgiving went for the throat.
Before the dentist appointment, my 8-year-old, Haley, woke up with a fever of 102.7. As I dropped Brooke off to recover at home with my husband, I picked Haley up to take to the doctor’s.
The diagnosis: strep.
At least I had ammunition. I punched back with antibiotics. Haley would stop being contagious by the big day tomorrow. Nonetheless, there were a few phone calls I had to make to alert the families to come later than planned.
I’ll take a victory on this one: Strep is curable, and it would allow me more time to prepare Thanksgiving dinner since the others wouldn’t arrive until after the second dose of antibiotics.
I picked up the turkey from Dickey’s. Brooke began talking to me after she stopped bleeding and the gauze was taken out. And we cuddled for 20 long minutes before the in-laws arrived. Later that night, on Tylenol with codeine and azythromycin, my kids faded away to La La Land. My 2-year-old went to bed without a whimper. Peace was restored. I was tempted to take the Tylenol with codeine, but I talked myself out of it. I can take it, I told myself. And I laced up my gloves.
Thanksgiving 1, Gina 1
Round 3
Brooke’s morning breath killed the family. Not really. But something was wrong. She gargled with salt water. Ah, better. Still, something nagged. We started boiling the potatoes and heating the turkey and ham under the direction of my father-in-law, who ended up punching a hole in the aluminum pan with the thermometer. Still, he was used to directing. He cracked the whip. And we followed orders. When the others arrived just past noon, our dinner turned into a late lunch.
We prayed. We ate. Brooke slurped up the mashed potatoes. We watched football and the kids chased each other around the house. The night progressed into a family Texas Hold ‘Em tournament at $20 a couple.
We even convinced my sister-in-law to stay the night with her husband and three children.
Then Brooke, my beautiful, mischievous, bouncing-off-the-walls Brooke, went to bed early.
Again, Thanksgiving tried to strangle us with strep.
Everything stopped. People said goodbye. We said we had had a great and happy Thanksgiving.
Happy? I guess it could have been a lot worse. Sharing Thanksgiving with family and the people I love no matter the obstacles was enough to make me happy. And for that I gave thanks.
Even though we lost the poker game twice, and the tooth fairy had to take out a loan.
I asked Brooke Monday morning if she’d ever forget about having her teeth pulled at Thanksgiving. She said she would remember it for the rest of her life. I will, too, Brooke. I just hope the memory is not all bad.
Gina Perales Hethcock of Plano is a communications director and a Community Voices volunteer columnist. Her e-mail address is ginaperales@yahoo.com. She can also be contacted at http://neighborsgo.com/gina.
Copyright 2007 The Dallas Morning News
Gina's Grotto 