Parenting Without A License

Thank Goodness for Socialized Medicine

Posted by Kimberly on March 9th, 2008 — Posted in Kipple

Everyone has their parenting line–the point where they are totally skeeved out and just would rather really avoid the whole experience. For some, it’s the poop. For others it’s the needles, or the blood. Me, I’m fine with all that. I mean, it’s not like I’ve particularly enjoyed my education in the seemingly endless permutations of poop. And I really, really hate needles, but you do what you gotta. And the blood? Well, fortunately we’ve not really had a lot of that to deal with.

My line is the teeth. Loose teeth, specifically. They give me the willies; there are few things that make me cringe more than being asked to observe some child proudly twisting a tooth around by that last stubborn thread. Unfortunately, when you are a parent, the loose teeth are just as unavoidable as the poop in the bathtub.

I’ve been doing a pretty good job of just sucking it up since the Tooth Fairy started visiting our house a few years ago. I’ve kept the revulsion relatively under wraps and feigned enthusiasm when greeted with the dread “I’ve got a loosth toof!” announcement. I have even, on occasion, helped the Tooth Fairy out by playing midwife to some particularly stubborn baby teeth. Which is gross, but sometimes anything is better than the incessant whining about how wiggly it is.

Or so I though until last night when I ended up spending over three hours in the ER all because I “helped” Diva Girl’s maddeningly stubborn baby molar along on its journey to the garbage can Tooth Fairyland.

Now, ER trips are just as inevitable part of parenting as the poop, the blood, and the teeth. It’s just understood when you have kids that at some point, you are going to spend time in the emergency room. While I’m not the type of mother who goes running off to the doctor at the slightest sniffle or owie, I wouldn’t say I’m a “go rub some dirt on it” kind of parent, either. So, it really wasn’t blind maternal panic that lead us to the ER in a snowstorm after I saw all the blood welling up in Diva Girl’s mouth and what looked to be the root of her tooth still embedded in her gum.

I’ve not had a lot of experience with lost teeth. Other than DIva Girl’s, I mean. Most of my baby teeth were pulled by the dentist, so I don’t have a lot to drawn on when it comes to what is normal in the dental realm. I probably would have assumed that what I was seeing was just the new tooth poking its way up if not for the fact that what I held in my had appeared to be just the crown, with no root attached. Staring at that little piece of enamel, I started worrying about exposed nerves, abcesses, infection….
Three hours of 20 Questions, Rock Paper, Scissors, and Dix, a resident, an attending, and a consult with Tom, the on-call emergency dentist that ended in ME taking the dental x-ray in the deserted clinic later, we had an official diagnosis: I am a nelly.

Apparently, what I saw in her mouth was the top prong of her shiny new adult molar. And baby molars are supposed to look like that when they come out.

Good to know, since we’ll be losing about 6 more of them before the tooth fairy can finally hang up her wings. But embarrassing to require a trip to the ER to find it out. I think I’m all done with the amateur dentistry though. From now on, this Tooth Fairy is strictly about leaving the money and will be leaving them alone (except to dispose of them, of course. What is up with that whole keeping the teeth thing? Seriously, ewwww.)