Yesterday was strange. The older boy had all four wisdom teeth yanked, and his brother finally had his braces removed. It’s been a long-time coming.
All this happened early in the morning, before I’d even gotten up. But when everyone came home… the bizarreness kicked in. Our older son was messed up on a full smorgasbord of drugs, and acting crazy.
At one point I walked into the room and he was bent forward in a chair, spitting on the living room floor. I howled in protest, and he continued spitting. I got him a towel, cleaned up the bloody mess, and he just sat there with a string of drool hanging out of his mouth.
Later, he packed teabags into his mouth. WTF?? This was some real Sid ‘n’ Nancy shit. Toney was out picking up various prescriptions, and I called her.
“I can’t deal with this,” I said. “When will you be home?? He’s spitting everywhere… packing his cheeks with stuff from the pantry… What’s next, flour?! Navy beans? I don’t know what the hell’s going on!”
Toney told me the doctor said he could put teabags in his mouth, to stop the bleeding. So, at least there was some context to that weirdness. But he wasn’t really responding to me, and totally out of it.
Finally, she returned and took over. It was disturbing, and stressing me out.
“I guess mothers are wired differently,” Toney said.
“That, or I’m just a pussy,” I offered, and received no response. I quickly got ready, and went to work — a little earlier than normal.
Turns out, there was some wackiness with the younger boy, too. The orthodontist had been stringing him along, repeatedly saying she’s going to remove his braces, then wanting to give it four more weeks. This happened at least twice, and she tried to do it again yesterday.
The boy snapped, and went off on the whole staff. The doctor was yelling at him, he was yelling back, and eventually started crying. I guess it was a bad scene, and Toney told the orthodontist to just take the braces off. Enough was enough.
They fitted him with a retainer, and made them hang around until it was ready. Toney said the younger youngling just sat silently in the waiting room, seething with anger. When they got home, she asked him where the retainer was. And he said he threw it into a trash can on the way to the car!
I know I should be mad at him, but I’m not. In fact, it makes me laugh. As far as I can tell, his teeth are perfect. It’s time to move on. Seriously.
The good news? Both are home today, because of Easter, and are doing well. The older boy is acting like a normal human being again, and his brother is watching Beavis and Butthead, eating ice cream. I’ll probably go in at the regular time today.
On an unrelated note… I walked into a bathroom the other day, and took my place in front of a urinal. Beside me was a stall, and somebody was in there dumping and stinking the place up. People are disgusting. I could hear grunts, and low-grade thrashing about. What the hell, man?
And once I’d settled in to the task at hand, I realized the dumper was listening to music. Apparently he had earbuds in, and the volume was so high I could actually make out the song: “Shattered” by the Rolling Stones. With my shirt pulled up to cover my mouth and nose, I stood and pondered the appropriateness of the tune. Is “Shattered” a good pooping song?
I never really came to a conclusion, so I’ll let you guys handle it. If it’s NOT an appropriate song, what would be better? And why? Please use the comments section below to help me find closure on this important issue.
And I’ll be back on Sunday or Monday.
Have yourselves a great weekend, my friends!
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