Nitrous oxide is good stuff.

Baby Boy's first teeth erupted at a preposterously young age (almost three months). Probably because of this and genetics (thanks Husband!), the kid has soft teeth.

He had his first cavity at about 12 months, so at his age, he knows all about dental offices. In fact, recently, one of his early cavities popped out.

We went to the pediatric dentist this past week to get the tooth refilled. Earlier, the dentist noticed Baby Boy had loosened a tooth, possibly from his usual active antics. When the dentist got to looking in his mouth now, I mentioned that the tooth was dying and it was shifting.

"That's because it broke from the root and is only holding on by the nerve," the dentist said.

Baby Boy got his nitrous oxide. He had the hygienist in stitches when he was getting the freezing needle. "Dr. Bob, you should trim your nails. They're a little sharp."

The fillings were done quickly but the extraction took little slower than was expected. It turned out the root of the tooth went up really high in his gums.

And it hurt the little booger but I was totally digging the show. Sure, it pained me to see Baby Boy cry, but I was fascinated at the procedure. And I knew it would mean an end to my kid putting his fingers in his mouth. He may even regain his appetite.

So now, Baby Boy is missing a tooth. Thankfully, it isn't in the very front where it would be noticed. However, being off to the side like it is, it wouldn't look out of place if he started chewing a stalk of wheat and wore a floppy straw hat. Yee-haw.

Wee Peewee

Peewee the Hamster
Originally uploaded by Nimcheena.

"Can this day get any better?" Daughter asked as I tucked her in.

She had a fun day at school. She found out she'll be going to a sleepover with her Brownie pack. Oh yeah, and she finally got a pet.

Please welcome Peewee to our family. She's a cute little hamster, although her name is a little pedantic for my taste.

I have no idea how old she is, so I'm hoping she has at least a year in her.

Wipeout

I found myself with a bit of time so I started to surf the internet for points on hosting the perfect 1957-esque (or is it mid-century modern) Polynesian-themed party.

There were lots of sites that sold tiki-related barware and tips on mixing the most delectable mai tai.

Then I bumped into a boyfriend from my past.

What shocked me wasn't that the guy was still into the things I enjoyed, or that he's married and seems to have a great job, or even that he porked right out and has a comb-over for Pete's sake. What's so disquieting to me is how a whole chunk of my life is over. What was normal for me during this guy's era will probably never happen to me again, even if I wanted them to.

I didn't choose to stop living that life. I didn't even try to consciously continue to live like that. I just didn't notice when it ceased to be.

I'm not in the habit of reflecting on what my life was like 5, 10, 20 years ago – at least not in broad terms. Sure, I'll hear a song on the radio and I can picture what I looked like at the time. I may even get a general feeling of where my head was at. But when I saw this guy's picture on the website, I was disturbed as I realized how certain elements of the things I cherished and thought defined me are utterly dead.

Consider, if you will, all the things from your past that used to happen all the time but never happen anymore and never even cross your mind. For some, it would be keggers in the field or just getting blazingly cemented, or making out with people you just met for a lark. For others, it may be as innocuous as cramming for mid-terms or keeping awake to catch Christopher Ward's City Limits. Whatever. It's almost like those things never happened, or that they happened to someone else.

Maybe they did define me. Maybe I had to experience all that to get to where I am now.

Thanks, I guess, ex-boyfriend. You freaked me out, though.

Failed Experiment

I would say it all started when I decided to clean like a Maltese mother.

I live in a 101-year-old house, so I have to dust very often. I was doing ledges and window sills when I decided that the walls could use a good washing.

I started up in the corner when I noticed these things that looked like rice but had stripes of red through them. They kind of clung to the wall and ceiling. Just like weeds are plantlife growing in places I don't want them to grow, these rice thingies got sucked up by my vacuum cleaner.

An hour later, I noticed that the area where I previously removed these things had a few more.

They're alive, I thought. Shit. I don't know why I didn't think of that before.

I took one down from the wall and inspected it closer. Fuck me, they were some kind of moth larvae. Certainly, I was noticing more moths than usual in the house, but ewww.

So later, I asked Husband to help me move the chesterfield so I could vacuum under it. We had this red area rug in the living room. I say "had" because after we found a foot wide hole in it and noticed a hundred or so of these rice things near it, on it and in it, the rug made its way to the dumpster at Husband's office building. The red stripes? Carpet fibres.

The "old houses need a cat" discussion came up mere hours after. We've been fortunate not to find any signs of mice but we've certainly had our fair share of ants and, now, moths.

I developed a cat allergy in my late teens. It used to be quite awful but I notice that now I can go into a house with a cat and be just fine for hours. How bad are my allergies, I thought. Maybe I've grown out of them?

Discussing this with Daughter's violin teacher, who always seems to be foster caring for a stray, she offered a sweet black kitten that was rescued from a drug house. "Just see if you can handle it," she said. "My husband used to have a cat allergy and it wasn't until we got the first stray that he realized he grew out of it." And so begun the experiment.

Daughter was just thrilled with Houdini and the cat was very friendly. Middle Child was a little freaked out, but he's nervous around all animals. Baby Boy was indifferent but eventually really warmed up and spent the whole day playing with her. She even let him rub his face on her.

We had the kitten for a little over 24 hours. However, I knew we wouldn't be able to keep her after about 3 hours. My nose started dripping within 30 minutes. When I walked Daughter over to her Brownie pack, I cleared up within a few minutes. By bedtime, my eyes were red, swollen and so damned itchy. Husband walked past me as we were tucking in the boys and said, "Look at you! We can't have you like that." So, in hushed tones, we agreed to go downstairs together and break the news to Daughter, who has been begging for a pet for about two years now.

Needless to say, she was devastated. Her cry was soul-wrenching. I felt so incredibly awful to do this to her but, as if she read my mind, she stoically held back her tears to hold my hand and said, "It's not your fault, Mum. I don't want to make you sick but I'm just so disappointed."

We let her stay up as long as she wanted with the cat. I myself had one of the worst sleeps of my life. When I get upset or stressed, I end up either puking or sitting on the toilet. So I would sleep briefly (maybe an hour), and then wake up and greet the porcelain.

Anyway, Daughter was very cool about everything. I'm so amazed at how grown-up and clear-thinking she can be sometimes. It proved to be a hard lesson she learned about love. Sometimes love can hurt because you end up putting the other person's needs before your own.

Like any parent, you want to shield your kid's heart from ever breaking. Little did I know that I would cause the first offence.

I Miss the Nose Ring, Though

Have I mentioned how happy I am that The Hour is back on TV? I missed you, Yorgos.

It's such a great show. How Canadian is it that our public television network would have a news programme that allows for a different view of world events? Something like this would never be on CNN, I bet.

Anyway, they had Jian Ghomeshi on, showing pics of his trip to Los Angeles. There was a small area cordoned off in LAX, possibly for security reasons, that people were respectfully avoiding. It was just yellow tape tacked on to pylons.

"Thank God we weren't there," I said to Husband. "I mean, what would it take for (Baby Boy) to get the idea of knocking them all down?"

"And then airport security would detain him," he replied, "and extract his DNA and then all hell will break loose when they find he has Arabic blood."

Baby Boy's Day at the Dentist

Yesterday was a little slice of hell for me. Baby Boy and his weak tooth enamel went to the new pediodontist. Why did Husband have to pass down all the icky stuff like that? Wasn't the eczema enough?

I tried taking him to our local dentist but since he's had fillings before, he knew just what she was going to do and wasn't buying what she was selling, if you catch my drift.

The receptionist made an appointment with the dentist's friend, a paediatric dentist in London. Never mind the hour-long drive to get there—it's the nine month waiting that I don't agree with. So I asked for someone else who handled, er, special cases.

This guy is in Kitchener (Go, Penguins, go! Really!) and saw us the next day. This was about two weeks ago. He was awesome and really got Baby Boy calmed down. The hygienist was a right beyotch, though. When walking him down the hall to the opertory, the kid was crying. I said some calming words and let him tug my necklace, which is a soothing habit he picked up when I used to breastfeed him. The buzzard snapped, "You think I've never heard this before? Just be quiet and sit still. I know what I'm doing."

So I sat in a corner of the opertory with my arms crossed and a shit-eating grin on as Baby Boy was giving her his best maniacal screaming and squirming. If it wasn't for the dentist to come in and was way more parental and gentle than the hygienist, I was ready to gouge out her heart with a spoon.

Of course, after the dentist left, I told her, "I'll be asking for another hygienist the next time because, though I don't doubt you've seen this behaviour a million times, YOU are not the one who he'll call for at 2 in the morning with dental nightmares. And, frankly, it appears to me that I would probably know better how to calm my son's fears than you would. After all, I've known him his whole life and you just met him 15 minutes ago." She tried to rebuttal, but I did something I rarely do: I held out my hand, turned my face and then my heels and walked away. She doesn't know how lucky she was.

Anyway, yesterday, new hygienist. Strangely, she looked like me, which worked in our favour. Baby Boy liked her right away. Mind you, we also had some practice runs at Husband's clinic and even went to the dentist's with vinyl gloves, a mask and a Dixie Cup for laughing gas play. We practiced on teddy bears in the waiting room with Baby Boy improvising with Lego for dental tools.

His permanent teeth better come in gorgeous.

And What Happened to Freddy the Magic Flute?

See what posting a comment can do?

Jules mentioned HR Pufnstuf and, immediately, I had a flood of memories of me sitting in my grandmother's living room watching the show with my similarly aged aunt and uncle (did I mention I'm from a Catholic family?).

So, hey, I've got a few minutes before the Leafs game, I thought. Let's Google the show.

And then I learned that Jack Wild, the guy who played Jimmy, DIED! He died this year, March 1st, from oral cancer, of all things. Husband's grandmother has a copy of the 60s movie Oliver, where he played the Artful Dodger. The guy had pipes! And he had to get them removed, as well as part of his tongue.

The Hilarious House of Frightenstein

I remember waking up at the crack of dawn to catch The Hilarious House of Frightenstein when I was a kid.

My kids are astounded to hear that their dad and I didn't have round-the-clock children's programming on TV; that kid shows were only on Saturdays from 6 (this show) until 11, when Fat Albert ended. Of course, there were after school specials, but that was only for an hour, and there was morning cartoons on the Buffalo stations. My favourite was Rocketship 7. There was some morning shows on for the wee, like The Friendly Giant (my sister was afraid of Rusty the Rooster), and Mr. Dressup (God rest his soul). If you went home for lunch, you could catch the Flintstones at 12, just after The Uncle Bobby Show.

That last show actually really resonated with me. I went to Brownie camp with Traffic Officer John's daughter, but moreover, there's catch phrases that I use to this day that, after checking out this website, I realize originated from that show. And, if I'm remembering correctly, my mum once sent in my name and Bimbo the Birthday Clown read out my birthday greeting. Or was that by Dave on Rocketship 7???

What I would do for one of those Uncle Bobby or Rocketship 7 t-shirts. Of course, it would totally date me and place me. Husband didn't have these, being from another province, but he did have J.P. Patches, which I didn't.

And, you know, these shows weren't all that great; not when you compare what is being offered today. Case in point is the show made by Billy Van, Billy Van, Billy Van, etc. As entertaining as I found Frightenstein (and I did, in fact, love the show), it was kinda slap-dash and cheesy. I guess that was part of the charm.

Well, over the weekend, Middle Child stumbled upon it. He was riveted! We found out that it also airs on the Space Channel at 7 am. Guess what he did this morning? He even set an alarm for himself. I kissed him at the door of his school this morning and he replied, "Ooga booga!"

Teeth and Grins

After dangling by a thread for days, Middle Child's first front tooth came out when I gave him a piece of toast. Cruel Mumma that I am, I had been giving him only crunchy things to eat, hoping that would instigate some tooth extracting.

The Tooth Fairy gave him $4. It's more than the going rate, but that's the balance due for the X-men Evolution DVD he's been saving for. But, though I explained, er, what I thought the Tooth Fairy meant by giving him the $4, he huffed, "Well, why didn't she just go out and get me the movie instead? She did that for (Daughter) once."

Okay, that was true, but it was also Easter. It was supposed to be from the Easter Bunny, but she assumed it was from the other mythical creature.

So, I just flubbed, "But that movie was Fairytopia. I think the Tooth Fairy only has fairy movies and she knows you wouldn't be interested in them. Am I right?" Thankfully, he was satisfied with that answer.

My parents gave Middle Child $5 for the lost tooth; something my mum promised the kid ... and he remembered. He actually has money that he hadn't spent from his birthday so he can get two X-men Evolution DVDs if he wants.

We went over to my parents' place this past weekend. Husband and I took off to go on a date. It wasn't anything spectacular; we just went to a bookstore and then to Lick's for dinner. I swear, Daughter grew inside me because of their turkey and vegetarian burgers. We had a Lick's near our big city condo where we lived before we had kids. Okay, Daughter lived there for 12 months, which she lords over her brothers.

Wouldn't a Lick's do well in my little tourist-driven city? If I had a million dollars...

I also went shopping with my mum, Daughter and Niece. I bought the girls a banana split to share. I think they snorted it. Anyway, they were so impressed that they want to make it a tradition. "Any time we're at this mall, we have to share a banana split, okay?" Yeah, because they're at that particular mall so often.

And while the girls were gorging on ice cream (they asked if the pineapple could be substituted with carmel, which is an awesome substitution in my books), my mother was on her favourite topic: planning Baby Sister's wedding. She isn't engaged or anything, but that's not stopping my mum. She can be a little old-fashioned concerning marriage but, I think she just loves a good party.

Seriously, conceding that it would probably be a small wedding, she was wondering if Baby Sister and her boyfriend would have dancing. Uh, hello. Are you a part of this family? We don't look to the food or even the liquor at weddings. It's all about the music!

Question of the week: What is the best love song? Poll your friends; I bet their choices would be telling. Today, I'm leaning toward Peter Gabriel's In Your Eyes because, well, I'm a sucker for Lloyds in ill-fitting trenchcoats holding up boomboxes outside my bedroom window.