Four kids, people.
I would have gotten a New Year's wax but the joint is closed for renovations.
After checking off all the relatively fun stuff off my list (yes, the wax is so good I consider it fun), that left the not-so-fun stuff, like finding a therapist, which, by the way, is so much more awesome thanks to the Internet because hellloooo online appointment booking system so I can type my "reasons for seeking therapeutic intervention" into the small comment box in 200 characters or less and not talk to a human.
And tracking down a dentist.
I actually used to work for a dentist in high school and college, so I've never really had to find one, so when my tooth broke a couple of years ago, I made the mistake of asking Google instead of a neighbor and ended up with a huge bill for cavities I may or may not have had.
The real victims of motherhood: Your teeth.
So I've put off going back since then, using the lack of recommendations for a new dentist as my excuse. Except I got a few from my kids' dentist and accidentally lost them.
Now compared to the other doctor appointments women have to endure, the dentist is really quite a treat when you think about it. You don't have to weigh yourself (or pee in a cup), you get to keep your clothes on, and the metal objects being stuck in you actually belong there.
Also, drugs. Legal ones!
However, it's not the first thing that comes to mind when you've got a free afternoon. But damnit, it's the year of me, and suddenly last Friday before the long weekend my tooth started making me feel really guilty, so much so that I had to go to the dentist at that exact moment, which isn't the easiest task since I didn't have a dentist.
And for some reason, dentists in Atlanta don't work on Friday. Even the sucky, money grubbing ones.
So instead, I sent my kids to the dentist with my husband and called to get her recommendation yet again, who, by some miracle happened to have an opening for me that day.
I might have been the first person in that office's history who was screaming "thank you!" on the phone when they offered to fit me in.
It turns out that my teeth are fine, for the most part (yay obsessive flossing habit), save the grinding which made them extra sensitive. And I found an amazing dentist who I'll be seeing for a few more visits.
Four kids, people.
But you know what that also means, right? Scheduled time alone. In a comfy chair. Maybe even asleep. With no children anywhere.
It's practically a spa day.