That's Mister Stupidpants to you, sir!

Breakfast!

I haven't been to the dentist since I was 18. I have made up for that by going twice in two weeks so far, and 11 *gasp* fillings later, all the big work is done. Before you call me Dippy McDumbshitpants, let me assure you that I am paying for it, dearly, today. Good flippin' god, my mouth hurts.

I'm not afraid of the dentist in any way; in fact, I totally dig going to the dentist. Perhaps overly. However, every time I'm fixing to go, one of those kids either needs new shoes or a backpack or, and this happens with shocking frequency, I schedule an appointment and 2 days later get a positive pregnancy test. I don't know if you can go to the dentist while you're pregnant, but I'm a safer than sorrier kind of chick.

Yes, I know that I am supposed to take care of myself, too, and not just the kids, but before you go a'judgin', ask yourself how many times you've left the house looking like this...So, I'm taking care of all of this stuff now, and that means one thing:

I have to eat more antibiotics than I have ever consumed in my whole life.

I have this little heart thing. I was born with it, like my reddish hair* and the birthmark on my hip. Except that you don't have to premed for a birthmark, and the reddish hair just means they have to give you twice as much Novocaine to get you good and numb. I hate Novocaine, but I hate it even more when they don't give you enough and no one knows it but the nerve in your back tooth, and when the nerve decides to tell you, the nerve tells everyone in a 10-foot radius.

I'm rambling. Mostly because I can't talk with 2/3 of my face right now. But my teeth are (almost) all better, and I learned my Go To The Damn Dentist Already lesson. And thank god I don't take the pill, because I'd be knocked up for sure by now.

*The hair on my head is not reddish anymore, but the....oops, there's that pesky personal boundary line again. Almost tripped over it that time.