He also happens to be my dentist.
Truth is, he didn’t used to be our neighbor. Rather, he was simply more like our dentist who Jeff and I both saw for cleanings twice a year. I liked it that way. Until about three years when he echoed my dentist from D.C. in telling me that I really needed to get a gum graft. Despite recommendations from two professionals in different cities, I think it was something about mentioning the two teeth eventually falling out that finally caught my attention. So, off I went to a periodontist for oral surgery. That was fun, as you would imagine.
Ian turned 7-years-old yesterday. I’ve learned that I’ll probably say this every year that I get to celebrate his birthday, but it truly does seem like just the other day that I Jeff and I drove around the block (because I was too fat to walk) and I walked into Virginia Hospital Center to check in at reception for my scheduled c-section.
The nurse had barely gotten us into the room when I started bawling. Poor lady was trying to comfort me thinking something was actually wrong – but there I was just trying to explain to her – in-between deep breaths – that I was just a little (actually, A LOT) nervous because this was my first surgery and um, HELLO, I was coming out on the other end as a PARENT!! Like, if the rumors I heard were true, we would be taking home a real actual human being that Jeff and I would be responsible for not only keeping alive, but making sure that he/she actually made some sort of contribution to society. I still just wasn’t sure I was ready for all that. I mean, when was I going to fit the gym and shopping and drinks out with friends in with all that new responsibility??