Monday morning happy and in great form the traveling husband is back in the air.His job is done:for once that he was home for an entire week, he spread his cold and sore throat germs all over the house.Saturday I spent my last drop of healthy energy following the rugby match and that was it.The rest of my S.Patrick’s week end was spent in bed.Thank fully it was not an awful dose and Monday there was no school so I had one more day to recover.
Tuesday was reality check time.The flu was gone but left behind one very stuffy nose and two very weak legs.Not enough to justify an other inside day.I had to shell out my pj,that was glued on my body since Saturday and face the external world.The external world was particularly sympathetic and it had presented me with a bright sunny day:”perfect”,I thought,”I might have to get dressed but I can skip to put make up on straight away.Just for today I can school drop simply wearing a pair of shades big enough to cover the post flu zombie color face.”. So I did but,while driving to school,my friend Toni’s words started to rumbling inside my head:”Never go out shabbily dressed and with no make up because that only fecking time you do it,you will bang into your husband’s fecking ex girlfriend and she will look like she just had a fecking full makeover”.Damn,I should have known better,because it is actually like that.That one time you go out looking like crap you meet someone you know but,considering that it is highly improbable( if not impossible) that I meet one of the travelling husband’s ex girlfriends in the middle of nowhere in Ireland at 8.30 am,I just punched those words off my mind and kept going as I was.
If I was still a bit lazy and slow ,the rest of my gang was hyper and happy to be back out.
Daughter number one was looking forward to present the class the science project she worked on for the last few days;Daughter number two was just happy to leave the house with no sticky ointment on her eyes to treat an infection that,for the last ten days,made her look like Rocky Balboa after the fight of his life;the giant dog was happy ,full stop.He doesn’t really need a specific reason.Last but not least,the little dog was probably the happiest of all to get out.Last Friday she had her bath and haircut and eventually she didn’t look like a lamb anymore.Eventually and cleverly,considering that Easter is around the corner!The problem is that she didn’t have the chance to show it off properly yet because of a little tiny insignificant domestic accident involving herself and daughter number one.
I was in the garden and suddenly I heard screaming and crying.I rushed in and followed the desperate lamentations while looking for blood or peaces of flashes scattered around the house. That scream of horror could have been generated only by an amputated limb. With my surprise the house was clean,pretty much as I left it. I found daughter number one sitting on the first step of the stairs in tears, hugging a distressed little dog.It is still unclear if the dog was in distressed because she was hugged too tight and couldn’t breath or because she had done something wrong.Good thing was that both of them were still in one piece and with no obvious traces of blood on them. I couldn’t see daughter number two but I was not worried because I could hear her practicing the fiddle upstairs, totally oblivious to whatever was happening downstairs. If only she would use that concentration for homework would be brilliant.
In between sobs I get the full picture of the events:Clara ,the dog,in the excitement to show her two legged older sister how pretty she looked and how nice she smelled,banged her head against daughter number one ‘s mouth and broke her a tooth.I have been showed the “cracked tooth”.It was not cracked,it was chipped and the chip was so small that I nearly needed a magnifying glass to properly see it. I immediately rang the dentist and got an emergency appointment for the very same afternoon.The child needed to be taken out her misery and I needed to get her out my neck, as soon as possible. Of course, being the hypochondriac daughter, she kept following me around the house asking questions about what was going to happen and picturing the worst case scenarios ever.She was already sure her tooth had to be removed and she had to face her teen years either tooth less in the front or with a very obvious fake tooth.I managed to convince her that most likely what it was going to happen was that they would have simply file or fill the tooth.
The dentist was the usual German guy.Both, him and the nurse,greeted me by name and with a big smile. Just to avoid wrong impressions I told them immediately that I was not joking when I wished not to see them for an other fifteen years,(no hurt feelings of course),and that the patient was not me but my daughter. With a very discreet whisper I also warned them to cut in half whatever the child would have said because she tends to dramatize.
Fifteen minutes later,with no pain and no drama, daughter number one is out.She is as good as new with two perfect straight and white front teeth and ready for ice cream,like nothing happened .