Bread and Body Fluids: I’d Come Up With a Less Gross Title, But I Have One Kid Crying, One Harfing, and One Bleeding… I’m Sure You Understand

Took my kid to the orthodontist this morning.

He had to have brace wires removed so I could take him to the dentist to get four teeth pulled.

Spilled my coffee.

All 20 ounces. All over the floor of the orthodontist’s office. I put it on the floor, then immediately kicked it over. I hadn’t had coffee yet, so I couldn’t clearly think through coffee placement. It’s a Catch 22, I tell you, this whole Had to Perform Coffee Tasks Before Having Coffee situation. It’s not right. We live in a broken world, friends.

Went to the dentist.

Handed over an 11yo for medieval torture.

I lied and lied and told him it would be fine. “You’ll be FINE. Walk in the park. No big deal, man.” I didn’t feel like the truth was particularly helpful in this case. Like, “YES, IT WILL BE AWFUL. Hopefully not for long, though. Hopefully, there will be less than 30 minutes while the dentist widens your bone socket, slowly rips your ligaments, and wrenches your tooth free. FOUR TIMES.” <— I didn’t say that. Not even with my eyes. I expect a trophy later, please.

Kid did fine.

He thought it was no big deal, just as I said. This is what we parents call Positive Reinforcement for Lying. They say we cling to our dysfunctions because, on some level, they function for us, yes? Thus continues the cycle of falsehood and deceit. As my parents lied to me — “we’re not lost, Beth; we’re just having an adventure” — so I lie to my children. It’s important to have family traditions.

Home now.

I have one child leaking gauze and bloody spittle while playing Fortnite on the couch, one child vomiting in the hall bathroom because blood freaks him out, and one girl child standing in the backyard yelling, “TELL ME WHEN THE BLOOD AND VOMIT ARE GONE. I AM NOT COMING HOME UNTIL THEY ARE DONE. BROTHERS ARE DISGUSTING AND GROSS AND SICKENING [note: we’ve been working on synonyms, so is was a win — I shall be accepting a trophy for this tonight, as well], AND THIS IS WHY YOU SHOULD HAVE ME ANTOHER SISTER, MOM.” 

In conclusion, I live a life of glamour. 

That is all for now.

Just a quick update.

Also, bread photos below because they’re prettier than bloody mouth pics. 

With love (and waving, as always),




P.S. How you doin’?

P.P.S. Bread pics:

Know what that is? Besides bread? It’s No Knead Bread. The famous New York Times recipe. It requires thinking a day in advance, which isn’t always my strong-suit as a mama, but it only takes 10 minutes of hands-on time TOTAL, and I DO love that.

And here’s a tip in case you’re having an insane, make-everything-from-scratch phase like yours truly: save the whey from yogurt or cheese making, and use it in place of water in the bread recipe.

It’ll make you feel like a rock star homesteading miracle worker. Even with twelve kinds of body fluids erupting from your children. PLUS you get to comfort yourself with homemade carbs.

Win/win, I tell you. 


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6 responses to “Bread and Body Fluids: I’d Come Up With a Less Gross Title, But I Have One Kid Crying, One Harfing, and One Bleeding… I’m Sure You Understand”

  1. Okay, we were highly confused around here because our kid has an appointment for tooth extractions coming up in a couple of months, so we thought Wednesday’s “Put the braces on ” appointment was an error, but they said no, FIRST the braces THEN the teeth out. I was still skeptical, but now I know it just involves a harrowing wire removal appointment–so they can charge us for yet another appointment? I still don’t quite get the logic on this. One of her teeth is in some weird location so she gets to go all the way under for her process, so all I have to lie about is how she’ll feel afterwards. Phew.

    That’s some good looking bread.

  2. That bread was crazy delicious. I just focus on the food. Because I can…because one of my kids is at camp and the other is staying a week with YOU 😉

  3. I left our youngest 9 hours away yesterday for her first year of college. It’s too soon for me to know whether I really miss the years of fluids and orifices and fighting—but I think I do, desperately. I haven’t yet found a new purpose that can compare with that of being a mom in the thick of things, so for now I am happy to life vicariously through your travails and triumphs. We are all so fortunate, really.

  4. I feel ya.
    It’s been one of those days here too, complete with sobs over a lost notebook, both girls screaming in the driveway in the pouring rain over who got to hold the umbrella, an argument with husband, son texting to say he forgot an assignment, a run to the pharmacy after discovering at work that I needed girl supplies, losing my cell phone, pouring down rain everywhere, a meeting where I was only semi-effective due to worry over phone, finding phone drenched in the parking lot, and more general crabbiness at home.
    Waving and looking for corkscrew…

  5. Oh, man, I know. All of it. The blood, the vomit, the screaming, the spilt coffee…even the altered truth. Also, the bread. That’s the laziest, yummiest bread! I don’t bother to make other white breads anymore. I’m so glad you are waving, Beth. I need to know that right now.

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