Kicking My Ass

My legs are aching tonight as a result of something I never thought I'd do: Kickboxing class. I've been back to my local YMCA three times this week (Hallelujah! The kids are back in school!) and have participated in three aerobics classes, each slightly more torturous than the first. Today's class was painful on so many levels.

I have never thought about kickboxing. Never even dabbled in the idea. Sounds hard, I've always thought, and it was. But the funny thing was the aerobic intensity of the class wasn't what bothered me the most. What bothered me was the creepy look of rage in the eyes of the other (seemingly mild-mannered) ladies in the class when the instructor told us to "knee him in the groin!" and "punch him in the jaw!" These ladies strolled into the gym with their small coach purses and bouncy ponytails, and then became psychotic killing machines thirty seconds after the spastic techno beat came blaring through the speakers. I looked around me after just a couple of minutes in the sweaty mirror covered room and thought "Have I gone insane? Why am I the only one who doesn't get joy out of jabbing an invisible enemy in the face while he's lying on the floor?" Jab Jab Jab! Left hook! Upper cut! Speed bag! It was like a weird alternate universe of tiny fighting women (and one old dude who didn't look that angry, but was struggling to stay alive). 

After pondering it for a bit this afternoon (before my three hour nap and mega dose of ibuprofen), I realized that I had no idea how pissed off so many women are. I guess I just don't have anyone I seriously yearn to punch in the face, and that makes me a bit of a freak in this town. But who are these invisible faces they desire so greatly to sock? Are they husbands, bosses, their parents? Is the invisible face just a metaphor for how society has kept these gals down? Maybe that's too deep, and maybe they're not mad at all, but man, did they sure look it. 

All I know is I won't be rolling up to kickboxing class again any time soon. I prefer my gentle Jane Fonda-esque step aerobics with the happy music and peppy instructors cheering me on, encouraging me to let my ponytail keep bopping and to leave my rage face at home.  

Tooth Torture

Yesterday I went back to the dentist with my five year old. As many know, the poor gal has terrible teeth, and they have been terrible forever. Unfortunately for both of us, this situation does not seem to improve without significant medical intervention, as the teeth that are rotting out are not due to fall out for several years. For the past week she has been complaining of pain in one particular spot, rendering us, once again, at the mercy of the pediatric dentist.

I hate everything about the pediatric dentist. Or let me clarify, I hate everything about any dentist, but the kids' dentist is particularly bad. I hate that there are three kids getting work done in one big room (read: one screams and they are all horrified). I hate the stupid cloud covered walls, the hanging birds and monkey masks, and the faux friendly hygienist who is quietly judging the crap out of you every second of the way. ("Well, you know, juice is not that good for them", as though it was the apple juice that rotted her teeth out before they even came in). The last time we went for a cleaning the woman taking x-rays got so fed up with Sofie not being able to hold still enough (wait, hold old is she again?) that she huffily jerked her head back and forth and brought tears to my girl's eyes. It was enough to make any mother go postal.

Yesterday Sofie had to endure yet another crown placement, and let me just say, this is definitely getting harder each time. It took me, Francisco, and the assistant to hold her down while she screamed bloody murder and wept, leaving me a sniveling wreck of a mother, while the dentist tried her hardest to get that damn cap on quick. Hideous. My poor girl just kept saying " I want to go home!" through her wrenched open mouth and her gas mask covered nose. When it was over she collapsed in my arms and sobbed, thoroughly worn out from the experience. If she ever makes it to the dentist as an adult it will be a total shock to me, I know I will do my best to avoid taking her back there any time soon.