Mama Said

My mom called this morning to ask how I was feeling after having my wisdom teeth removed yesterday. She went with me to the oral surgeon because part of the procedure included laughing gas and an IV, which made me feel, upon waking, that I had consumed one too many margaritas. According to my mom, I announced this fact to the nurse and then proceeded to hiccup loudly and uncontrollably while the nurse tried to describe the postoperative instructions. This really is not unlike the times when I actually have had too many margaritas, except bar hopping is usually not followed by intense pain localized where two teeth were ripped out of your mouth. Or maybe it is, but not typically for me.

In a few days, I am leaving for a weeklong conference in San Diego and my mom asked whether Will was going with me. I explained that he couldn't go because of work and that I was going alone, although there would be another teacher from my school at the conference and two of my cousins live in San Diego, as well. Nevertheless, she got all worried about me going alone as though I were a 22 year old flying across the country and not a 26 year old driving a mere 3 hours south.

I pointed out that as a 22 year old, I had flown across the country where I lived for 6 months while interning in the White House. Now that should have been cause for concern, not only because I was living in an apartment complex with a hundred or so college seniors, not only because our main hobby revolved around gin and tonic, but also because I could have become a Republican, or worse, started to wear navy blue suits with navy blue pumps.

My mom laughed and told me that, as my mother, it was her duty to worry and I agreed that it was nice yesterday when she took her worried head over to the grocery store to buy me chocolate pudding, orange and raspberry jello, mashed potatoes, soup, grape juice, and Gatorade so that I would not starve.

My doctor called last night to check up on me and, because I was so out of it, I forgot to ask him the most critical question of this whole experience, the question that has been on my mind since 20 minutes out of surgery: when can I eat pizza again?

I can't ask my mom; she doesn't think I should eat solid foods until I am at least 30.

Comments

[Kari]

Thank goodness you didn't become a Republican and I bet you would look cute as pie in anything - even if it was a navy blue suit.

[Alison]

This post just made me smile. Thanks.

[Wende]

Heh... mothers (rolling my eyes). Oh wait, I am one... um, nevermind. :)

[Debra Sue]

I ate pizza the same day I had my wisdom teeth out. Granted I was 16 at the time and little bit stupid! Thank God I didn't get a dry socket!

Hope you're feeling better soon,
Deb

[panasianbiz]

I stumbled across your blog while I was doing some online research. Your wisdom teeth story reminds me of my sister's experience. Upon "coming to," I told her I wanted to dab a tiny drop of blood from her lip, and she looked at me like I was crazy. She didn't realize the procedure had even begun, let alone ended!

[Maribeth]

My daughter is almost 30 and I still worry about her. Although I try to keep quiet about it because it makes her crazy.

[Heidi]

My Mom is a worry wart too. Gotta love 'em.

[Pink Chihuahua Princess]

I'm so glad to hear you escaped that Republican disease.

[class-factotum]

Wait. You've been out of college now how long and been paying income taxes (in CALIFORNIA, yet!) for how long and you're STILL not a Republican? I'm not trying to pry into your financial status or be offensive, but are you in a really low tax bracket?