Recently I read the following status on Facebook: “Off to the dentist later, can’t wait”. Now unless she has a particularly dishy dentist (I do as it happens, but that is another blog) this may seem like a slightly strange statement to make, after all who actually enjoys going to the dentist? On further prompting all was revealed. The writer of this status has 3 young children and she was looking forward to going to the dentist because she was going alone – at least 30 minutes of peace with no kids playing up, demanding attention or requiring refereeing. Who could argue with that?
It is true that for most mums of young children, every moment of peace and quiet is golden and we are all reduced to actually treasuring time spent in the dentist’s chair, or the doctor’s waiting room or walking round the supermarket just because of those precious few minutes when we don’t have to be responsible for anyone. Unless of course you have to take the kids with you and then it becomes a different experience entirely.
My personal favourite is the doctor’s waiting room. My doctor is usually running so far behind that it’s not unusual to wait 30 or 40 minutes for your turn. Inconvenient? Not at all; it’s often the only time I have to read my book in an environment where I’m not likely to fall asleep after 2 pages (and if I do please don’t wake me until my name is called).
I was recently lucky enough to have several hours to myself when I went for a spa day with some friends (Groupon of course). After swimming and lunch we entered the relaxation room to wait for our massages. Combine an over-tired mum of 2 children with dimmed lighting, water beds and plinky plonky music and you have the perfect storm for semi-consciousness: I don’t feel I can be held in any way accountable. There is apparently a commonly held belief in the armed forces in combat that you should sleep when you can because you don’t know when the next opportunity will come. This also applies to mums and I can only apologise to everyone in the room for the snoring and dribbling (but frankly you take your own risk when you enter something with ‘Relaxation Room’ written on the door).
I’m now thinking of going back to the gym. Not because I want to get in shape (though I do need to), but because I can have a shower there without being interrupted or be subjected to pointing and squealing of “look at her boobies!” (though that can’t entirely be ruled out during aqua zumba).
The more I think of it, the more attractive a trip to the dentist becomes. Book me in for a root canal please.