Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Baby Orajel?

You know... baby Orajel?
Baby.... Orajel?
Cold. Dead. Silence. Accompanied by an icy glare.  I wracked my brains.  Why, oh why would this woman not know about the magic in a tube called 'baby orajel'?

I repeated myself, yet again. More silence. Maybe, just maybe she didn't hear me. Again, repeat.  It was like one of those scenes that slows down for just a moment. I could almost see myself as if I was having an out of body episode, and my voice was low and dragging out all the syllables extra slowly.

Baaaaaabbbbbbbyyyyyyyy Orrrrrraaaaaajjjjjjjjeeeeellllll.

Nada, not one iota of acknowledgement. Zip, zilch.
Just silence, and a look of annoyance to my happy, chipper been there done that momma of 3 (at the time), unsolicited advise.

It all started with a simple trip to the park for social interaction for my 3 homeschooled children.  It was a crisp fall day and we needed to enjoy the sunny weather while we could.  I packed them all up and we drove down the hill to a little park in the small quaint city below us.  There had been an advertised 'playdate' on the online homeschool parenting group I belonged to and dagnabit we were going to go. It didn't matter that my youngest (at the time), Queen O'Pester had recently injured her lip and whenever it got slightly bumped she bled like a slaughter house. Who could possibly bump her at that park?  Riiiiight.

When we got there, I quickly realized that the only parents and kids from 'our' group was the ONE mom sitting on the bench watching her 5'ish year old play.  I walked over to introduce myself and my brood and they scampered off while the mom's sat down to chit chat and get to know one another.

Did I mention that I am a jeans and simple shirt and tennis shoes type of momma, and usually have my hair in a ponytail or sloppy bun? (This is important information so pay attention here).

The other mom, was a different type of momma, she was a long skirt, Mexican poncho with flat canvas black shoes that had a strap over the top and had dread locks down her back type. BIG dread locks.  She also had some cleaver crocheted rainbow patterned beanie placed at the back top portion of her head, I think it may have actually grown into her hair, but I cannot confirm that. (Ahhhh NOW you see why you had to pay attention). I will call her Hippie Momma.

I was desperately trying to find common ground with this women so we wouldn't just sit there in silence. After all, these playdates were as much for the moms as they are for the kiddos. Hippie Momma and I got into a conversation about loose teeth.  Just up my ally, since my oldest Mega Pester was a pro at loosing teeth and Miss Sassofrass Pester had recently lost one or two.  So I go into my whole speal of the BEST way to help your children loose teeth.  It went something like this....

When the tooth is really wiggly.  You know when they come up to you and say, 'hey mom look', and the tooth is sideways or they push it all the way back and you see a space.  That is when you have to take action!  You take a wet wash cloth.  And let them grip their tooth themselves and have them twist one way and then the other.  Tell them to listen for the root to snap or crackle like rice crispy cereal.  But first before they do that, about ten minutes before... You take baby orajel and push the tooth so there is a space and orajel that sucker up so that they can't feel it.  
Blank look.
No response.

Normally, I get WOW that is the best idea EVER in all of history YOU are the most amazing mom and I am going to try that out right away!!! (Okay, I may have embellished a bit, but you get my drift).
So, I say, "You know baby orajel"?
Again, nothing.
Repeat... again.
Really? How the heck could this be? How could a mom not know what this is???
I repeat and repeat out of frustration, until finally, my voice just sort of trails off, because it became crystal clear, that she knew just what I was talking about.  And that I am one of 'those' moms who poison their children with synthetic non-natural ingredients. I am in fact this woman's arch enemy.

And as my voice trails off... I hear Queenie SCREAMING at the top of her lungs.  Mega and Sasso went scampering across the fake draw bridge to the tower where Queenie was sitting.  She had blood covering her pink top. She had tripped when trying to maneuver herself down the tunnel slide had wacked her nose and LIP on the edge.

I scoop her up, tell the big girls we are leaving, they start wailing in dismay, because, "WE JUST GOT HERE!!!" And I hurry them out the side gate to the minivan all the while trying to avoid the daggers that were being shot at me from my new BFF aka Hippie Momma.

Scrappy and I have laughed about this story over and over again for YEARS. And when we want to show that we are being 'not very bright at the moment' we will say... um 'you know baby orajel'.

~Sister Pester


  1. Hahahahaha! Love it! I think you ARE a genius. Baby Orajel! What an awesome idea! I am a fellow mama who also poisons her children with synthetic non-natural ingredients. Whatev... LOL

  2. Thanks! You know us Momma's gotta stick together! And no one is perfect, hey at least I am not spraying windex on their zits.... at least not yet. :-)


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