solace \SOL-is\, noun: 1. Comfort in time of grief; alleviation of grief or anxiety. 2. That which relieves in distress; that which cheers or consoles; a source of relief.
transitive verb: 1. To comfort or cheer in grief or affliction; to console. 2. To allay; to soothe; as, "to solace grief."
Surrounded by unhappiness at home, John Sr. early on found solace and certainty in the realm of science and technology.-- Sylvia Nasar, A Beautiful Mind
Lillian's Lutheranism, with its harsh creed that suffering was a sign of God's favor, solaced her.-- Lois W. Banner, Finding Fran
Solace comes from Latin solacium, from solari, "to comfort; to console."
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Well, that sums it up for me. Tuesday was a day of infamy here at our house. A day of much-needed solace. It was the day that all of us (excluding Stuart) had our dental appointments.
I don't know about you, but I can't stand going to the dentist. In fact, I hate going to the dentist. There's nothing fun about paying $80+ to have your teeth pushed, prodded, and scraped. I know, I know. The alternative is to borrow George Washington's "wooden" smile for awhile. I don't know...perhaps it would be worth it?
Okay, so this particular visit was "infamous" for two reasons. I'd managed to push off my whole-mouth X-rays with a "fiblette" about possibly being pregnant last time (well, there was a possibility), and it was Edward's first official time having his teeth cleaned and examined.
No problemo, right?
Do you ever wonder why the hygentist insists on chatting and asking questions while she has three instruments and a spit-sucker in your mouth? And where are you supposed to put your tongue?? My tongue feels so confused during a dental cleaning because it always seems to be in the way. And why, when you open your mouth bigger for them to get the 563+ cleaning tools in, do your lips get smaller? Perplexing, really.
Well, the full-mouth X-rays were horrific. (I love that word!) Besides digging into my already-sore mouth (darn hormones!), they kept triggering my gag-reflex (darn hormones!). And there were about 15 of them.
But first came Edward's own time in the chair...
Emily has always been our social butterfly, floating into any social scene and settling herself happily. Edward is the antithesis of "social" -- though not in a mean way. He just doesn't do well in new, social settings...and the dentist's office was no exception.
I'm a bad parent....a very bad parent. Remember all the things you declared you'd NEVER do when you had kids before you had 'em? Okay, okay. So after threatening bodily harm to his cushy tushy if he didn't behave, I realized that might not be the right approach for my little shy guy....so I...
....bribed him. For a $1.97-plus-tax Matchbox helicopter, I got my 5-year-old to sit and have his teeth cleaned and counted. In fact, by the end of my time-in-the-chair which followed his, he was getting rather obnoxious with friendliness.
Call it solace.
Now where was mine?
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