Madhousewife: How was Dress for Success Day? Were you successful?

Mister Bubby: Yes. I was the only one who succeeded. Everyone else failed compared to my glory.


The Madhousehold now boasts three orthodontic patients. Or, I suppose I should say, a very lucky orthodontist in the Portland area now boasts three orthodontic patients from the Madhousehold. Princess Zurg is still in braces, two and a half years later, with no sign of having them removed in the near future. I am entering my twenty-seventh month in braces with probably 3-6 months left to go, depending on when I get my jaw surgery. Make that 4-8 months. Or another year. Really, who knows. And Mister Bubby just got fitted for the device that hooks him up to his head gear, which he has to wear for 10 hours a night for the next eight months. He doesn’t get actual braces for another six months or so. The head gear is to move his upper jaw while he’s still young and impressionable. It fits over his face and looks like a torture device. I’m sure he thinks of it thus. It’s hardcore, though. He looks like Hannibal Lecter in it. Of course I don’t tell him that. He already knows. That is, he doesn’t know who Hannibal Lecter is, but he knows he looks like a freak. I feel really bad for him. Not only is it very uncomfortable right now, but hello, he has to wear it 10 hours every night for eight freaking months. He can skip an occasional night here and there, but he has to go to scout camp for a week this summer, and there’s no way he can get out of wearing it for a full week. I’m hoping that his considerable self-esteem will pull him through this trying time.

Would you like to see what it looks like? Here’s a picture I googled.

My son does not look this happy when he is wearing it.

Speaking of teeth and torture, Princess Zurg had her wisdom teeth out on Friday. She made a rather speedy recovery, for which I am grateful. Now what do I do with all this Percocet? Hmmm.

What else is going on? Oh, all sorts of things. But nothing worth discussing. I should really be making dinner right now. What can I tell you in three minutes? I am seeing the super-gynecologist in about three weeks or so. Did I tell you about my impending visit with the super-gynecologist in my last post? I’m too lazy to go back and check. See, it’s one of the things that my psychiatrist is having me do, see a super-gynecologist who knows about all the hormonal stuff, to make sure my mental problems are not actually hormonal problems, which they could be. I made the appointment last month, but now it’s getting close enough that it actually counts as an impending visit to a super-gynecologist. I just like saying super-gynecologist. I should probably say “super-gyno”–that sounds a little snappier, but would you know what I was talking about? I haven’t seen an actual gynecologist in ages. Not since my first child was born, I think. Well, whatever. I hope she’s nice. That’s all.

I’m having a little bit of anxiety over the children’s impending summer vacation, but I just got a refill on my Valium, so I should be okay. Plus, there’s the Percocet now. Just kidding. Some moms joke about martinis and wine, but that won’t work for me because I’m a Mormon, so I have to joke about abusing prescription drugs. Just lighten up. Jeez.

And now I should really make dinner. Will you see me again this month? Next month? I don’t know. We’ll just have to live with the uncertainty.


Mister Bubby: Sometimes community service is a punishment.

Mad: Yes.

MB: But you get to wear an orange jumpsuit.

Mad: Yes. That makes it all worth it.


MB: No, it doesn’t.