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Starting at the Bottom
You know you need a break when going to the dentist is like a day at the spa. When we hit the dentist, it’s a bit of a flood, or stampede. It’s one for all and all for one. We line them up with as many back to back appointments as the schedule permits. So on Tuesday, June shined my boys pearly whites. Future Hoarder of America will be going back to get a cavity filled… poor little guy. I don’t think he’ll mind considering the literal treasure chest that will be at his disposal after the ordeal. Wednesday, I went back by myself (yes alone!) to get my own shining.
While I sat, waiting for the boys on Tuesday, I enjoyed thumbing through the pile of great magazines. No People Magazine (see “Seen on the Street”) incidents like the orthodontist a few weeks ago, but a few interesting articles in D Magazine 
My kids have a love/hate relationship with our dentist. They absolutely adore everyone that works in the office, including our dentist. They aren’t so crazy about cavities. So, when they get the call that they’re on deck for a cleaning, it’s met with a conflict of emotion – excitement to see June (our hygienist) and dread that they might have a cavity.
One of mine got the call this week and jumped on it, rather than wait and dread. She did great. Perfect cleaning, no cavities, great fun with June. Me too, I had a wonderful time catching up with everyone. Later that night, I got an email from June. She loves to send the kids interesting tid-bits she’s found while surfing. No need to point out that June is pushing retirement age. She’s a spunky fireball who lets no grass grow under her feet. We hope she 
Welcome to my world of forgetfulness and frustration. Among my many recovery programs (the enabling, procrastination, controlling, grammar hacking, …) forgetfulness stays at the top of the heap. Plaguing me almost daily, often multiple times a day, my propensity to forget things visits me often.
Okay, friends that know me, you can quit nodding now.
Today’s forgetting scored a hat trick… at least the forgetting I know about. It started by rudely interrupting my enjoyable afternoon ice tea with friend Emily. We had just gotten started in a fun conversation when my phone rang. As soon as I saw the number, my stomach sank. The tutoring place wondering where my kid was. Nice David had driven in to help one of my gang with some math. This isn’t the first time I’ve balked. “Am I your flakiest customer?” 
The other day, chatting it up with a fellow MOAT, I shared that, although my kids are working – and learning great things – I’m not sure both are hitting stride in the strength area. At this point in life, I think the work itself and lessons learned from answering to someone other than their folks are worth falling short of a bulls-eye. Nevertheless, helping them find areas in life where they are naturally gifted is worth considerable time and effort.
She was quick to tell me that her college major and her giftedness not only didn’t match but couldn’t have been more opposite.
“My dad pushed me into the business school. I on the other hand drooled over friends in the art department. Not just the art department, but anything that included “fashion” in the description. Knowing the fairly