This morning, we were rudely awakened by the sonic booming of fighter jets.
Okay, maybe we were already awake... But still, it was quite the shock.
You see, we live very near the Air Force Base... Well, technically, it's no longer an AFB because McChord AFB and Fort Lewis were consolidated into Joint Base Lewis-McChord a few years back. Aka JBLM... Or if you ask my husband, "Jiblam." Anyway, we're so close, we can hear the playing of Taps at the end of the day (we can hear the other stuff, too, I just have no idea what it is they play at 1700 and I am not awake for reveille... Dear lord, I had better not be awake for reveille). So, you see, we're used to the occasional flight formation training taking place up above (we also get a fair amount of Blackhawks, Chinooks, and C130s, but they are much, much quieter). However, this morning was different. This morning it did not stop. They were crazy loud, and had the dogs freaking the freak out, so we had to leave. E and I went for a walk, which was actually pretty fun, because we could really see them in action.
Later, come to find out, there is an air show this weekend.... HUGE surprise to me, since I was sure the air show was back in June. Oops. Well, I'm actually pretty excited to find out I didn't, in fact, miss it, and I think we are going to try to go, S's schedule permitting.
And while all of that is incredibly exciting, it certainly takes the back seat to what really set this day on it's ear: E chipped her top, left, front tooth.
I was mopping--never happens--and she was happily cleaning the top of our "coffee table" (it's an old steamer trunk) with baby wipes she swiped. The next thing I know, she's in the bathroom flushing the toilet (her new favorite activity), so I tell her to go sit down (in angry mom tone) and turn back around to finish the last corner of the kitchen.
Crash, bang, lots of screaming. I get to her, and she's flat on her face on the hardwood floor. I pick her up, assess the damage, but all I can see if the blood from where she bit her tongue. We have some water, calm down, cuddle with her favorite stuffed animal, and then I see it... or, rather, don't see it: the corner of her tooth... or lack thereof.
I, of course, immediately freak out and wonder what the hell I am supposed to do; do I take her to the ER? Do I call the pediatrician? We don't have a dentist here, yet (oops), so I am at a complete loss. Naturally, I do what any first-time mom does, and I call my husband and cry. A lot. He gets me to calm down enough that I call a local pediatric dentist and schedule an appointment for them to look at the tooth.
And then the other shoe drops... Either we messed up and didn't enroll her with dental coverage when we enrolled me (it's separate from regular Tricare), or they messed up and didn't add her. Either way, she has no dental coverage, and won't until August 1 when they fix the situation. Dollar signs begin to flash in my head, and I can just see our entire savings account down the tube.
Fortunately for us (and unfortunately for the tooth), there is nothing they can or really want to do about it, so we're only out the cost of a dental check-up. It turned out to be a relatively harmless $61--they had prepared us for $84 just for the "emergency evaluation of a single tooth," but someone somewhere took pity on us, and we eeked out just under the cost of a dinner out to Outback (super expensive... I totally make a better steak at home, too, and for so much less money!). I feel so bad, I have vowed never to mop the floor again. I know, it's a real sacrifice, but it's for the safety of my family.
My poor baby :-(.
This whole episode only served to remind me how little money we actually "have." I mean, we're making it, and we save pretty consistently, we are able to pay all of our bills, clothe ourselves and E, buy groceries, but there isn't a whole lot left over for extras... Now, this is completely a self-imposed limit on funds. When S got promoted, we started doubling the payments we made towards our car in an attempt to pay it off early (4 years early, I might add), but it's a good practice... You know, pretending we don't have money we actually do have. I also started saving twice as much of his paycheck, as well. Good stuff, but totally makes me feel like we have no money (which we don't... because it's gone. And the savings account counts).
Anyway, in freaking out about how I will pay the thousands of dollars of dental work E will need ($61!!!! $61!!!!!), I realize how hopeless the whole adoption thing is. Which really isn't the conclusion I want to come to, since I go check on the darling little girl's status about twenty times a day (also, I have to go back and change "my" to "the"... bad times, guys. Bad times). It's terrible and I know I shouldn't do it, but I do anyway: I type in Reece's Rainbow's URL, and hold myself back from entering her "name" into the search box. Instead, I go see if anyone else has found their forever family, read through the newly listed children, and then seek her out. And even then, I'm not sure if I feel relieved she hasn't found another family or incredibly saddened that she hasn't found another family.
I'm not sure what this says about me, but I have a feeling whatever it is isn't good...