I'm cheating my way through dental school

Most wives have to endure four years of dental school, followed by an additional one to four years of a residency, after they already survived a few years of undergrad together, too. Good grief. Does the schooling ever end?

The road to becoming a DDS, DMD, MDS and the like can be rough, and seem never ending, right?

We're only in our third year, but already, it seems like graduation is light years away. That's probably why I didn't get married at 18, I need to live a little first, before I could even consider helping put a husband through school. Wise move on my part, if you ask me.

I've decided I totally beat the system, and took the fast track. The trick to getting through dental school faster than most is to marry your soon to be doctor after he's already completed a year or two of those brutal teeth pulling years, trapped behind bars in what they assure you is a dental school, not a prison. What should be four years magically become two or three. It's brilliant. Pure brilliance. 

Did you take the fast track? Or have you been in it for the long haul?

July Again

I cringe when I recall what it was like walking into our new house for the first time last July.

My baby and I had just arrived in Tennessee after a month long stay in Utah without B. The moving truck had been unloaded a week prior to our arrival and yet B. was so busy with his new residency he hadn't had time to unload a single box.

I knew I had my work cut out for me in the days ahead, but "Good grief," I remember thinking, "when he said I'd be in charge of unpacking, he really meant it."

Now here we are an entire year passed and everything is put away. Well, kind of. Some days it doesn't look like it. That's what having a toddler does to a home. Until he's in bed, nothing is ever put away for good.

Some nights I still go to bed and cringe because I'm just too dang tired to deal with the mess. Colored blocks strewn all over the front rooms, into the living room and even trailing into the kitchen. Magnets from the fridge that little man thinks belong on the floor, and oh look, there's an ant walking underneath the kitchen table because I haven't had time to clean up the mess he made at lunch yet.

Oh help me.

Because of the whole principle behind it, we will never ever be one of those families who hires a cleaning service--no matter how much money we have. But boy, some days I wish we could have one right now.