That time you went to the spa… and by spa I mean, the dentist.

“Here’s the remote. You can pick a new channel if you don’t like that one…”

“So let me get this straight… I’m going to spend the next 90 minutes lying in this big cushy dental chair not moving and watching Mexico life house-hunters on the ceiling, and the only catch is that you will put needles in my face to freeze it first so that you can use a drill on my cavity filled teeth?”

I was in. I almost took a nap once the drill started because I’m a sucker for white noise… It puts me directly to sleep. Narcolepsy is genuinely one of my not so hidden skills.

I have been to the spa a handful of times in my life. I’ve leisurely gotten massages and facials, sat in their steam rooms and eaten dried mango while drinking fancy tea.

I did it all before children, back when I’m not sure I appreciated it for what it was.

This past month the kids and I have had more appointments than we have had in the past few years. For most families we still have barely any, but for this introverted homeschooling mama, it has felt like a long list of going places and doing things I don’t want to do.

We even took a trip to the dermatologist. It was a swanky office, you know, those ones that are all white with quartz counter tops and the fanciest of faucets in the lavender scented bathroom. I wheeled my stroller in with my four kids and a handful of crackers and I’m certain we were a sight the front desk staff didn’t usually see.

“Did you give your mole a name?” The Doctor asked my toddler.

“Yes. His name is Darth Mole.” He answered super matter of fact. My toddler was so excited to show off the mole on his arm; this was the moment he had been prepping for all week, and his mom was so excited to be told that it was nothing to worry about at all.

“And Mom, you have a mole we need to look at too?”

I lifted up my shirt the tiniest little bit revealing the mole on my stomach… and my biggest boys sharing a tiny office stool burst into hysterics.

I’m staring at the Doctor, who is staring at my mole, and I’m also staring at my big boys who are nearly rolling on the floor with uncontrollable shrieks. One toddler is trying to climb up the table and the other is yelling, “Granola barrrrrr?!”

Who brings 4 kids to an appointment? This is the question I ask myself in the middle of “IT.”

The answer is always the same. “I do,” followed by, “Well… it is what it is…”

But there are other visits like the other day that do go well. I brought all 4 kids to the dentist and they took turns hopping up into the chair one after the other for a cleaning.

And they were amazing. Bribed with the promise of video games this time, there were no hysterics, just a lot of chair spinning and sunglasses wearing, but it was perfection in comparison.

I kept having to tell the toddlers that this was not a place where we eat snacks, and no you can’t have a granola bar while you’re getting your teeth cleaned, and yes soon we’ll be home and your fluoride will have dried and we’ll be good to EAT ONCE AGAIN.

We just usually travel all together because they’re my kids and Dad has to work, you know, “To pay for all of the things.” So when one brother needs warts burned off of his foot, we all go together. When “Darth Mole” needs to be examined, we all go together. And when another brother has an ear infection or needs immunizations, you guessed it, we all go together. It’s what we do.

So bringing it back to my solitary trip to the dentist’s chair. It did feel like the spa.

I wasn’t on high alert making sure nobody was digging in the throat swab jar, or unrolling all of the super crinkly paper on the examination table. My soul was at rest even though my mouth was wide open and my molars were being redesigned with tools.

It’s just how it is right now, so until it’s not, I’ll continue to find the funny in it.

And believe it or not, in just a few more years my oldest son will become my babysitter, and perhaps then all of the Doctor appointments will feel like mini trips to the spa… and until then, I’ll fondly remember my luxurious solitary trip to the dentist’s chair.