Dental nightmare

I was going to write a HILARIOUS post on the signs of Spring. Then yesterday, we woke up to 10cm of new snow which isn't very spring-like, or hilarious, at all. Maybe next week, I'll write about Spring.
In other news, I've had major trouble with the roots on one of my front teeth. Of course, the pain hit at the weekend. I had, pre-agony, got an appointment with an endodontist in mid-April to check out an old Singaporean root canal. There had been a niggle a few weeks back to prompt this; I'm not a sadist. Desperate for help, with my dentist's office closed on saturday, I called the endodontist's practise on saturday afternoon. A colleague of the guy I had the appointment with was very rude telling me basically that he couldn't help me, that I should try going through the telephone book to find someone kinder and more accommodating. Someone with a heart. He had the cheek to say that if I had called at 10 am that morning he might have helped me. Well you know I had tried to get an appointment 10 days previously, but clearly that didn't count for anything. Gosh, the man was horrid. Eventually on sunday, I found out by further online searching that Oslo kommune runs an emergency dental practise in the city. Shame heartless endodontist guy didn't think to tell me this the day before. We all traipsed in and I was treated by the kindest female dentist in the world. At least that's how she seemed at the time. It's not everyday you're begging someone to cut into your gum to release the pressure of an abscess, is it?
Anyway, the penicillin has kicked in, my swollen chin is less swollen, the gauze that got stuck in the wound has just been yanked out by the dentist - yes that's more dentist trips in the last fortnight than in the past ten years all together - and I am almost able to chew food again.
I spent all monday morning, ringing up endodontists, speaking Norwegian with a lisp, trying to get an appointment to sort out the root canal before easter. I don't want to get stuck on a spanish island in agony, begging the local butcher to yank out my front tooth out of desperation to get rid of the pain. But it seems, if one needs specialist dental treatment in the Oslo area, one must predict one's pain weeks in advance.
At least by time I get to see the endodontist on April 13, spring really will have arrived. Won't it?

Spring Fever

I think I might have spring fever. I have this incredible urge to cast off my wool underwear in favour of more normal attire. I find myself looking at normal coats and jackets and thinking maybe - next week - if the daytime temperature stays hovering around plus one. This morning I looked at my children's grubby snow suits and said, 'Oh just think, in four weeks time, you won't ever have to wear these things again!.' Well it'll be Easter then and we don't expect to need snow attire in mid-April. I do say such things with caution as you never know. Still. Spring is coming - squeals with delight.

We still don't know where we're moving to, but right now there are two very strong possibilities, neither of which would require snow suits. We're still knee deep in snow here. But the mornings are brightening - to the extent that my three-old woke me this morning at 0630 to tell me to get up because it was daytime. With this line of reasoning, it will be totally pointless going to bed at all by mid-June. I've been here before with my first-born. I know its a three-year-old thing. It'll pass. In another few years, I'll have to dig him out of the bed by shining a torch in his face.

My husband has spring fever too. He went cross-country skiing this morning at 0530 in the dark with a torch strapped to his head like a miner. It was -10. I think it's safe to say that no one saw him looking so ridiculous. Except the three moose he came across. They must have had a great laugh telling their mom what they saw when they went looking for breakfast - a tall, thin man with a light strapped to his skull, long narrow boards on his feet and a manic look in his eye. A man with spring fever.