Well, it
seems that no sooner had Older Son finally
gotten all the hardware removed from his mouth, that Younger Son was judged
ripe for torture—I mean “braces-ready” himself. Being a
seasoned, battle-scarred veteran of the Orthodontic
Experience (both my own, and Derek’s), I politely listened as the hygienist
relayed crucial information (you know, good stuff like “foods you can’t enjoy
for several years”, “how not to rip out a wire”…oh, and of course the more
mundane “proper brushing technique so as not to walk around with bits of your
last meal stuck in your brackets for all the world to admire”). I nodded at the
right times to show I understood. But in my head I was thinking “this is old news, honey, we’re gonna be just fine.” Ha! Silly me, I forgot for just a
brief moment how radically different my two boys are. You see, drama-free Derek
sailed through the Braces Years in his
typical placid fashion. He might have complained—quietly—that they felt uncomfortable after a tightening. He
might have requested—calmly—a dose of pain
reliever to help manage the ache. He might have mentioned—gently—that it sucked not to be able to bite into
certain foods or to eat others at all. Seriously, all he needed was sympathy
and a hug, and he was fine. It was about the easiest outcome a parent can ever expect when comforting their
child through something potentially traumatic.
And at first
it appeared that Riley would follow in his brother’s footsteps. He emerged from
the Orthodontist’s office and proudly displayed his shiny new accessories. He even
returned to school in a positive mood, without requesting any medicine. But…then
he arrived home at the end of the day and immediately collapsed in a tearful
mess. “I HATE braces!” he sobbed, curled up in a ball and hugging a pillow.
Turns out the pain took a while to hit, and he was now getting the full force
of a very sore mouth. He consequently hadn’t been able to eat his lunch, so I’m
sure that contributed to the suffering. I went into Mom Fix-It Mode, and began offering possible feel-better options. A
nice, soft banana? (“I can’t chew, he protested”.) Yogurt? (No teeth required!) Hot chocolate? (Just sip it; I swear, it’ll be easy!) Each idea was met with a dejected shake of
his head, as if nothing I could possibly suggest would ever ease his misery. It was pathetic, I
tell ya. At last I convinced him to try taking Ibuprofen to see if that would
bring some relief. (About 30 seconds after he swallowed it, he moaned, “It’s
not working!” Sigh. Patience, grasshopper, is clearly not
one of your strongest traits...now lie down and give it a chance!)
I have to
admit, given this unexpectedly less-than-promising beginning, I began to feel a
bit of trepidation about the long Metal
Months ahead of us. How could he withstand the repeated agony of
every-6-week adjustments? And how could I cope with the accompanying
whining? Fortunately, we had Derek’s recent experiences--and ultimately successful
resolution--to reinforce the point that Riley would, in fact, survive this. And
I was even able to use my own saga to lend credence to our claims. I remember
getting my braces on in 7th grade…the day before I was scheduled to
take the SAT with a group of my Nerd
Society—I mean “scholastically gifted”--peers. (It should be noted that the
timing of this was NOT one of my mother’s more brilliant ideas…) The morning of
the test, my mouth was absolutely killing
me. I had to bring a lunch, and as I recall the only thing I could manage was:
a banana and a peanut butter sandwich. The upshot was, sharing my Tooth Trials got Riley to smile a
little...and persuaded him to try the Elvis Diet until his chompers got back to
normal.
Anyway, as
we promised him, the initial shock and pain did diminish. Actually, after that
first day, he only asked for one more Ibuprofen. He resumed meals again—well,
mashed potatoes, soup, applesauce, cheese, and the like. And the attitude
returned to his usual exuberant (if still dramatic) self. So, I’m happy to say
I think we’re all going to make it through this process one more time. I just
need to be certain to stay stocked up on peanut butter, bananas, Ibuprofen…and
hugs!
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