I love my 13 year old lithe ballerina! I have often wondered over the years if she truly came out of my body--I was a HUGE tomboy wanting to play football but settling for years and years of soccer. Sarah Katherine played one season when she was 4 but only if I would allow her to wear a dress smocked with soccer balls and big green bow. I love to watch her dance--the grace and movement brings tears to my eyes everytime and I relish watching her lose herself in her love of dance. She's not me; doesn't enjoy traditional sports (cringes at the thought), and that is fine with me. The boys talk to me about whether they are starters, was I a starter, etc. I fully recognize these are not conversations I will ever have with Sarah Katherine.
Tuesday afternoon Sarah Katherine had her first academic bowl meet. I went to the school to give her a snack before leaving for an interview. I hugged her and wished her well. She leaned up into my ear and whispered, "Hey Mom, I'm on the starting team!"
26 September 2008
01 September 2008
So Much to Say
I have always said it pays to have a good relationship with receptionists whether at school, the doctor's office or as I now know--ballet. Miss Ashley as we affectionally call her, really does love my girls. She's so kind and relates to all ages so well. Last Thursday she pulled me aside to say, "between you, me and this desk, Caroline's teacher is very frustrated with her. She's talking non stop in class and stirring the other children up." It should be said, I was not surprised. So, Saturday class comes and I tell Caroline I'm going to wait in the lobby for the hour and if she misbehaves she is going to be sent out. "Caroline", I firmly say, "you cannot chat through class. It is disruptive and you are there to learn." She looks up at me with those big blue eyes and responds, "Mommy, I just have so much to say."
16 August 2008
Agreed
Brains must regenerate over time. Sarah Katherine has now asked if we would split the cost and not only would she pay half but she won't complain about babysiting the other children for a whole month! She's given me half the money and I'm going to make sure the backpack is a visual reminder so she doesn't complain (at least much)!
Brain Deterioration
We have smart children. I know we do because I've seen their IQ scores and they do fairly well in school. But try to reason with them about something that they "need" and right now and all of a sudden I think I should requesting a CAT scan to determine the amount of brain damage.
Two nights ago we were having our first family dinner in several weeks. All six of us were there and it was going well UNTIL Sarah Katherine brings up that she would like another backpack. I should probably stress the another because in her closet there are no less than 6 perfectly good ones in various shapes, colors and patterns. Well the chorus begins with "me too" "me too". The low roar becomes louder as we hear things like, "my notebook will no longer fit in this one" "I've had this since kindergarten" (look how well you've taken care of it I want to add), "mine's babyish" (I did remind Caroline that she was carrying the same one her cousin in middle school carries so it cannot possibly be babyish). Chris proclaims, "We are not buying another backpack." The low roar erupts like a stadium about to do the wave--and there voices were resonating. So I decided to have a moment of maturity (it didn't last long) and address each individually. I asked Sarah Katherine why she needed a new one. "well she said, I let everyone sign this one because you said last year I could get a new one this fall." I do not remember saying that; however, having just moved here and trying to help her feel comfortable, there is an outside chance I did. Chris, being less than mature, says "well she takes it back!" Sarah Katherine just kept repeating but you said but you said (proof of brain deterioration). Because Christopher is 2 years younger his brain has had less time to rot so he tries another route. He goes to get his sling back backpack and shows me that his notebook doesn't fit. At this point we must digress one year.....
Last summer literally 3 hours before we are to reboard a plane for England we went to target. Sarah Katherine found a pink messenger bag that she'd been "dying for" ($40) and Christopher found a slingback for another $40. At the time I said to Sarah Katherine who was about to start secondary school--perhaps you should wait until you start school to choose one. You usually want what others are carrying. She insisted that this was going to be it. This time Chris was the indulgent one and said just get it for her. Christopher stated his case and I distinctly remember saying to him, it's not going to hold much. But again, Chris was feeling generous and said fine you can have it. For the record, Sarah Katherine has carried the messenger bag 3 times. Back to this week
William jumps up and says he's dying for a slingback so Christopher gives it to him and we remind Christopher of the very nice LARGER backpack in his closet. This quiets him and all is restored in his life. I think we are progressing although there is continual back ground music singing over and over "but you said" Now William and Christopher are both happy or at least content and for whatever reason Caroline's orange backpack with a daisy on it is once again cool. They all leave the table and the chorus gets louder.
I tell Sarah Katherine who has oodles of money right now, "You are more than welcome to buy your own backpack." Her brain has definitely gone into meltdown because she begins to shout that it is our job to buy her what she needs for school, she doesn't want to spend her $50 on a backpack and on and on. She decides at this point to remind us that we don't pay her for babysitting our children (I chose not to remind her that none of us get paid for being in the family and I certainly don't get paid for laundry, meals and scrubbing toilets.) Chris has had enough. I have to say one of the things I love about Chris is he is usually laid back and levelheaded which is great for me who is dramatic and definitely gets on the preteen level more times than I should. But he has had it. I watch the color of his face turn from a lovely suntan hue to a sweating red. He's trying to stay in control and it is taking all he has. I can tell he's trying not to say something but for the life of me I can't figure out what it is so there is no stepping into save him--he's better at the saving and I'm better at the losing control. He's trying but Sarah Katherine is now standing and waving her arms about pointing out things wrong with her backpack. I truly am trying to salvage this family dinner so I turn to Sarah Katherine and say, "I've seen lots of girls at your school carrying backpacks that look just like yours." "No they're not", she shouts, "mine is land's end and they're all LL Bean. I want that one." There is no longer control in Chris--I think his head might pop off and he does what we try so hard not to do brings up money. We don't want our children to feel guilty for money we spend on them but he's lost it so he not so gently reminds Sarah Katherine of the tuition we pay each month for school of the thousands we put into ballet, of the sacrifices we make. I now have absolute proof that preteens brains are mush for as this list of financial burdens finishes, Sarah Katherine turns to us and says "then what's fifty dollars more?"
Two nights ago we were having our first family dinner in several weeks. All six of us were there and it was going well UNTIL Sarah Katherine brings up that she would like another backpack. I should probably stress the another because in her closet there are no less than 6 perfectly good ones in various shapes, colors and patterns. Well the chorus begins with "me too" "me too". The low roar becomes louder as we hear things like, "my notebook will no longer fit in this one" "I've had this since kindergarten" (look how well you've taken care of it I want to add), "mine's babyish" (I did remind Caroline that she was carrying the same one her cousin in middle school carries so it cannot possibly be babyish). Chris proclaims, "We are not buying another backpack." The low roar erupts like a stadium about to do the wave--and there voices were resonating. So I decided to have a moment of maturity (it didn't last long) and address each individually. I asked Sarah Katherine why she needed a new one. "well she said, I let everyone sign this one because you said last year I could get a new one this fall." I do not remember saying that; however, having just moved here and trying to help her feel comfortable, there is an outside chance I did. Chris, being less than mature, says "well she takes it back!" Sarah Katherine just kept repeating but you said but you said (proof of brain deterioration). Because Christopher is 2 years younger his brain has had less time to rot so he tries another route. He goes to get his sling back backpack and shows me that his notebook doesn't fit. At this point we must digress one year.....
Last summer literally 3 hours before we are to reboard a plane for England we went to target. Sarah Katherine found a pink messenger bag that she'd been "dying for" ($40) and Christopher found a slingback for another $40. At the time I said to Sarah Katherine who was about to start secondary school--perhaps you should wait until you start school to choose one. You usually want what others are carrying. She insisted that this was going to be it. This time Chris was the indulgent one and said just get it for her. Christopher stated his case and I distinctly remember saying to him, it's not going to hold much. But again, Chris was feeling generous and said fine you can have it. For the record, Sarah Katherine has carried the messenger bag 3 times. Back to this week
William jumps up and says he's dying for a slingback so Christopher gives it to him and we remind Christopher of the very nice LARGER backpack in his closet. This quiets him and all is restored in his life. I think we are progressing although there is continual back ground music singing over and over "but you said" Now William and Christopher are both happy or at least content and for whatever reason Caroline's orange backpack with a daisy on it is once again cool. They all leave the table and the chorus gets louder.
I tell Sarah Katherine who has oodles of money right now, "You are more than welcome to buy your own backpack." Her brain has definitely gone into meltdown because she begins to shout that it is our job to buy her what she needs for school, she doesn't want to spend her $50 on a backpack and on and on. She decides at this point to remind us that we don't pay her for babysitting our children (I chose not to remind her that none of us get paid for being in the family and I certainly don't get paid for laundry, meals and scrubbing toilets.) Chris has had enough. I have to say one of the things I love about Chris is he is usually laid back and levelheaded which is great for me who is dramatic and definitely gets on the preteen level more times than I should. But he has had it. I watch the color of his face turn from a lovely suntan hue to a sweating red. He's trying to stay in control and it is taking all he has. I can tell he's trying not to say something but for the life of me I can't figure out what it is so there is no stepping into save him--he's better at the saving and I'm better at the losing control. He's trying but Sarah Katherine is now standing and waving her arms about pointing out things wrong with her backpack. I truly am trying to salvage this family dinner so I turn to Sarah Katherine and say, "I've seen lots of girls at your school carrying backpacks that look just like yours." "No they're not", she shouts, "mine is land's end and they're all LL Bean. I want that one." There is no longer control in Chris--I think his head might pop off and he does what we try so hard not to do brings up money. We don't want our children to feel guilty for money we spend on them but he's lost it so he not so gently reminds Sarah Katherine of the tuition we pay each month for school of the thousands we put into ballet, of the sacrifices we make. I now have absolute proof that preteens brains are mush for as this list of financial burdens finishes, Sarah Katherine turns to us and says "then what's fifty dollars more?"
09 August 2008
Because he was chicken
I woke up yesterday and for the first time in weeks we had nothing planned until football run throughs at 6 pm. The weather was a bit cooler, no humidity, and the children were getting along. It was going to be a perfect day. Sarah Katherine was sleeping in for her last week of summer and the other three children went out to ride bikes. I was alone, drinking coffee, reading the paper, catching up on laundry and getting showered--all at a very leisurely pace.
I looked out the window and saw Christopher carrying the skateboard ramp down the street. "Taking it to the dog park", he shouted. It never occurred to me to ask why--mistake number one. Twenty minutes or so later Caroline and her friend rush into the house to tell me that William is hurt. "Is there any blood?" "None at all" they both respond. Relief floods over me (mistake number 2) and we walk over to the dog park. William is sitting on the grass and he tells me his neck and head hurt. I ask what happened and Christopher responds for him, "He was riding his bike down that hill and went up the ramp. It was so cool Mom he did a one and a half!" Where's your helmet, I ask. Caroline chimes in, "we weren't wearing them because we were on grass." [For anyone counting, you will realize that the true mistake number one was me not going outside to make sure they had on helmets. It never occurred to me they wouldn't--it's a cardinal rule in our house.] Having experienced several broken bones with the children, I think to myself "I need to make sure he can move his neck" Here ends my counting of mistakes because as most people know you NEVER move a neck injury. But--I did and he could move it although he was clearly in pain. I check him over and find no obvious injuries minus a scratch on his chest. "Let's go home" I say. And, yes, I let him walk with no help from me.
Somewhere between the five houses we had to pass I do decide that I should just check in with his pediatrician, so I come in and call. The nurse answers and as soon as she hears he landed on his head without a helmet she calmly but firmly says, "Hang up and take him directly to the emergency room. Take him only to the children's hospital. We'll call ahead and let them know you're coming." I interrupt to tell her that he seems fine because he can move it. I'm very certain that she rolled her eyes and thought about the idiotic woman who would move her injured son's neck, but God bless her, she just said, "Please do not allow him to move it again."
We get to the ER (after scooting around numerous one way streets) and wait our turn. The receptionist seemed very nervous about the patient in front of us, so I thought to myself she must be really sick. They swoop her back and put a hair net thing on her and then start disinfecting everything. You see, her father brought her in for lice! (I tell you this as proof that I was not the craziest person there!) They look up, see us and clap a collar on William's neck without a word. Obviously the nurse from the doctor's office has called ahead and warned them about the crazy mother who moves her child's injured neck.
The doctors come in, examine William and decide he needs neck and chest x rays. This takes a bit of time but remember I had nothing to do that day anyway. The good news is there are no broken bones; the bad news is they can't be certain of ligament damage for 7-10 days. At this point they tell us he has to stay in the collar without taking it off for even a bath. The reality sets in for William and he realizes that he won't be playing soccer for at least a week if not more. He begins to cry. The doctor was fantastic and gently explains to him all the things that could go wrong if he reinjured the neck. It seemed that William understood because he calmed down (meanwhile I am thinking about just having him in a padded room for the next week) William's calmer so the doctor begins to lecture him on wearing a bike helmet. I must admit I am feeling a bit guilty and defensive--it probably showed as every time he paused to breathe I would insert, "I always make them wear it but I didn't see them get the bikes out today" After I said this for the third or fourth time I realized that what I was basically saying was, "I always make them wear a helmet when I bother to come outside and check on them instead of sending them out to play so I can read the paper and drink coffee in peace." This epiphany shut me up!
The doctor turned back to William (I think he thought if he didn't make eye contact with me I would be quiet) and asked him why he rode his bike down a very steep hill onto a skate board ramp without a helmet? "Well", says William, "my brother Christopher wouldn't do it." "Why not?" says the doctor--I think we were both thinking that he was going to tell us because he was dared or Christopher said it was too dangerous. William smiling proudly replies, "He was too chicken."
I looked out the window and saw Christopher carrying the skateboard ramp down the street. "Taking it to the dog park", he shouted. It never occurred to me to ask why--mistake number one. Twenty minutes or so later Caroline and her friend rush into the house to tell me that William is hurt. "Is there any blood?" "None at all" they both respond. Relief floods over me (mistake number 2) and we walk over to the dog park. William is sitting on the grass and he tells me his neck and head hurt. I ask what happened and Christopher responds for him, "He was riding his bike down that hill and went up the ramp. It was so cool Mom he did a one and a half!" Where's your helmet, I ask. Caroline chimes in, "we weren't wearing them because we were on grass." [For anyone counting, you will realize that the true mistake number one was me not going outside to make sure they had on helmets. It never occurred to me they wouldn't--it's a cardinal rule in our house.] Having experienced several broken bones with the children, I think to myself "I need to make sure he can move his neck" Here ends my counting of mistakes because as most people know you NEVER move a neck injury. But--I did and he could move it although he was clearly in pain. I check him over and find no obvious injuries minus a scratch on his chest. "Let's go home" I say. And, yes, I let him walk with no help from me.
Somewhere between the five houses we had to pass I do decide that I should just check in with his pediatrician, so I come in and call. The nurse answers and as soon as she hears he landed on his head without a helmet she calmly but firmly says, "Hang up and take him directly to the emergency room. Take him only to the children's hospital. We'll call ahead and let them know you're coming." I interrupt to tell her that he seems fine because he can move it. I'm very certain that she rolled her eyes and thought about the idiotic woman who would move her injured son's neck, but God bless her, she just said, "Please do not allow him to move it again."
We get to the ER (after scooting around numerous one way streets) and wait our turn. The receptionist seemed very nervous about the patient in front of us, so I thought to myself she must be really sick. They swoop her back and put a hair net thing on her and then start disinfecting everything. You see, her father brought her in for lice! (I tell you this as proof that I was not the craziest person there!) They look up, see us and clap a collar on William's neck without a word. Obviously the nurse from the doctor's office has called ahead and warned them about the crazy mother who moves her child's injured neck.
The doctors come in, examine William and decide he needs neck and chest x rays. This takes a bit of time but remember I had nothing to do that day anyway. The good news is there are no broken bones; the bad news is they can't be certain of ligament damage for 7-10 days. At this point they tell us he has to stay in the collar without taking it off for even a bath. The reality sets in for William and he realizes that he won't be playing soccer for at least a week if not more. He begins to cry. The doctor was fantastic and gently explains to him all the things that could go wrong if he reinjured the neck. It seemed that William understood because he calmed down (meanwhile I am thinking about just having him in a padded room for the next week) William's calmer so the doctor begins to lecture him on wearing a bike helmet. I must admit I am feeling a bit guilty and defensive--it probably showed as every time he paused to breathe I would insert, "I always make them wear it but I didn't see them get the bikes out today" After I said this for the third or fourth time I realized that what I was basically saying was, "I always make them wear a helmet when I bother to come outside and check on them instead of sending them out to play so I can read the paper and drink coffee in peace." This epiphany shut me up!
The doctor turned back to William (I think he thought if he didn't make eye contact with me I would be quiet) and asked him why he rode his bike down a very steep hill onto a skate board ramp without a helmet? "Well", says William, "my brother Christopher wouldn't do it." "Why not?" says the doctor--I think we were both thinking that he was going to tell us because he was dared or Christopher said it was too dangerous. William smiling proudly replies, "He was too chicken."
31 July 2008
A REALLY Bad Parenting Day
Two days ago was one of the worst parenting days of my life. I was under a lot of stress to complete a Christening gown by this morning; I had emotional issues with both sets of parents and inlaws, and Sarah Katherine and Christopher were being HIGHLY argumentative. This was their first week with total free time and it wasn't going well. I tell you all that not to justify my actions, but rather to set the stage.
Sarah Katherine and I had been sparring for several hours about attitude and tone. It seemed to me that everything she said was done in a disrespectful way and she kept asking me to take her places (remember the Christening dress?). Every time I came into the living room, she was sprawled on the couch which was irritating me as I rushed around doing laundry, picking up and answering questions in between sewing. Basically she was being a typical teen and it was annoying me.
In walks Christopher who asks if he can go to a friends house. We've already got plans to meet other friends at the pool which I explain to him, but being Christopher he doesn't let up and today I just couldn't take it. I'll suffice it to say voices were very raised and I truly had to walk away as I was losing control. Sarah Katherine comes to his rescue and says, "Mama please don't take how angry you are at me out on Christopher." {Might as well have inserted please don't take how upset you are at other things out on me} How is it that she is so perceptive and I am so out of control? I can't remember what happened next, but she and I entered into another combat of words. After a few minutes of silence she gets up and leaves the room. Now here is where I could have saved a bit of myself and the awful parenting day, but no--I am on a roll and can't let go. I sit there stewing and think, "She can't walk out on me in a huge huff rolling her eyes. She's taking this separating herself to avoid arguments a step to far (a skill I taught her). I get myself all worked up and storm into her room to give her a lecture on respect and kindness.
I stand at the door and start talking, fully animated, finger pointing and "teaching her a thing or two about how people should act" (I'm such a good example at this moment). Sarah Katherine looks up from her book and says, "I'm sorry". It's at this point in my tirade that I look down at what she's reading--the BIble! I guess I was the one who needed to learn a thing or two.
It was a horrible parenting day, today is another day and another chance to get it right!
Katherine
"Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind." --Dr. Seuss
Katherine
"Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind." --Dr. Seuss
30 July 2008
I Need A Pedicure
We all go into sensory overload and there is definitely a point where our brains can no longer hold information so things start spurting out--I experienced just that phenomena two days ago while visiting the dentist and orthodontist.
I take the children to the dental school here where they are seen by residents. There are two good reasons for this--the first is it's cheaper and the second and more important is they can all be seen at the same time, so it cuts down on waiting and multiple trips. Monday 3 of the children needed to have cavities filled and 3 needed to have orthodontic consults. Now the downside of the dental school and having them all seen at the same time, is that I have different doctors wanting to talk to me, sometimes at the same time. Keeping it all straight becomes a challenge.
So, three are getting cavities filled and one is seeing the orthodontist. I am back and forth between hearing about tooth decay in one, soft teeth leading to cavities in the other (this from William's dentist--William now thinks, "There's nothing I can do to prevent cavities, so why brush?" ) and having Sarah Katherine's mouth detailed to me and why she needs braces. [As an aside but one many will find humorous, the dentist says she is developmentally delayed in her teeth formation--I'm so glad to know there is something she's behind in! I found great humour in this; I don't think Gretchen, the orthodontist understood my laughter] On with the children--Christopher leaves the dentist and comes over to his orthodontist. Meanwhile, Gretchen begins to lay out the cost for me--when and how much each payment is due etc. I am seeing huge dollar signs--this is an expensive month with tuitions due and now deposits for teeth. I am listening to her, but I'm also creating in my mind how I'm going to put a positive spin on this for Chris. I am now summonsed over to Christopher's orthodontist, Thomas, who is explaining the need for an expander before braces and which teeth have roots where, the need to get it started quickly and on and on--you can see I'm heading into sensory overload as we speak. To add to the confusion, the children are milling about asking random questions like, "where are we going next week?" and "do you know what I want for Christmas?" (my answer "braces!") Thomas completes his explanation and we are now talking the dollar signs--I'm feeling very weak but smiling politely and nodding my head--onto William and I'm thinking I'm in the homestretch.
William's orthodontist, whose name I cannot remember, is tall and gorgeous with piercing eyes. For me to say that, it's got to be true. I am not a woman who goes ga-ga over "gorgeous men". I didn't hang pictures of stars in my room as a teen and most of the time don't think much about it. But this time the first thought I had walking over was "he's gorgeous" and to top it off, he was funny, engaging with the children and nice. No name gorgeous orthodontist starts telling me about William's "issues" and then proceeds to tell me we have 3 options--2 good and 1 so so. I should have stopped him there. I was already filled to capacity with information and now he wants to not only give me more, but give me extra that I will later have to delete from my mind. Truly I am listening, but a) I'm thinking non stop about the money and b) I can't look him in the face--remember those piercing eyes? I turn into my soon to be teenage daughter and keep looking down--here's the brain spurt--Dr. Gorgeous is talking in detail about my son and I look up from my sandal feet and say, "I need a pedicure." I have never been one of those women who can stop a man dead in his tracks or speech, but I finally have a good idea of what that feels like. He looks at me and says, "now or later".
I would like to end there--it's such a good ending, but I couldn't stop there. I now have to continue to humiliate myself and my children--the only thing that got them to stop talking and stare incredulously was me telling Dr. Gorgeous I need a pedicure! The two good options are now re-explained to me. The first is to place 4 braces on his top and bottom teeth as holders until all of his permanent teeth are in and then move him into real braces (think double money) or put a tongue bracer in for a year to save room and do the braces in 2-3 years. I know I should have just said we'll do the tongue bracer and then crept out with the very little bit of dignity I have left intact, but no I was on a role--there was no stopping my public humiliation. I say, "I think we'll do the tongue bracer. He plays soccer and is a goalie; there's really no guarantee he'll still have his front teeth in 2-3 years." All four children are dead silent; I sign the consent form and leave with no dignity and a gorgeous man who probably thinks I'm going to knock my children's teeth out to avoid the cost of braces!
I take the children to the dental school here where they are seen by residents. There are two good reasons for this--the first is it's cheaper and the second and more important is they can all be seen at the same time, so it cuts down on waiting and multiple trips. Monday 3 of the children needed to have cavities filled and 3 needed to have orthodontic consults. Now the downside of the dental school and having them all seen at the same time, is that I have different doctors wanting to talk to me, sometimes at the same time. Keeping it all straight becomes a challenge.
So, three are getting cavities filled and one is seeing the orthodontist. I am back and forth between hearing about tooth decay in one, soft teeth leading to cavities in the other (this from William's dentist--William now thinks, "There's nothing I can do to prevent cavities, so why brush?" ) and having Sarah Katherine's mouth detailed to me and why she needs braces. [As an aside but one many will find humorous, the dentist says she is developmentally delayed in her teeth formation--I'm so glad to know there is something she's behind in! I found great humour in this; I don't think Gretchen, the orthodontist understood my laughter] On with the children--Christopher leaves the dentist and comes over to his orthodontist. Meanwhile, Gretchen begins to lay out the cost for me--when and how much each payment is due etc. I am seeing huge dollar signs--this is an expensive month with tuitions due and now deposits for teeth. I am listening to her, but I'm also creating in my mind how I'm going to put a positive spin on this for Chris. I am now summonsed over to Christopher's orthodontist, Thomas, who is explaining the need for an expander before braces and which teeth have roots where, the need to get it started quickly and on and on--you can see I'm heading into sensory overload as we speak. To add to the confusion, the children are milling about asking random questions like, "where are we going next week?" and "do you know what I want for Christmas?" (my answer "braces!") Thomas completes his explanation and we are now talking the dollar signs--I'm feeling very weak but smiling politely and nodding my head--onto William and I'm thinking I'm in the homestretch.
William's orthodontist, whose name I cannot remember, is tall and gorgeous with piercing eyes. For me to say that, it's got to be true. I am not a woman who goes ga-ga over "gorgeous men". I didn't hang pictures of stars in my room as a teen and most of the time don't think much about it. But this time the first thought I had walking over was "he's gorgeous" and to top it off, he was funny, engaging with the children and nice. No name gorgeous orthodontist starts telling me about William's "issues" and then proceeds to tell me we have 3 options--2 good and 1 so so. I should have stopped him there. I was already filled to capacity with information and now he wants to not only give me more, but give me extra that I will later have to delete from my mind. Truly I am listening, but a) I'm thinking non stop about the money and b) I can't look him in the face--remember those piercing eyes? I turn into my soon to be teenage daughter and keep looking down--here's the brain spurt--Dr. Gorgeous is talking in detail about my son and I look up from my sandal feet and say, "I need a pedicure." I have never been one of those women who can stop a man dead in his tracks or speech, but I finally have a good idea of what that feels like. He looks at me and says, "now or later".
I would like to end there--it's such a good ending, but I couldn't stop there. I now have to continue to humiliate myself and my children--the only thing that got them to stop talking and stare incredulously was me telling Dr. Gorgeous I need a pedicure! The two good options are now re-explained to me. The first is to place 4 braces on his top and bottom teeth as holders until all of his permanent teeth are in and then move him into real braces (think double money) or put a tongue bracer in for a year to save room and do the braces in 2-3 years. I know I should have just said we'll do the tongue bracer and then crept out with the very little bit of dignity I have left intact, but no I was on a role--there was no stopping my public humiliation. I say, "I think we'll do the tongue bracer. He plays soccer and is a goalie; there's really no guarantee he'll still have his front teeth in 2-3 years." All four children are dead silent; I sign the consent form and leave with no dignity and a gorgeous man who probably thinks I'm going to knock my children's teeth out to avoid the cost of braces!
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