Brace yourself, son

Today was not one of my finest mothering moments. Sam had an orthodontist appointment, a follow-up to his getting spacers last week. The office said he would be getting bands and a headgear (remember headgears? I can't believe we haven't progressed orthodontically enough to come up with a better solution than those torture devices). I was a bit fuzzy about the details of the appointment but told Sam he was getting bands around his back teeth where the headgear would be attached.

He came out of the appointment just under an hour later with a betrayed look in his eyes. He opened his mouth and showed me the source of his displeasure: braces! What?! Somehow I had missed the idea that he would have brackets across his top teeth. Worse, I hadn't prepared Sam AT ALL for the possibility. He managed to make it through the little braces indoctrination session with the dental assistant (what not to eat, how to brush, the scared-straight pictures of gross mouths who didn't take the hygeine advice) but the minute his feet hit the blacktop of the parking lot, the tears came.

Have you ever heard of a worse surprise? Ever? What a spacey Mom. Oy.

So, of course, he took the rest of the day off from school. To go to lunch. To choose books at the library. To look in the mirror and adjust to a mouth of silver.

Personally, I think he rocks the braces and looks very handsome. And after a bit of talking through it, he's on board for the whole braces thing.

And now for the traditional first-day-of-braces poem, now on its third generation (I had to call my mom to get the complete verse):

Children with braces
Should wear happy faces
Because it is easy to see
That sooner or later
When their teeth are straighter
What good-looking people they'll be!

(Yeah, it didn't make me feel much better when I got braces and it probably didn't help Sam much--since he already IS good looking and all!--but it's part of the circle of life, that poem. The tradition continues.)

Around here these days...

~Twilighting. I am taking Lauren to the midnight opening of  Twilight tonight.  Yes, I'm officially crazy.  I'll just leave that Mother of the Year nomination form conspicuously on the table there.

~Grooming. Louie is out getting his groovy on today.  His first grooming appointment which, because of his fabulous fur, will take all day. I kind of miss him around here.  We haven't been able to see his eyes for months. I wonder if he'll look like John Stamos/Rod Steward/David Bowie again?

~Listening. You know how when you were an early teen and there was That Song that you absolutely loved and (in my case) taped off of the radio and listened to over and over and over?  The one you never ever got sick of and made your heart go flutter every time it came on?  That's happening around here these days with the same songs flowing from two bedrooms.  My girls are officially obsessed with Taylor Swift and her new CD that came out this week.  Especially White Horse:  "I'm not a princess, this ain't a fairy tale..." (Let me take this opportunity to apologize to my family for inflicting them with  Footloose tape, Journey's "Open Arms," and "Endless Love"  during my early music years. Then I found Depeche Mode et al. and went alternative and inflicted them with that.)  I don't think we go more than 15 minutes without someone playing that CD.  Truly.

~Presenting. Lauren got her birthday present today, four months late.  She's sooo excited about her brand new flute, the Yamaha 461H.  Next year she'll want the kind of Yamaha you can ride.

~Painting. Maddy's room will be receiving its post-wallpaper paint this weekend.  It only took me a couple of months.  Word to the wise: just go straight to purchasing a steamer to remove wallpaper. 

~Bracing ourselves. Not one but TWO of our kids are heading for braces in the next few months (Sam and Maddy).  Headgear. Retainers. Spacers. Bands.  Teeth extraction.  The works!  Upon investigation it appears that the alignment and jaw issues both kids have are not actually from my side of the family but are exactly like Greg's teeth.  And he always said he should have gotten a dental dowry when he got married...

~Handing in. I just finished my last stats assignment of the semester, with just the final left to complete next month.  I am making peace with multiple regression, residuals, outliers, and Mauchley's Test of Sphericity (which, to be honest, is just fun to say).   

~Anticipating. I love Thanksgiving.  It's my favorite holiday.  I'm enjoying making lists, planning meals and shopping.  Being thankful.  We have friends coming to see us for a couple of days right before Thanksgiving (can't wait!) so it will be a delicious, blessed week.

~Loving these. Enjoy:

First Aid Kit.  

Love that they are two sisters from Sweden, doing covers of Fleet Foxes music. Very talented and cool and haunting:

This adorable French girl:

This one will make any day brighter:

Guaranteed. See more here.

Sick day superlatives

^note to my kids: please don't lick your palms. Or try to fake me out.

I knew it was going to happen. We have another sick one around here. Sam's home with a fever and headache today (and yesterday) so in his honor I've got some sick day superlatives:

Best pseudo-sick day movie ever: Ferris Bueller's Day Off, of course! Maddy watched Sleepless in Seattle when she was sick last week and Harry Potter is on Sam's list today.

Best drink for a sickie: Sprite. Apple juice. Water with ice and a straw.

Best place to set up sick camp: on the sofa with pillows and blankets, near a t.v. & some books

Best time to be sick: Tuesdays and Thursdays, please, or I have to miss class. Sundays are also acceptable (and we may have to do paper-rock-scissors to decide who gets to stay home from church with the sickie...what? don't judge me!).

Best lunch for a sickie: chicken noodle soup (confession: from a can), saltines, applesauce, pudding. Or a bundled-up trip through the drive thru (fresh air does a body good, even if the fast food doesn't)

Number of days until I call the doctor: 2-4 depending on symptoms. (I try to keep a good reputation around the doctor's office as being a non-alarmist mom. Although I did notice Maddy's appendix symptoms very early on and had rock star status with our doctor for a while.)

Symptom most likely to convince me to keep someone home: nausea. I can't verify it and it has foreseeable consequences if I ignore it. Also fever. Verifiable, of course.

Best signs that it's time for the sickie to go back to school: He/she has enough energy to argue with brother/sister, begins to complain of boredom (if you're truly sick, you're too wiped out to be bored...except if you have chicken pox etc.), or can run around.

Words most commonly heard around when there's a sickie home: "Did you wash your hands, honey?" "Cover your mouth, please" "How are you feeling, sweetie?" (I pull out all the endearments when someone's sick.)

Most likely time someone will get sick: right before a vacation. (Proof here and here.) Runner up: on a day I have to be somewhere (today: class and a seminar and a vet appointment. Oh well.)

Worst after-effect of sick-days: All that make-up homework from school (kids). Rescheduling everything I cancelled (me).

Best after-effect of sick-days: Alone time with the sickie (day one) , PLUS a tidier, more organized house from my puttering (days two+)

Taking a day

Maddy is home from school sick today with a sore throat and cough.  I have to admit (a little guilty confession) that I really enjoy it when my kids are home sick (as long as it's not something worrisome, of course).  A sliver of old fashioned Florence Nightingale-ness activates in me.  I like to check their foreheads and set up a little stool with good drinks and crackers next to the couch.  I give them a little extra attention and the pace of the day turns into something slow and cozy. 

Even now that they're older, I still want to hover. We read or watch a movie together. Maybe I'll take a little nap along with the patient, in sickness solidarity, eager to toss the to-do list for the day.  I happily cancel whatever's going on that day and settle in for some nurturing.  

That's the first day.

On the second day, I'm perfectly willing to turn over the t.v. remote to the little patient and get some things done.  The weak voice calling "Mom...can I have some more sprite?" from the other room may or may not be catered to.  My Florence nurses' cap slips a little. Or a lot.  There's a law of diminishing care that kicks in...it discourages faking sickness longer and sets everyone up for a seamless return to normal life.

Heaven help the child who stays home on the third day and beyond (because I'm much less likely to at that point).  I become more drill sargeant than Florence and start to say things like "turn that t.v. off and find out your homework that you've missed" or "pick up those socks off of the floor please" or "get on your clothes...you're coming with me to the grocery store.  We need food!"  I start to resent the germy mess we're in and long for the freedom of errands and schedules.  (And inevitably, the NEXT child will come home sick that day and never see Florence Nightingale mom for the whole sick cycle.)

Today we're on day two.  I'm enthusiastically encouraging a return to school tomorrow and so far no one else is complaining of a sore throat.  Everyone knock on wood for me. 

~picture above of a Sam sick day, 2006

XXXIX

G and Lauren  left at their usual 6 this morning, their hushed morning sounds punctuated with the front door shutting behind them.  I snoozed in bed and woke a few minutes later to the soft clinking sounds of dishes and silverware.  Blurry eyed, I wrapped and tied my robe around me as I came downstairs and walked into the kitchen to investigate.  Maddy girl was padding back and forth, emptying the clean dishes from the dishwasher.

Spying me, she lit up.   And sent me back to bed.  I climb under my covers, warmed by the thought of a 12-year-old girl rising in the cold morning and remembering what I hadn't yet: it is my birthday.

* * *

Mom birthdays are weird.  You kind of want the special birthday treatment of your childhood but the world has to keep going, the one you help to power.  Breakfast to make. Clothes to launder. Meetings to attend.  An empty house while the kids are in school (making me realize: kids aren't alone on their birthdays!).  I come home from a meeting to find a special gift left on the doorstep.  The Jehovah's Witnesses have left me a Watchtower tucked under our doormat. (How did they know?)

* * *

In a fit of morbidness, I look up the US life expectancy figures.  Hmm.  Apparently I really am in middle age since the life expectancy for someone in the US is exactly double the year I am turning.  Cheers, me!

* * *

I have a new affinity for Facebook today.  I joined sometime last year and, while it was interesting, I kind of didn't get it.  The updates are kind of funny and it's really nice to know what random people you know are up to.  For example:

• my friend from Tufts who now lives in Sarajevo is taking a vegetarian cooking class today
• a blogging friend wonders why blowing a chimney sweep a kiss is lucky (hi Linsey!)
• a friend from our neighborhood in Virgina 10 years ago is trying to make pumpkin pie from real pumpkins
• G's cousin is playing Break the Ice with her kids

So, yes, that part is interesting. But I just wasn't a Facebook fanatic yet.  But today I am getting birthday wishes galore: cousins, friends, fellow students, former students!   I even got a note from the boy who, during elementary school, wrote "Larry + Annie=True Love" in marker across the 4th grade blackboard.  He wished me a happy one and reminded me he used to call me ABC (my initials AB plus his last name C).  So, thanks Facebook for being my personal PR machine.

* * *

This is the last year in my thirties.  I think I had all sorts of hopes and plans of becoming a better version of myself by now.  But, as a little birthday gift to myself (and because I got my birthday present--a camera--early this year), I will simply remind myself what I already know--all I need for a happy future, sappy but true:

1. Love. Look at those kids, that husband, those parents and siblings.  They love you.  You love them.  Feel it.  Let that warm you or lift you when you need it to.

2. Exercise really is the magic vitamin for you.  You might rationalize it away from the comfort of your bed but give yourself the favor of moving around and feeling alive.  Yoga. Running. Walking. Biking. Dancing like a crazy person.  Just do it.  And breathe.

3.  Create everyday: stories, laughter, photos, prayers, life, ideas.

4.  Don't ever get a perm again.  You learned this 20 years ago and it still holds today (I first heard this from Cathy Zielske and wholly concur).

* * *

Did you ever play this at parties? 

Heavy heavy hangover, thy poor head (what? were we talking about hangovers?)

What do you wish with a *bump* on your head?

And then the giver would hit the birthday kid with the present and the birthday kid would give them a wish, as in "I wish you would get a baby sister." Or "I wish a horse for you."

That was kind of an odd tradition, don't you think?  And don't even get me started about spanking machines...