Good-Bye Grill

Yesterday was a day to celebrate! Rock Star finally had his braces removed. (Did he actually only wear them for two years? My gosh, it seemed like 20!) I really think the orthodontist removed Rock Star’s braces just to get us the heck out of his practice. My son was clearly not the Star Patient. He consumed everything on the “Do Not Eat” list, brushed his teeth only on Tuesdays and holidays, wore his rubber bands NEVER, and don’t get me started on the headgear.

And because my son was so non-compliant, I felt judged. My Discernment Barometer detected slight chilliness toward me on the part of the office staff. And overwhelming disapproval. And since I’m such a sensitive soul, I’d hang my head in shame whenever I walked through their door, and hide in a corner behind a magazine. Then would come the moment I detested the most of all- The Lecture at the end of the appointment. I’d be cornered by an Ortho. Tech. wearing purple scrubs and carrying a clipboard. With a furrowed brow, she’d go over every fault and failure of Rock Star’s since his last appointment, and she’d throw in a few of mine. She’d end with a patronizing, “You really need to be monitoring his oral hygiene a little better, Mrs. Incompetent Mother” or some such. I’d slink out to my car. But for pity’s sake, the boy is 14! I cannot be on him every second!

Now we are done with all of that, I thank the Good Lord. Except for the retainer. I will pick it up tomorrow so that Rock Star can kick it under his bed and forget about it. So eventually, down the road, his teeth will shift back to their former crookedness. But that won’t be my problem anymore. It’ll be his. Or his wife’s. Then she can deal with the cold and surly office staff. I’m done. Wohoo!!