Ahhhh.... Winter! Ahhhhh.... Wisconsin! When you put the two of those guys together, you don't always get the most hospitable situation in the out-of-doors. Hunkering down in the 'ol homestead is cool for awhile, but eventually it gets a bit old. Whatever to do for fun in the lovely Midwest? Why bowling, of course!
Originally, we planned to venture out for some bowling fun about three weeks ago; Mother Nature, however, had other plans for us. With near blizzard conditions, we thought it more clever to stay hunkered-down with a Scrabble board instead. Yesterday, however, things looked a bit more promising...
Because Child is an "only" (well, if you don't count her Siamese sibling who gets carsick..), we thought she might enjoy bringing along one of her contemporaries to join us. So, Husband, Child, Gal Pal, and I set out for a fun afternoon at the "lanes".
If you have any experience with bowling alleys, you probably have (not so fond) memories of wafting food, smoke, and foot odors. Shockingly enough, we discovered a local bowling alley that actually has (gasp) none of the aforementioned. Moreover, unlike most other alleys, there are actual windows, and the place is flooded with natural light. The establishment is most definitely not a place where the cast (read:vampires) of "Twilight" would congregate...
Because of the popularity of this particular establishment, they have limited "Open Bowling" times. After allowing Child and Gal Pal to scream/chortle loudly around the 'ol homestead, the four of us headed out to the alley. Apparently, a lot of other people had the same idea. "Holy no room at the Inn, Batman"! Well, when the Lord closes one door, he always opens another (this did happen on a Sunday, after all ); halleluyah, they had pool tables! Gal Pal and Child grabbed a couple of cues, and went about getting their game on. Not much to report on that front, except for the fact that almost everytime that it was Child's turn, I happened to be behind her and almost got taken out by the backwards motion of her cue. Each. And. Every. Time. After about 10 minutes of pool sharking, one of the owners approached our table:
Bowling Dude: "Hi, we've got Lane 3 set to go for you."
Me: "Cool, thanks!"
BD: (assessing the four of us) " What size shoes does everyone need?"
Husband: "10 and 1/2"
Child: "6"
Gal Pal: "6"
Me: "6"
(the wheels in my head started to turn.... I found a b-i-g funny!)
Me: (smirking) "Hey, Dude, looks like we have a 6-6-6...oh, and also a 10 and 1/2" (smiling widely, showing both upper and lower braces shamelessly)
BD: (while facial expression started out in 'neutral', the proverbial light did, indeed, come on) "Ohh, like in the Devil. That's kind of funny!"
After the girls and Husband sunk the rest of the pool balls, we donned our bowling couture (much-loved shoes), and headed over to Lane 3. Having just completing their turns, the previous bowlers were behind us, at the "breakfast bar" area, finishing up their libations. Apparently, one of them had consumed a bit too much of said refreshment, and knocked the glass off of the bar, and onto our couch below. Let's all say it together now: "A-W-K-W-A-R-D"!!!!! Heck, at least he was 'with it' enough to pick up a rag and clean up after himself.... After that *pre-show*, we all set about picking the perfect balls, and away we rolled!
In my opinion, you can learn a lot about a person while bowling with them. People really let their true colors show in both the comments that they make about themselves, and their non-verbal bowling language. Here is my rundown of our 'cast of characters':
Husband: Pretty level headed- gives himself constructive feedback about what to improve for the next go-around. After release of ball, stays in one spot and watches to see what happens, for better or worse.
Gal Pal: Initially when asked if she would prefer bumpers or not, Gal Pal told us that she was pretty good, and could go either way; not in a conceited way by any means, but very matter of fact. She ended up getting more strikes than the rest of us and a tricky split spare. Translation: she kicked all of our butts. When she released the ball, it was always with a perky little hop-step (GP used to Irish Dance...).
Child: Very deliberate in wanting to get her turn over with as quickly as possible. So quickly, matter of fact, that she consistently released the ball way in advance of the line at the beginning of the alley. Very conspicuous scowl on face. As soon as the ball was released, she pretty much 'turned tail and ran' (no backwards 'looksies').
Me: Hyperconscious (read: neurotic) about placement of wrist, as to direct the ball in just the 'perfect' direction. Soothing self talk administered after each turn. After release of ball, watched the action, craning neck, and subtly moving body, in the desired direction of travel for the ball.
In addition, to the personalities of the people who share your lane, you also have the personalities (read: quirks) of the people who border you. Because the alley was so busy, we were lucky enough (*sarcasm*) to have co-bowlers on both sides.
To our left, we had a motley crew consisting of what looked like...well.... members of Motley Crue! Despite the fact that they were rocking their hard rock Ts, and ponytails, these guys were pretty 'hard core'. Their most prominent member, who could have been AJ Hawk's twin brother, ever so c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y wiped off his ball. before. each. and. every. turn. More interesting, though, was the common "Team Crue" element of lofting the ball about 6 inches into the air after releasing it. As bizarre as it looked, however, AJ was scoring stikes on almost every turn. After the first couple of minutes, all of us became accustomed to their loud, "Thunks!", and we no longer jumped out of our skins. Yep, "Team Crue" really rocked it!
On our right,... well,... let's refer to them as "Team Vodka" (Help me out here; read between the lines so I don't have to get too politically incorrect ). There were about eight of them, spilling out everywhere. While we were waiting for our turns, they were in our faces. When we were actually in the act of bowling...oh, mama! It is pretty well known in "bowling ettiquette" that, like crossing the street, one should glance to the left and right, and not go at the same time as one of your neighbors; aiming a ball takes strict concentration after all, and shouldn't be messed with. Apparently, that memo never reached Planet Vodka (Motherland). Everytime one of us approached the lane, one of them would literally come flying down the lane, ball in hand, out of seemingly nowhere. Apparently, they also never learned not to touch what wasn't theirs, and kept bogarting Husband's ball. The final guffaw was when they (f-i-n-a-l-l-y) finished bowling (or so we thought), only to have one of the dudes return in his street shoes (kiss of death in bowling etiquette) to bowl a few more frames for 'free'. Yep, quite an experience in US/ Planet Vodka diplomatic relations...
Deciding that since Gal Pal, Child, and I all had stuck three of our 'favoritest' fingers inside of the same hot pink ball, we chicas headed off to the restroom to scrub up. When we returned, I asked Husband how much our two games set us back. Shockingly, it was about 50% less than the *other* bowling alley located in Forks (shameless Twilight reference..)! That type of news was cause for celebration, so Child, Husband, and I headed out not only for a rare restaurant dinner, but a 31 flavors "chaser", as well. Suffice to say, the good times did, truly, roll!
Monday, March 14, 2011
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
"Mini- Shorts, You Com-plete Me!"
The calendar says "March"; time for the Spring/Summer shopping season to begin! Yes, good 'ol Spring...The numbers on the thermometer are starting to go up, as are the number of hours of daylight. Inseams on most-desired-teen fashions, however, not so much...
From the time Child was an infant through about 5th Grade, clothing shopping was quite easy. Due to the fact that it was 'easy', it also went by another nickname- f-u-n! There were the lovely resale stores near our house which were lovingly filled to the brim by the many local shopaholics. Visiting those places was like a major treasure hunt, with Gymboree and Gap Kids clothes as the prize. When the resale stores didn't have what I needed, there was always Ebay. Oh...lovely Ebay; again, a 'virtual' treasure hunt with bargain haute couture for the 'wee set'. When treasure hunting didn't suffice, there was always Target. Target could always be counted on for having stock-up prices on jeans/shorts/skorts/yoga pants. The one thing that Target did lack, however, was 'cool' T-Shirts; thank goodness Old Navy filled that void. Yep, the clothing hunting grounds of yore were pretty well deliniated. Oh, and the other bonus? Child didn't feel the need to come along and voice any opinions on the threads- she just happily wore whatever I provided.
Well, kids, and their tastes, grow up. By 6th Grade, the Target jeans were no longer cool, and were replaced by Old Navy Ones. I could live with that. The cute, and cheap, Old Navy T's were still palatable, so I was quite content. All good things eventually come to an end, and that "end" in my household was the Spring/Summer shopping season of '10. There was a new coveted item seen on the frames of her peers; and its name was mini-shorts!
Having eschewed my old stand-bys of Target/Old Navy (forget the virtual shopping for a newly fashion conscious kid :C ), the two of us headed to a new pasture- Justice. It is my belief that any parent walking into Justice should be offered his/her choice of a tranquilizer, or a hard beverage. Between the blaring music, the over-abundance of technicolor frocks, and assorted toy/candy junk tossed randomly throughout the space, it's basically "Overstimulation, USA". Looking 'good' definitely has its price. For everyone.
Reacting to the ADHDness of her current surroundings, Child flitted around the store like the silver ball in a pinball machine. Eventually, her perpetual motion stopped, and she glanced over her shoulder to locate me:
Child: "Mommy! Look at these! They're mini-shorts! That's what I want!"
Me: (fingering the fabric, doing the mental math to figure out what percentage of derriere will be covered by garment) "Ummm...no. Too short."
Child: "All of the other girls are wearing these!"
Me: "Guess what? You're not!"
So after much collective bargaining (extra credit tie-in to the current political climate in my home state- yay me!), some better options were located. While the sherbet-colored cotton mini skirts were a bit shorter than I liked, they did come with a pretty cool standard feature; lycra spandex built-in (modesty) shorts! So, we grabbed enough of these wonders to get through a weekly laundry cycle, and went on our way.
Later in the Spring, a generous friend offered some shorts to Child. Having received them at the Gym, she got to lay her eyes on them before I did. She was very excited at pick-up that day:
Child: "Guess what! "_____" gave me her old shorts that don't fit anymore! They're mini-shorts!!!"
Me: (driving the car, focusing on the road, poising myself for the battle ahead) "Oh"
When Child got home, she tried them on. They were a lot shorter than anything I have seen her in since those cute little diaper covers that came with her baby dresses. Both Husband and I made sure that any sudden movement wouldn't reveal more than intended, ate some crow, and said "Ok". To say that she lived in those shorts last Summer would be an understatement. Not forgetting about her "old friends", she found them in a drawer and came downstairs sporting them the other day. Growing about 3 inches can change a lot of things...
Child: (smiling from ear-to-ear, strinking a pose) "I found my old shorts, don't I look good?"
Me: (studying the situation, trying to find the most tactful way to say what must be said) "Ummm... not so much. Your posterior is kind of hanging out. You are going to need all new shorts this year. You can send the Puberty Fairy a thank-you note."
Child: (not missing a beat) "Cool! I want mini-shorts!"
Like any attorney preparing for a trial, Child got on the internet to see what her options would be. Deciding that Justice was now a bit too babyish for her, she decided on dELiA's. Jumping from Justice land to dELiA's can be best described as going from swimming with the dolphins, to swimming with the sharks (while still being protected by a metal cage, or, in this case, an overprotective Mother..)
Child: "I found a bunch of shorts that I like in dELiA's!!! I really want some that have rips in them. Can we go to the mall this weekend?"
Me: (hearing the word 'mall', and suddenly feeling the need for a Tums) "We can look, but you know how I feel about too-short shorts. I also don't like the whole "hole thing"; doesn't that look a bit trashy?"
Child: (studying her fashion dinosaur of a Mother) "That's what's in."
Mother: "I'm not making any promises, but I will commit to looking."
Child: (knowing she is one step closer...) "Thanks, Mommy!"
Like Child, I also decided to do a little research before the outing. Turns out that the mini-shorts were twice as much at dELiA's. Gotta love those constant 40% off sales at 'babyish' Justice. It also occurred to me that the styles that Child wanted so badly would be a bit more, ummm....appropriate..... at Justice vs vampy dELiA's. A compromise was made:
Me: "I looked at prices on the internet. We cannot afford a full wardrobe of dELiA's shorts. Justice, on the other hand, has what you're looking for at half of the price."
Child: (looking distraught) "But I really want *something* from dELiA's!"
(Husband, yet again, just happened to wander through the wrong place at the right time. Time to once again prove that he can be the voice of reason in a household of all women)
Husband: "How about if she pays the difference for one of those pairs of shorts?"
Child: (face beams) "Yeah!:
Me: "As long as they meet my modesty guidelines..."
Husband: "Sounds good to me. (Looking at Child) Agreed?"
Child: (gleefully) "YES!"
Having kept the peace for yet another day, Husband's reward was to not have to come along to the (gulp) mall for the big hunting expedition. After stopping at Lens Crafters to undo the damage from Child's attempt to independently adjust her specs (read: bending unheated metal), the first stop was dELiA's. Even though dELiA's lacked the general carnival atmosphere of Justice, Child proceeded to dart from display of ever-so-short shorts to ever-so-short shorts. When she looked over her shoulder, I took my cue to enter stage left:
Child: "These are cool!"
Me: (caluculating inseam to be about 1 and 1/2 inches) "Too short"
Child: (sighing loudly, moving towards next candidate) "I like these"
Me: (eyeing rips on leg..) "Let me give it the finger test!"
Child: (rolling eyes in utter disgust, about to die from humiliation) "Oh. My. Gosh- Seriously?!?!"
Desperate times call for desperate measures. In my opinion, if the clothing companies create tears on their clothing, and I can stick one of my digits through it and make a 'puppet show', we've got a problem, houston. Sadly, those dELiA's shorts had enough rips for me to create quite the 'puppet show'. With my whole hand of fingers. FAIL!
After what seemed like an eternity, Child and I found one pair of shorts in the whole store that were a compromise of her inner fashionista, and my desire for her not to look like a trollop. That one pair of shorts, however, would not be enough for an entire Spring/Summer; time for 'Plan B', aka Justice.
Justice is located about four stores away from dELiA's. The entire time we were walking there, Child anxiously looked around to make sure that none of her 7th Grade peers would witness her going into that store. Luckily, not only was the coast clear, but I stood in front of her (a la Secret Service style) to further aid her goal of invisibility.
Me: (surveying the bountiful tables) "Wow! Look at all these shorts!"
Child: (walking sheepishly behind me, praying not to be seen) "Hmmmppp."
Me: (starting to see options, loading up my arms) "How about these two?"
Child: (still skiddish, but starting to see the light) "Ok."
After collecting an armful of options, Child retreated to the dressing room to try on the duds. Much to her shock, they not only fit, but looked good.
Child: (nervously) "I really like this pair..... but it has a rip."
Me: "Pass it over. Me and "Mr. Finger" will see if it's 'puppet show' worthy..."
Well..... whatdya know???? Justice actually thought to put in some 'modesty fabric' underneath the rip to prevent not only young flesh from showing through, but also obnoxious Mothers from making (embarrasing and obnoxious) 'puppet shows'. SUCCESS!
So after strolling by the rest of the Justice clientele (median age of about 8), we paid for Child's new shorts. She was happy that I finally conceeded to buying "mini-shorts", and I was happy that certain things were still undercover (well... and also that I could get out of the puppet show business... for this year, that is). Peace is good...
Ironically, we arrived home to a phone message from the same friend who provided last year's most loved mini-shorts. Turns out that they had a new batch of shorts to offer Child. From Justice. Size 12. And did I mention that they just happened to be "mini-shorts"? Yep... when it rains, it most certainly pours!
From the time Child was an infant through about 5th Grade, clothing shopping was quite easy. Due to the fact that it was 'easy', it also went by another nickname- f-u-n! There were the lovely resale stores near our house which were lovingly filled to the brim by the many local shopaholics. Visiting those places was like a major treasure hunt, with Gymboree and Gap Kids clothes as the prize. When the resale stores didn't have what I needed, there was always Ebay. Oh...lovely Ebay; again, a 'virtual' treasure hunt with bargain haute couture for the 'wee set'. When treasure hunting didn't suffice, there was always Target. Target could always be counted on for having stock-up prices on jeans/shorts/skorts/yoga pants. The one thing that Target did lack, however, was 'cool' T-Shirts; thank goodness Old Navy filled that void. Yep, the clothing hunting grounds of yore were pretty well deliniated. Oh, and the other bonus? Child didn't feel the need to come along and voice any opinions on the threads- she just happily wore whatever I provided.
Well, kids, and their tastes, grow up. By 6th Grade, the Target jeans were no longer cool, and were replaced by Old Navy Ones. I could live with that. The cute, and cheap, Old Navy T's were still palatable, so I was quite content. All good things eventually come to an end, and that "end" in my household was the Spring/Summer shopping season of '10. There was a new coveted item seen on the frames of her peers; and its name was mini-shorts!
Having eschewed my old stand-bys of Target/Old Navy (forget the virtual shopping for a newly fashion conscious kid :C ), the two of us headed to a new pasture- Justice. It is my belief that any parent walking into Justice should be offered his/her choice of a tranquilizer, or a hard beverage. Between the blaring music, the over-abundance of technicolor frocks, and assorted toy/candy junk tossed randomly throughout the space, it's basically "Overstimulation, USA". Looking 'good' definitely has its price. For everyone.
Reacting to the ADHDness of her current surroundings, Child flitted around the store like the silver ball in a pinball machine. Eventually, her perpetual motion stopped, and she glanced over her shoulder to locate me:
Child: "Mommy! Look at these! They're mini-shorts! That's what I want!"
Me: (fingering the fabric, doing the mental math to figure out what percentage of derriere will be covered by garment) "Ummm...no. Too short."
Child: "All of the other girls are wearing these!"
Me: "Guess what? You're not!"
So after much collective bargaining (extra credit tie-in to the current political climate in my home state- yay me!), some better options were located. While the sherbet-colored cotton mini skirts were a bit shorter than I liked, they did come with a pretty cool standard feature; lycra spandex built-in (modesty) shorts! So, we grabbed enough of these wonders to get through a weekly laundry cycle, and went on our way.
Later in the Spring, a generous friend offered some shorts to Child. Having received them at the Gym, she got to lay her eyes on them before I did. She was very excited at pick-up that day:
Child: "Guess what! "_____" gave me her old shorts that don't fit anymore! They're mini-shorts!!!"
Me: (driving the car, focusing on the road, poising myself for the battle ahead) "Oh"
When Child got home, she tried them on. They were a lot shorter than anything I have seen her in since those cute little diaper covers that came with her baby dresses. Both Husband and I made sure that any sudden movement wouldn't reveal more than intended, ate some crow, and said "Ok". To say that she lived in those shorts last Summer would be an understatement. Not forgetting about her "old friends", she found them in a drawer and came downstairs sporting them the other day. Growing about 3 inches can change a lot of things...
Child: (smiling from ear-to-ear, strinking a pose) "I found my old shorts, don't I look good?"
Me: (studying the situation, trying to find the most tactful way to say what must be said) "Ummm... not so much. Your posterior is kind of hanging out. You are going to need all new shorts this year. You can send the Puberty Fairy a thank-you note."
Child: (not missing a beat) "Cool! I want mini-shorts!"
Like any attorney preparing for a trial, Child got on the internet to see what her options would be. Deciding that Justice was now a bit too babyish for her, she decided on dELiA's. Jumping from Justice land to dELiA's can be best described as going from swimming with the dolphins, to swimming with the sharks (while still being protected by a metal cage, or, in this case, an overprotective Mother..)
Child: "I found a bunch of shorts that I like in dELiA's!!! I really want some that have rips in them. Can we go to the mall this weekend?"
Me: (hearing the word 'mall', and suddenly feeling the need for a Tums) "We can look, but you know how I feel about too-short shorts. I also don't like the whole "hole thing"; doesn't that look a bit trashy?"
Child: (studying her fashion dinosaur of a Mother) "That's what's in."
Mother: "I'm not making any promises, but I will commit to looking."
Child: (knowing she is one step closer...) "Thanks, Mommy!"
Like Child, I also decided to do a little research before the outing. Turns out that the mini-shorts were twice as much at dELiA's. Gotta love those constant 40% off sales at 'babyish' Justice. It also occurred to me that the styles that Child wanted so badly would be a bit more, ummm....appropriate..... at Justice vs vampy dELiA's. A compromise was made:
Me: "I looked at prices on the internet. We cannot afford a full wardrobe of dELiA's shorts. Justice, on the other hand, has what you're looking for at half of the price."
Child: (looking distraught) "But I really want *something* from dELiA's!"
(Husband, yet again, just happened to wander through the wrong place at the right time. Time to once again prove that he can be the voice of reason in a household of all women)
Husband: "How about if she pays the difference for one of those pairs of shorts?"
Child: (face beams) "Yeah!:
Me: "As long as they meet my modesty guidelines..."
Husband: "Sounds good to me. (Looking at Child) Agreed?"
Child: (gleefully) "YES!"
Having kept the peace for yet another day, Husband's reward was to not have to come along to the (gulp) mall for the big hunting expedition. After stopping at Lens Crafters to undo the damage from Child's attempt to independently adjust her specs (read: bending unheated metal), the first stop was dELiA's. Even though dELiA's lacked the general carnival atmosphere of Justice, Child proceeded to dart from display of ever-so-short shorts to ever-so-short shorts. When she looked over her shoulder, I took my cue to enter stage left:
Child: "These are cool!"
Me: (caluculating inseam to be about 1 and 1/2 inches) "Too short"
Child: (sighing loudly, moving towards next candidate) "I like these"
Me: (eyeing rips on leg..) "Let me give it the finger test!"
Child: (rolling eyes in utter disgust, about to die from humiliation) "Oh. My. Gosh- Seriously?!?!"
Desperate times call for desperate measures. In my opinion, if the clothing companies create tears on their clothing, and I can stick one of my digits through it and make a 'puppet show', we've got a problem, houston. Sadly, those dELiA's shorts had enough rips for me to create quite the 'puppet show'. With my whole hand of fingers. FAIL!
After what seemed like an eternity, Child and I found one pair of shorts in the whole store that were a compromise of her inner fashionista, and my desire for her not to look like a trollop. That one pair of shorts, however, would not be enough for an entire Spring/Summer; time for 'Plan B', aka Justice.
Justice is located about four stores away from dELiA's. The entire time we were walking there, Child anxiously looked around to make sure that none of her 7th Grade peers would witness her going into that store. Luckily, not only was the coast clear, but I stood in front of her (a la Secret Service style) to further aid her goal of invisibility.
Me: (surveying the bountiful tables) "Wow! Look at all these shorts!"
Child: (walking sheepishly behind me, praying not to be seen) "Hmmmppp."
Me: (starting to see options, loading up my arms) "How about these two?"
Child: (still skiddish, but starting to see the light) "Ok."
After collecting an armful of options, Child retreated to the dressing room to try on the duds. Much to her shock, they not only fit, but looked good.
Child: (nervously) "I really like this pair..... but it has a rip."
Me: "Pass it over. Me and "Mr. Finger" will see if it's 'puppet show' worthy..."
Well..... whatdya know???? Justice actually thought to put in some 'modesty fabric' underneath the rip to prevent not only young flesh from showing through, but also obnoxious Mothers from making (embarrasing and obnoxious) 'puppet shows'. SUCCESS!
So after strolling by the rest of the Justice clientele (median age of about 8), we paid for Child's new shorts. She was happy that I finally conceeded to buying "mini-shorts", and I was happy that certain things were still undercover (well... and also that I could get out of the puppet show business... for this year, that is). Peace is good...
Ironically, we arrived home to a phone message from the same friend who provided last year's most loved mini-shorts. Turns out that they had a new batch of shorts to offer Child. From Justice. Size 12. And did I mention that they just happened to be "mini-shorts"? Yep... when it rains, it most certainly pours!
Thursday, March 3, 2011
"Tee(th) For Two"
If you are familiar with this blog, then you are aware of the fact that I'm sporting some pretty 'spanky' ceramic (read: adult-style) braces. Ever since it was hinted by our family dentist ("Tooth Fairy") that I might need those lovely corrective devices, Child has been jealous. Of me... Yesterday, Child finally got to have the 'peak experience' that she had been craving for oh so long; a chance to relax in the Ortholounger o'pain....
Now, let me backtrack a bit. About a month ago, Child went for her twice annual check-up/cleaning with "Debbie Does Teeth" (aka DDT, hygienist) and Tooth Fairy. Being that Child is the sophisticated age of 12, she likes to have some quality one-on-one time with DDT, before her latex gloves end up in her mouth. This whole system works well by me, as the Tooth Fairy has some of the most diverse periodicals in the area to peruse while waiting...score! So, while Child and DDT disappeared back into the dental dominion, I hunkered down for some quality reading time. About 15 minutes later, my attention was diverted from the glossy pages of my mag:
DDT: "Ummm.... Catherine.... Tooth Fairy would like you to come back to the exam room."
(I neatly placed my mag back into the neat row on the table from which I had taken it, and followed DDT to see Child and Tooth Fairy...)
Tooth Fairy: (spoken very demurely and delicately)" We have a little situation I want to make you aware of, Catherine. Here, Child, ooo-pen!"
(Before Tooth Fairy could say anything, I glanced in Child's mouth and noted teeth. Lots of them. All in their own space. None of them invading each other's turf. And, oh yeah, I noticed that none of them were clamped down on Tooth Fairy's finger, like in that unfortunate incident when she was in 4th Grade (yeah, she hit the bitting stage a bit late...))
Tooth Fairy: "Her top molars aren't meeting properly with her lower molars! Open Bite!(delighting in the fact that this would be a referral to his bestie, Ortho). This tooth is also rotated the wrong way! (fighting to contain his glee...) You should probably bring her in for a consult with Ortho! You do know one, don't you??? (smiles at his own cleverness)"
Me: "We've been coming here since she was 3, and no problem has ever been mentioned before. She can chew food and speak just fine, dude!"
Tooth Fairy: "Sometimes these things just develop later. DDT, go ahead and get a referral form set up for Child now, pleeease (again, spoken so smoothly, you could have sworn his voice was channeled through a smoooooth jazz radio station)."
(DDT scurried from the exam room to the front office, where two previously bored and gossipy staff members now singularily focused on said referral)
So, Child and I took her new toothbrush, floss, and the letter and headed to the car. I could see the wheels turning..
Child: "Oh. My. Gosh. I'm going to get braces! I am so excited! I can't wait to tell my friends at school tomorrow."
Me: "S-l-o-w down there. We are only going for a free consult, you are not definitely getting braces."
Child: "This is so cool! Are you going to tell Daddy?????"
Me: "Yeah, I'll mention something to him (smirking). I always believe in keeping the old guy in the loop (snorting)."
So, as Child sat down to tackle her nightly homework bomb, I ventured upstairs to where Husband was to share this most 'exciting' information:
Me: "Hi"
Husband: (staring at computer screen) "Hi"
Me: "Well, no cavities, new toothbrush, and new floss."
Husband: (staring at computer screen) "mmhmmmm"
Me: "We also got a complimentary referral to my Ortho for Child. Tooth Fairy found a bit of a "situation" in her mouth."
Husband: (looking up from computer screen, no words spoken, but his expression said it all...) "colordrainingfromfaceandlookofsheerdisbelief/horror"
Like many other Americans, our family does not have dental/ortho coverage. Dealing with one mouthful of braces is difficult, but two?!?! Compound that with the realization that a lot of the success of orthodontic treatment is contingent on the patient following directions to a "t"; failure to do so resulting in more time in braces and more money from the "Bank of Mom and Dad"- yikes! Well, at least the consult would be free...
So, yesterday, I took Child with me to meet with Ortho after he tortured...errr....adjusted my braces, and added medieval accoutrements such as powerchains and springs:
Ortho: "I heard that you brought Child with you today. We'll get to her after I mess around in your mouth adequately enough for you to resort to self-starvation for the next two days."
Me: "Sounds great, Doc. Just so you know, we're basically here because she is all about that (pointing to Ortho's 'color wheel' of elastic choices for his patients HS age and under)"
Ever since Child's friends have shown up at school sporting train tracks, I have not heard the end of how one can choose colors! Every time you go in! For the upcoming holidays! For your moods! For making the 5K being spent by the "Bank of Mom and Dad" more fun! Heck, she even tried to goad me into getting those things (ummm... no thanks... trying to keep this necessary evil on the 'down low'). Have you heard the new Black-Eyed Peas song called, "Time of My Life"? Randomly throughout the song, one of the guys repeats the random phrase "dirty bit"; if you just changed that phrase to "colored bands", you'd have a good illustration of life in Thomasville of late...
Anywhooo.... Ortho finished up on my end (miraculously, w/o stabbing me in the lip 3X, as he had done in the previous month. Perk for him? I didn't start a late "bitting phase" at age 41..), and I went to the waiting room to fetch Child. After being ushered into the "ortholounger", it was time for Child to show the guy what she had:
Ortho: "Wow, nice, straight teeth on top. Lots of room, and no crowding. That's actually unusual in a good way."
Me: (thinking...)"Okaygoodnewsmyrestingpulsecannowcomedownoutofthestratosphere"
Ortho: "Hmmm. There is a bit of jaw issue between upper and lower, but we should wait until more teeth erupt. It would be a bad idea to jump into anything right away."
Me: (thinking...)"YESYESYESYYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYES!!"
Ortho: "Let's just have you come back in about 6 months, and we'll reassess then."
Child: (thinking..."DarnitcoloredbandsIwashopingtohavesomegoodgossipcoloredbandswhydoes
Mommyalwaysseemtogetherwaycoloredbands?") "Ok"
So, Child and I bid adieu to Ortho and Co., and walked out to my car. As per usual, Child assumed her stuffed-shirt pose (stiff torso, raised shoulders, glance averted always to the right) in her co-pilot seat.
Me: "Are you disappointed?"
Child: (trying to keep her cool) "I don't know"
Me: "You should be grateful. Braces suck. You hear me moaning and groaning about them all the time."
Child: "Hmmmppp"
The rest of the way to school was pretty quiet. I was relieved to have (at least temporarily) dodged a 4-figure financial bullet. Child, well, she was mourning the fact that she would not be able to color-coordinate her boca in the near future. Wait a minute! If the 4-figures didn't have to be spent making her mouth a more colorful place for her teeth to exist in, there was another way in which she could channel her need to be colorful:
Child: "Guess what, Mommy! I've been looking at Delia*s website, and I've found lots of clothes I want for Spring!!"
Too short of shorts, over-priced shirts, and a 'gulp' trip to the mall?!?! Good thing that the ibuprofen one takes before an ortho adjustment also cover headaches caused by shopping....
Now, let me backtrack a bit. About a month ago, Child went for her twice annual check-up/cleaning with "Debbie Does Teeth" (aka DDT, hygienist) and Tooth Fairy. Being that Child is the sophisticated age of 12, she likes to have some quality one-on-one time with DDT, before her latex gloves end up in her mouth. This whole system works well by me, as the Tooth Fairy has some of the most diverse periodicals in the area to peruse while waiting...score! So, while Child and DDT disappeared back into the dental dominion, I hunkered down for some quality reading time. About 15 minutes later, my attention was diverted from the glossy pages of my mag:
DDT: "Ummm.... Catherine.... Tooth Fairy would like you to come back to the exam room."
(I neatly placed my mag back into the neat row on the table from which I had taken it, and followed DDT to see Child and Tooth Fairy...)
Tooth Fairy: (spoken very demurely and delicately)" We have a little situation I want to make you aware of, Catherine. Here, Child, ooo-pen!"
(Before Tooth Fairy could say anything, I glanced in Child's mouth and noted teeth. Lots of them. All in their own space. None of them invading each other's turf. And, oh yeah, I noticed that none of them were clamped down on Tooth Fairy's finger, like in that unfortunate incident when she was in 4th Grade (yeah, she hit the bitting stage a bit late...))
Tooth Fairy: "Her top molars aren't meeting properly with her lower molars! Open Bite!(delighting in the fact that this would be a referral to his bestie, Ortho). This tooth is also rotated the wrong way! (fighting to contain his glee...) You should probably bring her in for a consult with Ortho! You do know one, don't you??? (smiles at his own cleverness)"
Me: "We've been coming here since she was 3, and no problem has ever been mentioned before. She can chew food and speak just fine, dude!"
Tooth Fairy: "Sometimes these things just develop later. DDT, go ahead and get a referral form set up for Child now, pleeease (again, spoken so smoothly, you could have sworn his voice was channeled through a smoooooth jazz radio station)."
(DDT scurried from the exam room to the front office, where two previously bored and gossipy staff members now singularily focused on said referral)
So, Child and I took her new toothbrush, floss, and the letter and headed to the car. I could see the wheels turning..
Child: "Oh. My. Gosh. I'm going to get braces! I am so excited! I can't wait to tell my friends at school tomorrow."
Me: "S-l-o-w down there. We are only going for a free consult, you are not definitely getting braces."
Child: "This is so cool! Are you going to tell Daddy?????"
Me: "Yeah, I'll mention something to him (smirking). I always believe in keeping the old guy in the loop (snorting)."
So, as Child sat down to tackle her nightly homework bomb, I ventured upstairs to where Husband was to share this most 'exciting' information:
Me: "Hi"
Husband: (staring at computer screen) "Hi"
Me: "Well, no cavities, new toothbrush, and new floss."
Husband: (staring at computer screen) "mmhmmmm"
Me: "We also got a complimentary referral to my Ortho for Child. Tooth Fairy found a bit of a "situation" in her mouth."
Husband: (looking up from computer screen, no words spoken, but his expression said it all...) "colordrainingfromfaceandlookofsheerdisbelief/horror"
Like many other Americans, our family does not have dental/ortho coverage. Dealing with one mouthful of braces is difficult, but two?!?! Compound that with the realization that a lot of the success of orthodontic treatment is contingent on the patient following directions to a "t"; failure to do so resulting in more time in braces and more money from the "Bank of Mom and Dad"- yikes! Well, at least the consult would be free...
So, yesterday, I took Child with me to meet with Ortho after he tortured...errr....adjusted my braces, and added medieval accoutrements such as powerchains and springs:
Ortho: "I heard that you brought Child with you today. We'll get to her after I mess around in your mouth adequately enough for you to resort to self-starvation for the next two days."
Me: "Sounds great, Doc. Just so you know, we're basically here because she is all about that (pointing to Ortho's 'color wheel' of elastic choices for his patients HS age and under)"
Ever since Child's friends have shown up at school sporting train tracks, I have not heard the end of how one can choose colors! Every time you go in! For the upcoming holidays! For your moods! For making the 5K being spent by the "Bank of Mom and Dad" more fun! Heck, she even tried to goad me into getting those things (ummm... no thanks... trying to keep this necessary evil on the 'down low'). Have you heard the new Black-Eyed Peas song called, "Time of My Life"? Randomly throughout the song, one of the guys repeats the random phrase "dirty bit"; if you just changed that phrase to "colored bands", you'd have a good illustration of life in Thomasville of late...
Anywhooo.... Ortho finished up on my end (miraculously, w/o stabbing me in the lip 3X, as he had done in the previous month. Perk for him? I didn't start a late "bitting phase" at age 41..), and I went to the waiting room to fetch Child. After being ushered into the "ortholounger", it was time for Child to show the guy what she had:
Ortho: "Wow, nice, straight teeth on top. Lots of room, and no crowding. That's actually unusual in a good way."
Me: (thinking...)"Okaygoodnewsmyrestingpulsecannowcomedownoutofthestratosphere"
Ortho: "Hmmm. There is a bit of jaw issue between upper and lower, but we should wait until more teeth erupt. It would be a bad idea to jump into anything right away."
Me: (thinking...)"YESYESYESYYESYESYESYESYESYESYESYES!!"
Ortho: "Let's just have you come back in about 6 months, and we'll reassess then."
Child: (thinking..."DarnitcoloredbandsIwashopingtohavesomegoodgossipcoloredbandswhydoes
Mommyalwaysseemtogetherwaycoloredbands?") "Ok"
So, Child and I bid adieu to Ortho and Co., and walked out to my car. As per usual, Child assumed her stuffed-shirt pose (stiff torso, raised shoulders, glance averted always to the right) in her co-pilot seat.
Me: "Are you disappointed?"
Child: (trying to keep her cool) "I don't know"
Me: "You should be grateful. Braces suck. You hear me moaning and groaning about them all the time."
Child: "Hmmmppp"
The rest of the way to school was pretty quiet. I was relieved to have (at least temporarily) dodged a 4-figure financial bullet. Child, well, she was mourning the fact that she would not be able to color-coordinate her boca in the near future. Wait a minute! If the 4-figures didn't have to be spent making her mouth a more colorful place for her teeth to exist in, there was another way in which she could channel her need to be colorful:
Child: "Guess what, Mommy! I've been looking at Delia*s website, and I've found lots of clothes I want for Spring!!"
Too short of shorts, over-priced shirts, and a 'gulp' trip to the mall?!?! Good thing that the ibuprofen one takes before an ortho adjustment also cover headaches caused by shopping....
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