Brace Yourselves

I have very vivid memories of my first visit to the orthodontist. I was thirteen, a walking hormone and the doctor was smoking hot. (I must have a thing for doctors.) Anyway....

On the ride home, my father made it a point of telling me how bloody expensive it was going to be to put the braces on and that I should be grateful, kiss his feet and worship his most excellent dadness for the rest of my natural life. He didn't actually say that last bit but you catch my drift. Like any self respecting teenager, I looked out the window of the car rolled my eyes and mentally calculated the days left before I could legally leave home. What did I care about the cost? My dad was rich in my estimation. Braces were my birthright, I thought.

A week later on they went and for the next two years, two months, twenty days and one hour, I endured pain, headgear, elastic bands, broken wires, shredded cheeks, raw lips and absolutely the grossest oral hygiene experiences known to mankind. NOBODY should have to get that intimate with their food. I brushed. Maniacally. Flossing took me half and hour. Taking a deep breath in the harsh Ontario winter with all that metal in my mouth made my head ring.

I.Hated.Wearing.Braces.

Fast forward thirty years.

It's time for my kids to join in the fun. My sweet baby girl, with her teeny tiny mouth and her father's rabbit teeth is a dental sight to behold. While only eight, current research shows that early orthodontic intervention will likely prevent us having to break her jaw later on. The x-rays revealed that her mouth is a crowded, twisted, gnarly mess. Dylan has already been through a first phase of braces and now, three years later, after successfully treating a recessive lower jaw and losing all of his baby teeth, the time has come to finish the process.

This week, I took them both to an orthodontist here, who came back with exactly the same treatment plan as had been discussed in Bentonville. It was comforting to get a second opinion that concurred with their old orthodontist.

And then the money lady came in to share the numbers.

You know it's going to be bad when you try to discuss cost with the doctor and he bolts like a spooked horse with a headless rider.

$9460. NINE THOUSAND FOUR HUNDRED AND SIXTY FUCKING DOLLARS!!

And this only includes Olivia's first phase.

Sweet baby Jesus, Joseph and Mary.

"It's an investment in their future," money lady said as I stared, unblinking, heart racing, mouth agape. "Dr.___'s rates are very competitive". Still, I could not speak.

"You seem shocked," she said with her head tilted in what I can only describe as bewildered sympathy. I wanted to punch the condescension right off her face.

After that, I didn't hear much of what she said. Still mute, I accepted the green folder from her which contained the quote and a few sheets of fluff about the doctor, his staff and their commitment to our oral health. I felt ill.

On the drive home, my mood could be best described as agitated. Silently, I vowed to get the cost from at least two other providers just to be sure. Out loud, I ranted on about chores and homework and flossing and DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW EXPENSIVE THIS IS? I blathered about what a financial burden this was going to be and how I hoped they appreciated that it would be Dallas and me who would bear the brunt since their own father refused to participate.

Yes, I know. BIG parenting failure.

Awful. I'd somehow morphed into my father when nobody was looking.

In that moment my son, because he is lovely and evolved, sat up and quietly said, "Forget about my braces. It's more important to start Olivia's teeth right now. I can wait."

Damn! I was happily bathing in all that self pity. Why did the boy have to pipe up and help me remove my head from my ass? When we pulled up to a stoplight, I turned to the kids, apologized and told them not to worry. Both of them would have their braces before Christmas.

As the light turned green, I looked up into the rear view mirror and said, "When you grow up, you both are going to be orthodontists. Do I make myself clear?"

They solemnly nodded and turned their heads to look out their windows. I think I saw my son roll his eyes.