Frankie got his braces off. If anyone asks your opinion about putting braces on a kid at a younger age, I would advise not to. We tried it. It made sense to me. If you put them on early, the goal is to make room for your teeth to come in correctly, eliminating the need to have them later. We did it and the orthodontist considered it a success because Frankie didn’t need to have eight teeth pulled. Frankie and I? We both thought it would have been much easier to have the teeth pulled in one shot. He ended up needing a second set of braces anyway. I had eight teeth pulled when I was his age before I got my braces.
Anyhow, he got them off for the second time this week. He gets the retainers on Thursday. It’s an interesting office. Up until a few months ago, there were only women in the office. I mean, thousands of women. Now there is one young guy that works there. Brave guy. It drives Frankie crazy there, but I love it.
When I came to get him, the receptionist said they post the “new smiles” on their Facebook page and even video. There is a literal red carpet, balloons, etc. to celebrate. But Frankie said he didn’t want his picture posted there or on Instagram. They thought maybe if I talked to him, he would consent. I laughed out loud. Obviously they have no idea what this kid’s relationship to his mother is. He generally tries to do the polar opposite of anything I do.
I told them that he gets mad at me when I post things on Facebook with him. He will say very indignantly, “Mom, I didn’t give you permission to post that.” I ever so politely tell him, “Sweetie, I own you until you are 18. I don’t need your permission. So sorry.” The receptionist laughed. It occurred to me that I don’t sound like a very good psychology person. I should be saying that I need to respect his privacy, or whatever. I guess if I thought that he truly didn’t want it other than to disappoint me, I would try to respect his wishes. But there are lots of people who love and support him and are interested in his life.
As Frankie walked down the red carpet, I told the doc that it was probably my fault he doesn’t like to post stuff. I wrote a book about our family and now he doesn’t want anything to be out there. She looked at me and said, “It’s not your fault,” with a surprised face that wondered why I would ever think such a silly thing.
That’s part of why I love her. She is fun. She is nice. She treats all the patients with respect. But make no mistake. She is clear about where a kid’s place is. Anytime a comment was made, even in the tiniest way, she always spoke up and reminded Frankie that he is responsible for himself. I love her strength. And I appreciate the occasional reminders that I am a great parent and I get to make decisions around the house, in spite of whatever teenagers happen to feel differently (even if it is developmentally normal for them to push the envelope).
I don’t have a good picture of Frankie’s new smile. He let me take one, but it was a frightening picture more than it was flattering. So just trust me. Round two with the braces worked. He looks fabulous. And thanks to the folks at the orthodontist’s office for boosting me in ways they have no idea they even did!