The Brace Race

Another rite of passage is upon us. This is one I had sincerely hoped to avoid, although millions before us have done it and will continue to do it. Logan is getting braces.

His dentist has been telling me for at least three years that Logan would need braces. I have been asking for those same years to wait. He has been patient, telling me we can wait for a while but the time is coming.

The time came. On Logan’s last check up, the dentist said, "Mom, it’s time." I knew this day was coming, but I was sort of hoping for a miracle. It can happen, because it happened to me.

When I was a little younger than Logan, my dentist told my mom I needed braces. It was going to be $2,500, but it could have been $25,000. We didn’t have that kind of money, and it would have been very difficult to come up with it.

My mom looked at my mouth, looked at my dentist, and told him she would pray about it. The dentist laughed at her, and told her when she was finished praying, to bring me back for my braces.

She didn’t have to. My teeth straightened up on their own. I was hoping history would repeat itself, but my prayers apparently need a new set of batteries, or Mom’s have more persuasion. Logan still needs braces.

We started the process a few weeks ago. The dentist put in what they called an appliance. I call it a torture device. The last time Logan’s mouth was in this condition, he was still in a high chair. He needed soft food, regular food needed to be cut in tiny pieces; and for a few days he was drooling like a St. Bernard.

He got better, and then had to go back to get an appliance on the bottom. Lovely. Here we go again. All in all, Logan is coping with it pretty well. In typical Logan fashion, he is finding humor in the situation.

He is making jokes about getting good radio reception, simply by adjusting his ears. All the metal in his mouth could signal aliens where to land. If we fall on hard financial times, we can sell the stuff in his mouth for scrap.

After living with the appliances for about four months, his mouth will shrink even more when he gets braces added to what is already in there. I don’t know where they will find the room, but they say it can be done.

Eventually, the appliances will come out, thankfully, and just the braces will stay on. Supposedly, that is the easy part in all of this. Surely it can’t be worse than all of the stuff that is in there now.
We are starting down the path that millions have blazed before us. I love my dentist, and know he will be there for whatever bumps in the road might come up.

I’m not going to stop praying, either. Just in case. Logan might go in for a checkup and those teeth and his mouth might have aligned perfectly, miraculously, where they are supposed to be. It could happen. But if it doesn’t, we are still going to be okay. As long as the aliens don’t land in our front yard.

Independence Day...Sort Of

We celebrated Independence Day last week. Freedom has been on my mind a lot lately.
My son turns 13 next month, his very own Independence Day. Freedom is very much on his mind. He thinks a heavenly choir is going to sing, angels will appear, and a decree from above will be read; granting him overriding freedom in all things. I’ve got a bulletin for him: Not as long as I’m his mother.

He thinks the magical world of being a teenager means he is free to do all kinds of things. Having been one myself, I know the thought process of the majority of teenagers means he most likely needs less freedom, not more.

We are in the negotiating stage. If he doesn’t act like an idiot, he won’t be treated like one. Seems simple enough to me, and is currently as far as I am willingly to take negotiations. If that seems harsh, you should have been raised by my parents.

Despite the complete turn around they have made as grandparents who don’t know how to refuse anything to their grandkids, they certainly didn’t have that problem as parents. Did I like them being strict? Not in the least. Did it keep me out of all manner of harm and foolishness and stupidity? Yes, more times than I can count.

In short, it worked. And while I swore as a teen I would never do that to my kid, with the wisdom of age; I am doing that to my kid. Hopefully, it will work again.

We haven’t locked Logan down in chains yet. Then again, he hasn’t had his birthday yet. We are pounding several vital truths into his head. I firmly believe you get treated the way your actions dictate you want to be treated. Thus, if you are disrespectful, you are asking to be treated disrespectfully. If you act like a child, you are asking to be treated like a child. If you don’t act trustworthy, you can’t be trusted. If you aren’t truthful, you can’t be believed.

This is not breaking news to Logan. Since before he could say the words, we have been telling him "your actions have consequences." Even as a toddler, he knew if he chose to behave a certain way, he was choosing to be punished for that behavior. He knew it, because each and every time he did something he wasn’t supposed to, we warned him by telling him to stop, and by telling him if he didn’t stop he would be punished.

If he kept on, we carried through, and told him "you chose to be punished by not stopping when we asked you to. Your actions have consequences. If you keep on after we tell you to stop, you are choosing to be punished."

The older Logan gets, the more freedom and responsibility we have given him. As he has been able to handle it, we have given him more. We know there will be times when he won’t make the right decision; when that choice he makes won’t be the best one. That’s part of being human. No one gets it right every time. I certainly didn’t. I still don’t.

Although we will love him and support him always, we will also expect him to get back on course. If you think this sounds like we have impossibly high standards for him, you are half right. We have high standards for him. They are not impossible.

We want him to achieve his fullest potential. As a man, a husband, a father, as whatever he eventually chooses to be. He can’t do that if we accept just any kind of behavior, anything that comes out of his mouth, any action he decides is okay. He’s getting taller every day. He may look almost grown, but he is not. His brain is not fully developed, and won’t be until he has gotten completely out of his teens.

He may want freedom. What I want for him is much more important than his temporary happiness, than our temporary peace at both agreeing on something. So far, we are still getting along just fine. I’m not going to like it when I’m not his friend. But when it comes down to it, I’m his parent. His guiding force, the adult that has gained knowledge and experience he doesn’t have the benefit of.

He doesn’t have to like it. He just has to live with it. And if he wants that freedom in my home, he lives with it in a respectful manner. We are raising a man, to be the best man he can possibly be. That means we may have some bumps and bruises in the road ahead over the next few years, as Logan figures out what being the best person he can be is all about.

There is freedom there, and as a parent, I am very willing to give it. But it has to be deserved, and deserved on my terms. It’s not original, but I think it goes for teenagers too: Freedom isn’t free.

The Shock and the Pain

Can't breathe. Can't think. May be hyperventilating. Gotta push past it. How could this happen? I'm here, aren't I? I've done everything in my power to show my love, my support. I've been loyal. Ridiculously so.

Starbucks is leaving Blytheville. Things will never be the same. How can they be "underperforming?" Even my mom laughed at that. She thinks my business alone should keep them in the black.

I like Jenni Betts Deming, who broke the news in today's Blytheville Courier. I have reason to believe she likes Starbucks. Or, at least the people that work there. So how can she so callously say that we will soon have to go elsewhere for our caffeine cravings??

There is no elsewhere. It's Starbucks. Folger's just doesn't cut it. I know there's a few fast food places that say they can compete. Please. It's not the same. Not even close.

My Mom thinks I might can rally the troops and save our 'Bux. I doubt I can compete with the corporate world; but hey, if it saves our Starbucks, I'm all for it.

So, good citizens of Blytheville: Go Buy Something At Starbucks. Go Now. Go Tonight. Go Tomorrow. Go Often. They have more than coffee. They have tea. They have cold drinks. They have food. Heck, they even have juice and water. Order my son's favorite drink, an Italian Cream Soda. Just Go. Soon. Often.

Starbucks leaving Blytheville? I can't think about it. It makes it hard to breathe.