Sick days and Miracles

The big boy has been home sick for the past two days. Which is something that has rarely happened since he had his tonsils and adenoids out just before he turned 2. It's really amazing how quickly they're no longer little any more -- it used to be that when he was sick, I was constantly needed for something. Now, he doesn't want me hovering over him, he wants a book, maybe some TV, and peace and quiet. Which is pretty much what I want when I get sick. But somehow, that leaves me feeling like I'm not doing my job.

It's amazing how quickly I can forget to appreciate that he is here at all. Big boy was born at 24 weeks gestation, weighing 1.6 lbs, almost 10 years ago. He spent about four months in the hospital, with lots of complications along the way, but came home healthy and hasn't had to be hospitalized since, except for one night with the tonsillectomy. He is a miracle walking around (or actually today, lying around) in my house. He shouldn't be leading a happy, healthy fourth-grader's life, but he is, because God has a plan for him --- that involves growing up! (which is intended to make Moms obsolete, isn't it?)

We are going today for a blood test that might show a slight problem with his endocrine system and I have been all worked up about this, worrying as if my life (or his) depended on it. As if I didn't learn almost ten years ago that God is in control, and I am not. A point that was pretty emphatically driven home when I couldn't even control my own body to keep him from being born.

I remembered this morning, looking at him, what it felt like to look at him when he was little, and sick, and so needy. And instead of feeling unnecessary (which I've been struggling with a bit lately), I think I'll choose instead to be grateful. If he doesn't need me so much, it's by God's grace. If he has this small problem, it's manageable -- and that's by God's grace, too. So, maybe I'll be obsolete as a Mom someday. But if God has a plan for him, he has one for me, too. Plans to prosper, and not to harm. Plans for hope, and a future -- and I can't wait!

Going to the Dentist is Fun! (Really?)

The older son (almost in double digits) has some seriously messed-up teeth. Like, we had our first taste of orthodontia at four years old messed up teeth. So, at nine years old, he's already had one of those expander contraptions and what is called Phase I of braces (basically, an Inspired Scheme to Sucker More Money Out of Us by stretching this out as long as possible). I had braces twenty years ago, but apparently the thinking nowadays (you know, since we're no longer in the Dark Ages) is to put them on when the kids are younger.

Not that this has been a problem for him. When the dentist's office is essentially a video arcade / television fun time with a brief intermission for someone to mess with your mouth, what's not to like?

However, all of this means my nine-year-old son has a retainer. Now, if you have never been to the Land of the Nine-Year-Old Boy, you have no idea of the level of crazy thinking and unexplainable behavior it contains. Just for example, this boy can't get the thought out of his head that mom is responsible for this appliance that spends most of its lifespan in his mouth. Hmmm, really? So, the result of our residence in this land is that he has lost one set of retainers and then broken the replacement, all in less than six months' time. The six-eight permanent teeth he has in his mouth are lovely and straight and all, but dude, I'm not sure this is really worth it. Keeping up with his backpack is about as much responsibility as this kid can handle, really. And some days he doesn't even do that too well.

So, the long and the short of this situation is my need to decide where we're going from here. Do we replace the retainer yet again? Do we accept that the six-eight permanent teeth might become less straight before Phase II of the bloodletting, a.k.a. paying for more braces, begins, and just ditch the retainer? Because mom is really over all this, let me tell you. Especially when I talked with the orthodontist about this yesterday, and her response was to remind me that it is really likely that, even with the retainer, his teeth won't remain straight and lovely as more permanent teeth begin coming in. Really? So Phase I of the blood, sweat and tears (and money - we're a one-income household, people) was for what, then?

In other news, second son is six, and those first permanent teeth in the front aren't looking too good. Maybe we should put him to work now.