She'll Thank Me Someday, Right?

We are on day four of the new braces, and I am not adjusting well.

We have already been back to the office for repairs - a wire popped out of its bracket yesterday - and may I remind you there is only one road in and out of our town linking us to civilization, so the one hour commute from work to Twornado's school (at the far end of said road) to the orthodontist (in civilization) for a thirty-second appointment made for a less than soothing afternoon.

Add to that the high decibel lament of Second Grader that she didn't want to go to the "stupid braces place" and anyway she thinks her sister looks "hideous" now, followed by the requisite sibling physical retaliation, and any lingering notions I may have had that country roads make for peaceful drives were completely shattered.

I am definitely taking this harder than Twornado, who actually has to wear that mess. Every time I look at her I am reminded that I gave this the green light, I authorized the installation of a medieval torture system in her teeny little mouth. The girl has eaten nothing but noodles for four days, and I did that to her.

Fortunately, she returns my gaze with nothing but her standard mixture of love and "are there any more noodles?" Fortunately, her friends think she looks "cool". Fortunately she is her same snitty little pre-teen self, with the exception of a brief window of oral discomfort every five hours or so, during which she temporarily becomes a puddle of child again. These windows provide me with an opportunity to dole out hugs and ibuprofen, a powerful combination known for its guilt-alleviating qualities. A mother can never have enough remedies for alleviating guilt.