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Can we just jump to January please? - 2014-11-14
A (don't kick the) Bucket List - 2014-10-28
Put THIS in your pipe and DON'T smoke it! - 2014-10-23
Max, Wolf, and the goats - 2014-10-15
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8:02 p.m. - 2010-01-14
In which 'that' is overused to an absurd degree.

"Look, Ma! No cavities!"

This being the report from Barb the dental hygienist about Wolf's mouth. Not a huge surprise, fortunately my sons inherited my crazy strong teeth even if they got zapped with the ex's overbite. And even about that there's good news, Dr Ralph says Wolf's bite is fine, all his new grown-up teeth in the back are sitting well and spread out far more neatly than expected, so really it's only his upper front teeth that could use some adjusting. Of course it will be up to the orthodontist, but Ralph (he of dentistry experience for 44 years) believes Wolf's untidy overbite could be taken care of with an Invisalign appliance rather than the full bore tin grin. At about one half the cost and about one third of the scheduled adjustment visits, can we all give a huge sigh of relief?

Fingers crossed.

Even if he does end up with a tin grin, I'm relieved to find out that for the most part his bite is just fine. No excessive wear, no future TMJ. Good deal. This wasn't anything that could be known until Wolf's adult molars came in, x-rays can only show so much. Considering what a mess Alex's bite was and how screwy Mike's teeth were, I hadn't harbored a lot of hope that Wolf would be graced as he had. Especially since his face looks far more like Mike's than mine. So, Alex who wears my face got his dad's rotten alignment, and Wolf who wears the ex's face got away (mostly) with my decent bite. Funny.

Also funny was the reaction I got at the liquor store today. Not my usual place, there the cashiers start ringing up my order before I've even plucked it from the shelves. That's how much of a lush I've become. But this other place was handy so I got my hooch and put it on the counter and the lady quasi-cards me by asking how old I am. I laughed and said, "I'll be 47 next week." And the guy behind me in line busts out, "Liar! No way are you 47! 37 maybe."

I almost kissed him.

Of such small pleasures a hag's life is made.

Though I will admit at least today I was a stylin' hag. At one of my recent sprees at Old Navy I picked up a gorgeous velvety brushed twill blazer. ($11.00, thankyouverymuch.) It was warm enough today to wear it, finally. Paired it with the ubiquitous men's white dress shirt and jeans. Tucked a scarf under the collar to drape over the lapels. Black boots. Big chunky silver bead and lapis earrings. All in all not bad. I felt better than I had for quite some time. The weight is coming off (oh so slowly) and while not yet back into my favorite size, I'm out of my fat pants and into the interim ones. My hair is in that squidgy in-between stage too, but I glopped enough gel into it to make it behave. If this be what 47 is then I can deal.

Though my number isn't as weird to me as Alex's. My elder child will be 25 on Saturday. I have a 25 year old child.

As always I can only think back to where I was at that age. Where I was and what I was doing.

When I was 25 I was a mother (duh, obviously). I was also a small business owner. I had a marginally solvent used book store. A place I opened specifically so I could work and have my son with me all day. That I could have this luxury was not something I took lightly or for granted. How many other moms can have their career and be a hands-on full-time mom too? That I have managed to do this with both my children is a bloody miracle. Whatever sacrifices I made toward staying with men who made me unhappy, whatever dreams went un-chased (Hello? In another life I'd be part of the Obama White House, guaranteed.), whatever other paths not taken, whatever stuffs and things not had because of lack of funds, I have lived the modern American mother's dream in that I got my cake and ate that fucker too. I was there for my sons' first steps, first potty, first complete sentence, and all the other firsts that so many, many moms are forced to miss out on because the financial reality is what it is. Please understand, I don't give any grief to the moms who'd prefer to be at their jobs anyhow. We're all built differently and what's one woman's pleasure is another's mind-numbing torture. That I was able to combine career and motherhood in such a smooth meld is damn cool to me, that's all.

Heh, when I began writing here Alex was 16. A 16 year old with a few facial wisps and a recently acquired inch of superior height on his old mom. That he eventually topped out at almost 6'3" was a lesser deal than when he surpassed my 5'11". Being 'bigger' than Mom is a milestone in any guy's life, I suppose. Not every guy gets to pass Dad, but Mom is a pretty certain bet. That my son had to wait until he was almost a legal adult to get there, well that's just his hard cheese.

And now he's 25 and in a week's time I'll be 47. My younger son still has no cavities and his overbite isn't as bad as anticipated. Not too shabby.


Pooped but feeling better, ~LA

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