I’m not old enough for this

These are not my son’s braces. He wouldn’t let me post them

There are times I don’t feel like I’m responsible enough to be a parent. Maybe responsible is not the right word. Maybe it’s grown up. I’m not grown up enough to be a mother. Let alone the mother of a teen

There are thousands of everyday examples of this, like when I buy lollies for myself and hide them from my son, or when I cry to my husband that I can’t win at Rubik’s Race against Little Pencil or when I have no clue as to how I’m meant to respond to, well anything.

But nothing brings out my non- preparedness like a trip to the dentist. Today I discovered a trip to the orthodontist is a million times worse.

Like most “normal” people I’m petrified of the dentist. Unlike most normal people I can’t disguise it very well.

Like most parents I want to protect my child from anything that hurts him. Unlike most parents I can’t do this because I’m trying too hard not to faint, cry or run away.

We walked into the orthodontist today and Little Pencil was so nervous, I was petrified but at this stage I was still able to function in quite an adult-like manner. I told him it wouldn’t hurt (much) and that I’d be there holding his hand. I told him it was nearly over (my coping mechanism for anything I find hard to deal with) and that the rest of the day would be filled with sunshine and rainbows.

It’s a funny thing how you can really take on the emotions of your child. And when I say “you” I mean “I” – it just makes me feel better.

Being in the orthodontist’s rooms filled me with the fear of the dentist even though I knew I wasn’t going to have to open my mouth – only my wallet.
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I really struggled to see my son even lying in the dentist chair. If I try and analyse it (and I do) I wonder if it’s because it fills me with that same fear I had when Little Pencil was in intensive care as a baby and I was absolutely helpless and petrified as medical teams and machinery swamped him – and brought him to full and good health.

I gave him my hand to hold as he lay in the chair but really it was me that needed to feel the warmth of his hand in mine, me that needed to feel his hand to know that he was going to be okay. As they shoved his mouth full of instruments I had to look away. I knew I couldn’t cope.

They offered me a seat and they told me to take deep, calm breaths.

Little Pencil just lay there with his mouth shoved open with a giant clamp-like thing. It was the longest time he’s ever gone without talking. And he took the entire episode in his stride. He didn’t get his maturity from me.

I felt claustrophobic, scared and very, very young.

And then he got out of the chair and took a selfie of his new braces and the maturity started to full my veins again.

I took him to school and then raced back home to do the bits of mothering I really excel at – I made chicken noodle soup, vanilla pudding, chocolate milkshakes and smoothies and I scoured the internet for soft recipes that his metallic teeth can cope with.

And just like that my little boy has top braces on his teeth so he’s really not a little boy at all.