So I am sitting in the Dentist office with Sammy lying on the exam chair and Lucy in my lap. The orthodontist is talking to me about Sam's 'digital habit' (I guess he doesnt say thumbsucking in front of small children?) that he had up until age five and that it may have curved his upper bridge into a 'V'. He is going on about retainers and adjustments and braces and early preventative orthodontistry and it occurs to me.

I am not qualified for this.

I felt like someone had pulled me out of a high school geometry class at age fifteen and popped me into that chair. I am listening to the guy talk and thinking, when did I become this mommy of three sitting in a dentist office about my son's teeth? Doesn't the guy realize I am like, fifteen? I don't know even how to answer him! I am nodding and making little mm hmm sounds, like I am giving serious thought to what he is saying, but I am really thinking, holy crap, shouldn't I have brought someone, like, responsible with me to make these decisions?

Weird. Most days I feel pretty equipped to handle most things. I guess I think of braces and stuff as teenager material. And my kid is eight. I guess I don't think of myself as this mature adult, even though I mostly manage to keep up with the demands of my life.

I feel so many different ages at any given time. I feel forty when I get out of bed with one eye open and shuffle to the fridge to get Monty a glass of milk. I feel fifteen when I get a zit. I feel nine when my favorite song comes on. I feel thirty three (actual age) when I think that it has been twenty years since I was in grade eight. Wait, no, I feel about fifty then! I feel twenty one when I read a real good book, like knowledge is still wide open out there, waiting for me.

I think I just had an out of sync moment. The orthodontist probably thinks that I am a little bit retarded.

Oh well. I don't want Sam to get braces anyway.

Ciao.