We’ve officially entered Middle Childhood.

And Middle Childhood = Orthodontia.

Not for just one kid.  BOTH.  Because why suffer gradually when you can suffer all at once?

The dentist told us in October: “April’s probably the time.”
By June? “Maybe another six months.”
Meanwhile, I’m sitting there thinking: I already set aside the money in my FSA. It’s burning a hole in my pocket. This is the dental version of ‘use it or lose it.’
So off we went. Just for a consultation. Just to “see.”

Spoiler: We saw.

I knew it was coming.
I was a thumb sucker. For a long time. Like, embarrassingly long.

My introduction to orthodontia was a bionator. Not a cute little retainer, but a portable jungle gym for my mouth designed to fix my overbite. Honestly unsure how I ever spoke..

Then two full years in braces.
But—silver lining—our kids’ orthodontist told me I have a nice smile. Trauma validated.

Kid #1: The Optimist.  

My son went first.
The orthodontist rattled off numbers like he was running a diagnostic scan: Overjet.  Crowding. Bite classification.  Tooth movements in millimeters.  I half expected a NASA launch countdown.

Good news, though: Invisalign. And just 14 months!  He was pumped.
Probably because he thought it meant no food rules.  (He’s wrong.) 

Kid #2: The Sucker (Literally)

Next up: my daughter.  Former finger-sucker. Born that way.

Should I have stopped it sooner? Probably.
Did I? Nope. I was a thumb sucker forever and ever.  Who am I to judge?

I’ll never forget the night I finally painted that awful-tasting anti-suck nail polish on her fingers. Her reaction?
“YOU DON’T LOVE ME!!!”
Oscar-worthy performance. But it worked.

The ortho verdict?
Palate expander.
Six top braces.
Twelve months.
Phase One of what I now understand is a full renovation project.
Then she “gets to be a kid” for a few years.
Then comes Phase 2: the Comprehensive Package, which honestly sounds like we’re running her through the deluxe car wash.

First step: Records
“Records” sounded like paperwork.

Nope – just an absurd number of x-rays and digital scans.

I was personally offended to learn that the tray of gritty pink cement they used to stuff in my mouth has now been replaced with sleek digital mapping.  Back in my day, we choked on sand-flavored goop while a hygienist counted down the seconds and held our hands like we were going through labor.  Kids today have no idea.

Technology: 1
Nostalgia: 0

Next Stop: Spacers

Spacers go in first to make room for the expander.

Yes, they’re uncomfortable.
So is everything that happens to your body after you turn 30.
Time to toughen up, learn to love ibuprofen, and keep on keeping on.

Then came expander day.
She got the braces and the palate expander on a Thursday.

She. Was. Silent.

For the next 36 hours, she basically stopped eating and talking—just occasionally pointing at her mouth and looking at me like I had personally betrayed her.

I figured eventually she’d be hungry enough to make peace with it.

Spoiler: I was right.

By Saturday, we were at the beach—and instead of gliding through the waves like a fish in water, she was a pig in sand, snacking her way through every single thing I’d packed in the cooler.

Cheese crackers? Yes.
Watermelon? Absolutely.
Water ice from the truck? Heck yeah.

I guess nothing motivates like a beach day and salty carbs.

By the end of the weekend, she’d fully adjusted—and even declared that she’s “special friends” with the orthodontist now.

I don’t know what that means exactly, but I respect the vibe.

Why Summer is the Secret Weapon

The one saving grace to all this?

It’s summer.

I will gladly yank them out of camp. There will be plenty school-year appointments to build a second career as an Uber driver.

Plus, they’ve got a whole month to adjust. 

They’ll start the new school year this way, so no one knows any different.

New school, new grade, new face gear.  Clean slate.

The Bottom Line

Price tag? Ouch.
Smile? Million-dollar potential.
Parental mental state? TBD.

Is your family in the braces years?

How’s it going—for your kids and for you?

Drop your best stories, food hacks, or coping tips in the comments. I’ll bring the ibuprofen.