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On retainers:  part two

When last we left Jamie Bérubé, it was March 2004, and he had just gotten his braces.  Janet and I told him that he’d probably need to wear them for about nine months, and that we hoped they would come off for Christmas the holidays. 

We hoped wrong.  With each orthodontist appointment, it became clearer that Jamie would be wearing braces well into 2005.  He was getting much, much better at understanding the intermediate future (that is, not next week and not twenty years from now), and partly as a result, he was getting more patient with the constant goalpost-shifting.  After a while, he got used to the ideas that (a) his braces would most likely come off at some point in 2005 and (b) his parents and his doctors couldn’t commit themselves firmly to (a) because they had to keep readjusting their own expectations with each readjustment of the braces.

Jamie’s orthodontist visits varied widely in intensity and duration.  Sometimes he would zip in and out after a checkup determined that everything was fine; sometimes he would need new brackets, new wires, or other procedures that involved keeping his mouth open for long periods (and keeping very still) while people poked at his teeth with metal implements and shone the heating lamp on them (to dry the glue, of course!).  Jamie quickly learned to ask for the zip in-zip out kind of visit upon arriving at the doctor’s office.  “We will just talk and have no tools,” he would propose to the lab assistants, who would usually reply by telling him that maybe they would have to use just one or two tools.  Janet and I, for our parts, traded off taking Jamie to each appointment, but if one of us endured a thrash visit, then the other one usually had to go to the next two, so as to spread the parental dental-care burden around as evenly as possible.

But at long last Gehenna froze over, pigs learned to fly, and the braces came off this fall . . . whereupon Jamie learned that he would have to wear retainers for six months or so.

Retainers!  Jamie complained strenuously, feeling like he’d been betrayed and hornswoggled again.  We assured him that it was only a short-term thing, and we reminded him how terrific he was about his braces, and we renewed the promise of Beef Jerky Yet to Come.  And so Jamie went back to the orthodontist for the forty-ninth time (or thereabouts) and had an impression of his teeth made.  He hated that shit, let me tell you.  Who wouldn’t?  Who gets up in the morning and says, “jeez, I hope I can lie back in a orthodonist’s chair and have my mouth filled with pink goo today”?

Janet and I felt kind of sheepish about the fact that we hadn’t told Jamie what his retainers would entail (honest, we didn’t know!  Janet thought he’d need retainers only at night, and I was completely ignorant of everything), so at first we cheated a little: realizing that he was having a very hard time eating with his retainers in, we allowed him to take them out during meals.  Well, you know where this is going, so let’s get there.  One day I picked him up from the Y and discovered that his upper retainer was missing.  He said he didn’t know where it was, but maybe it came out when he was swimming.  “While you were swimming?” I asked.  “I don’t know,” he shrugged.  “I’m not sure.” Oy.  So one of the Y staff and I searched the entire building, looking for a little black plastic thing with a small metal strip in the front.  Yeah, like that’s gonna show up.

For those of you who don’t know what retainers look like, they resemble small eyeless sea creatures.  Hope this helps:

Why were Jamie’s retainers black, you ask?  Because he’d rejected all these more colorful designs as “too weird,” that’s why.  He hadn’t wanted colored brackets on his braces, either.  He’s just a basic-black kinda kid.

Finally one of the YMCA staff remembered that Jamie had taken out the retainer during lunch and put it in a napkin.  Oy again.  So I started to comb through the lunchroom garbage can—the nice, full garbage can—musing as I did so on the fact that his retainer was very like the color of a Hefty bag . . . when I found it! Readers, I kid you not.  I found it.

I took the opportunity to teach Jamie the phrase “needle in a haystack,” because I know he has trouble with idiomatic expressions.  He thought that was very amusing.  But I also took the opportunity to tell him, sternly, never to lose his retainers again, or he’d have to go back to the orthodontist for another round of pink goo.  He really didn’t like that idea. So he learned his lesson!

But I didn’t learn mine.  Just last month, as Jamie and I went to see Chicken Little (my groundbreaking review of which is here), we stopped at the Nittany Mall for some pizza.  And because we were going to follow the pizza with movie popcorn (crucial five-servings-a-day components of the USDA food pyramid), I told him he could leave his retainers out for a while, and I’d carry them for him.  Why did I do such a stupid thing? Because I was being smart: I thought ahead, and reasoned that it would be a bad idea for him to be popping out his retainers in a dark movie theater.  OK, so guess what.  I wrapped the retainers in a napkin . . . and by the end of our little meal, the table was covered with napkins (this was some seriously unctuous pizza we were eating), and I tossed the whole mess into the garbage.  And even though Jamie was, by this point, especially vigilant about putting his retainers back in (as a result of the Y episode), he didn’t say anything as we left the mall, precisely because I’d told him not to worry about them until after the movie.

I realized what I’d done when we got to the octoplex parking lot and found that I hadn’t, after all, put that napkin in my pocket.  Panicking, I told Jamie we were driving back to the mall, and that I wanted him to stay in the car while I ran to the pizza joint, because I’d lost his retainers and it was all my fault.  “I’ll just look through the garbage again,” I assured him.  “I won’t be long.” “Like a needle in a haystack,” he replied.

But this time I wasn’t so lucky.  I told the guy at the pizza joint that I’d lost my son’s retainers by throwing them in the trash, and he hoisted the garbage bag into the back of the kitchen and sifted through it with me, but, alas, his extraordinary helpfulness was offset by the fact that he didn’t speak much English and didn’t have a very clear idea of what he was looking for.  I tried to insist that I could go through the mess by myself, but to no avail, and he kept tossing things from one garbage bag into another while I tried to unwrap napkin after napkin while sifting through paper plates, pizza crusts, half-eaten calzones, and discarded salads.  “You don’t understand,” I wanted to say.  “If I don’t find these damn things, my kid has to do the pink goo in the mouth thing again, through no fault of his own, just after I threatened him with having to do the pink goo in the mouth thing should he ever lose his retainers.” And I thought of the day, four and a half years earlier, when he’d had to go back for post-tonsillectomy surgery even though he’d been a good kid and listened to his mother about drinking his juice and Gatorade.

We reached the end of the garbage.  I wanted to give a second look to some of the garbage the pizza guy had ripped his way through, but he insisted, “no, is not here,” so I gave up, paid him $5 for his time, and sprinted back to the car, near tears.  “Jamie, I’m so sorry,” I said when I climbed into the driver’s seat.  “I couldn’t find them.  I looked and looked but I couldn’t find them, and it’s all my fault.”

Sweetly, Jamie tried to console me, just as he had when I’d forgotten his backpack.  “It’s OK, Michael.  It’s not your fault.”

“Oh yes it is my fault,” I said.  “I threw your retainers in the garbage, and now we have to get new ones.” Jamie nodded, but then that little light bulb went on, and he asked about the goo.  “Yes, we have to do the goo again,” I replied, “and I’m so so sorry. . . you didn’t do anything wrong. . . .” Well, this was just too much.  Fortunately, Jamie’s gotten vastly more mature about such things, so he didn’t squall or fuss or act out, but he was stunned.  Betrayed yet again! Would the Dental Drama never end?

“Look,” I said.  “I’ll tell you what.  I’ll call the doctor, and we’ll ask for new retainers, and after you have the goo, I’ll buy you that beef jerky we talked about.  Is that a deal?” It was a deal.  Still, I kept apologizing all through the rest of the day (and of course there was a fresh round of apologies to be made when I told Janet what happened), to the point at which Jamie finally said, “it’s not your fault, Michael, it’s my fault.”

“What?” I exclaimed.  “It’s not your fault at all!  You did everything I asked, and I threw your retainers in the dang garbage.  It’s completely my fault.”

“No, it’s my fault,” he insisted, and this went on for a while.

Now, I didn’t believe he really understood the concept of “fault” at stake here.  He and Janet and I have an odd little routine in which I say, “I think this is Lucy’s fault,” he laughs and says, “Janet, say it,” and Janet says, “Michael, you can’t blame Lucy, she’s just an animal.” Jamie likes this routine so much he can do it eighty or ninety times in a row!  Or he would, if we didn’t knock it off after four or five times.  Anyway, I wasn’t sure that Jamie got the joke behind this routine—which is to say I wasn’t sure he understood why you can’t “blame” an animal, which is also to say I wasn’t sure he understood that the concept of blame relies on a whole host of other concepts having to do with futurity, responsibility, likely consequences, right and wrong. . . .  But you know what?  As it turns out, he damn well does understand what he’s saying when he claims that it’s his fault the retainers got tossed in the garbage, and he’s saying (as he’s since explained to me) that he should have kept his retainers in his mouth during meals.  Which is quite true, as far as it goes.  But (a) we allowed him to take them out, (b) his dang fool father didn’t bring along the bright orange retainer case to put them in while he took them out, and (c) his dang fool father put them in a napkin and tossed them in the garbage.  So really, in the end, it’s my fault.

Jamie got his new retainers two weeks ago.  He hated the goo, of course, but he did much better with it this time, and I promised promised promised we wouldn’t be doing it again.  And then I bought him some good, chewy beef jerky, and allowed him two big bites before school.  “How is that stuff?” I asked as we drove away from the convenience store, the one that stocks dozens of varieties of beef jerky, right next to the big display of dozens of varieties of chewing tobacco.  “Really great,” Jamie replied.

I told him he couldn’t get black retainers again, just in case they ever wound up in the garbage.  But he once again rejected all the day-glo colors as too weird and insisted on black.  So we compromised.  We got camouflage-colored retainers.  Oh, heaven help me.  At least they have patches of green, brown, and yellow in them.

Maybe this time we’ve all learned our lessons.  Jamie knows that his teeth are healthy and looking great.  He keeps his retainers in all the time, except when he brushes his teeth.  And his dang fool father has learned that the family dental plan only covers one set of retainers, so, quite apart from the fact that he wants never to subject his son to the pink goo again, he can think back on that exceptionally expensive slice of pizza whenever he needs reminding to take care of his son’s things.

Or, in other words,

Chicken Little matinee: $12.
Popcorn and soda: $10.
Tip for the helpful pizza guy:  $5.
Pizza and retainers: $400.
Jamie: priceless.

Posted by on 12/16 at 09:32 AM

  1. What a great kid!

    Whatever happened to ummm..pink retainers that matched the inside of your mouth?  Internally… camouflaged, externally...PINK!

    I love Jamie’s diction: “We will just talk and have no tools.” He sounds like a very epigrammaticalistic kinda kid.

    Posted by  on  12/16  at  11:32 AM

  2. Wow, what a terrific kid. I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but with his sense of accountability and responsibility, Jamie will never make it in the world of politics.

    Posted by  on  12/16  at  11:33 AM

  3. You’ve managed to unrepress a memory I’d successfully repressed over the last 30 years.

    (no, not the pink goo! shudder. whimper.)

    But before I go weep in the corner, let me add my voice to the clamor of Jamie fans exclaiming over what a fine man he is, and over his lucky father’s writing as well.

    Posted by Chris Clarke  on  12/16  at  11:38 AM

  4. camouflage-colored retainers?

    so the deer and turkeys that dance inside my head some nights can’t see me?

    Posted by  on  12/16  at  12:00 PM

  5. What a great kid, is right! What a great father and mother too.

    Posted by  on  12/16  at  12:09 PM

  6. Thanks for this amazing post.  You exemplify the best ideals of fatherhood.

    Posted by Matt  on  12/16  at  12:17 PM

  7. Except for the throwing-away-the-retainers part!

    Whatever happened to ummm . . . pink retainers that matched the inside of your mouth?

    They went the way of commercial-free cable TV and the eight-hour workday, I think.

    Posted by Michael  on  12/16  at  12:34 PM

  8. I think I’ve mentioned this before, but your posts about Jamie always remind me of my cousin who has autism and other cognitive disabilities.  I remember when he got braces 10 years ago and how anxious my aunt was for *years* about the whole ordeal. Nick was so terrified of the dentist that they had to fully sedate him to put the braces in.  Everything worked out really well in the end. Pennsylvania seems to have a high quota of orthodontists who specialize in taking care of people like Jamie and my cousin Nick (from Swarthmore).

    The post leaves me perplexed, however, on one point:  wherever did Jamie get his taste for beef jerky?

    Posted by  on  12/16  at  01:44 PM

  9. The question still stands, camo retainers?

    Posted by  on  12/16  at  02:10 PM

  10. Man, I HATE that pink goo. I had braces when I was a kid, and by far the worst part of the whole godawful ordeal was the pink goo. I remember getting to pick the flavor of goo, but geez, does it really matter if it tastes like bubblegum or banana when I’m frantically fighting my gag reflex? Ugh.

    Anyway, great post, Michael. I guess all kids eventually come to the profound realization that their parents are fallible human beings who occasionally screw up. Even when we promise, promise, promise ... sometimes circumstances or fate or our own boneheadedness force us to break that promise.

    All we can do is try to postpone that revelation as long as possible. My daughter is nine and I think she’s starting to get a sneaking suspicion that her dad is an occasional dumbass.

    -Jason

    Posted by  on  12/16  at  02:29 PM

  11. Hot tip: Zup’s jerky from Ely, MN is a little softer and a little tastier than most. Availabe at <a href="http://www.zups.com">.

    Posted by  on  12/16  at  02:48 PM

  12. That young man has more maturity than I did at that age.

    Perversely, I wish I had kept my (pink) retainer, as well as the plaster casts of my pre-orthodontistry teeth.  Think of them as objets d’art in the shelved alcove next to the fireplace.  They’d be wonderful!

    Posted by Linkmeister  on  12/16  at  03:26 PM

  13. *black* retainers?! i am so totally jealous.

    i had those stupid pink ones, just like everybody else. i had head-gear, too!

    (probably you should not mention this trick to Jamie, but some of us used to throw our retainers away *on purpose* after eating lunch in the Junior High School cafeteria because then we would get to skip the first afternoon class or two while we sifted through the trash...an activity oddly more enjoyable to most 14 years olds than learning algebra...)

    Posted by  on  12/16  at  03:33 PM

  14. As the father of a girl who has now graduated to the only needing to wear a retainer to bed stage, my first question on reading this was why you didn’t put the napkin-wrapped black retainer in your pocket immediately after wrapping? I can’t imagine there’s a theory of napkin conservation at work here, no matter the unctuousness which confronted you.

    I attended your talk here in A2 a few weeks back and wondered if your literally breath-taking ability to talk faster than the Federal Deficit increases is an innate trait or learned.

    Posted by  on  12/16  at  03:37 PM

  15. OK, it’s time for a comments-section game of Mister Answer Man!  Let’s go to center field, first:

    why you didn’t put the napkin-wrapped black retainer in your pocket immediately after wrapping?

    Good question!  Because I was wearing a shirt with no pockets, and didn’t have the presence of mind to stuff the napkin into the pocket of my winter coat, which was draped over a chair.  Dang fool.

    And I learned to talk fast during my youth as an auctioneer and itinerant three-card-monty dealer.  Next!  SneakySnu:

    wherever did Jamie get his taste for beef jerky?

    Same place he got his taste for hot dogs, pepperoni, salami, summer sausage, Lebanon bologna, and mortadella.  This is not a broccoli-eating kid we’re talking about.  Though he also loves guacamole, salsa, goat cheese, black olives, tomatoes, ranch dressing, and Vietnamese, Szechuan, and Indian cuisine.  Which makes him infinitely more cosmo than I was at 14.  Next!  Lefty and anne:

    camo retainers?

    This is central Pennsylvania, people.  And just remember, every deer Jamie bags is a deer that won’t be hitting your car.

    Posted by Michael  on  12/16  at  04:01 PM

  16. When Jamie next comes to visit the Bay Area, he is welcome to bring a couple pounds of Lebanon bologna to share with at least one of his Bay-Area-based admirers.

    Posted by Chris Clarke  on  12/16  at  04:04 PM

  17. And if you’re going to order from Zup’s, you should really try the porchetta.

    Posted by  on  12/16  at  04:12 PM

  18. Yeah, we are over run w/ deer in Central Maryland, too. Maybe I’ll look into getting our dental folk to start pushing the camo retainers.
    Maybe the NRA can get behind the idea.

    Posted by  on  12/16  at  05:02 PM

  19. As loving a story about a son as I have read.  Thank you for telling us about him, and more about you.

    And,… I know all about 2 hour delays…

    Posted by Mudge  on  12/16  at  05:43 PM

  20. I thank Chris, if he’s referring to me (I thought you liked the stuff too!) for his thoughtful thoughtitude about the Lebanon bologna (and you in anticipation of) and hope your bologna-laden visit will happen after I’ve learned to eat with these slugfarkin hideous nawsty pointy perverted things in my mouth.

    Clearly I’m not of the same sweetly levelheaded sort of disposition as Jamie. Or it might be that I’m fifty-six goddamned years old. Braces and hot flashes simultaneously are just No Fair. I got the hardware installed yesterday. I’m thinking about that underground seekrit US weather-control radio-transmitter network in Alaska the tinfoil-hatters go on about. With my luck, I have a receiver here that gets only talk radio.

    I’d use Jamie as a role model of graceful adjustment but I don’ need no steenkin role models. What I do need is my head sawn off but my Otherwise Perfect Spouse never does that no matter how often I ask.

    I look forward to retainers, and was glad to see (via the orthodontist’s ceiling mobile) they come in cool colors and not just that nasty mucous-membrane pink that always made me want to puke when someone put theirs on the table. I hope they have glow-in-the-dark, or I’ll have to put mine on a string like little-kid mittens.

    Tell Jamie I hail him as a veteran.

    Posted by Ron Sullivan  on  12/16  at  05:57 PM

  21. I thank Chris, if he’s referring to me (I thought you liked the stuff too!) for his thoughtful thoughtitude about the Lebanon bologna

    What? Oh, I suppose Jamie and I can share with you too, Ron.

    Posted by Chris Clarke  on  12/16  at  06:14 PM

  22. What a wonderful story (both parts) about a great kid and his lucky parents (and also, a lucky kid and his great parents).  Thanks for sharing the whole saga with us.

    But I’m confused about some of the details...didn’t the orthodontist give you a case for his retainers?  And isn’t Jamie *supposed* to take them out to eat?  That was certainly what happened when I had a retainer—the case helps prevent these kind of accidents (unless, of course, you’re putting a tray on a conveyor belt in the school cafeteria, which I never did).  And why didn’t the orthodontist keep a version of the model of Jamie’s teeth until he was retainer-free?  That’s also something my ortho did.  I think your orthodontist is being cheap on the details, frankly, or else things have changed since the ‘70s.  (Egad, is it possible?!)

    Meanwhile, back on planet weird, would you believe me if I told you I actually *liked* the pink goo? But then I’m a freak. And I still have the cast of my pre-orthodontia teeth. Linkmeister is right—it is an objet d’art, but it sure isn’t pretty!

    Posted by Dr. Virago  on  12/16  at  06:52 PM

  23. We who will someday go this route with a mildly autistic, highly sensory kid w/a very crowded mouth salute you.  I’m sorry you had to go through this particular ordeal.

    I seem to recall my retainers being some kind of colorless clouded plastic that got stained and funky from my no doubt excellent hygiene.  Good times.

    Posted by  on  12/16  at  10:35 PM

  24. I couldn’t wait to read Part 2. As ever, Professor Berube does not disappoint. And I thought Part 1 was sensational, as narrative, as family drama, as what makes “ordinary” life so unordinary.

    Of course it helps enormously to have a son as interesting, funny, brave...and at the risk of sounding too Hollywood, with such star quality as Jamie. Nick , as I recall, is pretty darn interesting, funny, and all those other good things, too, so stands to reason they get it from their parents.

    Thank-you, Michael, for continuing to share this wonderful, sometimes epic, tale of family life and being parents. Thanks to your family, for agreeing to be guest stars on your blog.

    As a member in good standing of the Jamie Berube fan club, I feel that same little flutter of elation when I see a post like these two, as I did years ago, when I spotted a movie magazine in the dentist’s office that featured an article about Marlon Brando, whose star quality hooked me in at a very tender age.

    Posted by Leah A  on  12/16  at  11:22 PM

  25. Wow!  I’m so impressed that Jamie tried to reassure you and take the responsibility on himself.  PK is more about the “it’s ALL YOUR FAULT” thing, no matter what the problem is.  He stubs his toe?  All my fault.  He drank the last of the orange juice this morning?  All my fault.  He can’t find his Harry Potter magic wand?  All my fault.

    You’d think that this kind of free-floating blame would make me feel less guilty when I do screw up, but no.  Nothing is worse than screwing something up so that your kid is going to be majorly distressed over something. 

    On the up side, as Jamie demonstrates, it’s an awesome opportunity for them to learn magnanimity.  I hope PK gets there before it’s time for him to wear a retainer.

    Posted by bitchphd  on  12/16  at  11:32 PM

  26. Once upon a time, I had clear-colored retainers and thoughtlessly threw then in the cafeteria garbage.  Imagine that search.  Needle in the haystack doesn’t even come close. 

    Nice to hear that retainers have evolved.

    Wonder how many school children have suffered retainer trauma—the trauma of having to explain to penny-pinched parents that the retainer has been swallowed up in the cafeteria garbage.

    Posted by  on  12/17  at  03:07 AM

  27. A retainer should not look like an NHL goalie’s mask.  It should be clear, to make finding it in the dumspter, having been thrown out with your lunch, more challenging.

    That’s talkign from experience, friends.  I know Jamie will be better with his retainer than I.

    Posted by Pinko Punko  on  12/17  at  04:28 AM

  28. This reminds me of the movie Parenthood where Steve Martin had to do a similar pawing through the garbage for his son’s retainer. The boy who played his son was excellent in portraying the emotionally fragile kid. Not at all like Jamie, who cracks me up with his “We will just talk and have no tools” dictum.

    Posted by  on  12/17  at  11:42 AM

  29. I wanted to say what a great father it makes you, that you were most worried about breaking your word to your son.  Not the cost, not the inconvenience, but the promise.  Go you.

    Posted by Jonquil  on  12/17  at  11:09 PM

  30. Yeah, what everybody else said--great kid, great parents, well-told, moving story. Good on yez.

    (Oh, I didn’t know you were a speed-talker, Michael. Ever heard Tony Kushner? I’d love to sit in on a panel consisting of the two of you.)

    Posted by rootlesscosmo  on  12/18  at  12:33 AM

  31. Love the Jamie stories, but what, it’s like 11:00pm and I’m supposed to either sit here and salivate now or else go out into the sub-freezing night to git me some jerky?

    Geez Louise, it’s like smoking all over again.

    Posted by G. Brooke  on  12/18  at  12:54 AM

  32. What everyone else said.

    Just wondering: is it worth being suspicious about the love for the brave, noble underdog? Or do we just invoke Nietzsche and move on?

    Posted by  on  12/18  at  02:32 PM

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