Choices...

Jeeze-has it really been almost 9 months since I blogged?? I knew it had been a while, but I didn't realize just how long it had been...

There's been so much that has happened in that time... Not "big" stuff per se, but big steps (for us) in the RU department. I can't possibly fill it all in now, but I will put a doozy in, since that's what brought me back to my blog tonight.

Tooth brushing. Teeth. Oral health. I thought I was on the right track with it... Coming from where I do...

My mother has worked on and off as an orthodontic employee since before I was born-teeth cleanliness was highly important in our house while I was growing up. I don't remember anything stressful about it, just that we brushed 2-3 times a day. Always. My personal experience has been that I was cavity-free until I was about 17-19. I grew up with fluoridated water and toothpaste, my mother has "brittle" teeth, when I started getting independent time away from home, had my own paper route and thus my own money I spent it on candy and sweet drinks and along with that, my toothbrushing declined. Unfortunately, this coincided with having braces and when my braces came off, I had 8 cavities and some ugly scarring on my teeth. My tooth health never really returned to that "optimal" state and until I delved into my history, Dave's (dental) history and the concerns some folks have about floride and amalgam fillings, I blamed the "poor choices" of my teen years. Now, since the delving *and* with what I've learned from RU boards, I'm more of the school of family history and floride exposure, as well as diet to a lesser degree (healthy diet, not "candy" culprit).

Wyl was an easy kid with the toothbrush-well, with pretty much everything until 4 years old. He let us brush easily. For a while, we had a year or so of trying out different toothpaste flavors, but no real "big deal" kind of things. Now, however, we are having a bit of difficulty.

Storm was okay with our brushing for a few months, then it was... a bit of fussing but allowed, then it was *no way*. He didn't want anyone touching his mouth, getting a toothbrush near it (in our hands), getting a washcloth near his mouth, looking at his teeth. I started to panic briefly, but calmed myself with the thoughts of his good diet, things I was reading on Always Unschooled and the thought that they *are* baby teeth. Then, I just started putting the gel on the brush and letting him have it, which he took right to. So, for the next 1 1/2 to 2 years, that worked well. He went with us to the bathroom and when we brushed (especially his hero, Wyl), he dug his out of the toothbrush drawer, asked for help with the toothpaste and "brushed". I put that in parenthesis because he really doesn't have much contact between the ends of the bristles and his tooth surfaces-but I wasn't much worried about that, since he was building good habits and routines.

Then, more and more, he started saying, "No." when asked if he was going to brush his teeth. Fine. He still brushed a few times a week. Then the frequency declined even more. His eating habits got less varried. He started eating candy more and more (Wyl eats lots of candy, therefore it is something Storm must do ;~) ). It became more and more difficult for me to shrug things off and let it all "roll off my back" as it were. Finally, when 10 days had passed with no brushing or any desire for brushing I decided I couldn't let it "go". It might be different if he would eat some of the foods that would be a good compromise to brushing, but for now, he won't. He used to eat everything, but all those good things are off his "list". I tried everything else I could think of: having him brush my teeth, using a mirror so he could see me brush his teeth, trying every (non-floridated) flavor toothpaste I could find, having Wyl brush where Storm could see, talking about "buggies" on teeth that we needed to brush away, trying to brush his teeth while he slept (he's too light a sleeper for that, fingernail cutting, hair combing-anything!) and probably half a dozen other things. Eventually, I figured I could live with once a week brushing, and I told Storm that Tuesdays were my day for brushing his teeth. Now, I'm pretty happy that Storm is a person who knows his limits and is not hesitant about saying "no"-at least to his immediate family. But today...

Today was the wrong Tuesday, apparently. The two times I mentioned toothbrushing during his bath, he was quite certain in his "no". I figured I'd do some of my usual joky, funny, singing/rhyming stuff about buggies and brushing and I'd cajol him into allowing it. Sigh... no, after I dried and dressed him, it was a horror. He refused to allow me to cajol him into it. He cried. I begged him to brush them himself so I wouldn't "have" to do it. He said, "Nooo!" I managed to get the top ones done, but when I went to do the bottoms, he was still crying and glued his lips shut. I lay on the bed next to him, pleading with him to open his mouth so I could finish while he cried and pushed at my hands. As I held the toothbrush at his lips, waiting for the briefest opening, not able to use that thumb on his chin to force his mouth open, watching the emotions pass on his face... the desire to make the mama he loves happy, the extreme need to not have this *done* to him, the word "r.a.p.e." filled my mind. That's what I imagined he must feel like! So, here I am, lying on our bed, cradling my arm around his head, crying, toothbrush wavering near his mouth, and I feel like some horrid caricature of a cartoon with the angel and devil on the shoulders, only these were looming in front of me on my left and right. On one side, I have one of my 2 (for the last 8 years) horrors of my adulthood, the specter of Children's Services... looming large and dark... menacing to take my children away for neglect... On the other side are my RU mama mentors, halos shining, their voices in my head forever peaceful, calm, quiet, gentle... telling me not to use force... that I'm destroying the trust in our relationship... to honor his decisions for his own body... So, here I am, torn, crying and feeling like the biggest cop-out in the world when Storm takes the brush from me and crying, finishes brushing. Why?? Why do teeth loom so large for me? Why is the merest *thought* of dentures (for myself) enough to make me shudder in horror?? I can remember telling Dave that I didn't care if he lost all his long, thick glorious hair and went bald, but he'd better take care of his teeth, because the thought of kissing someone with no teeth made me nauseous. I snuggled Storm and appologized for a long time, explaining that this is as good as I can manage at this point, but that I hated doing it and I was trying to find a better way.... Man, I thought I had the whole tooth thing under control...

Now, as certain as I am that I am sliding down in "respectability" in so many people's eyes, I feel I HAVE to post this... I just have this feeling that some mamas, some parents SOMEwhere will get something (I have no idea WHAT) out of hearing this... I haven't "solved" it. I haven't come to terms with it. I have no answers. But maybe, just being able to see the struggle will help someone else find *their* answers, come to terms with *their* stuff, find their path a little farther into respectful relationships because of it.

Signing off, waiting for the rotten produce to start flying...