Dinnercraft helps bring your (and our) protracted adolescence to an end. Our authors cover topics ranging from cooking and eating, to home and garden, to crafting and DiY, and all the rest of the things you find yourself caring about these days.
Riding the Short Bus Into Hell
When I was a child, I was a judgemental and snotty little punk.
At some point in time, I had incubated and hatched the notion that kids with glasses were either:
a)mentally handicapped
b) unloved, unwanted, socially inept losers
c) lesser people, in a lower caste
The worst fate that could befall a kid, I believed, was to be forced into wearing pink, plastic-y, octagon/giant frames, with tinted lenses (girls) OR gargantuan, gold metal rimmed, tinted, aviator style monstrosities (boys.) One glimpse of a potential team-mate or competitor with tinted lenses, and I would recoil and keep a distance. My impulse was to push Little Mr. Four-Eyes down, and run like hell. However, I always refrained from doing so (because I’m not TOTALLY sociopathic, you know.)
Yes, I was a judgemental child, and I’m sure that karma is biting my ass (hard) as an adult because of this.
Eventually, a horrible Tom Cruise movie would be inflicted upon the world, which put one of these little mutants front and centre. I would always feel agitated when someone would point to the little four-eyed, lisping brat on Jerry McGuire and coo “Awwww! He’s so cute! he looks so SMART!” In my mind, I was thinking “Nooo. Creepy! CREEPY! The only thing missing is amber tint. Show him the money to fix that. Yikes!”
Time marches on as time is apt to do, and I eventually went on too push out two gorgeous, perfect, blindingly intelligent daughters. *cough*
Every few months, we would attend the required “Well Baby” check ups at our public health facility, where the baby would be weighed, immunized and screened for early childhood intervention in speech, dental, hearing and vision. My daughters tested slightly ahead of their peer group for most things, and never had an issue turn up in these screenings or at regular doctor’s appointments. The government encourages proactive screening beyond these assessments, and has benchmark ages where they advise parents to ensure their child has: seen a dentist, an audiologist, an optometrist before the age of two. These appointments (and any subsequent follow-ups( are subsidized for all children in the province, so there isn’t a reason not to go. I took my kids to the dentist. To the audiologist. It was all good, just as I had expected. Since neither of them had expressed any problems with vision, I didn’t bother with the eye doctor until way after the 2 year mark that is the preferred first visit. Being that the oldest was 4, and the youngest was 2, I decided to get it over and done with so I could check it off and wipe my hands.
The two year old was hunky dory. No problems, no worries. Just as I expected.
The four year old? Not so much.
The initial appointment indicated that there were some alarming concerns with her sight. However, they assured me that what they were seeing was possibly a growth spurt related problem, and may well resolve itself in a few months. I felt relieved to have dodged the bullet. Clearly, my child who was reading, writing and drawing and never expressed a problem, didn’t need glasses! They booked us in to come back in six months. I mostly forgot about it. The sand in the hourglass trickled away, and we were back for a re-assessment.
It went on. And on. And on. And on.
By the end of it, they advised me that Julia would be needing glasses and that I needed to come back for another appointment so they could determine her prescription.
This got my hackles up. I could feel my jaw clenching.
I thought to myself “These bloody quacks are going to try selling me $500 in eyewear so that she can count birds on trees far away! Screw them! My kid doesn’t need to be the class pariah so they can turn a profit!”
I snapped at the doctor “What exactly does she need these things for? If this is minor distance correction, I’m not proceeding. She’s FOUR! This is ridiculous!”
The optometrist rifled through a drawer and brought out some lenses, and snapped them on to a pair of heavy duty glasses.
“Mrs. Everitt, if you put these on, you can see exactly what your daughter sees when she looks around.”
I snatched them, and tossed them on.
Water.
It was like seeing the world through the bottom of a glass of water.
My child couldn’t see a damn thing.
Not near. Not far.
I had never noticed. Not once.
I burst into tears, because if anyone deserved a kick in the clam and the title of “Shittiest Parent, EVER” it was me.
The optometrist assured me that my child had probably NEVER seen anything clearly, and had learned to strain and focus to see things.
Oh! That’s EVEN BETTER. Now I was NEGLIGENT on top of being an asshole. The day just kept getting better!
So.
What do you think my priority was?
“Oh God! She’s not going to need massive coke bottle glasses with tint like Bubbles from Trailer Park Boys, IS SHE? IS SHE??” I choked out to the doctor, as snot ran down my face. (I’m fairly certain that this is where I secured my reservation in Hell, by the way.)
“Well, they will be a little bit magnifying, because the prescription does that, but glasses have come a long way, and she can get a really cool pair that are not huge. Tint is optional.”
I went home weeping. Shallow, horrible thoughts ran through my head…
“My kid is going to get beat up at school because she looks like Bubbles from Trailer Park Boys….*sob*”
“People are going to think my kid is…retarded….*sob*”
“Julia is going to end up being a fat, single cat lady in pink bedazzeld track-suits, who lives in my basement, and will never find a husband…*sob*”
I mourned. I grieved. I lamented. I bitched. I cursed. I shook my fist at God.
Julia, on the other hand, was hot to trot for glasses, and totally gung ho.
And so, after another two appointments, we came home with a pair of over-priced, Disney Princess themed glasses in a tiny pink case.
Her glasses are funky, verging on trendy, and are navy blue. Not pink.
I declined the offending tint.
After borrowing a mantra from a mommy friend of mine “ON YOUR FACE OR IN THE CASE!”, we eventually became accustomed to Julia’s eye-wear, and it has not been destroyed or lost.
To date, she has not been shunned at school or on the soccer field. Most people tell her how much they love her spectacles. That she looks smart.
As for my hell-bound ass, old prejudices have melted away.
Finally, I can honestly say to another mother “Gosh, he looks CUTE in his glasses!” and actually mean it.
Maybe I’ll get a reprieve from eternal damnation after all?
I wore a pair of straight-up Sally Jessie frames from 3rd through 8th and look how awesome I turned out.
“Clearly, my child who was reading, writing and drawing and never expressed a problem, didn’t need glasses!”
yeah, that’s exactly my fear.