then there were glasses: and it’s okay.
“Are those props?” a 30-something hipster asked me while we were in line at the grocery store.
“Nope, they’re not props. She needs them…”
Does this guy know anything about kids? Why would I willingly put something on her face that she hates?
“Well, that’s really cool.”
I smile back at him, and wonder if he notices the feed pump hanging in her little black backpack, or the fact that her legs are sticking out of the baby bassinet, or that she’s not moving. But he doesn’t. Mercy.
It’s funny. I never thought my child would need glasses, although Jay has had corrective eye surgery, and I have a prescription for glasses, but no glasses….
I need to get on that.
We were at the specialist—the ophthalmologist, not to be confused with an optometrist (insert stuffy British accent here). She was a busy woman, with glasses herself. We waited two hours to get a simple prescription for glasses. I didn’t know that’s why we were there. Florence sometimes has a wandering eye, and it usually happens when she’s tired. After a few minutes, the doctor had her “figured out” and said she was slightly nearsighted, and that hopefully the glasses would correct her eye. And I barely shrugged, as I walked out of the hot, stuffy office, shooed down to the reception desk, to book another appointment for a few months.
The doctor’s assistant looked at me, and said “Oh I know, it’s a lot to take in, so yes, Florence will need glasses…”
“Okay.” I said.
What are glasses in the grand scheme of things? Absolutely nothing. I wonder if Florence was “healthy” if I would have been upset by this…the fact that my 18 month old needs to wear glasses on top of everything else. Will I miss her eyes? My armour was so thin before this.
And so, we have fun with it. I picked the “cutest” glasses you can get (in my opinion) for toddlers in less than ten minutes. There are not many to choose from, let me tell you. And Florence was having a tantrum (which she seems to enjoy doing these days), so she was getting all bubbly and red in the face, and I didn’t care that the woman helping us at the optometrist called her a “baby.” I didn’t care that I had to suction her and pull up Elmo on YouTube to calm her down. My child can’t really afford to have tantrums, so we try to stop them as soon as possible.
The glasses are bendy and soft and already a nuisance. But I can tell they make a difference for her. So now we have glasses added to the list, and it’s okay.
It’s okay, because His grace is sufficient, it is more than enough to cover us. It is like those thick, wooly socks I’m pulling onto my bare feet, as the fall weather rolls in through our single pane windows. His grace translates to hope, and hope comes in waves of endurance, and endurance builds strength in my bones, and strength satiates my hunger for breakthrough during the long, stormy nights.
I fall in love with her, more and more everyday.