Four Eyes

I’ve had a lot of nicknames during my 35 years.  When I was a kid, my friends called me Jumpin’ Jenny.  I guess I had some pep in my step back then.  In college, I was Papa Smurf (I can’t remember why).  In graduate school, I was Sparky.  I don’t really have a nickname now, although Mike calls me JT (long story) and Dylan sometimes calls me Stinky Pants.

Now you can call me Four Eyes.  I went to the eye doctor last week because I was feeling a lot of tension and fatigue in my eyes.  I don’t wear glasses so I figured it was stress (i.e. motherhood), and as you can imagine, there were a few days when I feared it was some kind of cancer.  In the end, though, it turns out I’m just farsighted.  “Normal wear and tear of the eyes,” said the eye doctor.  In other words, I’m getting old.

I always thought of eyeglasses as an exotic and exciting fashion accessory.  It was kind of fun to pick out the frames, especially since my insurance covered almost all of it (guilt-free shopping!), but the reality of this new accessory has been a little bit less glamorous.

I’ve had the new glasses for a few hours and I’ve already taken them on and off at least a dozen times.  I need them for activities like reading, working at the computer and using my cell phone, which as it turns out, is a lot.  (Words With Friends can happen anywhere!)  I don’t know what to do with them once I take them off because I don’t know if I’m going to need them again in 10 seconds or 10 minutes.  I put them down in one room and then I walk into another room and realize I need them again.  I’m going nuts!

Deep breath.  Okay, my panic attack is over.  If I can give birth to two children and teach Dylan that it’s not nice to call someone Stinky Pants (especially his mother!), I should be able to figure out how to deal with these glasses.

What do you think?