Lean in guys, I have returned to the internet with stories. Stories I am inclined to title "How I came to spend excessive amounts of money on new designer glasses for my kids, and how I still have a rumbly tummy about it." Yeah, it's just that interesting. The alternate title goes something like "Also: my kids possess insane abilities to dramaticize just about everything." I am now claiming 'dramaticize' as a word.
So many, many weeks ago during a particularly difficult homework session, (I feel the need to insert my adoration and praise over the twin's schoolwork- they are amazing and surprisingly super good at math... to the point where I may be convinced they are adopted) I had suggested to Bunny that perhaps the reason she was having a difficult time with the sight words was because her prescription glasses needed adjusting. She agreed. So I noted it in my venus-fly-trap-esque brain and made an appointment for both girls to have a little check up at the ophthalmologist. The next double appointment was not for another three weeks, and I figured the problem was minor and could wait.
Clearly, Bunny did not agree on this.
Days afterwards she would inquire about the doctor visit, making pained faces when I told her it wouldn't be for another few weeks.
Fast forward a few weeks, and that morning? That morning was obtusely awful. Little Man woke up a full hour early, which is unheard of in our house- Mommy doesn't function before 7 am as a rule. He then followed up this delightful wakeup call by vomiting the sippie I had just handed him in my hazy sleepy state. Simply? Things were amiss. The girls seemed fine (if not enormously tired from being awoken too early) and I sent them off to school. This was the absolute wrong day to be skipping naps and instead spending long hours in a doctor's office. I called and explained the situation, and rescheduled the appointment even further down to the next month.
The girls were crestfallen at the news, but I thought they had moved on. I was obviously wrong.
A few days later, Bunny was in a foul mood, indeed. She's been stuck in a whiny mood for a while- the twins alternate personalities on what seems to be a quarterly basis- it is just as exciting and lovely as it sounds. At bedtime Bunny whined about everything under the sun- her pajamas were not the right color, she had not had enough to drink before bed, all the usual stuff, until the end where she exclaimed "My eyes can't see, Mommy!" This was a new development and I decided to investigate further. I held up two fingers and asked her to count them. She answered "Um, three?" With lots of squinting and sighing. Red flag number one. I tried it again with the lights on, then put her glasses on, from varying distances, still the same answers. I resolved to pick it up again in the morning to see if she just needed some rest.
The next day I casually inserted my little test. Three? Three fingers?! I am only holding up TWO! And here come All The Red Flags Ever. I marched over to the phone and rang up the doc. In a slightly panicked tone I demanded the next available appointment, it was an EMERGENCY. The next appointment? That would be tomorrow... at 8 am.
No time to arrange child care, or getting Squirt to the bus, I was going to have to take all three kids, in the wee hours of the morning over to what would be an alarming meeting with the eye doctor telling me my child has suddenly gone blind. Deeeelightful.
I had to set my alarm extra early because we go to the farthest regions still considered in town to see what I am hoping is one of the best Ophthalmologists in the valley. I have to take all three of my city's freeways. We only have three, and I have to use all of them. It feels like a trek to get to this outpost. Oh, and yeah, it is rush hour time. I had to stop at a doughnut place to get emergency jelly filled doughnuts & a VAT of Diet Coke.
The appointment is long and tedious. We are moved from one exam room to another, into the waiting room for a while for her eyes to dilate. The other two children are fighting over the Angry Birds game while at the same time being disgruntled at the fact that they do not get their own eyes dilated. It takes almost two hours.
In the end, the doctor concludes that a mild tweak is in order. MILD. And technically it is a LESSER prescription than what she has now. This not-being-able-to-see-two-fingers-thing? Complete fabrication from my six year old. She convinced herself that she needed to see a doctor, and by all heavens, she was going to see that darned doctor- ASAP. Parental manipulation if needed.
I was a little peeved... and feeling very nauseous from my stellar breakfast choices earlier that day.
Then the real fun starts. Bunny declares that she wants a brand new, different set of glasses to be a "New Bunny" as she puts it. Her old glasses are a bit on the small side, having grown into them for almost three years. I gave her a "maybe, we'll see" and headed back to the magical glasses store in an inconvenient location. This little shop had been our saving grace after literally trucking three year old twins and a newborn to 10? 20? places to find the only frames that would fit my daughter's delicate features. So yeah, this is my place.
Turns out my place has changed, and has become "out of network" for our insurance. This is bad, bad news for my pocketbook. We find the only option that suit the girls' faces AND come in pink & purple- the color assignment standard in our home; Pink for Bunny, Purple for Squirt. We divy up toys, clothes, everything with the pink/purple model. So it is kind of a big deal around here, even if it sounds ridiculous to non-type-a-people. It is at this time the lady helping us informs me of the change in insurance policies. The usual $50 copay for glasses is a thing of the past. With their special "no insurance" discount the total comes to $140+. This is for one pair, mind you. I have two bespectacled children. We're talking about $300 in glasses.
I deem this as excessive and impossible, and embark on the most ridiculous flailing and worrying spiral ever. I find an option online for $25, inclusive. However the measurements of the frame are off slightly, and having seen it first hand, sticking tightly to the numbers is important on the tiny features of my girls. One number off and it is comical how ill fitting the frame becomes. The second option is to scour the valley for alternatives, an option I simply do not have the resources or strength to do. After much hand wringing and stress eating, I appeal to the husband- gamble on discount frames, or pony up the funds for the sure-bet. He chooses the latter, and I thwonk my credit card on the counter with conviction. Then slowly sob inwardly at all the money that is walking out the door.
Squirt's appointment is in two weeks. She will want new frames no matter if there is a change in prescription or not- she will demand equal treatment, and she will get it. I will be making numerous runs back and forth to the glasses valhalla shop. This is my fate and I am resigning myself to it... after the ulcer heals, I'm sure it will be fine.
These anxiety issues are horrendous. I made pro/con lists for cheap internet pair and pricey designer frames. I agonized over it, and am only just recently putting it to rest as done... nothing more to do about it now. Also? How messed up was it for Bunny to play me like that? Ruthless, kid, ruthless. Take some pity on your anxiety riddled mother.
I am WITH YOU on the color coding; it has made my life MUCH simpler!ReplyDelete