The Way We See It

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Last week my eight-year-old daughter found out that she needs eyeglasses. My husband and I both wear contact lenses and also got our first eyeglasses about her age, so we were concerned how she might take the news. As we picked out a cute pair of frames, she seemed almost giddy with excitement. When I was her age I begrudgingly wore mine, hating every minute of it. I was amazed that she was taking it so well. “I just want to see better” she said.

Don’t we all? Well, not quite all, but a large number of us do. According to statistics, 225 million Americans wear some kind of corrective lens. Of that number, 64% wear glasses; 11% wear contact lenses.

Although I got my glasses at age nine, I didn’t really wear them until I was in high school. And even then only when necessary to see the blackboard, when watching movies, or when driving. I guess, like most teenagers, I was too self-consious to wear them all the time even though I needed them.

I remember one day on the bus on the way to school, I suddenly realized that I had forgotten my glasses at home. My dad (who lived in a different home at the time) was picking me up after school and taking me to the DMV so that I could get my driver’s license. Crap. I knew that I wouldn’t be allowed to take the test without my glasses since my paperwork specified I needed corrective lenses. So what did I do? I turned to my friend, Melissa, who was sitting behind me on the bus and asked to borrow her glasses. That’s right, I got behind the wheel of a car wearing glasses that weren’t mine. Well, needless to say (but I’ll say it anyway), I failed. Yep, I failed my driver’s test on my first attempt. It could have had something to do with the way I ran over the cones during my three-point turn. Or, maybe I failed because I couldn’t see where the hell I was going.

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Turning Over a New Leaf

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My daily smoothie

Deciding to eat better at the flip of the calendar to a new year is cliche, I know. But it’s become so for a reason. The older I get the more I realize that there is less time left for me to become the person I want to become (a healthy and fit one) and live the life I want to live (running around after my kids and actually keeping up with them). Maybe turning 42 recently has jumpstarted this desire. Or perhaps it’s having just had my third child and finding it three times more difficult to get back to my healthy self than it did with my first two babies. Hmmm, probably both.

These days with our household so busy and my sleep so scattered, I’ve been working in triage mode. Feeling hungry? Grab whatever you can shove down in the five minutes you get to yourself. Need exercise? Push the stroller as you run (in a completely stressed-out manner) the six blocks to school with the other two in tow trying desperately not to be late. While that second one works in a pinch, the stress of the rush in the mornings likely cancels out any benefit of the sprint down the street. Sometimes we’re in such a rush that I leave without even eating anything. And as a breastfeeding mama, that leaves two of us really unhappy.

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