When I was in grade 2 my parents took me to see the eye doctor. I had been having trouble seeing the black board in school and since they were both practically blind themselves figured I needed glasses. I walked out of the optometrist office with a brand new pair of pink glasses that could rival Sally Jessy Raphael.
For years after I wore glasses and endured the taunts of “four eyes” and my uncle calling me Sally. Finally in the ninth grade I was old enough to get contacts. My world changed forever when I got laser eye surgery and could see the alarm clock in the morning when I woke up.
The middle muppet was squinting and blinking a lot the past month and his teacher came to me and told me that I should maybe get his eyes checked. With my eye history I was thinking the same thing. We are not living in a country where you can just look up the nearest optometrist in the Yellow Pages and 90% of them here don’t even examine children under 7. I became a treasure hunter for an eye doctor, driving up and down streets peering in to shops, texting and calling everyone I knew that had a child with glasses. I was even talking to total strangers in the school yard when I saw that their young child had a pair of glasses!
All my hunting paid off and we were able to get the middle muppet an appointment with an optometrist that delt with children. The middle guy was excited and really wanted glasses, I was really apprehensive about it because I didn’t want him to have to get glasses but at the same time if he needed them I wanted him to feel good about it. So I kept my mouth shut. As we went through the examination I explained to him that Mummy had to do all of these when she was little. I told him about my pink glasses and he said that pink was nice but I probably would have liked them better if they were blue.
The optometrist came in with the final verdict, his eyes were perfect except that he had Allergic conjunctivitis which was causing his eyes to burn and be itchy. Thus causing him to blink and squint a lot, all of his symptoms could be treated with an antihistamine and some eye drops. As we walked out of the doctors office the middle guy asked me if he was going to pick out some glasses now. I knew that if I told him no that he would loose it and I really couldn’t handle him having a melt down on the way to the car. It was 45 degrees out and a really busy street so I told him that we were going to try some medicine and drops first and see if that helps. He was a bit bummed about that but agreed that it was a good thing to do.
Tonight was the first night we had to put the drops in and I don’t know if everyone’s experience is like this but putting drops in my children’s eyes is like wrestling a 50 pound feral cat! After many attempts of getting the middle muppet to lay his head on my lap with out loosing his god forsaken mind I resorted to “Plan B” which included me sitting on him and pinning him down as the oldest muppet held his head and the youngest cheered from the side lines. It was awful, to make matters even worse after I got the drops in he ran around screaming it burns, it’s poison so loudly that I am sure the neighbours 3 houses down could hear!
I know that I should be grateful that he doesn’t need glasses at this point but I am not so sure how either of us is going to feel after a week of these drops! Wish us luck 😉
The oldest muppet went to play school for the first time when he was three. He only went two days a week for two and a half hours. I was torn between joy and anxiety as I dropped him off for his first day. I was eight and a half months pregnant and the thought of having only one child for only a few hours had me a little giddy. The oldest muppet was excited, he barely hugged me goodbye and was in the classroom playing and having fun while the other children cried and clung to their mothers. When it came time to pick him up for the day he cried, he didn’t want to come home, he wanted to stay and play for the rest of the week.
This week was the youngest muppets first week at Pre-K, it was a struggle to get him to agree to going to school at all and I had nightmares about having to pull a screaming reluctant child from my vehicle everyday. On his first day after the other two muppets hyped him up he seemed like he was going to be ok. When the time came to say goodbye he clung to me screaming “Don’t go”, the teacher had to pry him off my neck and I quickly made my escape. When I came and picked him up he told me he had a wonderful day but he would NOT be going back tomorrow.
It is day five today and the youngest muppet woke up excited for school, he wants to pack his back pack at 6:30am and wait by the door until it is time to go. I don’t think I will have a problem dropping him off today, there will be no tears, and no clinging to me. I think he is ready for me to let him go.
My first experience with gymnastics was with the oldest muppet. He was just three and I was 8 months pregnant with the third muppet and the middle guy was a whopping 25 pounds, 15 months old and attached to my hip. My girlfriend suggested we put our children in the town gymnastic class, she had a set of twins the same age as the oldest muppet. We had this dream that our children would become olympic gymnasts while we sipped coffee on the sideline and got a quick visit in.
Our dreams were not shattered but actually blown to smithereens. We arrived in the gymnasium with all the other parents. There were 45 children in the room all ranging in ages 3-5 years old. They were quickly separated in to groups and sent off to their stations with their teachers. My friends two kids wouldn’t leave her side, she had to go from station to station coaxing them on to each apparatus. The oldest muppet on the other hand was apparently on speed and had decided that he was not going to listen to the instructions of waiting in line or staying with his group. He just ran around like a crazy person interrupting the classes and endangering other children and himself! I was the crazy pregnant woman chasing this menace with a baby on her hip as heavy as a sack of flour. We left 30 minutes in to the class for fear that i would either go in to labour or commit murder in front of a lot of witnesses.
So you could imagine my hesitation when my friend in Doha suggested that I register all three of my children for gymnastics this fall. She painted a lovely picture of my children enjoying and participating in this class and us enjoying a coffee a visit and a relaxing Friday morning. I knew this dream, I had chased it before and ended up a partially crazy person. But I thought what the heck, may as well be completely crazy it would happen sooner or later with three boys.
This morning after much moaning and groaning about having to leave the house we were on the road to gymnastics. The teacher took all of our information and told me that she didn’t want me in the class, I had to leave or go and sit in the rafters upstairs and watch. She was a little scary and strict looking so I told the boys that I had to go and to enjoy their class.
I sat for an hour and watched them find their little ways through the class, the youngest muppet looked like he wasn’t too keen to listen to the teacher but she quickly whipped him in to shape and by the end of the class he was following directions and having fun! The other two muppets came out of class with smiles on their faces and excitement for the following weeks class.
I guess waiting three years until we tried gymnastics again was a good thing!