Soda Pop and Screen Time

At least once a week, if not twice, someone in the family has been going to visit a doctor. I've been sick and I missed N's performances of "Cinderella" and J's 15th birthday while I shivered and slept for two days. Children with infected toes and bronchitis. Could it have anything to do with this long, long, cold winter? (The last day of March and it's still snowing!)

On Tuesday J & W, ages 4 and 6, went to the pediatrician's office for their annual well child visits.

We weren't able to schedule with Dr. Murphy, who has been caring for the boys for 15 years now. Instead, we saw a different doctor, Dr. Bauer, who was new to us.

Keep in mind that W is a very good story-teller. He has a wonderful imagination and he often role plays Super Heroes and other characters. Our own doctor, Dr. Murphy, knows this. She knows that WestBerry Dad is very tall. She understands that accidents happen, often, in a house full of boys.

It seemed impolite to warn the new doctor about W's stories. In fact, I didn't get a chance to speak with her much at all. The office is going to electronic record keeping and for a good 30 minutes we waited in the tiny rom while she typed and reviewed records.

W filled the new doctor's ears with some pretty tall tales.

"I watch TV for AT LEAST six hours every day." I watch the Wii and play the Ipod, Playstation 3 and my DS." (2 out of three of those items are currently lost in his room)

"We eat candy for breakfast."

"I don't like milk. I drink a lot of soda."(He gets soda a few times each YEAR thank you!)

(At least he didn't throw in any good child abuse stories. for that I should be grateful.)

And she bit. Hook, line and sinker.

We had to stay an extra hour for "eat five vegetables of every color in the rainbow" practice because their BMI had increased by 3%. We discussed alternatives to screen time.

I smiled and nodded.

Spectacles

Glasses are not merely an accessory for me. They are a necessary evil. After wearing my contacts for the first 16 hours of the day, I put them on, sit or lay on the couch or my bed, and very soon, a child (or the poodle) comes over to cuddle and pushes them back into the bridge of my nose or deep into my temples.

It's a ritual I savor. I read two or three pages of a magazine and then wake myself back up by my loud snoring, throw the magazine on the floor and turn off the light.

It's been many, many years since the purchase of new glasses. Please don't ask me how long. I don't remember.

I went to the optometrist/optician yesterday and they asked me over and over, "how OLD are these glasses?" The experience stirred up a wide range of childhood fears (and grown up frustrations, like trying to keep my 4-year old entertained for two hours in a small dark room).

"You really do need to have your eyes dilated."("I'm sorry, I can't. I don't have anyone to drive me home." 10x)

"You need such a strong prescription that they don't even make contacts in that power!"

"Your face is such an unusual size and shape." "And your eyes, they are set very close together."

Unless you choose the super expensive, high tech lenses with anti-glare coating, your glasses will be very thick and heavy" (and you will look like a...)

"Well ok, if you like those frames. I was taught that people with a head shaped like yours would look better in sharp angles."

$350 later (after my insurance benefit) my 4-year old was finally free to go back to swinging from vines. We treated ourselves to filled cupcakes at the bakery and I drove the hour home, without dilated pupils.

Resident Evil

Today is my oldest son's 15th Birthday. I'm so impressed by the young man he has become. I could go on an on about his accomplishments and his character. That's not a picture of my son, by the way.

Along with certificates and victories, this school year has been characterized by several tragic events. His friend Katy was murdered by her brother-in-law. Yesterday, another friend took her own life by hanging herself at the local park. Who found her? Why?

I asked the children about her last night. Erin was kind. She had a boyfriend. She was a great student. And she colored her hair almost every day ("ahhh, an artist," I thought)

Evil seems to be swirling closer and closer. I'm haunted by a recent news report about a man, David Wampler, who drugged and raped teenagers in his home. He supplied them every kind of drug from cocaine to oxycontin to nitrous oxide.

David was my student for two semesters. He was the kind of person who made the hair on my arms stand up when he walked by. I dreaded facing him in the hallway or in my office. He often visited me to ask for favors or to talk about his "wild" trips to Ibiza and Mallorca.

I'm not saying I knew he was a criminal. Really, I don't know what conclusion to draw or what lesson to take away except the piercing reality that I need to be all the more vigilant.