My Caretaker

As we age, eventually we stop being the caretakers, and our children take care of us. My friend used to call her children her "grocery carriers", because according to her, when she got old they had to bring her groceries.

Yesterday I went to get progressive lenses fit into my awesome nerdy Wayfarer glasses. I love them because they are green and blue and geeky, and while I don't love the progressives - it was time. Last time I got glasses I was on the cusp, this time I was full on in the valley of being in need.

It took 90 minutes for them to fit the lenses into my existing frames, so my family and I dropped off my frames and we went putzing around the mall. This immediately seemed like a bad idea, as I realized how very BLIND I am. I don't go anywhere but the bathroom at 3am without my glasses anymore.  I felt like an enfeebled old woman, holding on to my 10 year old's hand, whispering "Don't let go of me" as he walked me through the mall.

We stopped at the book store and went into Starbucks for a much needed coffee, my caffeine deficit was playing hell with me too, and as we sat at a table waiting on my husband to get our coffees, Julia looks at me and exclaims "MOMMY! WHERE ARE YOUR GLASSES???"

I leaned over and whispered, "Shhhh, they are fixing my glasses they are at the shop. Hush." The Starbucks patrons were giving us the eye. Or, I thought they were. I couldn't actually see that they were.

She wasn't to be thwarted, "DADDY! DADDY! MOMMY DOESN'T HAVE HER GLASSES!! DAAAADDDYYYYY!" she called across the coffee shop.

I leaned closer and hissed "Hush sweetie, shhhhhhh, it's ok...."

at which point she turned around, put her hand on her arm and said, "Shhh, Mommy it's ok. I've got this."


I guess she's already my caretaker, at age two.


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