Just got back from getting the Evil Childe her first pair of contact lenses. And I�m quite irritated over the whole matter, if the truth be told.

See, the kid has inherited my hypochondriac genes, with one twist: while I�d rather take vitamins and herbs or even just die of the various and sundry exotic illnesses with which I imagine myself having been stricken rather than brave the horrors of the medical establishment, this weird child loves to go to the doctor. LOVES it. Every time I turn around she has a new ache or pain and �needs� me to make her a doctor�s appointment. Now, believe me, if she had symptoms that seemed serious, I�d drop everything and take her in a heartbeat; but often we�re talking little stuff like a sore throat that bears no resemblance at all to strep, that with the help of a little hot honey-lemon tea will be gone in a few days with or without medical attention. Or the sore, achy knees, which after looking up all the accompanying symptoms on the Internet, I came to the conclusion she was suffering from what used to be called �growing pains� but now has a fancy-shmancy medical name that basically means �We don�t know WHY your knees hurt, kid, but we do know that you�re not going to die from it so go home and take some aceteminophen and quitcher bitching.�

But my kid couldn�t just take my word for it. No, she HAD to have it looked at by an MD, and when I didn�t make the appointment quick enough to suit her she went to the school nurse and got a condescending little note telling me I really ought to take her in... you know, like any decent responsible mother would. So ok, FINE. We went in to the office and after a brief look-see the doctor said basically �doesn�t look serious to me. Though we could do an X-Ray if you want...� Guess who jumped all over that? So we spent another hour and who-knows-how-many dollars getting her X-rayed and after all that, it turned out to be... growing pains. Huh.

So anyway... the kid decided a few months ago that her vision was �a little blurry.� Now, I put her off for a couple of weeks due to the fact that our vision insurance is crap, and I simply didn�t HAVE a couple hunnerd to get her a pair of glasses, and anyway, it�s not like she was squinting or walking into walls or anything. But naturally she sobbed her tale of woe to the school nurse, who called me at home to let me know I needed to have her eyes checked. The actual exam was only $10, so I went ahead and took her in.

She was pronounced to have 20/40 vision. Now, 20/40 is practically normal, for pete�s sake. You are considered by the DMV not to need corrective lenses if your vision tests at 20/40. But of course Dr. Greed gave us a big song and dance about how getting lenses now may keep her eyes from getting worse in the future, and of course the kid was all over that.

And there�s the shit. If I don�t get her the glasses she thinks she needs, she will forever have it stuck in her craw that I was a bad mother who neglected her most basic of medical needs in favor of spending all my money and time on my own selfish pleasure, laughing like Cruella Deville as I dismissed her suffering with a wave of my bony hand.

So I couldn�t very well tell her no. So then the question became �glasses or contacts.� She wanted contacts for vanity reasons, and I thought glasses would be better because contacts are a pain in the ass and she�s a lazy turd at heart. I know she�ll be heartily sick of the hassle in short order and just as soon as the novelty wears off, there my $150 investment will sit rotting in the little case while she goes around squinting again because it�s easier and her eyesight really just isn�t all that damn bad, after all. Glasses, on the other hand, would be just as bad a bargain considering she doesn�t want them and so will not wear them; and in the process of being shunted from purse to pocket to any old available horizontal surface, soon they will have disappeared into the great unknown, as glasses which are unloved and unworn are wont to do.

So I grudgingly coughed up the money for contacts, knowing full well I might just as well have taken the money and used it to light cigars, for all the good it�s going to end up doing. Not wanting to do any more damage to her delicate little psyche (and also just because I don�t feel like arguing about it with her and incurring her evil cold little �how dare you not trust me� glare) I have not shared these concerns with her, except to say that if she doesn�t take care of the contact lenses I can�t afford to replace them. I oughta book some bets on how long she�ll actually be interested in wearing them. I�m thinking three weeks, tops.

Oh, and the real kick in the ass? After coaching her through the 20 minute struggle to get the contacts into her eyes, the optician's assistant asked her if things looked any clearer with her new eyes. "Not really," she said. "Well, maybe a little."

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Crappy job crap, weird neighbor, and someone whose baby I apparently want to have - 2006-05-08
Live from the dump - 2006-04-09
Kind of like a muzzle for your brain - 2006-03-29
...and then she fell ass-first into my cereal bowl - 2006-03-28
Playing catch-up - 2006-03-27

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