As I was reading through the comments on my last post (asking for favorite comments about your child in glasses), it got me thinking about the good things to say to young kids in glasses, and to their parents.  And that, of course, led to me thinking about the things not to say.  Now, I’m sure there’s going to be some disagreement on some of these things.  Different people (kids and parents alike) are sensitive to different types of comments, what one person finds funny might really upset someone else.  Still, I expect there’s some general guidelines we could pull together.  All the examples below are comments that we’ve gotten personally, or ones I’ve heard about through this blog and the facebook group.

Oh, and there’s nothing wrong with saying nothing about the glasses.  It can be really hard when a child is first starting to wear glasses, even when they’re too young to care what anyone thinks.  A lot of times parents get them to wear their glasses by distracting them with an interesting trip out and about.  Having someone point out the glasses may remind the child that the glasses are there, leading to more struggles to keep them on.  But I’ve come to the realization that sometimes, you see this little one in glasses and you just have to say something.

So let’s start with what not to say:

• 

  Yes, they're real...and with them, my vision is spectacular!

  “Are those real?”
  No, they’re just imaginary.  It’s such a silly question, and yet it’s one of the most common questions that parents of a young child in glasses get.  Yes, our children look very cute in them, but believe us when we say that we would not spend the money and effort to get our child to wear these if they weren’t needed.

• “What’s wrong with your child?”  or “What’s wrong with her eyes?“
  While it’s totally reasonable to wonder why a child is wearing glasses, asking what’s “wrong” with them is really hurtful.  It’s a pretty good bet that they’re wearing glasses because their vision needs correcting (though they could be protective if the child is blind in one eye).  You could ask why the child needs glasses, without using the term “wrong”  if it’s something that you really want to know.
• Any nonsense about glasses hurting the child’s vision, or questioning whether the eye doctor got things wrong.
  Again, no one puts glasses on our children without good reason.  The glasses are there to help our child’s vision develop correctly.
• “Poor baby!”
  Glasses can be difficult, and bad vision is nothing to sneeze at, but the glasses are correcting our children’s vision.  They’re helping them to see, they don’t need pity.
• Just pointing or staring or making mocking gestures about the glasses.
  It’s just rude.  Don’t do it.  I’m sure you were raised better than that.
• He looks so cute in those glasses!
  This seems like a nice thing to say, and yes, it’s true, our kids do look cute in their glasses, but it makes it sound like they wouldn’t look cute without their glasses, and that’s simply not true.
• She looks so smart in those glasses!
  Again, this sounds like our children don’t look smart without glasses.  And besides, glasses have a magical ability to help our kids see better, but they don’t have any ability to change our child’s intelligence (not that our kids would need it).

Things to say

• Comment on something other than the glasses
  One of the fears I’ve often heard from parents is that people will always focus on their child’s glasses, and not on them.  And that fear isn’t unfounded, the majority of comments that I hear from strangers about Zoe are related to her glasses.  So buck the trend: compliment the child’s beautiful eyes, or their smile, or their quick wit, or how fast they run, or how well behaved they are.  We’d love it.
• Comment on a specific aspect of the glasses.
  Rather than simply saying a child looks cute in glasses, you could talk about how the color of the glasses brings out our child’s eyes, or that their shape really compliments his face, or that the glasses really match her personality.  If the child is old enough, you could ask if they picked out the glasses and tell them what a good job they did with that.

If you do comment on the glasses, don’t be surprised if the child is really shy or upset by it.  Zoe is normally a talkative kid, but she often clams up when she gets comments on her glasses.

Questions

We all get a lot of questions about our children’s glasses, probably the younger the child, the more questions we hear.  A parent of a young child in glasses gets pretty good at answering questions about how they knew their child needed glasses, how on earth you get a child to wear glasses, or how they can test a pre-verbal baby’s vision.  Please ask, especially if you have a young child yourself, because good vision is extremely important, and if we can help someone catch a vision problem early, then that’s a great thing.

In my career as a mommy, there have been moments that I am not proud of.

Like this weekend, when I told my husband that he just had to watch the baby for a few minutes. I had something important to do.

(Really, I just had to go down to the kitchen and eat cookie dough straight from the refrigerator).

Maybe not my finest moment.

Or later that evening, when we took my daughter out to dinner.

As walked up and down the sidewalk, waiting for our food to be ready, we were stopped by a couple and their young son.

“I have to ask, how do you get her to keep her glasses on?” Asked the woman, lounging in her chair.

And in the same breath, she choked, “But she’s still sooo cute.”

And, in that moment, I loathed her. Loath is too kind a word. I hated her. I didn’t hate her for the question. The question is fair enough. In fact, it is the second most popular question we get.

I hated her for the implication. For the tone.

Why shouldn’t my daughter still be cute? She is beautiful. She is perfect. The glasses are irrelevant. Are you saying they’re not?

My words were acrid in my mouth as I responded to the woman.

“She keeps them on because she can’t see very well without them.”

And then I walked away.

My blood felt hot and my stomach felt heavy.

I did not feel particularly proud of that.

***

But, if I’m being honest, there was another moment.

A moment that I am nearly too afraid to describe.

A moment that was so painful and confusing and embarrassing that it still makes my heart hurt.

I was taking my daughter for a walk. We strolled around a beautiful, outdoor shopping complex, and as I pushed my precious girl in her stroller, we chatted and she laughed with me. I felt so happy. I felt love.

And as we walked, I saw a pregnant woman sitting on a bench. She looked up, studied my daughter and smiled. But, for an instant, I thought I caught a glimpse of her face contorting…I thought I saw another emotion begin to creep across her features…

And that’s when it happened;

My least proud moment:

I worried that this woman, this pregnant vessel to a new life soon to be born, was looking at my daughter and hoping that her baby wouldn’t have to have glasses like mine. I thought I saw pity in her eyes.

And then, I died inside.

Not because I cared what the woman thought–

not at all–

but because I hated myself for letting my mind go to that horrible, terrible, scary place.

I felt ashamed.

I did not feel proud on that day.

So, I gave myself a time out.

I asked myself why I read sadness or fear in the mist that had gathered in the pregnant woman’s eyes.

And in my time out, I recognized that while I have totally grown to love and accept my daughters eyes,

all four of them,

it still hurts sometimes.

It hurt when the woman in the restaurant this weekend asked me how my daughter kept her glasses on.

And it didn’t hurt because of what she was saying and how she said it,

even though it felt that way at the time;

it hurt because of how I had to answer:

“She keeps them on because she can’t see very well without them.”

It hurts. It hurts that my daughter has eyes that don’t work perfectly. It hurts that at night, when I tuck her into bed, kiss her, and tell her how much I love her, that I have to remove her glasses from her face, stealing her sight from her as she drifts towards slumber.

It breaks my heart.

But in my time out, I realized something else; I am allowed to feel crummy. I am allowed to look into the scariest depths of my anxieties, as long as I can shake them off and go on living. Because the truth is, my daughter can see.

The truth is, she looks adorable in her little pink frames with her magnified eyes.

The truth is, the pregnant woman was probably looking at my daughter with misty eyes because she was thinking,

I can’t believe I will soon have one of those. A child with whom I can walk around and talk and laugh with on a beautiful day. How lucky I am. How lucky they are.

***

And so, this weekend, as we strolled up and down the sidewalk waiting for our food to arrive, I shot a smile down to the woman who had asked about my daughter’s glasses. She didn’t mean any harm, after all. And when Another young couple with a little girl stopped us to say how cute my daughter was, I felt wonderful, and the smile that spread across my face was genuine and bright. And when they complimented her on her adorable glasses and fabulous shoes, I felt happy, as I told them, “Yes, my little girl sure does know how to accessorize an outfit.”

And once again, I felt proud.

Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve grown to love my baby girl’s glasses.

They help her, they are a tangible solution to a small problem, and they look so darn cute.

I’ve learned to love them so much, that I have stopped thinking about them.

I have accepted them.

They have become a wonderful, valuable, treasured part of my wonderful, valuable treasure.

And then, today happened.

It all started innocently enough. I went to Ikea with my mom and sister (a fellow life-long member of the glasses tribe). We joked our way through the rows of Hemnes and Karslbad  and were having a great time until I came upon a family who was hovered by the Klippan sofa display.

It happened in slow motion.

As I saw the six year old boy spot my daughter,

who was sitting peacefully in her stroller, munching on a soft prezel,

I noticed his hand start to raise as his index finger jutted towards her.

“NOOOOOOOOOO!” I wanted to scream, as my ears filled up with the noise of my pounding heart.

“Look at that baaaaaaaaby!”

He shouted, as he pointed, wagging his finger at my daughter’s heart shaped face.

“She has glassssssses! Why does that baaaaaaby have glasses?”

And he did not say it in a nice way.

In fact, he said it in about as mean of a way as someone who wears Spongebob Underpants could muster.

His mother scolded him, and commented how he was being “rude” (Okay, mom. I’m sure he feels terrible about his “rudeness”.) and how he was wrong, that she actually is so cute in her glasses.

Yes. Just like that.

And then my heart shattered in 80 grillion pieces.

I did not say a word. I did not scold the little boy. I did not preach to him. I did not “kill them with kindness”.

I, instead, sought refuge in my sister’s arms,

somewhere between the Kivik chairs and my own personal hell.

And I cried.

My heart ached for my little girl.

This was the first time that she was teased for wearing glasses.

And she had no idea. She just sat eating her pretzel, happy and smiling.

And that made it infinitely worse.

But, my sister, being the wise baby sibling that she is, talked me through it.

She has been wearing glasses since she was two, and she assured me that she has never felt ashamed or bad or silly because of her glasses. Never. Not once. She told me that they are an accessory. That she loved her specs.

And I had no choice but to believe her.

That is what survival is all about.

And so,

I went on with my Ikexcursion, and as I pushed my happy little glasses wearing girl, my heart began to piece itself back together.

And I realized that I will never be able to control what people think or say or how they act. All I can do is to take care of my daughter’s needs, both physical and emotional, in the best way I can.

When she is old enough,

I will not tell her, “Yes, you are bespectacled.”

I will tell her “You are you. You are Bespectacular.”

So when we reached the cash registers

and the nice, young lady behind us made goo-goo eyes at my little girl, I held my breath, but knew I could handle whatever comment she threw our way.

She told me that she loooooved my daughter’s glasses.

I told her that I love them too.

And I do.

So, with dried tears and a full heart, I bought us $1 cone of frozen yogurt. Always be spectacular, I say,

and always treat your little girl to dessert.

It has been 10 days since my sweet girl got her glasses.

On day 1, I hated them.

She looks different. People are looking at her differently. She’s not used to them. Are they uncomfortable? Is she still the same little girl? Of course she’s the same little girl. What is wrong with me? How could I be so shallow? So vain? Will I always feel this way?

These questions,

these fears,

played for me, over and over again,

like a montage in my mind.

In the battle between me and my daughter’s farsightedness,

the glasses were totally kicking my behind.

On Day 2, I decided to take my daughter out for the first time.

Please know that I recognize how silly this sounds. I am a devout believer of inner-beauty and unconditional love, and an advocate for compassion and tolerance. I knew how much worse it could be. Yet, I hated them, still.

And so, I took my little girl to a local farmer’s market. I felt vulnerable. For my girl. For us.

I was scared.

The first person who greeted us smiled at my daughter. “She’s soooo cute!” the woman said.

“HER GLASSES ARE NEW. THIS IS HER FIRST DAY WEARING THEM.” The words spewed from my mouth, so quickly I had scarcely taken a breath. My defenses were up, my sword was drawn, and I would make sure to strike first, before anyone could dare comment on my daughter and her eyewear. I was so scared that people would look at my beautiful little girl and only see glasses. So, in true crazy-person fashion, I headed them off at the pass.

The next person to approach us was a kind, older lady who squealed when she took in the sight of my little one.

“Ooh! My, look at her cute shoes!”

I exhaled. I bit my tongue. Don’t mention her glasses. Don’t make any sudden movements.

“Thank you.” I choked out between my smile of gritted teeth.

“And those glasses! They are adorable!”

I am not sure if was able to muster a thank you before pivoting and scurrying off without my broccoli rabe.

Why was this so hard for me? What was my problem?

And then, around day 3, something amazing started to happen. My little girl began to keep her glasses on all day long. She began to whine or whimper when they would come off. And she started to study her books with a new intensity. She started to say new words. She started doing things she’d never done before. So many things.

And  she started to look like herself again to me.

She was my little girl again. A new version, yes, but certainly a better one. She began to see world around her with new clarity. She could, for the first time, see blades of grass and the tiny spots on a ladybug; she could see my face, beaming with pride.

So now, on day 10, I love her glasses. I appreciate them.

And yes, every time we go out, we get at least a comment or two.

“She looks so precious!”

“I didn’t know they made glasses that small!”

“My daughter also needed glasses as a baby.”

And, the ever-popular,

“How did you know she needed them?”

That one I have fun with.

“Oh, she started to read her sonnets in Spanish instead of French, so we knew her eyes weren’t working properly.”

Or something like that.

So yes, my fears have come true in some ways, because the fact that she wears glasses have become a thing.

But, you know what? Everyone has a thing.

And as far as  things go, I’ll take this one any day of the week.

So, my daughter isn’t the only one seeing the world differently right now.

When I look at her little face, I am reminded to always lead with love,

to give compassion to everyone I meet,

to stop making assumptions based on how things look

and to always,

always,

look on the bright side and stay positive.

Because you know what? Life is much better with a glass(es) have full.

In fact, you just might say that everything looks

rather rosey.

Filed under: babies with glasses, glasses, in the beginning..., reactions, toddlers with glasses Tagged: babies with glasses, rose colored glasses, staying positive, tolerance ]]> http://littlefoureyes.com/2011/06/03/rose-colored-glasses/feed/ 37 mommyeverafter http://littlefoureyes.com/2011/04/16/superficial-but-fun-glasses-as-stylish-kid-statement/ http://littlefoureyes.com/2011/04/16/superficial-but-fun-glasses-as-stylish-kid-statement/#comments Sat, 16 Apr 2011 23:53:51 +0000 amberhj http://littlefoureyes.com/?p=3344 ]]> I’m sure you’ll agree: glasses are exceedingly stylish these days! Below you’ll find Exhibits Y and Z–just a couple out of many, many pieces of supporting evidence. The old ideas about “geeks in specs” are way outdated. Glasses are now an “it” accessory. After all, celebrities and hipsters have been wearing vanity frames for a while. I wore them for a month or two when Stella got her frames. They were big, bold and white, just $2.99 from Forever 21, and even they got rave reviews!

Perusing J.Crew’s kids’ section is always fun, because you so often see a kid in one of the stylish frames they offer, which can be used for prescription lenses, but the frames only come in one size, which is unfortunately limiting.

J.Crew sells frames and proves that glasses are cute as can be

I hate to support gossip websites but I’m making an exception here. The blogosphere’s reaction to Violet Affleck’s new glasses was a collective sigh in admiration of her overwhelming cuteness. One blogger featured pictures under the heading “Violet Affleck: Pink Glasses Gorgeous!” and it showed up in fashion feeds. My reaction? “I need to find out who makes those frames!” She’s got at least two pairs and they’re undeniably chic. (For those who don’t have guilty habits like occasionally visiting gossip sites, Violet is the five-year-old daughter of megastars Jennifer Garner and Ben Affleck.) Here is People Magazine’s note about this news, which probably got more coverage than most ongoing conflicts in the Middle East: “Spotted: Violet Affleck and Her Fabulous Frames.”

Concluding thoughts ala Andy Rooney: As parents we still can’t help but worry a little bit about potential teasing, but if it’s not glasses, it’s something else, and the only way to protect them from all that is to instill an authentic sense of confidence in one’s self. I think that we parents in The Little Four Eyes community do such a great job of embracing glasses, and celebrating them. So if teasing ever does occur, our kids will be able to brush it off. My anxiety about perception is almost nil at this point, because Stella gets compliments on her glasses every day. She is only two and usually shy in public, she doesn’t reply–but at home I do hear her say that she likes her glasses, and she is pleased that they are purple. I hope she’s taking in those kind words from strangers and friends and building a very positive and confident view of her lovely lenses. I’m so glad that positive references to glasses are now everywhere. More and more differences are being celebrated as unique and attractive, and it’s wonderful to see.

I know Ann has done some great posts about reactions to glasses. But looking at the gushing headlines about little Miss Affleck made me want to ask everyone: What is the best or most heartwarming reaction your child has ever received? Or one that somehow really made your child feel good?

We’ve had plenty of discussions of some of the insensitive, and even downright rude, reactions that people have to young kids in glasses.  Whether it’s questioning whether the glasses are real, questioning whether we’re hurting our child by putting them in glasses, or just pointing and laughing, it can wear on a person.  But what are some of the sweet or kind responses you’ve gotten?  Ones that made you or your child genuinely smile.

I do know that eyewear is a lot nicer looking than it was when most of us were kids, and that more and more kids are wearing glasses, though usually at an older age than our kids.  Does this mean that the teasing for glasses will be less?  There was that study in 2008 that found that kids do not think glasses make other children less attractive or less athletic, though they do think other kids in glasses are smarter and more honest.  Does that translate into less teasing?

I’d love to hear from parents of older children about whether their kids have been teased about glasses, or whether they’ve observed kids making fun of others about their glasses.

tiger face

We got just as many comments as usual this afternoon, but not one of them had anything to do with her glasses.

Do you like when people comment on your child’s glasses?  Or would you rather they not make any big deal out of them?  I know I go back and forth between enjoying the attention Zoe gets and just finding it a little too much – for her part, Zoe doesn’t seem to care.  What’s the stranges comments or questions you’ve gotten (the weirdest for me was when someone asked if Zoe was wearing Sarah Palin glasses, which was just inexplicable – Zoe’s glasses were way cuter.)?

And this brings me to a related question – I’ve noticed more children who are patching, and I want to say something to them, along the lines of congratulating them for working to strengthen their eye, or complimenting the patch if it’s colorful or fun, but from reading the stories here and other places, it seems that kids who are patching are more self-conscious of the patches, and that a lot of parents work hard to get them to forget they’re there during the patching session.  So I’ve stayed quiet

I’ve noticed that recently we’ve gotten a lot more questions about whether Zoe’s glasses are “real.”  I guess now that she’s old enough to choose her own outfits, it’s possible that she might want to wear glasses that do nothing for her.  Then on our train trip out to see my family I had two different people ask me if Zoe’s temporary tattoo of a dog driving a firetruck was real!  And I realize that silly comments are absolutely not limited to kids wearing glasses.