Ordinary Time heralds lots of new things in my life, including my glasses...

Happy Tuesday all! And I hope you had a wonderful weekend. I did. For the most part. The kids fought a lot, that always brings everybody down, but on the whole it was really nice. ;-)

This section of Ordinary Time has felt really refreshing to me, sort of like a new start in my spiritual life in a lot of ways. I've been novena'ing along nicely (new verb, coined right there), and Adoration has been going pretty smoothly, which is great. But I've also noticed some changes with my kids and their spirituality. Anne is suddenly...such a big girl!

*sob!*

She goes up every week now during Mass with the Children's Liturgy of the Word crowd, and is all excited to do so, coloring pictures ahead of time to give to the teacher. I mean, did you ever? She is so cute. This frees me up to actually be able to HEAR the Gospel and the Homily, which I will admit, is a nice amenity. She also brings me rosary beads at home, and asks to pray with me. I'll recite the prayers, and she keeps track of where we are on the beads. Just...

So precious. She keeps asking to go to church, she loves it. Henry, on the other hand, while a very good boy, is definitely going through that "church is boring!" phase. Very age appropriate, to be sure. And he's acting very stubbornly as a result, taking forever to get ready for Mass and to accompany us out to the car. He still loves learning about the saints, but connecting the lives of the saints with Mass attendance just hasn't happened for him yet. I have been praying for him to make a more personal connection with his faith and with God.

As for me, I can feel myself having to adjust and adapt to these new emotions going on with my children. As ever, I'm doing the best that I can, but I fear that I'm screwing it all up somehow. :) Thank God for the guidance that comes from Adoration.

#ThePiecesComeTogether

But in other weekend/changes news, I had my yearly ophthalmology appointment, and we all know how these appointments seem to somehow form an annual ode to my aging process. New year, new me, right? Especially with a milestone birthday coming up in a month. ;-) Happily, I have found a doctor at the practice who is gentle and soft spoken, doesn't tell me I'm old, and also doesn't mandate drops for his patients, so I can actually see to drive home. Brilliant!

I arrived Friday afternoon apprehensive as ever, because I feared that this would be the year. You know what I'm talking about, right? THE 'B' WORD. Bifocals.

*glares*

I have reading glasses, and at work I'm constantly taking them on and off my face. I need them to see my computer screen crisply, but they makes the person coming to the reference desk to talk to me somewhat blurry, so then I have to remove them. But I don't want to move to bifocals. I'm afraid of change, OK, don't judge me. :0

At any rate, I was called back, and the nurse first had me do this peripheral vision test whereby I had to click a clicker thingy whenever I saw a flicker of movement on this little screen. This test is my favorite part of every appointment, because it involves zero discomfort, and I'm certain that I scored 100%. *gold star!* I then had to do the chart reading thing, which I hate, because my left eye is so much weaker and it's depressing how the letters jump around when that eye is the only one I'm using. This is followed by the ever fun pressure test wherein a large wand is pressed to your eyeball and you're told to "just relax!" as if that was remotely a possibility. Then I moved over to the doctor, and he did the usual: "A, or B? B? Ok. B or...C!" thing. The verdict?

"Just a small change. Head out to Ed and he'll help you order new glasses."

Weellllll, that sounds *not bad* I suppose, but small changes in the negative direction over time could mean I'm blind by age 60, right? That's a little worrisome.

Ed is helping someone else when I make my appearance, so I busy myself looking at new frames. It's a good thing I started early, because I took a freakishly long time to make a decision, finally just deciding to be done with it and go with my instinct. Which was to text selfies to a friend:

"Do you like the brown? Or purple?" Wait. Maybe I should ditch both the brown AND purple and go back to the thicker red ones. What about...

Ed was amused. But I finally made a decision:

This is my scholarly look :0

Then Ed tried to ruin my day:

"Oh. Did you know that he wrote the prescription for progressive lenses?"

*look of pity*

("Progressive," you see, is ophthalmology code speak for "BIFOCAL.")

"Oh. Well. I guess that's what I'll get then."

*look of misery*

"For progressive lenses, there is a minimum size, so let's see if these frames meet that..."

Uh oh. After 30 minutes of agonizing frame-trying-on, now they might be too small?! I definitely favor narrow lens sizes in my frames. Luckily for both Ed and I, my selected frames squeaked in at the minimum. Now to wait two weeks for them and see if I hate them when they come in, huzzah!

How was your weekend, dear reader?

Clearly, I have too much time on my hands...

As Anne would say, da da DAAAAA!!!!

Hip new look, it's called "Librarian Sassy"

:) My new glasses. They are all the rage.

 And speaking of Anne...

She demanded in on the photo op.

"This is my 'I say cheese!!!' face"

I had to get them readjusted yesterday, but besides that all is well. I kind of love them.

Other than that, I don't have too much going on besides work and my family. Barreling through a tundra each day, sure. Just walking from my car to the library has been taking my life into my hands these days. That's been interesting.

I've also been knitting like crazy, and all of my walking and dancing has caused me to lose almost 2 pounds towards my 6 pound goal. You have to stay warm somehow. :0

I'm ruminating over a Catholic Nook post for tomorrow, that's long overdue. I haven't selected a definite topic yet, trying to keep it all suspenseful. If you have an idea, leave me a comment. :)

Adventures in Ophthalmology, take 2!

As promised, today's post is devoted to my adventures Monday afternoon at the eye doctor, an installment in a special series about aging young women in America. :0 I wrote about my appointment last year, and I thought it would be fun to make this a yearly event since it seems to bring out the humorous part of something that we all dread but that *will* happen to all of us - noticing the physical effects of getting older. Last year, I left feeling like I may need a walker to get out to my car, it was so depressing, and I'm pleased to report that this year went much better. Let us discuss!

I arrived just as the snowstorm was kicking up, and so I was feeling kind of rushed and punchy. A good start, no?! I wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible so that I could get home. I rushed through my paperwork and anxiously read my Kindle while I waited to be called back, already detailing in my mind how I would refuse the eye drops this time since I do want to be able to drive home, and you know, arrive in one piece.

#CantankerousTiffany

I'm called back and I hurriedly sit down for the initial "stuff." Review of personal medical history, reading of chart. I do as best I can, but I do have one very weak eye due to a birth defect in my macula muscle, hence my yearly forays to the ophthalmologist.

"How old are you?"

Ugh.

"38."

"Really? You don't look 38."

I LOVE THIS NURSE. I may bring her a gift next year. I may knit her something.

That done, the nurse turns to me:

"This doctor doesn't do drops, so we don't have to worry about those."

*angels sing*

 "But now it's time for the pressure gauge."

*communal groan*

I *can't stand* the pressure gauge, wherein you're supposed to "relax" while a steel instrument is shoved up against your eyeball, but I did what I could.

"Ok, let's move over here for the clicker test."

A test? I perk up. I am an overachiever and aim to do well on any and all tests.

"Ok, You'll need to look through here, and we'll test your right eye, then the left. Every time you see a squiggle move on the screen you press this clicker."

A clicker? I have power. This gets better and better.

"Start...NOW."

*squiggle moves across screen*

*WHAM!*

"Was that another one? I think..."

*CLICK!!!*

I was a little bit of an eager beaver, but I gave that clicker a workout and I'm pretty sure I got 100% correct.

*gold star*

"Here's the doctor. He'll take it from here."

We then move on to the...

"Is A clearer, or B? A? Ok. A...or C? About the same? Hum. C or...D? Anything? They can't be the same, let's look again. Here's C...Then D!"

...part of the exam.

Verdict?

"Well, your prescription went up a bit, but not bad. Your vision is 20/20 in your right eye, and 20/30 in the left."

Now see? There was no Doomsday predictions of failing vision and buzzards coming to peck my eyeballs out the instant I turn 40. I like this guy.

I'm ushered to an optician named Sandy to procure my new glasses. Sandy is clearly worried about the storm outside and isn't in too great of a mood, but I give her a pass because I too am worried about the storm.

"Do you want bifocal lenses or just reading ones?"

"Oh." Thankfully the "B" word had gone as yet unmentioned. "Well, can you tell me about the bifocals?"

I joke about them, but someday I really will need them. I can't keep taking my glasses off to segue between my computer screen and a human face forever. She spends about 10 minutes telling me minutiae about bifocals lenses.

"Ok, thanks. I'm not ready. Let's just do reading."

Sandy does not look amused.

"All right. The frames covered by your insurance are over there on that rack."

I head over, thrilled that I can actually SEE the frames to choose this year, and immediately hone in on two that are identical aside from the color. I really like the shape and thickness. One pair is brown with blue on the side, and the other pair is black with pink. I model both for Sandy.

"I really like this pair, but what about...this one? You know, A, or...B!"

Sandy does not seem to think that this is nearly as funny as I do, but she does gamely play along and examines both frames on my face. She says she likes both of them.

#nothelpful

I go back and forth in the mirror while Sandy's son texts her with foreboding highway closures. Finally, I pick one.

"Ok! These ones!"

"Ok great. They'll be ready in 2 weeks."

Clearly, Sandy is ready to move on from my visit. And I'll unveil my new frames, and their color, two weeks hence!

So, this year was better. I didn't leave nearly as traumatized and needing liquor the way I did last year. I will seek out this particular ophthalmologist again. Anybody else have adventures in aging? Leave me a comment!

All right, tomorrow I have a book review to post on an Amish compilation I read over the holiday break. It was *lovely* and fun, and if you are at all interested in Amish fiction or in trying it, please do check back tomorrow!

Actual conversation heard outside my office door

I swear it, this really happened, at approximately 9:30 am this morning right outside my office door:

"Hey Susan, how are you?"

"Well, all right, but I was just at my eye doctor, and according to her I'm getting really old and falling to pieces."

!

"Oh ugh, I was there recently too. And you know what she told me? She said I needed BIFOCALS! She actually used the word BIFOCALS! And I said, 'Bifocals? I don't think I need those.' And you know what she said? 'How old are you?'"

!

"And I said 'it's right there in my chart, I'm not saying it out loud!' And she said 'Well, you've reached that magic age that starts with a 4...'"

!

"Well, mine told me that I have cataracts in both eyes. I don't need to do anything right now, but in a few years I'm going to have to deal with it. Boy, I just felt terrible when I left, like I'm getting ancient or something and am just going to keel over at any time!"

Clearly, we are all under attack right now from evil eye doctors.

I think I'm going to need to order some yarn to make myself feel better.

"You're falling apart": An uplifting tale of life after age 35...

Ugh.

Yes, as if to add insult to last month's mammogram (everything's fine, I am just apparently old enough now to warrant a baseline mammogram given that I'm "so close to 40!") I had an appointment with my eye doctor yesterday that was nothing short of anxiety-inducing. Let us chronicle.

I always hated hearing about the doom and gloom that awaits us all beginning at age 35, and that experience has only intensified with each passing year. I will grant, I have noticed some changes that have started in the past year or two, coinciding precisely with when I turned 35.

*glares*

The skin on my hands is a little thinner, I have a few more lines around my eyes when I smile. But I don't mind those things (well, I could live without the thinning skin, but I don't mind the facial lines). I think it's much more attractive to age gracefully than to put yourself through the nightmare of plastic surgery that so many Hollywood actresses feel compelled to do these days. And have you seen some of them? I feel so sorry for them. We're all going to get older, it's just a fact. I know we all wish that we could freeze what we looked like at age 25 and look that way forever, but that ain't happenin'. So the choices are to live with it (and apply Olay liberally each night, ask me how I know this) or to have surgery, and I don't know about you, but the former looks a heck of a lot better. Not to mention cheaper.

But I digress. I made an appointment with the eye doctor because it's been a few years since I've been there, and I know that I need to keep up with my eyes. I was born with a birth defect in my macula, and I had a lot of trouble with my vision as a child. I had a very good opthalmologist back then, and my vision improved a lot by time I was an adult. I now only wear glasses for reading, and my distance vision is quite good. But genetics aren't on my side, plus I work in front of a computer all day, and I otherwise engage in lots of activities (reading, knitting) that strain my eyes. My appointment was yesterday afternoon.

I arrive, Kindle in hand for what I was sure would be a lengthy stay in the waiting room. I read one paragraph.

"Tiffany!"

I actually wished that they had been running behind. But alas.

I'm taken into a preliminary room with a nurse who asks me lots of eye questions. Then she asks if it's ok for them to dilate my eyes.

Ugh, I forgot about that.

Well, I mean, I GUESS, since otherwise they can't really do anything with me. I submit to the drops.

God only knows what she put in there. There was a series of at least 4 different things. My eyes immediately feel watery and crappy. Then she tells me that she's going to measure my eye pressure, or some such thing. She proceeds to stick, I swear it, A ROD, millimeters from my poor eyeball, and she pushes back my my eyelids to make it bulge even more.

"Try to relax."

Oh really? I'll take that under advisement.

I couldn't help it, I was instinctively pushing back *away* from the rod in my eyeball. Have you ever heard anything more ridiculous than to RELAX while such a thing is going on?

Then came the the inevitable letter reading quizzes, clicking upon seeing flashes exam, and the ever popular "which is better?" segment.

"A or B?"

"Um, I guess A."

"Ok. A or....C!"

*silence*

"They look about the same."

"Really? How about A or D?"

"D." I suppose.

"Ok. Now, 1 or...2!"

The verdict?

"Well, you're falling apart."

A real uplifter for the new year, no?

" It happens to all of us after age 35. Our lenses lose flexibility. This decline will continue until you're about 60. Then it will level out. That's the good news."

That's good news?

"Your distance vision has actually improved."

Well see, THAT is good news.

"But your reading vision has reduced. You're going to need a new prescription for your reading glasses, and a light bifocal is a consideration."

SHE DID NOT JUST USE THE B-WORD!!!

"The bad news is that no matter what, your vision will only continue to worsen as you get older. Ten years from now it will be so much worse than it is right now."

Let's just keep the good news pouring in, shall we?

"I think we can skip the bifocials for now, but you'll notice a significant difference in your new glasses. Do you have any questions?"

*sniffle*

What's next, being addressed with the word "geezer" or "fogey" being tossed about?

I went out to survey my glasses options and chose a small wire-rimmed pair that are cute. I think they were brown. This process would have been easier had I been able to actually SEE clearly.

"When do the drops wear off?"

"3-5 hours."

Fantastic.

I go out and get in my car. I don't know about you, but I do think that *seeing* is an important quality in a driver. I could see things in the distance, but I couldn't read a thing close-up.

I carefully head home. Hark! What is that up there on the right?

THE LIQUOR STORE.

Pit stop everybody!

Clearly, after this appointment, and since I won't be able to read for hours, I need a glass of Chardonnay. I go inside.

Instead of trying to really pick anything out (you do need to read in order to do that) I grabbed a bottle of something that appeared to be white wine from a display right next to the register. I hand it to the cashier.

"Can I see your i.d. please?"

Wait. You can hear it, can't you?

*ANGELS SING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*

Shazzam!!! I may be a woman rapidly approaching middle age with declining eyesight and apparently ancient lady parts, but damn it, I STILL GOT IT!!

Get out the walker, we have a grandma in here!

I'm feeling very posty today, so you'll be hearing from me a lot. It was one of those weekends.

I just got back from my ob/gyn, and I'm all full of emotion, so I figured, hey? Why not take advantage for some lively posts.

I know this shouldn't have caught me off guard, but it totally did. I'm 35. Right, already know this. I'll be barely 36 when I deliver Baby CL. In my mind, this is no big deal. I understand that my risks of delivering a baby with Down's Syndrome or Spina Bifada have increased with my age. This does not disturb me in the least. Do I want this to happen? No, of course not. But if it does, I'm confident that somehow we'll be able to deal with it, with God's help. And frankly, I don't feel any more worried about this than I did when I was pregnant with Hank, when I was 30 years old. This can happen to anybody at any time. Thus, I don't appreciate being treated like a pregnant ticking time bomb.

I love my obstetrics practice, I really do. They're all very kind, very warm, and very competent. Today I saw one of the nurse practitioners, who is super, SUPER nice, and she ran through the regular first appointment hoops with me. Everything was great, although it was too early to try and find the baby's hearbeat with the Doppler. Next time. Then came the bomb.

Because I'm now 35, I'm now required (within this practice, at least) to visit their associated perinatologist, in other words, the high-risk ob. This entails a late first trimester nuchal fold scan (an ultrasound), a second trimester ultrasound, and possibly an amniocentesis, via this other office. Right away, this got my hackles up.

I firmly do not want an amniocentesis. I don't think there is anything morally wrong with them for couples that would like the information they provide, I just don't feel that in my particular case, the small risk of miscarriage that accompanies this test is worth any reassurance I could get from it. She told me that I don't have to have the amnio, but by law, they have to offer it to me. Fine, I GUESS.

I reluctantly took the referral for the perinatologist, because I didn't feel like I had a choice. She told me to call right away for the nuchal fold scan, since they do that at 11-14 weeks, and I'm already 10 weeks. Since that's totally non-invasive, I don't object to it per se, I just don't think that I particularly need it.

I'm also supposed to have my 18 week ultrasound with this perinatologist, which I'd rather not do since they don't allow you to bring your younger children with you, and I really wanted to share that with Hank. She also advised scheduling the amniocentesis even if I'm not sure that I want it, so that it'll be there if I change my mind. Not so crazy about that piece of advice.

All in all, I left feeling kind of overwhelmed and caught off-guard. I know that this isn't the underlying intent, but I can't help but feel that these new technologies give pregnancy (especially at older maternal ages) a feeling of FEAR. Like I should be afraid. I'm not afraid, and why should I have to feel so?

I'm just a little emotional right now; I know that I'll get over it. My nuchal fold scan is scheduled for two weeks from now, and I guess I'll just hang tight until then and see how this perinatologist thing pans out. I'll reserve my cranky feelings until then, because that's only fair.

But for the time being, I'm cranky. Guess that fits pretty well into the old lady thing, huh?

Lots of knitting, and I AM NOT OLD...

Today, I had my yearly visit to my general practitioner, whom I like very much. Everything is well under control, including my pinched nerve, aside from me needing to add a calcium and vitamin D supplement to my daily regimen. Inevitably, came the question:

"Do you want to have more children?"

And I think for the majority of the population, this is a very cut and dry issue. "We want 2 children, so yes 1 more" or "No, we're definitely finished." My answer has always been, and will always continue to be:

"Yeah, sure. You never know."

This always earns me an arched eyebrow. The way I feel about it, even if we never *plan* to have anymore at some point, it could still happen, right? We're open to life.

"Oh. So you think you want to have another one?"

"Yeah, sure."

*checks chart* "Hum. Well, you'd better get right on that."

Sigh.

The only thing I can really say on this is that, especially over the course of the next year, this will be a high priority on my prayer list. And so, moving on from my depleting egg suppy (oh eggs! please hang in there, I love you so!)...

On a happier note, my knitting has been going very well. I'm actually starting to miss crochet, and happily, the next 2 items in my craft queue are crochet projects. I'm nearly done with Christina's lap afghan; that should be finished by the conclusion of the weekend. After that, I will work on a scarf for one of my sister's friends, and a pair of socks for my mother-in-law. Then I have some baby projects to complete for a few friends of ours who are expecting. I'm thinking booties and blankets, although a crocheted teddy bear has really captured my imagination...

But, relatedly, I was looking for a quick distraction this morning, and went over to JoAnn's site to see if their new class schedule is up. It is. I took a Knitting 101 class there that I really got a lot out of. Since I've gotten a bit more comfortable with my knitting, I've been in the market for a sock knitting class. For the past several months, they have not offered one. And well, the new schedule doesn't include one either. However, they are offering a baby hat class, Knitting 102 - moving up in the world! Importantly, the class will include instruction in using double pointed needles, which is really what I was looking for. They have an open house on Saturday, and if you come during that 2 hour window, classes are 50% off. Eureka. This doesn't make up for the fact that my doctor thinks I'm old, but it did perk me a bit.