MONKEY SEE MONKEY DO

Parenting is the best job in the world. It is also the hardest. We knew what we were getting into though when we had the Little One, and we welcome all of the responsibilities that come with him. His "owner's manual" is quite thick but luckily it is written in a language that we (usually) understand.

At the top of the list of responsibilities, after providing for his basic needs and loving him unconditionally, is being a good role model. It is a job that goes beyond the basics of eating right, exercising, telling the truth and keeping our language clean. There is a big bucket of things we are working on doing better than we did pre-baby. We now eat

vegetables with dinner every night, even the kinds that are not our favorites. We go to bed in darkness and quiet instead of to the sound of the TV. We read every night, even if they are kid's books. And, starting today, I wear my glasses.

Glasses? Yes, that seems to be something that I shouldn't need to make a habit of doing. Like all bad habits though, I have a background story that explains (makes an excuse) for not wearing them.

When I got my glasses almost three years ago the doctor advised me to, "Wear them as much as you want." She did not say this to go easy on me or because I don't have a need for them. She said it because she knew I could function fairly well without them. Like many people, I have an astigmatism. Fine details are out of focus, similar to the difference between regular television and high definition television. I like it, but can survive without high definition.

About a year ago now, when we were expecting the Little One, morning sickness hit me hard. There were days when brushing my teeth and putting my hair in a lazy pony tail were as detailed as I got. During this foggy time my glasses stayed in their pretty little case in the bottom of my purse.

Then, a few months ago, I stopped at Panera Bread for lunch and had an awakening. When did they shrink the print of the letter board? Sadly, they hadn't. A kind woman standing in line next to me saw my perplexed face and turned and asked if I was okay.

"Yes, thanks. I just can't see what it says."

Shamefully, I put my hand in my purse and pulled out my glasses. I put them on. You know how this story ends. I read the menu hanging ten feet in front of me. Ten feet.

The Little One came along soon after that day and for awhile I was back in the "tooth brushing and pony tail" mode. He is almost three months old now though and sleeping through the night. Before I know it he will be a talking toddler wondering why I am always squinting at him. I have no more excuses and I have an example to set. I am what I am. I am a thirty-something mommy who wears glasses.