Page 2

January 2

I don’t generally care what people think about me. I say what I think and I say it even more loudly and confidently when I know I’m right. It’s why people don’t always like me on first impression and it’s why a couple of Dede’s friends deceived me out of $80 the first night I met them playing Euchre. They didn’t think Dede would possibly stick around with this guy for very long. Eleven years later, they’re still stuck with me.

I do care what people think about me as parent – to some extent. I don’t care about the looks we got when we took Gavin to Mounties’ basketball game when he was seven days old or the occasional looks when my kids are not dressed quite appropriately for the weather. But I want to seen as a great parent – it’s part of my competitive nature and just something I aspire to be great at.

I took the day off a couple of years ago when Gavin’s preschool was closed and Dede’s school was still open. I scheduled us eye appointments because I needed one and I thought Gavin should have one before starting kindergarten.

My eye doctor is in East Lansing. Even after moving to Jackson, I refused to change offices because, well, I LOVE my eye doctor’s office. I was part of a clinical study that had me going there at least once a week for a year many moons ago, and it got to the point where I felt guilty for not chipping in toward the donuts in the morning. Everyone there is just so happy all the time. (It is the complete opposite of the place I work.)

I thought Gavin’s checkup would be pretty routine. I thought wrong. I knew early on that he couldn’t see anywhere near as well as I thought he could see. A lot of times, parents take their kids to the eye doctor because they notice they have no hand-eye coordination or they can’t catch balls or have a number of clues. Those who know Gavin well know that was never the case with him.

He couldn’t see the letters. They initially thought it was because he didn’t know his letters and I assured them that was not the case. They switched to pictures instead. He couldn’t see those either. As the doctor came in after the tech left, she just sort of said to me in passing, “It looks like Mr. Gavin has an astigmatism.”

He was doing such a good job at answering everything honestly. At one point, the doctor asked him if he was just guessing sometimes. He smiled right at her and said, “Yes, definitely.”

I think she was pretty shocked a four-year-old would be that honest and have such a wry smile on his face when he said it.  

She turned to me and said quietly, “I think we need to put him in a pair of glasses full time.” She waited and kind of gave me a look that said, “Are you going to say something to him or should I?”

I gave her a look back that said confidently, “I got this.”

“Gavin buddy, high fives, you get to wear glasses just like me and Mommy!” and extended my hand up high for him. He high-fived me right away.

I knew I just aced the parenting exam that I was taking that she didn’t know she was giving me, and she later told me that moments like that rarely go that well.

My older sister, Jennifer (she loves to be introduced that way), got Gavin an Under Armour shirt for Christmas that says “I’m Your Mom’s Favorite Player.”

And it’s destined to be true.

When you take the kid with glasses who prefers to play defense over offense and sacrifices his body to make stops and always takes the most direct route to the ball – you know moms are going to love that kid. Don’t let the glasses full you, G Money is a stud. He’s like the soccer version of Woody Harrelson in White Men Can’t Jump. I watch older kids dribble toward him and think they are going to easily deke him, but next thing you know a kid two years older is face-first in the dirt thanks to a perfect slide tackle by the kid in the glasses.

Yep, even the kid he took down has a parent in the crowd that has to admit that was awesome.

I love that about him. I fear him getting to the point where he knows he is good, so I never tell him that. Instead I constantly tell him about how hard is working and how proud of him I am that he practices so hard and something I’ve been saying to him before it became so popular in the last year, “I love to watch you play, buddy.”

And it’s true. I’ll never be a soccer fan, but I do love to watch him play.