Through Love-Colored Glasses
“I don’t know what it is, Jackie. I just can’t seem to find the romance anymore. It’s like we’ve been married so long we’re just, well, ordinary, I guess. I can’t even remember the last time Dave brought me flowers or took me to dinner. “
“That’s what happens to most married couples when they start having kids. I wouldn’t worry about it Lise. Dave loves you. You guys are just busy with work and Katie and the baby.”
“I know. I’m not worried, really. I just miss the old days when life was more spontaneous and fun. Now everything is just practical. I’m always tired and one of the children always needs something. Dave tries to help, but he just doesn’t understand what I really need. The other night he offered to watch a movie with Katie so I could have time to pick up the house and finish the laundry.”
I heard Jackie’s laughter roll over the phone line. “Count your blessings, girl. That man is a gem even if he’s not so well polished at times.”
A whimper that quickly turned into a loud squall came over the baby monitor on the kitchen counter. “Hey, I gotta go. Michael’s awake. Talk to you later, Jax.”
I hung up the phone and raced up the stairs to pick up the wailing baby from his crib. Katie was in the baby’s room waiting for me. “I couldn’t make him stop crying, Mama. I tried.”
“I know, honey. I think he needs changing. Wanna help? Then maybe you can give him a bottle of juice.”
“Okay.” For a five-year-old, she was actually pretty helpful with the baby. “Mommy, can I take off my glasses while Mikey drinks his juice?”
I sighed. The battle over the glasses was still raging. “Why would you want to do that, Sweetie? The doctor said you need to wear them all the time unless you’re sleeping. That will help make your eyes better.” A case of hyperopia required Katie to wear glasses for at least a year. She was less than thrilled. In fact, she was downright mad about it for awhile. She had slowly come to a state of unhappy acceptance of the cute little pink frames she had chosen. Any opportunity to take them off was taken advantage of immediately.
“I don’t think Mikey likes my glasses. He looks at me when I feed him and he likes to see my eyes. His eyes laugh at me and he wants mine to laugh back at him.”
I hid my smile. What a sweet thought, eyes laughing at each other. “Mikey can see your eyes just fine through your glasses, honey.”
She shrugged. “I guess.”
It was time to change the subject. “What would you like Santa to bring you this year? Christmas is only a few weeks away, you know.” I was sure she would say a doll stroller. She had talked about it non-stop for the last few months. I bought one weeks ago and tucked it away in the top shelf of my closet until Christmas morning.
She looked down at the doll she held in her arms. Anna went everywhere with Katie, even to kindergarten sometimes. She looked thoughtfully at the doll with long blonde curls just like hers. Her answer was slow but decisive. “Anna wants pink glasses like mine.”
I started, shocked by my daughter’s answer. What should I say? “I’m not sure they have pink glasses at the North Pole. I bet they have some really pretty new clothes that would just fit Anna, though.” I knew Grandma had been busy at her sewing machine turning out a new wardrobe for Anna that would make any doll envious.
Katie held Anna’s face to her ear for a moment then shook her head vigorously. “Anna says she wants pink glasses so we can be like twins together.”
And so it began. For the next three days Katie talked of nothing but pink glasses for Anna. Frantically, I searched every department store in town while she was in morning kindergarten, but to no avail. The more I pushed Mikey’s stroller through the mall, Wal-Mart, even the grocery store toy aisle, I couldn’t find anything even close to pink doll glasses. If I didn’t come up with something soon, I would have a very disappointed little girl on Christmas morning.
Dave was no help at all. When Katie told him excitedly that Santa was going to bring Anna some glasses just like hers, he grinned at her. “Hey, that’d be great, honey,” he told her. “I bet Anna looks just as beautiful as you when she wears them.”
I tried to motion wildly to him from behind, but he didn’t get it. He watched all my antics with a confused look, then turned his attention back to Katie and the Christmas show they were watching on TV.
Later, I explained my dilemma. “There is no such thing,” I lamented. “I can’t find anything remotely resembling pink glasses for a doll. I’ve been all over town.”
He patted my shoulder, rather condescendingly, I thought. “I’m sure something will turn up. I’ve never known Santa Claus to fail our daughter yet.”
I know he meant it as a compliment, but I got so angry with him I stormed off to the kitchen without another word. If Anna was to have pink glasses, it was going to be up to me.
After I took Katie to school the next morning, the phone rang. “Hello.”
“Hi, Lisa. It’s Jackie. I’ve got an idea about the pink glasses thing.”
“Tell me. I could use a good idea about now.”
“Have you checked in the hobby shops? Lots of people make dolls. At least I think they still do, and they have to get their supplies somewhere. If anyone has doll glasses it’d be them.”
A smile curved my lips. “Yeah, thanks Jax. That’s a great idea. I’ll go as soon as I give Michael his breakfast. Wanna come along?”
“Okay. See ya in a bit then.”
I breathed a little easier. Maybe Jackie’s plan had some merit. Still, pink doll glasses? I wouldn’t get my hopes up too high.
“Do you carry doll making supplies?”
The frazzled store clerk pointed off in the direction of the back of the store. “Aisle 14.” She turned back to the Christmas ornament storage containers she was arranging on the bargain shelves.
Jackie and I made our way to aisle 14 and found ourselves surrounded by displays of doll clothes, lace trimmings, and various body parts I supposed could be put together to make something resembling a doll. If one knew how to do such a thing, of course. “Here’s the eyes”, Jackie called excitedly. “There’s got to be some glasses here somewhere.”
I eased the stroller down the narrow aisle. “Do you see anything pink?”
“I’m looking. Hey, here’s some glasses.” Jackie’s voice was far from triumphant. She held up a little plastic bag with six pairs of gold wire rimmed spectacles. “How would Anna look in a pair of these?”
My hopes bottomed out. “Is that all there is? Don’t they have anything pink? Katie won’t even recognize those things as glasses. For one thing, there’s no glass in them. They look like they belong halfway down the nose of an old granny doll.”
“Hmmm. . . well, um, hey! I know. Maybe we could paint them!”
“I don’t know, Jackie. Painting wire doll glasses?”
“We gotta try. Come on.”
I wheeled the stroller behind her as she raced off to the paint supplies. We stared at the assortment of bottles, tubes, cans, brushes, thinners, everything imaginable to paint something except the instructions. “What do you think, Lise?”
I gazed at the plastic bag of spectacle rims in my hand. “I think you’re crazy.”
“Maybe so,” she admitted. “Here, let’s try this,” she said reaching for an aerosol can labeled ‘Pink Perfection.’ “This way we won’t need any brushes.”
I shrugged. My hopes in creating a pair of glasses for Anna that met with Katie’s approval had dwindled to nothing. I paid for the spectacles and paint and we left the store.
Back at home I laid newspapers on the ground in the backyard and spread the little wire contraptions out on top of them. They didn’t even look like real glasses. “Hmm. . . just wait’ll you paint ‘em pink,” I mumbled. I shook the can and aimed it at the wire.
An hour later, when I surveyed the results of my labors while Katie was watching Blues Clues, I wanted to cry. The pink paint covered the wire in places – and in other places it didn’t. Where there was paint, the gold wire had turned a grotesque shade of pinkish brown that reminded me of chewed bubble gum that had been stuck on the bottom of the table for a few days. They would have to do. Katie would be so disappointed, but I supposed it was better than no glasses at all.
I told Dave that night about my attempt at painting the frames. I could see him trying to hide a smile. “Honey, you tried. I’m sure Katie will be fine with it.” He went back to his newspaper.
“But you don’t understand,” I wailed knowing I sounded like a plaintive child. “Katie is so self- conscious about her glasses. Anna needs glasses to help Katie feel better about hers. She told me one of the girls at school called her ‘Four-Eyes’ today. Where do kids learn that stuff so early on?”
Dave only shrugged. “Hey hon, is there any of that butter brickle ice cream left? That’d go great with a cup of hot coffee.”
I sighed deeply with a long “Huuuuuuuuu……………” on the end, but Dave didn’t look up from his paper. Clearly, I was on my own with Anna’s glasses, but then I had expected as much.
The morning of Christmas Eve, I called my friend Jackie. “Merry Christmas!” she answered brightly.
“Hey Jax, it’s Lisa. Merry Christmas.”
“Any update on Anna’s glasses?”
“No. I guess we’ll just have to give her those horrible wire frames.” I paused. “I don’t mean to sound that way. It was a great idea and I appreciate you trying to help. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have any glasses for Anna.”
“I know. Don’t forget I saw how my ‘great idea’ turned out. I just wish we could have come up with something else.”
“Yeah. Ran out of time is all. I wouldn’t mind so much except this is so important to Katie’s self-confidence. Oh, Jackie, she’s so excited. She’s just sure Santa will bring Anna a pair of glasses just like hers and she won’t feel alone anymore. I can’t bear to see her disappointment tomorrow morning.”
“It’ll be fine, Lise. She may be disappointed for a while, but she’ll forget about it when she sees her doll stroller.”
“You’re right. Of course she will. Thanks for the pep talk. You and Jim have a wonderful Christmas with the boys. I’m sure they’ll love the toboggans.”
“They will. Call me next week and let me know how it went, kay?”
“Of course. Bye Jax.“ I felt a little better but not much.
The rest of the day I just went through the motions. We had our special Christmas Eve dinner of tacos and fixings. Katie hung her stocking and a little one for Michael, then showed him the plate of cookies she planned to leave for Santa.
“See, Mikey,” she told him knowingly. “Santa likes cookies a whole bunch and if we leave him some he’ll bring us presents. He’s gonna bring Anna some pink glasses just like mine. I can’t wait for morning!”
Dave shot me a quick glance and I shook my head slightly. An odd look crossed his face. He glanced at his wristwatch. “Say, Lise, I forgot to get that package of lemon drops for Dad. He’s kinda got to where he expects them every year. I’m going to run down to the drugstore for a minute. Be right back.”
I sighed. So many words I wanted to say like ‘On Christmas Eve?’ or ‘But what about tucking the children in?’ or even ‘I suppose you forgot to buy me a gift like you did last year,’ but I didn’t say any of them. No sense in spoiling Christmas for the kids. “All right.” He kissed Katie and Michael then left, jingling his car keys in his pocket. What an annoying habit!
I helped Katie leave a note for Santa, then tucked her into bed. She begged me to read ‘The Night Before Christmas’ as was our tradition. I did but my heart wasn’t in it.
Katie’s eyes were shining in gleeful anticipation.
“Good night, Sweetie.”
“Night, Mommy. Tell Anna good night too.”
“Good night, Anna,” I whispered as I turned out the light. “See you in the morning.”
I gave Michael another bottle, changed him and put him in his crib. I found the presents for the children in my closet and arranged them under the tree. then filled their stockings alone. Tears glazed my eyes, but I brushed them away impatiently.
Dave still wasn’t back so I turned on the TV. How festive was that? Sitting alone on Christmas Eve watching a Lawrence Welk Christmas show rerun. Why couldn’t Dave just be a little bit more thoughtful? Sensitive? Romantic? Logic grabbed me and shook me out of my emotional pity party. What did I want him to do? Not bring his dad his lemon drops? Another sigh.
I must have dozed off. The next thing I knew I heard the back door click shut and Dave’s voice called to me. “Lise, you still awake?”
I bit back the spiteful retort that came to my lips. “In here, Dave.”
He entered the room looking rather sheepish. “Sorry, I’m late. Merry Christmas, hon.”
He handed me a paper bag with the Walgreen’s logo on the side. I took it hesitantly. So I was right. He did forget to buy me a gift. “Don’t you want to wait until morning for this?”
“Nah. Better open it now. Sorry about the wrapping job.”
Reluctant to say the least, I opened the bag and pulled out . . . “What is that thing?” Oh, did I say that out loud?
I dared a quick glance at my husband. His grin hadn’t faded in the least. “For your collection,” he said as if anticipating my delight.
I tried. I really did. “M. . .my collection?” True, I had a small collection of Santa figurines I sometimes pulled out at Christmas, mostly old world pieces or finely detailed carvings. But this. . . this thing in my hands was absolutely hideous. “Dave, I. . .”
“No wait, honey,” he interrupted. “Just look at it.” His voice overflowed with excitement.
All right. I examined the thing more closely. It was Santa all right, but not the Santa I knew. This guy, minus his red suit but for the trademark red hat with the white pom-pom, was dressed in red and white striped swim trunks and a white tank top. Unfortunately, the tank top did not quite meet the waistband of the shorts and a huge pot belly hung out of the gap. Santa sat in a white lawn chair, arms stretched out to the side, a calendar in one hand sporting the date of December 26. Apparently, the jolly old man had done his good deed for the year and was now on vacation.
Honestly, I didn’t know whether to break out into hysterical laughter or burst into tears. Even Dave had never messed up this badly before. I stared at the grotesque Santa for a moment then turned my glare on the man standing beside me. He still wore the same ridiculous grin. “Uh, thanks,” I croaked, “but no thanks.” I shoved Sunshine Santa back in the bag.
Dave never wavered. “Lise, just look at it one more time.” I shook my head. “Please?”
Fine. Whatever. I pulled the thing out of the sack again and stared at it.
Suddenly, I saw it. I let out a loud gasp as I stared in disbelief. “Oh. . . Dave – how. . .?” I threw my arms around my husband, Santa still grasped tightly in my hand. “How did you ever?”
Dave laughed almost boyishly. Even in my current state of Christmas bliss I realized how long it had been since I’d heard him laugh like that. “Thank you, God,” I whispered. “Thank you for blessing me with the most wonderful husband in the world.”
I stepped back and stared at the horrid Santa figurine once again. Carefully, I plucked the hot pink plastic glasses from his nose and examined them. “Looks like a perfect fit,” I declared with a loud laugh. “Anna will look so great in these.” I folded the frames and slipped them into the top of Katie’s stocking.
“You like your present?” Dave asked.
I nodded suddenly unable to speak.
He grinned again. “You’ll get your real gift tomorrow.”
I let loose a flood of tears conceived of absolute joy. I knew I had been incredibly blessed. God had given me the most thoughtful, sensitive and utterly romantic husband on earth. As far as I was concerned, my ‘real’ gift was standing beside me, holding me in his arms.
