Who had four eyes and stole my heart?

This guy! This cutie is my husband, circa 1983. The glasses are real, and not long after receiving them, he began wearing hard contact lenses and continued wearing hard contacts for over twenty years. Over the decades, my husband has also worn many pairs of glasses. When the bubby cried as an infant, and it was hubby's turn to get out of bed, he always had to pause and reach for his glasses before he could investigate and comfort. For over four years now, I have watched him squint at the alarm every morning and then reach over to fumble for his glasses. I once lost five hours of my life over two consecutive weekend accompanying him to a vision superstore to get fitted for and pick up a new prescription.

I, on the other hand, have been blessed with perfect vision. NTB. As a young girl, I yearned for glasses and I mean yearned. I begged four-eyed classmates to lend me their specs to try on. I admired myself in the mirror while wearing them, not believing how much cuter and smarter I appeared in glasses. Goody goody though I was, I even went so far as to purposefully flub the eye screening in the nurse's office, thus necessitating a visit to the real eye doctor. Alas, I was too afraid to lie at the real eye doctor's office, and my mom was absolutely not happy to have spent $50--quite a bit of dough in 1982--to round out the experience. By the time I was in junior high, fake fashion glasses were an accessory I could have picked up at Claire's at the mall. However, I didn't want to pose. No, in my mind, glasses were only for those "lucky" enough to need them.

If my calculations are correct, I've known my husband through three different pairs of glasses. I did not know him when he was the adorable kid in this picture who showed up to school each day in these glasses. I did not know him as a young grade schooler who was brave and competent enough to put in hard contact lenses all by himself. I did not know him for all the many, many years he had to remember to pack his glasses, keep track of his contacts in those little plastic cases, and let his mom know (and later remember on his own) when he was running low on contact lens solution. I did not know him for all those years, but I am certainly lucky to have a husband who has been so responsible and so darn cute for so long.

The most-used word in our household Thursday evening was "amazing." That afternoon, my husband got Lasik surgery. Five minutes after the surgery, he was positive and hopeful. Five hours later, he was amazed. Friday morning, he did not have to reach for his glasses. Contact lenses are a part of his past not his present or future. Since having his surgery, he has seen the alarm clark with perfect clarity. He has seen me and our friends smiling and laughing while tailgating. He has seen Notre Dame score two touchdowns (hey, we'll take it, progress is progress). He has read documents for work. He has read the Wendy's drive-thru menu. He has seen the bub smile and laugh. He has seen the bub learn to clap his hands, stomp his feet, and shout "hooray" (or just "ray" as the bub prefers) as the song demands. He has seen the bub poop in the bath tub. Life is good, and he can see it all so clearly. NTB.