Dad’s got irritable bowel syndrome.  Lucas has irritable baby syndrome.  Just a little cranky pants lately, that is, when he’s not smiling and giggling.  He no longer sleeps through the night.  He’s up every two to three hours, wanting milk, wanting to be held, wanting to be anywhere but asleep in a crib.

We never went to New York.  You know, because all of those comments on the blog saying I shouldn’t go, well, that’s how I totally decided.   Lucas has another spinal MRI scheduled for this Friday, so we can check the progress of this cyst.  He still won’t roll onto his stomach and cannot sit up alone, though he’s close on the sitting.  He doesn’t seem very frustrated about it. 

I’m frustrated by his progress, but it’s his progress not mine.  He’ll do things when he’s ready, on his terms.  And when I remind myself of this, I feel better.  My body is a disaster area.  Forget for a second that I haven’t had my period since Friday the 13th (July), the other day I realized my nipple itched.  Upon examination I realized, shit motherfucker, there’s milk coming out.  Fluid.  Clear, and then white.  WTF?  I haven’t breastfed since 6 months ago.  Maybe I have a tumor.

So I go upstairs and give myself a breast exam, and milk is coming from both nipples when I pinch them, not spray can nipples, but beads.  Exciting stuff, I know.  What can I tell you?  I’m frustrated and pissed off at the world right now.  I called my OBGYN, who said not to worry about it.  It’s normal.  It’s coming from both breasts, no worries.  So fine.  I stopped worrying. 

My face is going to fall off.  My lips are chapped.  My EYES are chapped.  The skin surrounding my eyes is RED and SWOLLEN and it itches.  I am completely stressed.  I need to see a dentist.  My teeth are yellow.  I’m afraid they’re going to hurt me.  That pick scraping against my inner bottom teeth.  I need bleach and a thorough cleaning.

I just scheduled a derm appointment with Dr. Fox to check out my moles.  Nothing says fall quite like a naked pasty body in a dermatologist’s office. And by the time I can actually see him, I’m hoping the skin around my eyes is better.  I’ve been lubing up on Aquaphor and it’s done nothing.

I have so much more to write, and my book is due Oct. 1.  I’m completely stressed about it, at that point where I want to chuck the whole thing out a window, but then I’d have to call someone to fix my window and my computer.

I need to buy a battery operated black light, so I can find scorpions in the dark and know where those fuckers are lurking because in total now, I’ve found six–only one was alive. 

I need an outdoor wireless router so I can write outside.

Need to fill my goddamn eyeglass with a new prescription, because my eyes suck.

And need to figure out a 1 year wedding anniversary gift, you know, aside from intensive therapy.  Life is swell.  I just need a vacation from it.  I want to spend an entire day in an air conditioned movie theater watching nothing but chick flicks that make me cry and restore my hope.  To get my hair washed and blown, to have creams applied to my body, a massage, actual polish on my toes.  A new outfit.  Hair highlights.  I want to feel like a girl again, not a puckered pink lady with grease on her eyes.