You know, you happen to be right. I vent all over this thing, and then forget to follow up. So bring on the questions. I will attempt to answer them in a timely fashion (though if the Moose writing is going well, it might take me a while, but I will answer it). Let me start with this update:
Lucas Beckett. We’re still calling him Lucas, when I’m not busy calling him several alternative pet names (even sometimes Linus by mistake). I took him for another MRI last Wednesday (of the spine and brain), to check everything out. I haven’t heard or discussed the results with his neurosurgeon yet, though we have a follow-up meeting with him on Sept. 20. Last time we were at his office, the neurosurgeon talks with us, but is eying Lucas. "You know," he says, "I want you to bring him across the hall to get checked out for plagiocephaly." Phil and I look at each other, then at the surgeon. Plagio-what? I watch the surgeon watch my son. "Flat head," he says. I turn to Phil, in front of the doctor, and begin to laugh. "We’re gonna have a fucking helmet kid." And he starts cracking up. "Anything else you wanna lay on us Doc?" So time passes, and Phil brings Lucas to Dr. Helmet, who says Lucas’s head is flat on one side and has pushed one ear forward. He believes, as it has been communicated to me, "it’s a mild to slightly more than mild case." Basically, it’s by no means severe, and insurance wouldn’t cover the cost of anything since it would be purely cosmetic. So, our options are, put a helmet on the kid or "work on positioning him," and hope it will make a difference. They took "before" photos. Basically, when a kid is fitted for a helmet, they need to be checked each week, literally every seven days (because the helmet puts gentle pressure on the head). "And it smells," the doc told Phil. He’d need to keep it on for 23 hours a day. So we’re going to try to avoid going there and simply force the bean to sleep on his less preferred side. 23 hours a day?! He, just last week, started to sit on his own (though he doesn’t get into or out of a seated position by himself). He can stay up, though sometimes he falls, and I hear a thud. Which makes me wince. Even on soft carpeting. We always put a pillow behind him. He is also able to finally turn over, too.
What was that thing on your face and did you find a cure? I have no clue. The dermatologist said I was allergic to something. I have this thing about not believing doctors when it comes to certain things. If it’s something serious, say, involving my vagina or any major organs, I believe. But once I went to a doctor, and told him my ear was bothering me. I would blow out my cheeks, and feel liquid in there (not liquid that was trapped from swimming, but actual ear fluid). And I pushed and pushed. So by the time he looked in my ear, he called in a colleague, and they stood there scratching themselves. They prescribed antibiotics. I never bothered to fill it. I just stopped pushing. And it went away. So the dermatologist said, "no make-up, tide-free, dove sensitive skin, and here’s a special shampoo." It was so bad, I wouldn’t even think of makeup, but no gel in my hair? Change my whole life? "And stop using baby wipes on your kids. Only use water to clean them." Yuh. Like that’s going to happen. I used the ointment he prescribed: PROTOPIC. It went away! Though I am still using it here and there whenever they feel dry. I suspect my Head and Shoulders shampoo was the culprit. I don’t know why I think this.
What about your anniversary? Our wedding anniversary was today. All those people who came to our wedding and never gave gifts… their time is up! I don’t know how people do that. But whatever, I don’t really care. Phil completely surprised me with an iPhone (I actually found it when I was, shockingly enough, straightening up the scrapbooking room/office). He came home and said, "You were cleaning?! You found it didn’t you?" I smiled and hugged him. Awww. I LOVE my new phone. LOVE. In turn, I tried so hard. He says he refuses to wear sunglasses, insists they all look terrible on him, yet he always steals mine when he drives the convertible, or when we play tennis. I wanted him to have something to open. So, I purchased some clothing from SAKS, nice cruise wear. Lacoste. Pink. And a pair of kick ass sunglasses. And I explained that my gift was a weekend away, just the two of us… to one of the top ten tennis resorts in the country, and the clothes and sunglasses just represented the idea. He then said I spent too much money, that he didn’t want to go to Dallas, etc. So I started to cry. Not because he said anything wrong. I just felt… inept. But he was sweet and loving about it. I explained that I didn’t care where we went, as long as it was a vacation. Once I handed in the book. So, we’re off to Vegas mid-October. Just the two of us.
Did your "friend" from fat camp ever reach out again? No.
The Lineman. I miss him. Lea graduated from massage therapy school and has decided not to move to Texas. She is happy in Montana and needs to find a job. Linus lives with her. I miss them both.
My Mother. She got remarried, and she’s happy. They’re traveling through the US by way of recreational vehicle (though they actually have a house in Florida). They’ll be here in late October for a visit. Mom called me the other day asking, "Have you spoken with Lea? Did she start looking for a job yet?"
"Mom, no offense, but I can ‘t think about anyone but myself," and then I kind of hoped she knew "right now" was coming after that comma.
My Grandfather. He’s met his great grandchildren. He sleeps a lot now, depressed. My father keeps calling me, "I don’t think he has much longer." Dad has been saying this for a year. But I believe him now, which of course makes me sad. But it’s also time. He’s just not happy. He’s the only real link I have to a past someone is willing to narrate. My father doesn’t know all the history of my Grandfather’s life. I always encouraged him to either tape record his stories or write them. But he never did. Neither has my father. I wish they would. I hate the idea that I’ll flip through one of his photo albums, and even though the names will be marked on the backs of photos, no one will know who the people are. It’s sad to lose a whole generation of my family.
Scrapbooking. I still haven’t done it! I have a room for it (which is pretty incredible) but haven’t had the time. I’m all about Hybrid scrapbooking. Phil got me the Silhouette die-cutting machine, and we got a wide-format color printer as a wedding gift from a friend of Phil’s, a friend of ours, really, so it will accommodate 12×12 paper. I can’t wait to finish this book! When I do, I’m all about getting my teeth cleaned, taking these babies everywhere, working out again, more tennis, more blogging, more loving.
My Mac. I want a new one. My K key has come loose, and now it is hell to type… you know, just in time for my deadline. And my caps lock key no longer works. Joy.
My Weight. Ha. I’m still workin’ the muffin top. When pregnant, I was 175. After giving birth, 156. And now I’m at about 137. I would love to get back to 128. But quite honestly, I really don’t give a shit. Though I’m sure I will once it’s time to stand in front of a camera again.
I’m still struggling. You get to a point, or I do, where everything I write, I want to delete. I have an editor hat on instead of just writing. I question too much, think too much. Tonight I came home from writing and declared, "I’ve decided, for the next week, I’m going to be drunk and see how it goes." Because when I’m soused, the words come out without restraint. And sometimes I really need that. It’s why I blog in the first place.