Wednesday, August 31, 2011

You Shouldn't Have to Jump for Joy

My running joke in San Diego was my the tagline of my blog should be, it's not suppose to be a medical blog.

'Cause, woe, that's where we are. A fucking medical blog 'cause all I can talk about is HEALTH.

I wish this wasn't the dead-center of my life. I wish we weren't going through this. I wish I could easily talking about the holiday quilt I'm making for the family, because it's soft and pretty and lovely and almost ready to head to the quilter but that's not the focus of my life right now.

The focus is getting all of Emerson's health-shit figured out. I do not enjoy lotioning him hourly. Or how we can't go anywhere because his ability to catch a secondary infection is so high, we haven't even been to "church" in months 'cause we have to keep his exposure down. Or how about his weight and height are so low, doctors think he's starving and "failing to thrive" (oh, he's thriving just fine, that's what they call it when weight consistently goes down on the curve). Or his itchiness. His goddamn itchiness that interrupts everything, screaming in the night 'cause he's itching in his sleep and causing himself to bleed everywhere and all his cries ask are why? what's happening? why am I hurting? and there's not a damn thing his parents can do other that swipe him with more lotions and shove more medicines down his throat.

This is the center of my world right now. And yeah, I'm barely blogging because I can take making fun of this crap only so far. 'Cause it's most certainly not funny.

We've started another whole new routine; the new theory is his acid reflux is eating away his skin. Yes, you heard that - eating away his skin.

So more acid reflux medicine, putting (of all things) butt paste containing Zinc Oxide on his face. Fuck me backwards, Batman, it's working. Not fully-completely-healed, but helping.

I really looking forward to him starting to outgrow all this hullabaloo. Griffin and Darwin had similar (but not exact) circumstances, but we have a couple of more years until the relief comes.

Years. Oh, how I do hope it's not years.

Friday, August 19, 2011

Walking on a Dream

My baby is a baby no longer... well, he's still my baby but now he's a big, strapping one-year old boy.

I know, right, Emery? What the fuck, mama? I know, how can it be one year already?

(It feels more like five.) (Sorry, that's the sleepless nights talkin'.)

No longer the little poopin', peein', screamin', eatin' machine we brought from home. No, now you crawl! And do a zombie walk! And maneuver around like a monkey! And talk about your Dadddddeeeeeee!!! And doggies! And refuse to say Momma 'cause your have your father's rotten sense of humor!

You love Bubble Guppies, Oscar the Grouch and Hall & Oates. You get PISSED when a parent travels and gives said parent the cold shoulder a good 24 hours after his or her return. You love your big brothers and stand outside their playroom, shaking the baby gate that divides you and scream AAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH. Thank you for that, it lets me know where you are.

You drink from a sippy (one design, no others mister particular), have your special vanilla-flavored hypoallergenic formula and are kinda-sorta interested in foods and rice milk, but only foods everyone else is eating - none of that jarred baby crap for you. You eat till you puke, thanks to the acid reflux. We're working on it and hope to fatten you out the 6th percentile of body weight for kids your age.

You chase the dog around not because you want to pet her, but because you want to jingle her collar. You like to sit on my hip as I make dinner and whisper "hot" as I cook. You scream at the one measly step from the kitchen to the entry room and throw everything down "to the great abyss" but you know how to climb off the couch (including throwing pillows down to cushion your landing). You love bath time and scream when we take you out of the tub and often lift bath toys along for the ride.

Happy birthday sweet, sweet Emerson. I wouldn't change a thing about you.

(But I'm totally open to more uninterrupted sleep, if you're taking requests.)

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Oh the Days Go By So Fast

Yesterday these two boys started a new school year...

Second Grade and Fourth Grade. Which means I'm officially fucking old.

Speaking of fucking old...

... this little monkey turns one year old this week.

You may knock me over with a feather now.

Tuesday, August 09, 2011

I'm Goin' Back Home to the West Coast

The big news around here is I went to BlogHer'11 and neither was hospitalized nor died of while traveling. Big upgrade from BlogHer'09.

Pathetic what passes as big news around here.

I have decided that the West Coast is the place for me. If I could make out with the ocean or carry it home to Kansas I most certainly would have - both if at all possible.

(Smooth Cab my ass.)


Drinks and dinner at Nobu. They (appropriately so) requested that I now say restaurants Nobu'd me when they did not gluten me. As apposed to don't you fucking PF Changs me when I inquire about the gluten-free area in the kitchen's set up.

I'm suffering from a horrible conference hangover and I just cannot get back on Kansas time. It was so, so wonderful and awesome (except that part when this lady when five ways to crazy at the gluten-free table when I wouldn't eat non-labeled chips; obviously, she really thought highly of those chips).