More Than You Need To Know. More Than You WANT To Know

The little man did not have a good time at the doctor's office. He was tired and cranky and he's getting a molar. And we had to wait a long time. And then he got poked and then he got a shot. He cried.
So did his grandmother.
"You've turned into a softie," said our old pediatrician. Okay. He's not old but he was Lily's pediatrician. You know what I mean.
"I've always been a softie," I said.
I remember crying my eyes out when May had to be poked repeatedly in the heel as a newborn for her bilirubin levels. When I worked at the birth center, I had to do that myself as a nurse, and it was hell. I'd warm the tiny heels with warm, wet towels and I'd try to push the blood into the feet and it never went well. Damn babies and their clotting ability. I felt like Cruella Deville or whatever that old mean bitch's name was. Every time.

Anyway, Owen is great, fantastic, excellent. He's in the 75th percentile for weight and 90th for head circumference and 90-95th for length. He has his Pop-Pop's genes for sure. That's apparent and easy to measure. Mine? Well, we shall see. So far he's nothing at all like me. He's generally a happy person, for one thing. Unless he's tired and cranky and he's getting a molar and the doctor makes him wait too long.

I didn't see him walk but I saw the video. He thinks of it as a trick that he can and will do if his mama sets him up to do it. He knows what he's supposed to do and he does it if he's in the mood, which he was not today. He doesn't yet think of it as a way to get from Point A to Point B. He is so expert at crawling that he doesn't see the need, I suppose.

The doctor gave us a pamphlet on babies and choking. "You have to keep an eye on them every moment," he said. Lily and I laughed.
That's a big duh.

But it all went fine and then Owen and Lily went home for a nap and some nursies and I went...shopping. Yeah. I know. Me? Shopping? Well, it's Mr. Moon's birthday tomorrow. It had to be done. I actually went to the mall and I was reminded of when I used to do that on a semi-regular basis. Shop at the mall. I fondled the purses at Dilliard's just for old time's sake. They had some nice ones. I didn't buy any. I tried on hats just for the hell of it. I didn't buy any. I looked at the sale racks at the Gap. I didn't buy anything.
That's a lie. I bought Owen a pair of linen pants and a muscle shirt.
It had to be done.
And I bought Mr. Moon a few things. What he really wants for his birthday is a bottom machine. Sounds naughty, doesn't it?
It's not.
It's equipment for his boat. He'll have to buy that himself because for one thing, I am NOT walking into a marine supply store and asking to see the bottom machines.
No way.

Then I went to Publix where I bought (and I am not kidding) white sugar in bulk, turbinado sugar, brown sugar and confectioner's sugar. I'm making a birthday cake and preserves.
These require lots of sugar.
And now I need to get busy and use that sugar. Make a cake (he wants carrot cake- can you believe that?) and maybe the preserves. Maybe not. Town whipped my ass. I'm tired. It's raining a gentle rain which seems to be saying, "Go take a nap."
NO! I tell it. I cannot and will not take a nap! I have things to do. Sweet things. Things which require sugar and lots of it.

I've been sleeping very well lately. I started taking an OTC sleep aid called Midnite. Google it. It's Melatonin and some herbs. Between that and the Lexapro I am sleeping and dreaming every night. My dreams are vastly interesting to me and as I said to Kathleen, wouldn't it be funny if the way the Lexapro worked for depression is to create such terrific dreams? Hard to wake up in a bad mood when you've been drifting about in colorful, 3-D, fascinating worlds all night.

Okay, okay. Time to stop procrastinating. I have carrots to grate and jars to sterilize. And supper to make, too. Sorry for the ramble. I just missed you.

Love...Ms. Moon