I know. I know. I am the worst blogger, ever. How bad am I? I wrote a blog post 2.5 months ago that started off talking about how long it had been since I updated the blog. AND I NEVER GOT AROUND TO POSTING IT. That’s bad. That’s really bad. That’s like, drinking the sun tea you found in a college dorm room bad.
I have plenty of excuses. None of them are any good.
“Wah, I have a baby!” Who, by the way, is hilarious. He loves to laugh, will do things to entertain us, enjoys splashing around in his bathtub, grabbing my hair and jewelry, singing, bouncing and wrestling. His love of flair and physicality make me wonder if he’s going to be a Broadway star or a professional wrestler. Honestly? I could see either right now.
“Wah, I’m tired!” Derp. Join the club. Your baby, for the most part, sleeps from 10p.m. -7 a.m. (when he’s not sick or traveling) and has for the past few months.
“Wah, I’m on a diet!” That’s so novel, I just hit my face on the monitor.
But there have been other things that have popped up that have complicated the blogging.
Going back to work has been nice, and difficult. Forensics isn’t known for being family friendly. There aren’t a ton of full-time coaches with young children – even fewer of whom are mothers to young children. It’s tough navigating a very specialized job when there aren’t a lot of role models to follow.
If you’ve followed me on Twitter, then you know about my mother’s cancer diagnosis. She was initially diagnosed with Stage II breast cancer in mid-March. I went to Dallas to be with my family for the lumpectomy. Shortly after, we found out that there were more infected lymph nodes and she was reclassified as Stage III. With two great aunts who died of breast cancer, a grandmother who had an elective double mastectomy and my mom – I’ve grown far more nervous.
I’m struggling with my own plumbing, as it were. On Monday, I went in for a pap smear and the doctor couldn’t find the IUD. After a silent ultrasound (which is scary as all get out when they can’t find your birth control), she informs me that, Yes, the IUD is still in there, No, there isn’t a rogue baby hiding in there (you never know), and, Oh Yeah, you have a huge ovarian cyst. GUH. I’m supposed to wait it out and go back in 6 weeks for another ultrasound.
Now, I’ve forgiven my OBGYN for A LOT. Despite all of the horrible complications, the times where I wondered if it was luck or negligence that effectively ruined the first six weeks of motherhood, the fact that she would soon joke, “Well, with YOUR luck…ha ha,” when everything continued to go wrong – I tried to be understanding. But when I sat in her office after the silent ultrasound and saw the giant boxes of Twilight-themed Valentines candy displayed next to her diplomas, while I was nerve wracked over what was going on, that I finally said “Enough.”
In the meantime, I’m going to try to be better about updating the blog. Funny, happy posts about Elliott being a frozen yogurt addict and laughing maniacally while he scoots around in his hula coupe. Yeah. That’s the ticket.
