I have a mole on my stomach that looks like this:

Actually, I guess you could call it 5 moles. But it used to be one. And even though I could be considered young for this sort of thing, I’m fairly certain that isn’t normal behavior for your every day joe schmoe mole…so I’m thinking I should have it checked out. Along with another one on my leg. Both of which have appeared/changed since college.

So I spent the morning talking with insurance brokers and trying to figure out what my best options are, considering the following:

1. I’m not currently insured.
2. For the most part, it’s cheaper for me to remain uninsured and pay full price for my prescriptions and doctor visits, than to pay the monthly premium for insurance (which for some reason is unusually high in Texas).
3. If the moles are a problem and need to be removed, it will cost me a bunch of money…but will it cost more than I would be paying in insurance premiums?
4. If I have the moles diagnosed and they ARE problematic, I will get labeled with a “preexisting condition” if I’m not insured beforehand.
5. Preexisting conditions are bad when trying to obtain insurance later.

So I don’t really know what to do. I have no idea if these moles are going to be a problem or not. I did get sun exposure during my childhood and teenage years. But how much is too much? I’m fair skinned but tan easily. I’m adopted, so I have no information on my family history. I have a mole on my nose that I’ve had since birth. If they want to remove the others, they’ll probably want that one to go as well.

I do know which insurance broker I’m NOT going to give business to:

“So, now that I’ve given you all the information, can I get your information to start filling out this application?”

“Well, I’ll need to wait on that. I need to do some comparisons and talk with my husband about it first.”

“So…what, you can’t make a decision on your own?”

I pointedly informed him that I had enough respect for the person I share a household and bank account with to discuss this kind of thing before “making a decision.”

* * *

After dealing with insurance brokers, I went to court to make some headway in clearing up the big fat mess. The judge moved my pretrial for the deferrment violation case to be the same day as the pretrial for the ticket that caused the mess, since, in theory, if I can get that stupid ticket dismissed, the deferment violation will be a nonissue. In theory.

He did make a point of telling me, however, that just getting the other dismissed did not guarantee that I would not be held accountable for the deferrment violation, since the verbage in my probation agreement states “must not receive” another ticket during probation period.

Great. They’re holding me accountable for something out of my control. It doesn’t matter whether or not I was actually DOING anything illegal. All that matters is that a cop issued me a ticket for something. Some justice system we have.

* * *

This evening we were making dinner when J says, “What did I do with that Pepsi I just opened?”

We both look up, just in time to see Button in the living room, pouring the last remaining drops of the can into a 3-foot puddle on the carpet.

Just in case you were wondering, there is a deceptively large amount of cola in a can of Pepsi.

* * *

She’s teething again. The first tooth finally broke in today and hasn’t seemed to bother her at all. But tonight she is unable to sleep for a period of more than 10 minutes unless she’s doped up on formula and tylenol. Unfortunately, the doping effect wears off long before we can give her another dose. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.

Until recently, I thought it was kind of silly for moms to write letters to their small children, who were obviously too young to understand such things, much less read them. I know there’s the wishful thinking that one day the child will delve into the archives of her mother’s blog, cherishing every word. I don’t hold out a lot of hope for that. I’m fairly certain that once you’re of the age where you would even remotely consider such things, this blog will no longer exist.

But I have been enlightened as of late, to a more compelling reason to direct this correspondence to you, Button. You see, there are so many things I want to tell you every day, so many lessons I want to share with you, but am unable because face it, I could be speaking ancient Egyptian for all you know.

So perhaps if I write down these conversations, it will at least pacify my need to communicate to you…even if it’s only in my imagination.

You stay busy each day learning about the world you live in. You walk/run/bustle/flap all over the house during the day, chasing the dog and cat, playing with toys, trying to make a getaway up the stairs. I wish you didn’t think it was such a game. The other day you made it up 4 steps before I realized the gate was not in place. With each step you looked at me and banged on the stair as if to get my attention. Once achieved, and you saw me running in your direction, you let out a laugh and excitedly tried to climb further up the stairs before I caught you.

You love being caught. You totally miss the point of “chase” games. You see it coming and you get all excited…and then you run right into my arms. It kind of defeats the purpose.

Your spacial navigation skills are improving. I think you’ve finally figured out that you are 3″ taller than the space under the kitchen table. Today you actually started ducking, rather than plowing into it.

You still haven’t mastered the concept of walking around anything. Taking the most direct route possible, you either trip or climb over stuff to get to your destination. You’re the only baby in your age group at the Church nursery that is walking, and since you don’t veer around anything, you spend your nursery time tripping over and stepping on all the other babies that are sprawled all over the floor. My apologies to their parents.

I’m not sure how to convince you that there is no nutritional value in carpet. And while geckos may provide some degree of protein, they’re really lacking in calcium. Dog food seems to be your favorite obsession and you will do anything you can to get your hands in it. The next time I can’t get you to eat your banana, I think I’ll try putting it in a bowl on the floor.

Please stop pulling things out of the bathroom trashcans.

5:45am is not Morning. It is, therefore, not an acceptable time to wake up and start the day. Particularly after waking up approximately ever hour and a half during the night for no apparent reason. Morning doesn’t start until at least 7:00am - please make a note of that and adjust your schedule accordingly.

Please stop pulling things out of my office trashcan.

You love books. It’s so much fun to read to you and watch you study the pages. Reading is the only thing that will keep you in one place while you’re awake. I do wish they made baby books that were longer than 3 pages though, as it does get a bit monotonous reading the same 5 words over. and over. and over. again.

Itsy-Bitsy Spider is the best song in the world. I have no idea why. What that Spider has over Little Bunny Foo Foo is beyond me. Yesterday we did Head & Shoulders, Knees & Toes for the first time. I can tell you like it only because you let me manipulate your hands to the motions. And for some reason you really love people touching your face, so you lean forward and stick your tongue out for “Eyes and Ears and Mouth and Nose.”

Please stop pulling things out of the recycle bin.

You love Cheerios. I love Cheerios. FINALLY there is something to keep you busy during restaurant visits that doesn’t include heating up a bottle or walking around the restaurant bouncing you up and down. For some reason you’ve always had very little patience for toys in restaurants. But Cheerios…they are God’s gift to the hungry parent who just wants five minutes to eat what she ordered.

I do not like this habit you’ve developed recently of spitting your food out when you’re done eating. If you don’t want anymore, you don’t have to put it in your mouth. But to open your mouth, accept a spoon full of squash, and then promptly spit it all over the place to signal that you’re done is really. really. really. frustrating. We’re going to have to work on the communication in this area.

Please stop pulling fuzz off the cat tree and stuffing it in your mouth.

You have your own language now. It basically consists of 4 words: Bah, Bwhah, Dooh and Ma. And what versatile words they are. I think Bah-Bah is Bottle, and I’m pretty sure that Ma-Ma is me…And Dooh (the o’s are pronounced like “book”) seems to be the cue for “do that again” but other than that I’m completely in the dark. That doesn’t stop me from enjoying your rambles though as you trapse around the house with your finger in your mouth and your other hand waiving about in the air.

Peek-a-boo behind the sheer window curtains is one of your favorite games. Just so you know, it’s kind of cheating when you can see through the curtains. But the amount of pleasure you derive from it makes it worth it.

Ever since you could stand, you’ve made a tradition out of leaning yourself against the glass door throughout the length of my shower. Sometimes this makes it very difficult to get OUT of said shower. Recently I made the mistake of letting you crawl into the shower with me. You had the time of your life playing with the stream of water and your rubber ducky. And now it has become an obsession. The other day you cried yourself into hysterics for a good half hour because I would not open the shower door for you. I’ve created a monster.

You’ve learned how to turn the TV in the bedroom on. And off. And ON. And OFF. AND ON. AND OFF. AND PLEASE STOP THAT ALREADY!

Please stop plucking fur off the cat and stuffing it in your mouth.

Please stop whipping around and smearing snot all over my work clothes while I’m in the process of wiping your nose.

And please stop growing up so fast. I can hardly keep up. It’s fascinating to see you reach a new level of awareness each day, but at the same time it’s totally intimidating. Sometimes I have no idea what to do with you. Each new step is uncharted territory and I’m improvising as things come along. One day we’ll probably both look back at what an idiot I was and wonder how in the world you turned out to be so normal. I hope that’s the case.

Anyway, I love you and I wish you understood that when I say it to you. One day you will.

Love Always,
Mama

Can’t sleep. My Mad about the recent Municipal Court adventure has now extended to my lawyer, and rather than getting some much-needed sleep, my brain would rather stay up and make a list of reasons why he’s an ass. An incompetent one at that.

Anyway, I’ve decided to try the ever popular Blog Explosion Rent My Blog campaign, where every week I get to highlight another blog and tell you all why you need to go visit THAT BLOG. Because you do.

So I was pleased as punch (sorry, my Southern comes out after midnight) when I got a bid from Jane at Jane Loves Tarzan. I have been reading Jane’s blog for quite some time now and it has been a very eye-opening experience for me. She openly struggles with bipolar and I have followed her growth and turmoils for the last several months.

AND SERIOUSLY, she can do one heck of a FOAD posting! Actually, Jane is the one who introduced me to FOAD, hence my recent entry. (See, Jane? See what you’ve done???) Incidentally, it was quite therapeutic. And her weekly FOAD specials never fail to entertain me.

So go visit! She’s worth it! (And send her some chocolate!…And while you’re at it, send me some chocolate too.)

Last night we celebrated our anniversary by going to a fancy schmancy restaurant called Three Forks.  Very, very nice.  And some of the best lobster bisque I’ve ever had.  As J so eloquently put it, “It tastes like a lobster died on a pad of butter and went to heaven.”

After that, we played softball with our recreational chuch league, as we have a string of rained-out makeup games over the next several weekends. 

It was a very enlightening evening, so let me share with you a few of the pearls of wisdome I gained:

1. If you have a really rich steak & seafood meal…don’t play softball after dinner.  Particularly if you already have a sensitive stomach.  They had to rearrange the batting order because of a short time in which I was MIA in the restroom.
2. If you’re in the field and it’s really windy, keep your mouth closed.  As my brother so accurately put it, “I swallowed enough dirt to plant a small tree.”
3. Softball is way more fun if you win.  This was the first game all season that we actually won, and it was probably the most fun I’ve ever had participating in a sporting event (I’m not exactly athletically inclined).  I usually get placed in Right Field, but last night I got “promoted” to Left Center and later to Second Base when our second baseman got injured.  I didn’t screw anything up (mostly because nothing ever came to me) so it was a lot of fun.
4. Church softball is not for the faint of heart…or short of memory.  There are so many odd rules and regulations, like everybody starts the count at 1 ball, 1 strike.  And if you walk a guy, he goes 2 bases and the girl batting behind him can choose if she wants to bat or just walk to first base.  If you walk a girl, she only walks 1 base.  And don’t be thinking that just because it’s church that the 3rd baseman won’t TAKE YOU OUT.  Or you might end up leaving the game with a torn ACL.  THIS IS HARD CORE CHURCH BALL, BABY.  REGULAR SOFTBALL IS FOR WEENIES.

Overall, it was a great anniversary and a nice break from our little bundle of joy, who then kept me up all night with her bouts of wakefulness.  After we attended a wedding this morning, a nap was definitely in order.

I swear, the next kid we have had better be born with teeth.

She’s cutting another tooth.  That’s a total of 2 that we’re aware of.

I’ve decided that I could do without this whole “teething” experience.  And so could Button.  How come every time she starts a new milestone, it ends up in a period of reduced sleep for our family?

Last night she was up crying about ever hour or hour and a half.  Tonight, she’s already been up once.  I should go to bed now, knowing that I won’t get enough sleep anyway.

The good news is that she is napping better during the day…catching up on the sleep she we miss at night.  Tomorrow I’m really going to wish I had a cot in my office.

She’s figured out the jeep go-cart thingie.  She just about ran me over twice already today.  She’s going to make road kill out of the dog.  7 months old and she’s already driving with a lead foot.