In the spirit of keeping you posted (as I often promise to do), here's a post.
Westley still has all his hair. For now. It's getting quite long and scraggly in the back, to the point that it actually bugs me on occasion.
Never mind the mullet--look at those eyelashes! They go on for days!
I think there's probably a hair cut in Westley's future, but it won't be for another month at least. Ruth, the lovely woman who cuts my hair is on vacation, and there's no way I'm putting scissors next to my son's head myself. Of course, by the time Ruth has some availability again, I may have decided that, scraggly as it is, I can't bear to part with the fuzzy baby-ness on the back of Westley's head.
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Sex three times a week somehow turned into sex every other day. This was Rob's counter-suggestion to my "on these days, we do it" plan. It keeps us on a schedule, while somehow still managing to feel spontaneous. And it keeps sex out of the realm of things we actually do deal with on specific days of the week, both of which are pretty much the opposite of sexy: the budget and diapers.
So for those of you keeping score (heh), it's sex every other day for the foreseeable future. Unless I'm especially depressed (in which case it's sex never) or ovulating (in which case it's, "Hey, if you were nineteen, we could do it again right now!").
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I'm going on vacation by myself. It should be interesting and fun to be taking care of just myself for the first time in a year and a half, but also a little sad. After some serious investigation into traveling with a toddler (and some great input and advice from commenters), the thing that finally tipped the scale was money. The cost of two nonstop cross-country plane tickets was just higher than I was comfortable with. Besides, paying more than twice as much for a more stressful traveling experience seemed stupid. Mo' money, mo' problems, and all that.
I'm sorry that Westley won't get to be a little beach bum this summer. He'll just have to spend extra time at the pool.
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The elimination diet is working wonders for me. I feel much better in general. I cheated and had a cup of coffee a few weeks ago after one of those two-hours-of-sleep nights, and then I realized that caffeine makes me feel like ass. I'm also finding that I don't miss bread as much as I miss the convenience of bread. And rice bread is good, but it's a whole different animal from your standard, run-of-the-mill gluteny wheat stuff.
It's been a month now, and I'm actually a little scared to add wheat back into my diet, because I'm afraid that might be the thing that was making me feel so sick all the time. I am, however, anxious to eat soy again. I loves me some legumes, but it's no fun making broiled tofu for Rob and Westley and not getting to at least taste it. I see the doctor tomorrow, so I may have to post an update to this update.
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My depression seems to be on a cycle. That cycle, as a matter of fact. It goes a little something like this: two weeks of depression, one week of neutral mood, one week of awesome, rinse and repeat. I'm not sure how helpful this knowledge is, except that I'll be able to go, "Wow, I feel like total shit all of the sudden! I guess I'll probably get my period next week." I'm hoping my doctor will find this more interesting and useful than I do. Again: appointment tomorrow, we'll see what happens.
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I love you guys. No, really. My readers are the best. Your advice and support is invaluable, and if I could give each of you a hug, I would.
