They had $5 and a plan.

Over the last few months, Troy has had a weird bump thing on his cheek, he refers to it as his “boop”, that just keeps getting bigger. Because of course he does. If there is one thing we know how to do around here, it is get the weirdest stuff ever and run with it. I’m convinced my children hold weekly meetings and probably draw up a chart where they take turns deciding who is going to go to the hospital/spike a fever/come down with something that requires a specialist and OMG, I bet Mom is totally going to need to refill the prescription for her mood stabilizer.

I found a pediatric dermatologist and after going to the school to inject Zoe with her lunch time insulin, I shuttled Troy to his appointment. He wasn’t too keen on the idea because he is convinced every time he goes to the doctor, they are going to draw blood. Not this time, buddy. They are just going to give you a shot directly into your face, cut your boop with a scapel and then squeeze it with an extractor. This is obviously way more fun than a blood draw, Troy.

The dermatologist informed me it was a cyst and probably wouldn’t need a biopsy. Before we started, the nurse mentioned that he would receive a numbing injection at the removal site and that Valium was available. I asked if the Valium was for myself or Troy and she totally gave me the judgey you-are-a-pill-chaser side eye. She sternly told me it would be for the patient. I sternly told her I was kidding.

And like I don’t have 12 zannys in my purse.

Mothering these two has taught me you should always be prepared because you just never know when you will be hyperventilating in the hospital at midnight in your pajamas.

As I was holding a Valium-less Troy down (I just think three is too young) and the nurse was coming towards his face with a syringe full of numbing solution, he took one look at that needle and screamed, “BUT I DON’T HAVE DIRE-BETES!”.

I made a mental note that if there is a next time, Troy and I should probably share a martini in the parking lot before the appointment.

The procedure went fine and the dermatologist was able to thoroughly remove the boop and he didn’t even need stitches, just a circle band-aid, which in my opinion is the coolest band-aid you can receive.

And speaking of face procedures, I am having laser hair removal on my upper lip later today. I spent all of this weekend googling “laser hair removal gone wrong” and reading horror stories and watching videos. Don’t do this. Ever.

Also, I have had to grow my moustache out for a month. A MONTH.  I’m sure the people that have had to look at me with their eyeballs recommend I don’t do this ever either.

I know it is going to hurt, the internet told me so.  If it is anything I can’t handle, I will just yell, “BUT I DON’T HAVE DIRE-BETES” and grab some circle band-aids on my way out.

I type this from my spotless house as I whip my Goddess Hair (see the comments) back and forth. NOT REALLY. But! I did my floors, all the laundry and my kitchen is pretty clean, so that counts for something.

I really hoping I get my allowance this week, JEFF.

Also, regarding my hair, y’all made my day, your comments were so much better than the actual post (like that is hard to do). I might be a real shitty housekeeper, but I can grow hair. Jennifer pointed out that I had Julia Roberts hair from Steel Magnolias, which I promptly forwarded to Jeff while he was working, twice. He called me at home and was all, “Why is someone emailing me about Julia Roberts?” (OH GOD). I explained to him that my new hair seems to be bringing joy to the internet and I am reminding people (okay, one person) right and left of Julia and he really needs to watch it because I doubt Julia would put up with that kind of attitude from a UPS driver.

True story:  When I was 15, I was positive my spiral perm made me look just like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman (it didn’t).  Because a 15 year old should totally look up to a down on her luck prostitute.

Speaking of all the laundry that I folded and I need to go put away right now so this is the best I can do today, my friend emailed me this because she thought I could use some pointers.

I know in my heart that if I practice really hard I can do this.

Or maybe I will just make Zoe do it.

What? I washed the laundry, it is the least she could do.

Happy Weekend.

XO-
Julia

With Zoe’s direbetes diagnosis two months ago, things have been a tad bit hectic for our family. Doctors appointments, trips to the pharmacy, around the clock worrying, it’s really no wonder I don’t have the energy to shave my legs/armpits or pluck my eyebrows.

Well, since we are being honest, I rarely have time to bathe.

Actually, the first week we were home from the hospital, I didn’t. I was too afraid of something happening.

Or perhaps it was because I was exhausted and after everyone was tucked in I would simply pass out face first on the couch in my clothes clutching a bottle of Xanax.

Zoe and I have a pretty good system down and Jeff can also help Zoe now with finger checks and insulin dosing, not that she needs any assistance these days. I feel comfortable leaving her, so recently I went to get mah hair did. I haven’t seen my stylist since before the holidays and I was busted. Roots for days.

Operation Restoration ZDub was in full effect.  I told Jeff I would probably even pick up some razors and soap on the way home.

Let me just preface this by saying I love my stylist. Also? I found out during my last appointment she is a Type One Diabetic and is doing fabulous with three gorgeous teenage girls. She is a big fan of ZDub because I rock the long hair and she loves styling long hair because she learned how to do hair in the 80′s when the motto was “The Bigger The Better”.

YOU DON’T SAY.

The color?  She nailed it.  And I would have killed for this hair in 1986.

I would have been the most popular 5th grader you have ever seen.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m stoked that I was even able to find the time to have it washed.

It is just huge hair.  And it feathers naturally now, like I should probably roll around on a Camaro.

In the rain.

When I mentioned to Twitter that my hair was a borderline 80′s rocker, my friend Heather asked if it was Tiffany or Joan Jett.

I’m going to go out on a limb here and say not Joan Jett.

Because the beating of our hearts is the only sound.

Running just as fast as we can.

FROM MY HAIR.