It’s official, my little girl is now all grown up and a high school graduate. (Don’t let her young looking face fool you, she’s turning 19 in a couple of weeks.)
Today was Thor’s 6 month checkup, which came a couple of weeks late because we had to reschedule it. The doctor seemed rather pleased with him, and even joked that we must be feeding him MiracleGro instead of formula. She swears he grows by leaps and bounds every time she sees him. I can completely see why she says that. Thor is 30 inches tall and 18 1/2 pounds now at 6 1/2 months old, which is off the charts on their growth chart. Most babies don’t grow as big has he has until they are at least a year old.
She also seemed happy with his development so far, she gave him some tummy time and watched him roll around and reach for everything. She said to help him practice sitting up a little more, and to give him lots of time on the floor on a blanket so he could start working on scooting and crawling.
On a side note, she’s referring us to a genetics doctor, not because she thinks anything is wrong with him presently, but because we have discovered that the cause of my husband’s deafness may be a congenital defect. As Thor gets a little bigger he will have to be screened for the same inner ear defect, for which sadly there is no treatment or cure. Thankfully it’s only at most a 50/50 shot of him having it at most, and if he does it just means he will likely slowly lose his hearing as he gets older, when it will happen, or to what extent, there’s no way to tell.
This condition can also be aggravated by head trauma, so sadly no contact sports for our little tough guy until we know for sure what we are dealing with. Unfortunately at the present time he is still far too young to even be properly screened for the condition. His hearing for now is extremely good, so the doctor can’t see doing the tests until he is old enough to understand what is happening, not to mention he is still small enough that he may still be far too little for the scans to see clearly.
So far so good though, now we just have to get through the post-immunization grumpiness. Thankfully he won’t need any more shots until he is a year old. That enough is reason to celebrate in my opinion.
Please share this, lets all help find her. Sadly with technology today, she could be anyone’s daughter.
Yes this has been me as of late, well, minus the viking helmet. As much of a plan as I may have for one story or another, the words and sometimes the motivation seems to evaporate before I get it written down on paper.
When did writing become so hard? I remember a time when I was young and it used to be so easy. I used to have a million ideas, and I would wake up in the middle of the night and write all sorts of things that couldn’t wait until morning. I guess I have no idea where my enthusiasm went, probably drowned out by my now adult life, and my seemingly never ending ungodly stress level.
Sometimes I worry my writing won’t be good enough. No one close to me ever seems to want to read it anymore, not that they ever read it to begin with. I’ve had a printed copy of my second novel sitting here on the book shelf and year and a half now, and even my hubby hasn’t given it so much as a second glance.
Several years ago my friend Penny would have been standing next to my printer with her hands out waiting for the next chapter. She died from cancer a few years ago, and finishing a project since then is so much harder, especially without my one person fan club, and her encouragement. That’s one of only a very long list of things I still miss about her, and always will.
Penny didn’t just passively read what I had written, but loved to give me her input, encouraging things she believed would make what I had written even better. I think all of us need that sometimes. We need to hear not only what needs fixing, and what we can do to make improvements, but also what is good and going right. In other words, this is what works, and these are the things that would make it even better.
Sometimes I get so caught up in believing it all has to be perfect the first time, that it completely stops my momentum. I get discouraged believing no one will ever want to read it, no matter how much love and hard work I put into telling the story. I ask myself what I do it all for.
The answer is, it’s because I have to…
If the story doesn’t get told, it is wasted. What good are all the infinite worlds inside your head, if you are the only one that ever journeys into them? I keep trying to remind myself of these things, and keep edging forward, even if baby steps. I don’t want to believe I have an irretrievable imagination. Even if the old ideas won’t return, or seem childish now through older eyes, I hope I haven’t ceased to invent new ideas, new universes, and those that reside in them.
I don’t think my mind would be happy at all, limited to just one world.
The last few weeks have been rough, and this last week especially. A lot has been going on, and there is so much weighing on me, so much worry, sadness, and frustration. It made it nearly impossible to want to work on the book, or to even write here, but tonight I am making myself at least write a blog post. It’s time I wrote something.
A lot of the worries are the usual ones, mostly a matter of money, but those aren’t the only things as of late. I’m dealing with not being able to find a ride to my daughter’s high school graduation, as badly as I want to be there. No amount of asking nicely, or offers of gas money has been adequate to persuade anyone. People make me feel like a loser for even asking. I can use greyhound to get half an hour away from there, but there’s no public transportation that can get me any closer. You’d be amazed how many people think you are worthless just because you can’t afford a car of your own.
As badly as that is weighing on me, it hasn’t helped that I found out one of my best friends for almost the last 20 years has passed away. It apparently happened months ago, and no one bothered to call and let me know he had passed, or that he was even getting in that bad of shape. I was in town a couple of weeks before he passed on, if I’d known I would have liked to have gone and seen him one last time, but sadly I didn’t get to.
I could have called and asked, long before I did, but honestly I had been dreading it. It may seem odd, but I kept telling myself that has long as I didn’t hear otherwise, Jimbo was still there. It’s hard to imagine that I will go back to town to visit, and I won’t be able to call him, and see him a short time later riding up on his bike wearing one of his old flannel shirts, playing with one random gadget or another. He’d pull more anime dvds out of his backpack and ask me if I wanted to split a pizza, and sit and talk until I’d be half falling asleep on him and have to ask him to finish the movies off at home.
That’s just who he was, strange, harmless, in a world of his own, but at the same time as caring and wonderful as he was introverted and shy. He was a hermit, but adopted my daughter and I as a surrogate family. She adored him from the time she was a small baby clear up until the end. He’d do anything for her, much more than her own father had ever done, even if it was just sitting on the floor with her watching cartoons, or remembering her birthday by bringing her some of the oddest presents under the sun.
Nothing I say right now could be enough. It’s all just words trying to relate, what really can’t be put into words. Someday soon it will hit me for real. I’ll sit and fall apart, but the world will keep turning, just a lot lonelier without him there.
We are limited only by our imagination
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