Why Am I Soft In The Middle?

The past few weeks have been a health nightmare. I have fatigue to end all fatigue, major nausea and a huge gut. Stop asking me if I'm pregnant. All of you.

I have a CT scan tomorrow. Last week's tests were inconclusive and caused a very frustrating moment for Jacob and I, who were feeling quite desperate for some answers. We still are, obviously, but have come to more of an acceptance that I really can't do much of anything. Sometimes I vacuum. Sometimes I sleep for 2 hours. I go day to day right now. It's no life.


I bit the bullet one Saturday and hauled the girls to South Beach. It's their favorite beachy spot and my least favorite. It reminds me of Las Vegas in a lot of ways. There are some blatant evils everywhere--nudity, inappropriate shops, people smoking pot right next to you and blasting songs with nasty lyrics. Somehow my kids are oblivious to all of this and just jump in the water. They don't even look around at who's there and what everyone is doing. Admittedly, South Beach has the best sand and best water so I see the appeal. It was 85 degrees outside and the water was 70 degrees. 

My niece wondered what people do in the ocean if they don't surf. Well, if the water's warm and the weather is nice, there are a MILLION things to do! Warm beaches are more fun than cold beaches. That's why people go to them! And this is from someone who grew up with a cold beach. 


Hannah has a taste for all worldly things. It kind of worries me, just because a love of money and glitz will buy you exactly nothing. I think she senses the glam of Miami Beach/South Beach even if she doesn't understand it. See that traffic?! All the time. All. The. Time.



We pass by the cruise port on the way to the beach. She asks, "Mom, how much does a cruise cost? Tell me in terms of Lego sets."


I had a moment of panic recently when I realized that Leah knew nothing about cooking. When I was her age, I made my own salad and homemade ranch dressing. While watching Johnny Carson. So I really felt like she needed to learn a thing or two about the kitchen. She cut watermelon, seasoned drumsticks, and steamed veggies. 


Meanwhile, the cat. We can't call him by his given name (Simba). We call him Cat Stevens, Hey You, or more crudely, Butthead. Which he is. He's taken up following me around the house all day like a toddler. I honestly don't love him all that much and seriously considered giving him back, but then something happened. Cat love. Pet love. Family pet love. I don't think they could help themselves. These are candid, unplanned shots.





He loves Jacob so much.

Sigh. I guess we're cat people. I still like dogs better but can't get my head around poop pickup. 

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