So Evan went back to Genetics on Thursday. He has some more brown spots, some more white ones, and his head circumference just keeps getting bigger and bigger. There's nothing new really to worry about in the Neurofibromatosis department, but he is displaying a couple of classic Marfan signs. However, his heart sounds fine. Next year, he gets an ultrasound of his chest; they wanted to do one this year, but he wasn't cooperative enough. We'll just have to keep going back for a few years. So it was mostly good news for the duration of the visit. The doctor waited until I was feeling great and all ready to go to give me his bad news.
It seems that since Evan is 27 months old and only says about twenty words, and because he doesn't string his words into sentences like he should, he has a language delay. This means he has to have his hearing tested, and that he'll most likely have to start going to some sort of speech therapy. It upset me pretty bad; I felt, and still somewhat feel, that it was all my fault. Maybe I should have read to him for three hours a night instead of an hour and a half. I don't know. It's probably nothing that I had anything to do with, but it's still sort of hard to not feel like a failure.
He did say, though, that he thinks Evan has an exceptionally high IQ. His problem solving, physical, emotional, and nonverbal communication skills are much better than they should be; if he was able to talk, he'd be at a kindergarten level. This makes me happy, because kindergarteners are 5 and 6, and Evan's only 2. He said the main reason he's concerned about Evan's language skills is it would be a shame for someone who is so bright and has so much potential to be frustrated because he can't find the words to express what's going on in his mind. I gave him a look that clearly said, "Don't bullshit me," to which he responded, "No, really. I wouldn't lie about something like this."
So all in all, it wasn't a bad visit. I'd say the good oughtweighed the bad this time around. We'll just keep doing what they tell us to do and hope for the best, I suppose.
In the mean time, I'll just sit here, smiling because I know my child is a genius. ;)
It's been a while since I've posted here, so until I get back into the groove of things, here's a funny little story about my morning for your reading enjoyment. :)
Around 5 this morning, I heard some loud thumps and scrabbling outside my bedroom window. I figured it was just a couple of cats fighting, or a stray dog messing around. Just as I was drifting back to sleep, I remembered that my bedroom is on the top floor of the house. Any dogs or cats would be two floors below my window, and would have to be fighting or messing around pretty loudly to wake me up. I listened for a while longer. Thump, thump, thump. Scratch, scratch, scratch. Thump, scratch, bang. I listened harder. These noises had a pattern. And that pattern made them sound like someone was walking around on my roof.
By this point, I was terrified. My heart was absolutely pounding. I had visions of big, burly, unshaven men sneaking in through my window with large knives and the intent to kill. Worse, I was positive these men would then move down the hall into Ev's room. I didn't even what to think about what horrible things they'd do to him. It was at this point that my maternal instinct kicked into overdrive. If they wanted my son, by God, they'd have to go through ME to get him.
I quietly crept out of bed. I reached into my closet and got out my baseball bat. I tiptoed down the stairs. Took my purse down from the coatrack, and took out my can of pepper spray. I silently opened and closed the front door, and stood on the front porch collecting myself for a few seconds. Then it was time to face my intruders.
Adrenaline streaming through my veins, I jumped off the porch and ran to the side of the house, wielding my bat in a threatening manner. I stopped under my bedroom window and looked upward. And yelled.
"COME DOWN AND GET ME, FUCKERS!"
Very quickly came something rustling through the ivy on the side of the house. I raised my bat, ready to swing and knock someone's bloody head off. And out from the ivy, in a flash of shiny black fur, comes my intruder.
Now, my brother happened to be sleeping in the livingroom when all of this was happening. He heard me yelling and ran outside. He reached me as I stood there, my bat dangling by my side, watching my cat run away. "Brianna, for God's sake, what are you yelling about? And why aren't you wearing any pants?!"
"Fucking cat..." I mumbled as I slinked back inside.
This is really turning into a monthly journal rather than a daily one, isn't it? I suppose I should feel bad for that, but I just can't.
I finished classes on Tuesday. The final was a bit of a nasty bitch -- we were given 10 programs, and had to look at the source code and say exactly what the output would be, and why. A few were pretty simple -- std::cout << "Hello, World\n"; -- but others used such horrible things as pointers and arrays and random number generation, oh my. I finished in about 30 minutes. Even though I studied hard and checked and re-checked my work, I got a 60% on the final, and my final grade for the class is a 54.69%. *sigh* I think this means academic probation next semester... hopefully, it doesn't mean academic suspension.
"Westley" needed to find a place called the Book Nook after his History class, so I waited around for him and went along for the ride. It didn't take long for him to find it, and we went to my house after he was finished with whatever business it was he had there. We did a lot of talking about things, and came to the conclusion that having to go until June without seeing eachother is going to Royally Suck. He gave me some very nice hugs before leaving, and I was pretty happy for the rest of the day. Sometimes, it's just nice to have someone to hug.
My dad spent a good portion of last week in the cardiac ICU in Memphis. He's been discharged and sent home, so I'm assuming he's better. I haven't taken the time to call him, because last time we talked he made a point of putting me through a bunch of guilt trips. I call because I'm worried about him, and he proceeds to make me cry. I think he does these things to feel better about himself. He's always been the worst blow to my self-esteem. I'm glad he's out of the ICU, I'm glad he's feeling better, but I'm not going to call again for a while. I just can't handle it right now.
Jeremy and I are talking about going to Saint Louis this weekend. I have to try on my dress for Danielle's wedding, and bring her some maternity clothes and birthing books. Jeremy has to do some looking at his car to see if it will make the trip, but he says he's pretty sure it will be fine. I'm trying to remember if he and I have ever taken a long trip like that alone, and I'm pretty sure this will be our first time. I haven't decided if Evan will be coming with us -- I want him to meet Danielle and I'll miss him if he stays home, but he hasn't been the best little traveller lately and any minute change in scenery freaks him out. I'll have to turn it over in my head a little bit and make a final decision soon. My mom doesn't work over the weekend, so I won't have to worry about leaving him with a sitter this time. She says she wants him to stay home... I just don't know. She offhandedly mentioned the other day that it's going to really hurt her when Evan and I move away. I gently reminded her that Evan is my son and WILL be coming with me when I move out of her house, and she can't do anything but learn to deal with it. Then she reminded me that legally, he's HERS and my taking him against her wishes will be kidnapping in the eyes of the law. So I said that I want custody back ASAP if she's going to hold that over my head as a way to control me. She said she'll think about it. Bullshit, you'll think about it. We'll do it when I say we'll do it. And that will be soon.
This is how it's been around here. Tense, tense, tense. Some guy has been sending my mom flowers and calling her at ungodly hours of the morning. He called her at 730 this morning, and she left Evan alone in the livingroom so she could go talk on the phone in private. She didn't come get me to watch him, she didn't tell anyone he was even awake. The next thing I know, Evan's screaming. I ran downstairs, passed my mom giggling like a fucking teenybopper on the phone, and find Evan laying on the floor with a big cut on his face. I took the phone from my mom and said "How the HELL did that happen?!" And she said, "How the HELL am I supposed to know? He's YOUR kid!" ARGH! Is talking on the phone to someone that much more important than Evan's safety? Is it really THAT hard to come and get me to tell me she's not watching him? I'm still pretty pissed about that. I still have no idea how Evan hurt himself.
The fact that my mom has a boyfriend (though she denies it) isn't what bothers me. It's the fact that this guy comes into her life and she immediately ignores everyone else. She calls him at 7:05 SHARP on days she's not working, regardless of what she's doing. She damn near got us into a car accident the other day, because she was busy dialing his number on her cellphone. He gives her gifts and roses. BULLSHIT he's not her boyfriend. All I'm looking for here is a little fucking honesty.
Yeah. Thinking about it just annoys me. I'm going to stop now and see about getting some dinner. Thanks for reading, everyone. Hope I haven't bored you too much.
So sad the Labia Days are over! I have a pretty full weekend ahead of me, so here's the Friday Five to tide you over.
1. What are the first things that you do in the morning to start your day? Depends on the morning. Tuesdays and Thursdays, I generally wake up around 7 AM and get ready for school. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, I roll out of bed whenever I damn well feel like it and throw on some clothes. Saturdays and Sundays, I'm up at dawn (no thanks to the person sharing my bed!), and I shuffle grouchily downstairs to watch some TV.
2. What are the last things that you do at night before going to bed? Brush my teeth, change into sleeping attire, and read a book until I can't stay awake any longer.
3. What daily routine have you recently added to your day? Feeding the cats
4. What routine do you wish you get rid of? Doing laundry!
5. What's the one thing that makes you feel like something is missing if you don't do it some point within your day? I don't feel complete unless I've checked the Scarleteen boards one last time before going to bed.