I Could Swear They Were JUST Here

I have always had very ordinary, average features. This isn't a complaint, merely a statement. I have always been lucky to have a nose that wasn't too large, not too many freckles, and pretty good teeth that didn't need braces. One feature that I always felt was somewhat lacking were my eyelashes. I do not have the long, luxurious lashes that my daughters have. I have always had stumpy lashes. However, it wasn't a big deal when I was younger. As long as I had Maybelline Great Lash and some eyeliner, I was good to go.

One of the privileges of working from home for the past two years has been that I didn't have to look "corporate" to walk the 27 steps to my office. While I did force myself to at least get dressed (showering was sometimes iffy), I never combed my hair or wore makeup ( I am certain the neighbors at the bus stop wished that I would). As a matter of fact, most of my makeup got thrown away a few months ago because I knew it had expired. The only time I wear makeup is if I am going to one of my husband's work events or to play Bunco (aka Drunko) in my neighborhood.

Last Thursday, I got ready for Drunko. It has been way too hot to wear any real makeup, but my eyes look like the size of a mouse's if I don't put on some mascara. So, I whipped out my Great Lash and went to town. I noticed right away that my lashes weren't getting coated with any of the mascara. I checked the wand with my hand, but there was plenty of mascara on it. I turned on my bathroom light (I know, why on Earth would I turn on a light to apply makeup?!) and took a closer look.

My eyelashes are gone.

Seriously.

OK, maybe not ALL of them, but most of them on my lower eyelids. Upon closer inspection, my left upper eyelid is missing a significant chunk of them. I ran out of the bathroom and yelled to my husband to tell him that my eyelashes are gone. Like every other time I run out of the bathroom yelling, he looked at me blankly, shrugged, and told me he had no idea what I was talking about. As usual, he was no help.

I have since been trying to figure out what happened to my lashes. I have been doing research on Dr. Internet. It is so much more convenient than going to my babe of a dermatologist. When I go to Dr. Hottie with a problem, the looks of sympathy I get from her makes me insane because I know she has never had a bad hair, bad body day or bad face day in her life. And she never will. I can't decide if the cause is simply my age, or if it might be caused by my hypothyroidism. As a born redhead, I lose a lot of hair on my head. I am constantly shedding a lot, but I have never shed anywhere else. I recently had my blood tested for my hypothyroidism, and it came back normal, so my hunch is leaning more toward aging.

Damn you, old age.

I am so annoyed because I know this is going to somehow cost me a lot of money. I have spent close to $1000 lasering hair off of my body this year(keep that to yourself!). I had no idea that I should have been saving some of it to make myself some replacement eyelashes. Latisse isn't cheap and it is only FDA approved to work on UPPER eyelids, not the lower, so I don't know if it would ultimately help. I am also concerned about my eyes and/or eyelids possibly turning brown from using Latisse. And the way my husband rolls his eyes at the vanity drugs people take, I am sure he would be be irate if I started to use it. I am sure he would say something like, "You're only using it because Brook Shields does, blah blah blah." My husband does drug discovery, yet he's against my using them. Go figure.

In the meantime, I am trying to put heavy coats on the 12 eyelashes I do have and pray that no one notices. I'll let you know how that works out. If any of you have any experience with Latisse, do let me know. My lashes thank you.

Facebook Killed My Blog

Recently, a few friends told me that they missed my blog and wanted to know if I was ever going to write again. Of course, I basked in the glow of their complements about my writing, but when I thought about it, I really didn't know if I was going to write anymore. Frankly, I couldn't remember the last time I had even looked at my blog. Not only have I not written, but I have all but stopped READING my favorite blogs that I have read for years. I used all kinds of excuses. My workload increased, the kids and their activities left me completely spent and unable to write. But I knew I was lying. I have always been busy, but that never stopped me from writing to bitch about how busy I am. The truth was, Facebook killed my blog.

Awhile back, I wrote about how Facebook completely sucked me into its warm, gossipy lair. While I recognized that I was sucked in, I didn't try to stop it. All of my favorite bloggers became my friends, so I was "seeing" them everyday. I started to update nearly everyday on my page. It was so much easier to upload a cute picture of the kids with a snappy quip about the cuteness I had just witnessed than to sit down and write about what was really going on in my day. I figured that my readership had dwindled to single digits, so who cares?

This morning, I happened to go into my blogger account and noticed that I hadn't written since November 3rd of LAST YEAR. I couldn't believe it had been that long. So much has happened since November 3rd of last year. Most of it I haven't posted on Facebook because I am not comfortable sharing anything that isn't cute with 280 of my closest friends and family. I then suddenly remembered why I started my blog in the first place. In 2005, I had just had my second child, relocated halfway across the country two months later, and was dealing with being a SAHM for the first time ever. Did I mention that I am pretty sure that I had postpartum depression at the time but didn't recognize it? I needed to write my blog for therapy, to instill some calm and sanity in what was a really rough period in my life.

It's time for therapy again.

I Knew it Would Happen Eventually

Once my friends found out we were moving to Nashville, they would say things like, "Oh, I can't wait to hear the girls and their cute little accents when they get older." My hope was that it wouldn't happen so long as Corey and I continued to speak our bland, Midwestern English at home. I was still nervous with the evil outside influences, namely school.

Last week, I heard Ella on the playground shriek, "Y'ALL NEED TO GIT OUT OF MAH WAAAAY!"

Corey and I looked at each other in shock. I told him, "Oh HELL no. We need to nip that in the bud."

A little bit of me died inside that day.

She's Got it All Figured Out

Ella came home from school today and told me that she had a sub for part of the day. She said that the sub was really nice and even knew Joey from her class when he was a baby.

Ella then said, "Mommy, would you be a sub sometime in my classroom? It would be so cool."

"Well," I said. "I don't qualify because I am not a teacher and I think I would need to take some special classes."

"No problem, Mommy. I am going to write you a list of everything you need to know to become a sub. I'll be right back."

Ella came back a few minutes later with a comprehensive list:

You Work We Work
We Play You Sit.
We read.

And there you have it.

Linus

Last Monday, I told Corey that we needed to put Linus to sleep. He was suffering so much. Initially, Corey thought we should take him to the vet for a visit just one more time to see what he thought. I told him that while we could certainly put Linus on a pain management program, it wouldn't change the fact that he had no control over his back legs, he was afraid to walk, and was falling all over the place when he did his business.

I put off calling the vet clinic all morning because I was afraid I would start sobbing and I was in the middle of working. Eventually, I called the vet clinic that afternoon and told them that it was time to put Linus down. And then I started to sob on the phone. Fortunately, they know Linus well and love him, so they understand. Then again, it's their job to do so. Dr. Brad called me back later and we talked for awhile about Linus' rapid decline. He agreed that it was time.

We waited until Ella got on the bus on Thursday. We dawdled a little, because we didn't want to do it. Of course, I was crying. I so wish I was a cute cryer, but I am not. I am a red-faced, snot dripping down my nose kind of a cryer. I am not a wailer (thank God) but it ain't pretty. We finally got Linus into the back of the truck and drove to the clinic.

We stayed with him when he died. The shot the vet gives to knock them out takes a lot longer than the shot he is given later to stop his heartbeat. The whole process took about 15 minutes.

The girls took it hard, but I wasn't surprised. They have never had to deal with death. Corey and I told them that Linus died and went to doggie heaven. Fortunately, they didn't ask too many questions. I told them that Bosco needs all of our love now that Linus is gone. The both hugged and kissed Bosco all night long.

The next day, Genna and I came home from running errands. As we walked in the house, Genna said, "Mommy, the house is so empty without Liney. He's in Heaven, right? Doggie Heaven?" I assured her he was.

We had been very worried about Bosco prior to putting Linus to sleep. Bosco typically clung to Linus like a barnacle. As a matter of fact, Bosco never actually put his butt on the floor--he always sat or laid on Linus instead. The few times they have been apart, Bosco has been an absolute mess. The first two days, Bosco was pretty mellow, but he would howl like a hound whenever I got on the phone. It was so strange and random. Now, he has stopped howling and he has been really calm. REALLY CALM. People who know Bosco probably wouldn't believe that the words, "Bosco" and "really calm" would ever be in the same sentence.

I brought Linus' ashes home yesterday. It is so eerie and sad to be able to hold what was once a 65 lb, dog in the palm of one's hand. When I walked in the door with him, Bosco literally bounded off the couch and ran around the house like a complete crazy dog. I hadn't seen him do any bounding or running since Linus was around. He continued to run around the house, sniffing and looking.

He knew his brother was home.