We were finally able to cancel all the funeral arangements. After not getting better for a full week, I went on antibiotics. My nasty cold turned into an even nastier sinus infection. I haven't had one in so long, I forgot just how gloriously terrible they are. My ear was plugged for a solid 6 days, which made my equalibrium totally off. So not only was I off balance, but for once in my life I couldn't hear at all. Ryan loved it, he was able to listen to the TV at normally forbidden levels. I actually have quite good hearing, even bordering hypersensativity. But, last week I couldn't even hear myself whisper. When it finally popped, everything was amazingly clear and loud, and of course it was painful. Today is the first day I feel almost normal. I was able to go get my hair done for the first time in months. And I could actually hold a converstation with my stylist with out having to blow my nose every 10 minutes.
It's pretty cool how doing one simple, small act of selfishness can make all the difference in the world on how you view yourself. I haven't had my hair done in over 7 months. I didn't realize just how low my self esteem was until I looked in the mirror after my appointment, and actually felt kind of pretty. You know how you felt at 19, when you get all dolled up to go out and wow the world? That kind of pretty, if only for a split second. Branson has consumed all of my time, and I have invested literally less than 5 minutes a day into my appearance since before he was born. Not that looks are everything, but I think it's important to feel pretty. It's important to find something I like about myself everyday, even something so small, like my hair color, or semi-clear skin. It's important for daddies to find mommies attractive, and in order for mommy to believe it, she has to feel it. And Ryan has been so great about telling me how beautiful I am. Even on the days I barley make it to the shower, he has something sweet to say. God bless him.
Branson has developed his belly laugh. Ryan gets it out of him daily (I must be chopped liver, he never does it for me). It's pretty cute to see Ryan jumping around like a clown, just to get B to laugh. Though he doesn't have to do much, he can just look at him and Branson breaks out laughing. I have to come to the conclusion that I am nothing but the milk lady, and the comforter. Ryan is the fun parent. Good cop/bad cop type thing. I wonder where that leaves us in the future...
We are taking our first trip with Branson next week. Keenan will fly in to town, and then we are off to Vegas. I found out I am able to take a bottle on the plane, but they have to test it first. I wonder what they are testing it for, "yup, tested positive for breast milk." Ya think? And I'm really not sure about this whole idea of Branson being loose on my lap the whole flight. I have the reoccurring day dream/nightmare of him flying down the isle in an emergency. There has GOT to be a safer way for infants to fly, right? But that doesn't top my main concern, maneuvering a stroller through Vegas for a week. If you have been to LV in the last few years, you know just how busy it is. And you know that annoying mom that is pushing her way through lines and crowds with that gaudy stroller and screaming baby in tow? Well friends, that's going to be me in a few days. I keep wishing there was some way to sneak the notsopackable bugaboo with us, so at least I would be doing it in style. Instead I'm going to be THAT mom. Outcome to follow...
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