My sincerest apologies for the lack of updates, but I've been kind of busy being driven ABSOLUTELY BATSHIT INSANE, THE KIND OF ABSOLUTELY BATSHIT INSANE THAT ONLY YOUR FAMILY CAN DRIVE YOU TO.
I don't talk about my family all that much here, because 1) they know about the site, and 2) they are so crazy I would probably lose all credibility because y'all would say, "Whatever, she's just making shit up outright now, nobody's brother falls out of a helicopter in the army."
I also have another brother who has spent most of his life in and out of mental institutions and set our house on fire once, but you know, whatever.
There are seven of us altogether: four boys, three girls. We're a blended Brady Bunch family kind of thing, except that everybody fucking HATED each other and instead of hitting your sister with a football, you tried to strangle her with a telephone cord while she ate melba toast in her high chair.
One of my sisters is visiting me this week, along with my mom, neither of whom are the ones driving me crazy, because they drink a lot of wine and are fun, except that my mom keeps taking my picture while I'm typing this. And they're leaving tomorrow to go visit my helicopter-falling brother in West Virginia, which is where he moved after falling out of the helicopter, but at least now he leaves in a house instead of a tent, so you know, progress.
(And in a few weeks, my other sister is coming to visit, my other sister who is pregnant, with a boy, due six months to the day after Noah.)
(My other sister is 46 years old. And has a 17-year-old daughter. And I repeat, is pregnant.)
One of my other non-helicopter-falling, non-mental-insitution brothers came to visit us for 15 minutes on Sunday night. And in that 15 minutes, he determined that Noah is probably deaf because he did not respond to my brother's highly-scientific test of snapping his fingers around Noah's head.
"Noah doesn't hear very well," he said cheerfully as he examined the baby's ears, like he was a doctor or something.
(My brother is not a doctor.)
"He hears just fine." I snapped, and proceeded to list the examples of things that Noah hears just fine, like the John Tesh-ish music of his swing or the annoying buzzer on the washing machine outside his room because it took me three weeks to figure out that maybe I shouldn't always start running the washer the instant Noah starts his nap so the buzzer wouldn't scare the ever-loving-bejesus out of him.
"Mm-hmm," said my brother, giving my sister-in-law a look like, I told you she wouldn't listen to me, just like she didn't listen last summer when I told her she was a high-risk candidate for postpartum depression and would probably kill her baby and nobody ever listens to me, I don't know why.
"His hearing was tested in the hospital," I continued. "He passed."
"Mm-hmm," said my brother.
I spent the entire day on Monday researching hearing milestones and making loud noises and shouting at the poor baby, because my family? Knows how to goddamn push my goddamn buttons.
Welcome to the family, Nose. Sorry about that.