I'm trying to get caught up on blogs since I've been MIA for a while, and read this awesome post over at Flea's world about "Green Eggs & Ham" with her son, Christopher. And it got me to thinking about all the things I'm supposed to like that I don't.

Forrest Gump (and almost every movie that everyone saw)
The Giving Tree
Bananas
Almost every book I had to read as an English major.
The Lord of the Rings trilogy (ducking)
Coffee

Naturally, now that I've brought up the subject, I've forgotten half of the things that flew through my head while I read the comments on Flea's blog.

DH and I have gone back and forth for the last several years, cutting back on and then re-establishing our cable service and pay channels. We've had DirecTV for the past several years, and with the exception of typically rising prices, I think it's pretty good. We still have the occasional "maybe we should get rid of the movie channels" discussion -- usually DH's idea -- and the result is almost always "but we need to have a couple of channels where there are no fucking commercials."

The goofy thing is, we have this really nice TV. We got it when Jacob was a few months old. At the time, we each had both a full-time and a part-time job, and the part-time jobs basically paid for it within a couple of months. Our one main TV had died, and with a fussy, reflux-prone baby who didn't like to sleep, the rocker in the living room had one of our butts in it pretty much all the time. So off we went to Monkey Ward's electronics store to get a TV. DH had been touting the wonders of the Sony WEGA TVs, whose quality he said would offset the fact that we couldn't get a particularly big TV.

We circled the sales floor for quite a while, and both kept moving away from the standard-sized TVs to end up at the shrine of this giant thing. It was a floor model, on clearance with its base thing. We both tippy-toed around the topic for a bit, and then admitted to each other that we'd fallen under its spell. The justification, we figured, was that we wouldn't be spending our weekends at the movie theaters as we'd done pre-baby, so this would be our primary form of entertainment. We put a stranglehold on a pimply-faced, teenaged clerk and basically told him to talk us into the sale. It was pretty sad. We obviously just wanted someone to say "you gotta buy this TV!"

Anyway, we bought that floor model, and the extended warranty (which, in this case, came in handy a few times), and we've had it ever since. So in our fairly small-to-average sized living room, there is this giant TV with a very nice picture. The kids use it plenty to watch movies, Noggin, and the like. But where do DH and I watch almost everything?

On the 27" TV in our room. From bed. Oh, quit that Beavis & Butthead sniggering. It's just that the bed is a super-comfy spot to hang out, and we have air conditioning in our room. When we're in the living room, we're much closer to where the litter box is, which can be unpleasant right after the cats have eaten. And also, when we're in the living room, we tend to get stressy about what a mess it usually is.

So I spend most of my time at home in my room, on what we call Big Bed. Since DH has a tendency to work late almost every night, the TV keeps me company. I can't really watch when I'm trying to work, but if I'm just bored, it's nice to pop it on and find something to watch. And tonight, I scooted through the on-screen guide to find that I'd just missed the first 15 minutes of Big Love, but two channels down there was My Cousin Vinny on one of the HBOs.

In case you lived under a rock in the early 90s, this is a very underrated comedy with Joe Pesci and Marisa Tomei. Most people remember it mainly because there is this rumor out there that Tomei's Oscar, won for this role, was a complete mistake. But this is one of those movies I can watch pretty much every time it's on. And I have to see the part where Marisa Tomei's character takes the stand. Uch, it's great.

There are other movies like that -- things I can pick up and watch wherever they are and see over and over. I don't think to go in the other room and put on a DVD, but if it shows up on cable, I'll put it on. (Bonus points if it's commercial-free and uncut.) There are always the basic rom-coms like Sleepless in Seattle, and any Cameron Crowe movie works for me, too. It's sort of like how I re-read books all the time... I know how they'll come out, but I can still enjoy the details.

We found out recently that my uncle has cancer. It's a fairly nasty version of it, and my parents had some trouble getting the details out of my aunt and uncle -- the former is overwhelmed and a little scatterbrained, and the latter is pretty taken up with a third round of chemo kicking his ass. Things look pretty bad, and it's especially harsh because my uncle is really the patriarch of his family; they have a car dealership where two out of his three kids work, and one of my cousins has two girls who suffer from mitochondrial disease. My uncle really is the glue that holds all of them together; he's very involved with his six grandkids and really has spearheaded huge efforts to raise money for research on mitochondrial disease. My aunt, who is very sweet and well educated but a little flaky, never even had to so much as drive to the airport until she was in her 50s. My uncle just handled everything. So him being ill is a really big blow in terms of both his practical and emotional support for his whole family.

My mom called me a couple of days ago, and figuring that as usual I'd be on my laptop, asked me to look up something like "mercer" cancer. That was as much as she got out of my aunt; that and the fact that whatever type of cancer he has, my uncle is only the fifth person his doctors have seen with it. Which is not encouraging, since he's going to The Cleveland Clinic -- a pretty fancy facility, even if it's in Cleveland.

I wasn't on my computer for once, so the next chance I had, I started to do very depressing searches for rare types of cancer. I know it's all over my uncle, including his liver, but I don't know where it started so that sort of limited me. But I finally found it: Merkel Cell Carcinoma. Supposedly my uncle is in Stage IV, but all the info I can find on this type of cancer is that they only go as high as Stage III -- where the cancer has spread beyond the lymph nodes. Before it goes to and then spreads beyond the lymph nodes, this cancer starts in the merkel cells (I keep thinking Urkel cells, which is wrong and not nearly as funny as I'd like it to be), so it's a rare skin cancer that tends to hit older Caucasian people with prolonged sun exposure and lousy immune systems.

My mom was really angry when she heard about this. My uncle has been mostly bald for as long as I've been alive, and he was a very regular golfer with a pretty poor family health history. So there were some harsh words spoken for him having spent a lot of time out in the sun not protecting his bald pate from a future of skin cancer.

After all this, it just figures that I'd go out and completely fry myself in the sun, doesn't it? I took the two older boys to the pool yesterday, where they spent from 12:30 until 5:00 pm playing with various other kids. I actually got to listen to music and read a little, which is the most relaxation I've had for a long time. Relaxing in very small doses, because while the boys are older and more confident in the water, I still feel it necessary to do a quick check for their neon-goggle-adorned wet heads and make sure everyone's safe and happy. At every "safety break," where they clear the big pools of anyone under 16 for 15 minutes on the hour, I had the boys come back so I could splurt more sunblock on them. They'd take a few gulps of lemonade and a handful of chips, and then race off to find their new buddies.

I definitely applied sunblock to myself more than on the boys -- I had this Coppertone Sport spray SPF 30 that I've been using all summer to good effect. I didn't feel like I was burning at all, but started to feel warm toward the end of the afternoon. It's just that the boys were having so much fun, and not fighting or bleeding or anything, and I figured why not let them stay? I wrapped a towel around my upper body and stuck it out. But on the drive home, I could feel my left shoulder getting all prickly and itchy -- that teasing itch that turns into horrid pain when you make the mistake of unconsciously scratching it.

Since my bathing suits are all halter-top things, my whole back is totally fried. I don't own any halter-top bras, so I've spent the past 24 hours in a very unflattering, strapless top that I usually only wear under another shirt. I've got random patches of burn on my thighs, knees, and arms, too. My face is mostly okay, just a little pink around the forehead.

Every time the boys see me, they make that "yeesh" whistly sort of sound through their teeth and say "Oh, you're all RED!" Yes, boys, I'm still quite red! It hasn't gone away that fast! I'm using myself as a warning to the boys, as in "this is why I always make such a big deal about you wearing sunblock." DH is not thrilled at all. There was even a brief conversation along the lines of him not wanting me to end up like my uncle, since I am a Caucasian with a lousy immune system who is certainly not getting younger.

All I can say is, being tan is NOT worth this kind of pain. I can't lay back at all, lay on my left side (a habit born out of three pregnancies' instructions to sleep that way), or wear a freakin' bra or shirt -- definitely an issue when you're sporting 37-year-old 40DDs. I'm not sure how I'm going to take Jake to camp tomorrow without really embarrassing myself. I think I may have to sacrifice pain for a modicum of pride.

In the meantime, I'm laying on the aloe vera gel as often as I can and waiting out the burn. I know vinegar is supposed to take the sting out, but I honestly can't handle the smell. I'd tried it a few years back and I don't remember it working. If anyone has any other folk remedies that really do help, feel free to shoot them my way. But please, don't touch my shoulder. Or my back. Or my knee. Or, really, anything. Thanks.

It just took me over two hours to write up the responses to eight questions in my last online course. Once I'm done -- if I've gotten everything done -- I'll have a postgrad certificate in distance education. Wheeee.....

Typically distracting me has been a series of questions and thoughts.

1. I'm so sick of the Geico caveman commercials. How does that guy get a sitcom? Seriously.

2. I love DirecTV, except when it storms. There's nothing like anticipating a great moment in a movie or show, only to have the screen pixelate and see the dreaded "searching for satellite signal" message.

3. Flash flood warnings keep coming up on the network stations. I'm unreasonably annoyed by these. I don't live in Bumblefuck where this is a concern, and I'm not leaving my apartment tonight unless there's an emergency. This is an incredibly rude way of thinking -- people out there need to worry about this -- but get the damned graphics off of Matt Perry's face, please!

4. Tonight, Benjamin grabbed a can of raspberry seltzer off of DH's nightstand, turned it upside down, and watched the liquid pour all over the place. He didn't stop, even when I yelped "Noooooo!!!!!" and jumped off the bed. He did, however, burst into tears when he realized he was standing in a puddle of sticky bubbly water and the can was empty. I think he was more upset that the can was empty than about my yelling or about the event itself. In the past two weeks, he's managed to spill Coke, water, Kool-Aid, milk, and G-d knows what else. It still isn't boring him yet. I'm a little more than concerned about the possibility of him electrocuting himself.

5. My brain is empty....

I can't count high enough to enumerate the excuses I have for not blogging, but they all fall into the category of either "I've been really busy," and/or "I couldn't get started." Neither of which, let's face it, are really good excuses if the whole purpose of blogging is to make yourself write as much as humanly possible. Oops.

Quick recap of what's been going on:

1. We had baseball season for Jake (2nd year) and Danny (1st year). I really should have been blogging about Danny's practices and games, because OH MY GAWD he's such a little puppydog and he was sort of the team mascot. He's not the tiniest on the team, but definitely the youngest, but that didn't deter him at all. Luckily, he seems to have none of his mom's ultraselfconsciousness (nice word, eh?), so he just got out there and did what he could.I could really see his strength grow, and it was pretty incredible to watch. Since he was diagnosed with low tonality, I could really see examples of where his upper body strength failed him -- like in the beginning of the season, how by the third time up at bat he could barely swing at all.

At their last game, Danny swung on the first pitch his third up at bat, and clocked that fucker toward the shortstop. I got a little teary, to be honest. Add to that how fabulous his coaches were -- both dads from the team, one of whom is our neighbor across the street, and you get a really great experience. They found something positive to point out about every kid at every practice and game -- no matter how little. "Did you see the way Anna overran first base?" "Check out how Jonah transfers the ball from his glove!"

Based on this little league experience, I have coined a new personal term: MomCrush. I have MomCrushes on Danny's coaches. It's not that they're all that hot or whatever; they're so terrific to my kid that I'm stammeringly grateful. (Don't get me wrong, they're not physical train wrecks. But a MomCrush isn't about me.)

Oh, I was making a list here. So, 2. Benjamin got really sick. For a little over a week, he had a nasty fever that wouldn't respond to baby Motrin or Tylenol, and he was fussy and didn't eat or drink. After three days of fever, I took him to the doc, who did a blood test. He was livid. I wasn't more than halfway home when the nurse called and said they wanted to repeat it; his white blood cell count was really high and they weren't sure if it was a false positive.

So I turned the car around and brought him back to the pediatrician, where he freaked out just being carried into an examining room. They stuck him AGAIN, and put a bag over his privates to try to get a urine sample from him. This time, I waited, and in 10 minutes, the doctor came in and said she was sending us to the lab for them to really take blood. Oh, and THAT was fun. He was so dehydrated that it was really hard to even get to a good vein, and I had to hold him down bodily while the tech did the blood draw. I think he cried harder than me, but only because I was trying not to let him see I was upset.

One of the most frustrating things about seeing your kid be sick is when you can't make it better. Add to that a poorly communicating doctor (not his regular pediatrician), and I think you can understand why I was so grumpy all that week, whenever it was. An unresponsive fever of unknown origin plus a high white blood cell count has a very ugly possible conclusion, and I spent several days concentrating on ignoring the potential for really bad shit to be going down.

About a week after it started, Benj's fever started to come down, and he came over head-to-toe with an ugly rash... so we were able to finally diagnose him with roseola. It's one of those childhood diseases that seem scary while it's happening but don't seem to have any long-term effects or dangerous pathways. Within two weeks, my little baby was zooming around the apartment finding things to show me with an excited "Dah!!!" so he ended up being okay.

3. I ran an orientation for my second class of students in this new program I've been running, which culminated in me talking (mostly on camera, yeek) to 50 grad students for four days straight. I love getting to teach, but while it's going on, I worry that I'm boring them silly; I always come out of a session kind of shell-shocked, assuming everyone is glassy-eyed with scornful boredom. Fortunately, things went really well and I got good evals, so now I can look forward to the next one in two months. *sigh*

4. I've been working from home most of the summer, and only worked half-time for the first two weeks of July. However, I'm probably more tired than if I'd been going downtown every day. Two weeks out of each month, Jake is going to baseball camp at the local university, so I have to make his lunch, drop him off at 9, and then come back to pick him up at 3. In between, I try to work for a few hours, and then two days a week take Danny to occupational therapy. In June, I took Danny swimming a lot, but I've gotten so busy we haven't gone in two weeks.

Then, last week, our nanny called in sick... turned out a problem she's had on and off for years was because of a nasty bleeding cyst, and she ended up having it removed via laproscopic surgery that same day. So added to Mom duties are the more typical SAHM jobs of laundry, more cooking and cleaning (of which I frankly haven't done that much) and even more dishes than usual. Oh, and lots and lots of chasing Benjamin around, because he's 19 months old now and relaxation be damned!!!

5. Last week, I got invited to the cool kids' party. No, seriously. We joke that we're the scourge of our neighborhood, because our apartment building is surrounded by these incredible, mostly-rehabbed giant Victorian homes, most of which go on the market in the multiple-million-dollar range. But Little League kids get put in teams by schools and neighborhoods, so Danny's team was populated by well-off families who mostly live within three blocks of us. Apparently the cool kids have a weekly barbecue on Friday nights where the kids do the Lord of the Flies thing while the grownups have a few beverages and trade kid-wrangling as the sun goes down. The wife of one of Danny's coaches invited us at our end-of-season party (where Danny won "Most Improved" on the team and I got a little weepy as his accepted his award).

DH couldn't make it home from work that early, so I cleaned up the boys, put together one of the recipes I got from a cooking class (arugula-sweet-corn-relis h made as a salad), and bundled them all into the red wagon for the trip a few blocks down.

I'm a fairly social nerd, but I get tongue-tied and stupid in groups. I can function fine if I'm on a stage (singing, teaching, whatever), but to see me try to make small talk is probably really funny. I just suck at it. My mom is a total social butterfly so you'd think I'd have learned at her feet, but I didn't get the I-love-aerobics-and-dieti ng thing from her either, so there ya go.

But these really cool kids (I can't help thinking of them that way) actually made me feel really comfortable. They asked about DH, drew my kids in with theirs, included me in conversations, and really made me feel okay. Except for two things, neither of which were their fault: the first was when Benjamin snuck away from me and ended up going around the house (following the bigger kids) and a little ways down the block, where he was stopped by someone's dad and recognized by another mom who held onto him until I caught up, petrified and mortified.

Ugh, it terrifies me to even think about where he would have ended up. Yeek.

And the second thing that went slighly awry was another time I was chasing Benjamin, when I turned into the driveway after him and was stunned by a basketball directly to the eye. I know it scared the shit out of the poor girl who'd thrown it, and it sure shocked me. Luckily, I put my hand to my eye reflexively, so I caught my contact lens and was able to put it back in. My face hurt like hell, but I could tell the kids were freaked out, so I made a joke about the fact that my eye hadn't fallen out this time, and wasn't that lucky?

But I've had a headache since Friday night, and it was so bad yesterday that I couldn't sleep. I've been a bit nauseous and off my game, and today I feel a little double-visiony -- that freaky feeling you get after you've been playing a 3D video game and then try to walk around. If things don't feel significantly better later, I may run this by my doc. It may mean a quickie CT scan, but that's a small price to pay for making sure there isn't a blood clot working its way into my malformed, already impaired-enough brain.