Whoops

I was wrong today. Rob said he didn't question me because I'm "usually right". Thanks, Rob. The other day we got a call from the pediatrician at Alf's office to tell us that he'd be out of the office for our scheduled appointment next Monday and would we like to reschedule? Absolutely. They said they could put us in on Friday, and I assumed they meant this Friday, as in today. Rob had understood it correctly - as next Friday, but, as they never specified the date, we went today. Alf was on vacay, as it turned out, so we'll go back next Friday, as they had us in the appointment book. No way was I going to throw our gal into the hands of the unnamed pediatrician. The thing is, Olive has what is known as frenulum breve, or tongue-tie. Being no stranger to frenulum issues of my own, I know that action needs to be taken (in the 4th grade, I went under the knife for a frenectomy, wherein the thin tissue connecting the skin of my top gums to my inner upper lip was snipped and stitched, halting the widening of the gap between my front teeth - the bain of my childhood existence; that same year I went through with a black pen and gave each of my teeth-bearing classmates matching gaps in their yearbook pictures so I wouldn't be alone. Apparently, whenever I smiled, that wretched frenulum somehow caused my front teeth to drift farther and farther apart. An atrocity, to say the least, and action had to be taken). Olive's conundrum involves another sort of oral frenulum: the skin that connects her tongue to the bottom of her mouth. It ends just short of the tip of her tongue, which has resulted in difficulties nursing. I pump and bottle-feed her almost exclusively, nursing only on the go when a bottle hasn't been prepared ahead of time. Not only is she a poor and sloppy nurser, I guessed correctly that the tongue-tie can lead to speech problems when she begins to talk. Not interested. Snipping of the frenulum, if a parent chooses this, should be done as early as possible, when the skin is thinnest, so as to cause minimal pain. The last thing I want is to inflict any pain on our gal; she's undergone only a light prick of the foot while in the hospital, and we've chosen to forgo all vaccines for her, so shots will not be common occurances in her future. At any rate, we've been talking about what to do about this, and wanted to consult Alf for his expert opinion. It'll just have to wait until next week.

On the art front, I've resumed work on a book I began illustrating for a client-turned-friend, Bryan Fuller, over a year ago. I decided to put the paid work ahead of the work I'm doing for our own books; while Rob's housework and superb parenting are greatly appreciated, they do not pay the bills. Plus, Bryan has been wonderfully patient with me when I've had to put the project on hold while I summered in Alaska, then worked two jobs and took college classes on top of my full-time teaching schedule. I owe him this. His story, Sage, The Sea Lion Who Lost Her Roar, is a tale about a young sea lion coming into her own in the Galapagos Islands. Here is the illustration of the tortoise, done over the course of the last two days. Thank you, Rob, for taking on my laundry duties so that I could work more diligently. You're wonderful.