Melanie Gideon - Wife 22

2012

April 29

5:05P.M.

GOOGLE SEARCH Eyelid Drooping

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Eyelid Drooping: MedlinePlus Medical Encyclopedia

Eyelid drooping is excessive sagging of the upper eyelid Eyelid drooping can make somebody appear sleepy or tired.

Eyelid Drooping Natural Alternatives

Speak from the chin-up position. Try not to furrow your brow, as this will only compound your problems

Droopy Dog eyelid drooping

American cartoon character drooping eyelids. Last name McPoodle. Catchphrase You know what? That makes me mad.

I stare into the bathroom mirror and wonder why nobody has told me my left eyelid has grown a little hood. For a long time I looked younger than I was. And now, suddenly all the years have pooled up and I look my age-forty-four, possibly older. I lift the excess skin with my finger and waggle it about. Is there some cream I can buy? How about some eyelid pushups?

Whats wrong with your eye?

Peter pokes his head into the bathroom and despite my irritation at being spied on, I am happy to see my sons freckled face. At twelve, his needs are still small and easily fulfilled: Eggos and Fruit of the Loom boxer briefs-the ones with the cotton waistband.

Why didnt you tell me? I say.

I depend on Peter. Were close, especially in matters of grooming. We have a deal. His responsibility is my hair. Hell tell me when my roots are showing so I can book an appointment with Lisa, my hairdresser. And in return, my responsibility is his odor. To make sure he doesnt exude one. For some reason, twelve-year-old boys cant smell their underarm funk. He does run-bys in the mornings, arm raised, waving a pit at me so I can get a whiff. Shower, I almost always say. On rare occasions I lie and say youre fine. A boy should smell like a boy.

Tell you what?

About my left eyelid.

What-that it hangs down over your eye?

I groan.

Only a tiny bit.

I look in the mirror again. Why didnt you say something?

Well, why didnt you tell me Peter was slang for penis?

It is not.

Yes, apparently it is. A peter and two balls?

I swear to you I have never heard that expression before.

Well, now you understand why Im changing my name to Pedro.

What happened to Frost?

That was in February. When we were doing that unit on Robert Frost.

So now the road has diverged and you want to be Pedro? I ask.

Middle school, Ive been told, is all about experimenting with identity. Its our job as parents to let our kids try on different personas, but its getting hard to keep up. Frost one day, Pedro the next. Thank God Peter is not an EMO, or is it IMO? I have no idea what EMO/IMO stands for-as far as I can tell its a subset of Goth, a tough kid who dyes his hair black and wears eyeliner, and no, that is not Peter. Peter is a romantic.

Okay, I say. But have you considered Peder? Its the Norwegian version of Peter. Your friends could say later, Peder. Theres nothing that rhymes with Pedro. Do we have any Scotch tape?

I want to tape up my eyelid-see what it would look like if I got it fixed.

Fade-dro, says Peter. And I like your sagging eyelid. It makes you look like a dog.

My mouth drops open. Youknowwhat? That makes me mad.

No, like Jampo, he says.

Peter is referring to our two-year-old mutt, half Tibetan spaniel, half God-knows-what-else: a twelve-pound, high-strung Mussolini of a dog who eats his own poop. Disgusting, yes, but convenient if you think about it. You never have to carry around those plastic bags.

Drop it, Jampo, you little shit! Zoe yells from downstairs.

We can hear the dog running manically on the hardwood floors, most likely carting around a roll of toilet paper, which next to poop is his favorite treat. Jampo means gentle in Tibetan, which of course turned out to be the complete opposite of the dogs personality, but I dont mind; I prefer a spirited dog. The past year and a half has been like having a toddler in the house again and Ive loved every minute of it. Jampo is my baby, the third child Ill never have.

He needs to go out. Honey, will you take him? I have to get ready for tonight.

Peter makes a face.

Please?

Fine.

Thank you. Hey, wait-before you go, do we have any Scotch tape?

I dont think so. I saw some duct tape in the junk drawer, though.

I consider my eyelid. One more favor?

What? Peter sighs.

Will you bring up the duct tape after youve walked the dog?

He nods.

You are my number-one son, I say.

Your only son.

And number one at math, I say, kissing him on the cheek.

Tonight Im accompanying William to the launch of FiG vodka, an account he and his team at KKM Advertising have been working on for weeks now. Ive been looking forward to it. Therell be live music. Some hot new band, three women with electric violins from the Adirondacks or the Ozarks-I cant remember which.

Business dressy, William said, so I pull out my old crimson Ann Taylor suit. Back in the 90s when I, too, worked in advertising, this was my power suit. I put it on and stand in front of the full-length mirror. The suit looks a little outdated, but maybe if I wear the chunky silver necklace Nedra got me for my birthday last year it will mask the fact that it has seen better days. I met Nedra Rao fifteen years ago at a Mommy and Me playgroup. Shes my best friend and also happens to be one of the top divorce lawyers in the state of California whom I can always count on to give very sane, very sophisticated $425-an-hour advice to me for free because she loves me. I try and see the suit through Nedras eyes. I know just what shed say: You cant be bloody serious, darling, in her posh English accent. Too bad. Theres nothing else in my closet that qualifies as business dressy. I slip on my pumps and walk downstairs.

Sitting on the couch, her long brown hair swept back into a messy chignon, is my fifteen-year-old daughter, Zoe. Shes an on-and-off vegetarian (currently off), a rabid recycler, and maker of her own organic lip balm (peppermint and ginger). Like most girls her age, she is also a professional ex: ex-ballet dancer, ex-guitarist, and ex-girlfriend of Nedras son, Jude. Jude is somewhat famous around here. He made it to the Hollywood round of AmericanIdol and then was booted off for sounding like a California eucalyptus tree that was on fire, popping and sizzling and exploding, but in the end not a native species, not native at all.

I was rooting for Jude, we all were, as he made it past the first and second eliminations. But then right before Hollywood he got a swelled head from the instant fame, cheated on Zoe, and then dumped her, thus breaking my girls heart. The lesson? Never allow your teenager to date the son of your best friend. It took months for me-I mean, Zoe-to recover. I said some horrible things to Nedra-things I probably shouldnt have said, along the lines of Iwouldhaveexpectedmorefromthesonofafeministandaboywithtwomoms. Nedra and I didnt speak for a while. Were fine now, but whenever I go to her house Jude is conveniently out.

Zoes right hand moves over her cellphones keypad at top speed.