You will all be happy to here that I did not jump on the gurney when they wheeled my son off to surgery on Friday. Actually, I barely had time to shed a tear, or read the first page of my People magazine before they were back with a crying, maniac in my arms. The procedure went great, however, my little man is not a big fan of waking up from anesthesia with a bunch of strangers all wearing the same color in his face. However, he didn’t like me much either and I could imagine through his cries and convulsing that he was saying, “What kind of mother lets people with pastel-colored masks and poking objects take their son away?” I’m just hoping that this doesn’t come up in therapy years later as some “mommy issues”…
All in all though, it went great – by the next day he was back to himself. And by back to himself, I mean he was a maniac who woke up at 4 am the past two nights. Why, you ask? Well… God, Buddha, Mother Nature, or whomever you believe is responsible for divine intervention has a sick sense of humor. Just when the boy gets relief from ear infections, he decides to cut four teeth at the same time. Now you know why this blog has the word “martinis” in it. It’s a necessity in my world.