Monday, September 24, 2012

catch up

Just wanted to share a few things to catch everyone up. First, my son has decided to take all meals in his bed. Well, not dinner, I guess -- just breakfast and bedtime snack. This morning he asked me to cover him up while he watched Disney Junior on his iPad and ate chicken.

Second, (and this is really just because everyone needs a laugh today), I was straightening my hair the other morning when Punkin walked in, said "I poop, sorry," and plopped two turds in the toilet.

Third, he finally got a bike. He's so excited to be like the other kids in the neighborhood.  Now for the big question -- how did I make him remember how to pedal from one minute to the next? Anyone? Ideas? Magic pills? You got nothing? Me too. But he sure looks cute trying!


Tuesday, September 11, 2012

my sweetheart

A friend asked me what my favorite time of day is, and the answer was surprisingly easy. By surprising, I mean it's one of those things I never thought I would say. My favorite time is the ten minutes right after Punkin wakes up in the morning -- the time when he wants to snuggle, play monster, and blow raspberries on my face. This picture was taken just before bed, which was a strong contender for "favorite," but there have been a few ... uh ... eruptions of anger at bedtime lately, knocking it down a few notches on the list. 

Monday, September 3, 2012

i kiss her?

"You need to take your medicine."
"I CAN'T WANT TO!"
"Do you want to see Annabelle?"
"Okay."

"You need to take a shower."
"I CAN'T WANT TO!"
"Do you want to see Annabelle?"
"I get the soap!"

This magical dog even talks to me. She says things like, "Punkin, you need to finish your food before you can go play" and "Punkin, I need my rest; it's time to go home." Works pretty slick. I may need a snowsuit this winter, though.

Saturday, September 1, 2012

oh, ya, the endoscopy

We pretty much all wanted to  bury our heads in our hands and click our heels together to get home. The really bad part was, only Punkin was allowed to scream and cry; the rest of us had to keep it together. So while the inner me had that crying face where you almost look constipated and definitely look on the edge of sheer terror, the outside me remained calm and only slightly disheveled.

Punkin woke up at 5:00am (the previous day he had woken up at 3:00am, so this was a remarkable improvement), ate a hot dog, tater tots, and watermelon around 6:00am, and then was exceptionally well-behaved until about 10:00am when he started to feel hungry. By the time we arrived at the hospital at 12:30, he was in tears. Oma carried all of our stuff and I carried Punkin up to the pediatric clinic, where they checked him in and took his vitals. Then they brought him back to the recovery area, put numbing cream on both hands and elbows (for his IV placement) and told us to come back in an hour. The nurse made this seem like it would be fun. HA! The kid hasn't been able to eat since 6am and won't get to anytime soon. He couldn't care less about you and your silly ideas.

I don't even remember the exact sequence of events after that. All I know is that at one point he was laughing and playing, another he marched up to the front desk and demanded a "note" (discharge papers) so that we could leave, and at another point I was restraining him to keep him from throwing whatever he could pick up at my face.

Then came the bargaining.

"I hungry."
"We can't eat yet. The doctor needs to take pictures of your stomach to help you to stop throwing up."
"No Doctor!"
"When we're all done, we can eat."
"Get a burger?"
"Yes."
"A McDonalds?"
"Anything."
"Whoo-hoo!"

Now repeat this conversation fifteen times. 

 After waiting the hour, he refused to drink the sedative they wanted to give him, so several nurses, Oma, and I held him down while the IV was inserted. They also called a Child Life Specialist, who brought *NEW* toys and even gave him his very own Lightning McQueen. After that, things became much funnier much more quickly -- for all of us. There's really nothing like seeing your kid "drunkenly" playing with Lightning McQueen. A little while later, they were able to fully sedate him and about 30 minutes after that it was done. The doctor said there are no glaring abnormalities, but did mention a loose connection between his stomach and esophagus, which makes it easier for food to come up.

As he was waking up from the sedation, he lifted his head and coyly asked, "Go McDonalds?"

We made it. We fed him and then I got him in his bed at home. Free and clear. The horrible day was over.

"MOM!?"

This was the most wretched vomit I had seen or smelled in a long time. I got him in the shower; he cried the entire time. I cleared the sheets, took his temperature (100.4) and settled him into my bed. As I looked at him, it hit me. I told you the doctor would help you. 

I called Oma, completely lost it on the phone, and then cried into her shoulder when she arrived to comfort me. I felt like I had tortured him all day for no reason. Turns out he is probably allergic to the sedative they gave him, the biopsies were all normal and he forgave me.