File this one under, “Oh God! She saw that?!”
As I mentioned earlier, today was Robert’s MRI to check out an abnormality in his pancreas.
The fun started last night when I, apparently, lost my mind. At about 10pm I decided it would be a super idea to let Robert sleep with us. I needed some reassurance and having him next to me helped me just relax about the situation. I feel really helpless about all of this so, at least I could hold him and cuddle him. He’s a big snuggle-bug, so I knew he’d like this.
In my Nervous Mom Haze, I forgot two very important facts. 1. He’s a bed wetter. 2. He kicks like Pele.
So, he kicked me in the groin for a few hours and then he peed on me. It was a really, really unsuccessful night. (But, he slept soundly, at least.)
We got up at 5 in the morning. (Actually, I got up at 3:30. Once you are kicked awake and notice you’re covered in urine, it’s not so easy to get back to that “I am so comfy and want to fall asleep!” stage.) Robert was not a big fan of this. You know the phrase, “mad as a wet hen” well, I think it should be retired and “mad as a wet Robert” be the new standard for pissed-offedness.
I wrestled him in to some dry sweats and threw him in the van. He complained the whole way to the hospital.
Once we got there, we were deposited in a waiting room.
We played checkers.
Fun fact: Robert’s Rules of Checkers involve making checker castles and trying to get bonus points for distance flicked.
Eventually we were put in a room. Robert’s ridiculously good memory kicked in and he got very anxious. (I was actually doing fine at this point. My exhaustion was over-riding any nerves.) He didn’t want to have lidocaine put on his hands for the IV, he didn’t want to sit on the hospital bed, and her certainly didn’t want to put on any hospital-issued pajamas.
So, we went nekkid. Sort of. To be fair, he was wearing Thomas underpants, swaddled himself in a Thomas blanket, and was adament that was JUST FINE. With TV controller in hand, he settled down for some cuddles with his Thomas pillow and cartoons.
Eventually we were hauled down to the operating room. Since he’s little and the anesthesiologists worried about his airways, he was going to be sedated and intubated there before being carted off for the MRI.
His doctor had to tackle him and carry him off to get that done. I guess I forgot to mention that a doctor telling Robert anything was going to be done to him (even if it was “we’re going to give you a pony and $5!”) is going to make him try to bolt. And he’s a quick little bugger. They tried to reassure me they would take good care of him but all I could think was that I should be reassuring them. You’ll be able to get him to sleep once you catch him. Promise!
I wandered off to the waiting lounge, which is neither blurry nor crooked, and sat for 2 hours. It gave me ample time to be irritated at the sick lady who stole my magazine when I got up to go to the bathroom and then gave it back after sniffling and snotting all over it. I like trashy celebrity magazines, but not enough to risk contracting whatever unholy death she was spreading. (Who comes to see someone at a hospital when they are like drooling, nasty sick!?) I guess I will never know if Khloe is really a Kardashian…
Finally we got the call that Robert was awake! And then a call that he fell back to sleep and it would be a little while longer before he was transported up to his room.
30 minutes later, he was going up for real so, I scooted up to his floor in time to see him being wheeled in.
He was not in a pleasant mood.
He immediately started crying and telling me he was hungry. (You and me both, buddy. Neither of us had anything to eat that morning.) I tried offering him juice, but that was an unacceptable substitute. I felt bad because the kid in the bed next to him had just had oral surgery and was in a lot of pain, but my child was complaining louder and longer. Way to over-react, buddy.
Finally, the nurse came and removed his IV. Robert helped her take off the tape and was ready to take the whole thing out himself. (He was REALLY hungry.)
As soon as the bandage was on his hand, he was dressing himself with lightning speed. He knew lunch at his favorite buffet was right around the corner.
We left the hospital and went straight to the eating.
This is one happy camper. (I tried to get a picture of him before he started eating but, I was clearly too slow as he already has a mouthful of macaroni stuffed in his face.)
Now all we have to do is wait for the results….
Well, today is Robert’s MRI. And instead of posting about how I crazily insisted he sleep near me last night because I am scared (he peed on me as a result so, that’s how well THAT went), I am going to hold off and post how it went once we are home. So, look for a post later today. Thanks for reading!
Once upon a time there were two little boys named, uh, Flobert and Feeter.
Flobert and Feeter didn’t like going to bed. They liked the night life. They liked to boogie. But, as there was no disco in their house, they built elaborate villages of tiny trains and cars. With mirror balls. And polyester. Let’s groove tonight.
One night, Flobert and Feeter were avoiding the call of sleep. They had been avoiding it for many hours and their mother was getting pretty sick and biscuit-eating tired of marching up the stairs, demanding they return to their beds, turning out the lights and shutting the door firmly and authoritatively because she was in charge, peas and rice!
The boys used their misguided and boundless energy to sneak out of their room and come downstairs. They silently crept down the stairs so their mother would not hear them and drag them unceremoniously back to their bed chambers.
They peeked around the corner and in to the living room where they were promptly eaten by a bear.
Go to bed.
I mean it.
That goes for you, too,…Flili.
I dunno. Maybe you all will find this funny, but this just looks like a normal meal time to me. Picky eater Robert encourages me to lie. A lot. I called a mango an “apple-strawberry” today. I am inventing genetically modified fruit hybrids to prevent him saying he doesn’t like a new fruit before it touches his tongue. I am almost ashamed…but then I realized I got him to try and like a mango so…victory!!!
I know it’s “normal” for kids to show off when there are people around. I get that. I saw a little boy today who made noises like a macaw every time someone would look at him. I can handle that. Heck, I can even give him a cracker.
But, last night the children started a ridiculous show-off game of one-upsmanship that was rather embarrassing and required a long cleaning session that, due to the proximity of the children, had to remain expletive-free. (Scrubbing I can do. Not swearing while scrubbing? Eh….not so much.)
So, a friend came over and the kids went from lounging on the couch to ricocheting off the walls in seconds. I have no idea why one, singular human being gave them the energy of a team of oxen, but whatever.
From there, the game of horrors started. Aili took a crayon and scribbled on a piece of paper while looking sweetly at our guest. So, Peter took a crayon and scribbled on the easel while looking sweetly at our guest. This caused Robert to cackle evilly, take a fistful of crayons, and scribble all over the floor. That’s a common progression, right?
Once that floodgate was opened, it became a free-for-all. We contained them as much as possible, but in the end it looked like Rainbow Brite went on a bender and hurled all over the tiled floor. Some people roll out the red carpet for their visitors. We, apparently, go above and beyond by just making the floor red. And green. And fuchsia. And puce. And aquamarine.
Moral of the story: You are not invited to my house. Ever. I am out of Resolve and my hands get tired after a few sustained minutes of scrubbing with a Magic Eraser.
This isn’t just based on a true story. This happened. I thought Brandon was just ignoring my question until he came back from shoveling…
He claims he knew it was in the snowbank from “a hunch”. I think he knew they had it but is too chicken to admit he was letting them play with sharp, potentially deadly kitchen tools.
The children hate bedtime.
The other day my husband said good night to Aili and she replied with, “Good luck!”
That about sums up how well the whole routine goes for us.
So, I came up with something new tonight.
I asked the boys for hugs before bed. When they came for a hug, I smothered them in a giant bear hug and covered them with kisses. I kept on hugging until they were looking a little tired of this arrangement.
“Wanna keep hugging or do you wanna go to bed?”
“Bed!” they chirped as they wiggled out of my arms and scampered up the stairs.
Ha. I win.
But, then I made the mistake of trying that with Aili. When I asked her if she was done hugging, she said no and melted in to me, prepared to stay all night.
Peter is ridiculously in to super heroes right now.
But, I am a liberal, peace-loving hippie. I even eat quinoa. I don’t appreciate guns or violent play so, I try to steer the kids away from most traditional super heroes. Sure, they still think Batman is awesome and he isn’t forbidden in the house or anything, but I like to try to add some nicer heroes to the mix.
Instead of letting the kids have coloring books with all the traditional action dudes then, I try to come up with ridiculous, non-violent super heroes for them to enjoy. We tell stories about them and the kids like them just as much as they do Thor. (Well, that might be a stretch. Thor DOES have a giant hammer, after all…)
So, today I would like to share one of our latest heroes. Captain Cupcake wages the war against evil-doers by handing out delicious baked goods. Because, really, who doesn’t like getting a free cupcake? That will sweeten anyone’s disposition. Also, he is one of the leaders in the fight against world hunger. If anyone can make a cupcake delicious, healthy, and world peace-inspiring, it’s Captain Cupcake!
Silly? Yes. A little weird? Yes. Is it a free coloring page that will occupy your kiddo? Yes. You’re welcome.