Life as a Ham: It's not a Pity Party if I'm Telling the Truth

Today is the first day of a week that, to put it mildly, I am not looking forward to. Since college I have made it a point to only complain when it's truly called for. So I avoid it at all costs... but this upcoming week makes me want to crawl into bed and hide.

On Monday I go back to work after almost 6 months on disability and leave (almost 7 weeks Bed Rest + 6 Weeks Disability + 10 weeks Leave of Absence to care for Colin and Claire). It is not that I'm dreading going back to work, because that's not it... in fact, in some ways work would almost be a vacation compared to the work I do here at home. I have almost forgotten what it would be like to have an actual lunch hour and eat without having to stuff it all in my mouth at once while holding a crying baby, or even to actually get to eat and finally shrug off that bad habit of grabbing candy and skipping the meal because there's no time. I don't know what it will be like to talk to adults all day long, because I have forgotten. I hope I'm not rusty.

But I know that dropping off my sweet babies at school will be emotional draining, and that I'll cry all the way to work, sit in the parking lot and try to calm down and make my face return to it's normal color (instead of that tell-tale blotchy red with puffy eyes that's a dead give-a-way that I've been balling like a baby).

After work on Monday I will pick the babies up and cuddle, but then need to take Eli back to the vet for a follow up on his ear infections, where they will probably tell me that they are not gone because who has the time to wrestle a cat to the floor twice a day and torture him with cold drops in his hears? Very few people... but especially not me.

On Tuesday Adam has an 8:30 am pre-op appointment at the ENT, who is a jerk, but a jerk I trust... and we'll find out what we're in store for when we have Adam's gigantic tonsils and humongous adenoids removed on Friday. Originally they wanted to do the surgery as a 30 minute inpatient surgery in a pediatric surgery center. But because of the size of his tonsils and his young age, they are doing it at Medical City in Dallas with a 23 hour observation. To say that I'm scared would be an understatement.

So this appointment will be right after I drop off two very sleepy babies that I haven't seen much of in over 24 hours, and I will probably cry harder on that day, and then I'll take Adam to his jerk of an ENT, who is very good at his job but has no bedside manner... and I'll try to ask questions while Adam climbs the walls and touches everything he can get his hands on. (They have A LOT of interesting things to touch in their office). While I'd go ahead and pick a different guy just on principle, Adam's tonsils are in dire need of removal, NOW. Not because someone told us so, but because I've known this for at least a year . . . and the time has come for them to go.

On Wednesday is our 4th wedding anniversary. What, only 4 years? Well, in the grand scheme of things it's more like 12 years of friendship with 8 of those years being "romantic." We've packed a whole lot into the last 4 years though. (Wedding, House, First born, twin babies...) What are we doing for our 4th anniversary? You're very funny. (We took an hour and a half to have sushi on Friday night while my parents watched the babies. It was great sushi though).

Thursday I will be exhausted. I will probably cry because I haven't seen my babies and cry because Adam will have surgery the next day. I probably will sleep even less Thursday night, if that's possible... and I won't have any fingernails when it's all said and done.

Friday is the day of the surgery.

I'm extremely nervous. I'm more nervous about this than I was the pavlik harness, the helmet that Colin will probably need for his plagiocephaly, and even more nervous than when Colin was in the hospital. All of those times, the treatments were to fix something. And this time the tonsil and adenoidectomy are to fix something too: The constant infections, the constant sore throats, the behavioral problems because of the antibiotics, the snoring, the lack of sleep because of the snoring, the lack of ability to concentrate because of the lack of sleep from snoring... you get the idea. I think he screams because he can't breathe well and it opens up his passageways, and he's becoming a mouth-breather in an almost uncomfortable way. I would say that in the last two years, he has probably been sick 3/4 of that time. The adenoids and tonsils are starting to interfere with his life, and I've known that his adenoids have needed to come out since he was about 6 months old.

But this time feels different than the other scary parenting moments, like I'm sending him in to intentionally feel pain. This is temporary pain that will in the long run cause him less pain over the course of his life, but still. It feels scarier. Mostly because they will be using anesthesia and using a scalpel. I don't like it. Not one bit. I've been on the verge of tears since I scheduled the surgery.

On Thursday of this week I took the babies to Party City and got Adam some balloons. He loves to read Curious George and at the end of the book, where the man is selling balloons, Adam tries to grab them off the page. He yells at the little boy who gets to have the balloons (yes, the cartoon), and tells him they are "Adam's balloons!" (This is just part of his charm; tonight at dinner he had yogurt and pizza and he said, "NO, PIZZA, it's Adam's yogurt!" as if the pizza was making a move on his side dish.)

The balloons were a great hit. I probably should have saved it for surgery day but I don't care. I will spoil all my kids as much as I possibly can when it costs less than $5 and I get to tell them how much I adore them.

This past Friday was the last free day for Adam and me to make pancakes. It had become a tradition, and this time he even got to help crack the eggs. When he started stirring, he asked me to take a picture of him. He really does know the drill.

Adam can say pretty much every word: "Incredible, extremely, eyebrow, binoculars..." But he has trouble with his "p"'s and it's very, very cute. Unfortunately all of his favorites start with p, so we translate...

Pancakes are "cancakes"
Popcorn is "hotcorn"
Popsicles are "hotsicles"
Lollipops . . . well, he has trouble with L's too, and he knows it, so when I say lollipop, he repeats "sucker." Smarty pants.

Later that day while we were washing baby bottles together, we heard a baby cry (I'm pretty sure it was Colin, but Adam knows how to fix it when Claire's upset -- he gives her the pacifier. Or he just shows up in her face and she grins). Adam said:

"I'm coming, Baby Claire, I'm coming! I'm just washing baby bottles and then I'm coming."

He then filled up a Dr. Brown's baby bottle with water, put all of the attachments together (which, if you aren't familiar, the Dr. Brown's are probably some of the best out there but they are kind of a pain to assemble. He did it like he's been doing it for years). He came running in and looked at me all sweetly and offered it to her. It broke my heart to have to tell him she needed milk instead. He's such a sweet boy.

So instead, he showed her the bottle and said, "TA DA!" (Which is my new favorite thing - he is a little magician who says "TA DA!" when he assembles something, when he opens something up, when he finds something, and then, sometimes, he'll just walk into a room, spread his arms wide and say, "TA DA!" because he has arrived. That's my favorite.)

Here are some more pictures of my last day at home with my sweethearts.