Full of holes

Well, G is, at least.

This morning he had bilateral tubes put in to hopefully reduce or (if we're super lucky) eliminate his chronic ear infections. As friends had warned, he was absolutely out of it upon returning to us from the recovery room, but after a nap at home, he was ready to eat and play for a bit. He is napping again as I type this.

The doctor said G did have fluid in his ears, but no infection. Of course, as far as I'm concerned, it was only a matter of time before another round of antibiotics. G started sounding congested yesterday, so I wasn't at all surprised to hear there was gunk in there.

While I didn't white knuckle it during the surgery or in the last few days, I did sleep horribly last night, even with half a Unisom.

I dreamed that D, N and I took G up to the Cincinnati Children's Hospital (I honestly don't even know if there is such a place, but that's where we were in my dream). And we were having to go into all these different rooms, down long corridors, even getting back in our car to drive to another building in an attempt to register G. There were huge long lines of parents with their children, waiting for the next available surgery window. N was bored and acting out, nearly getting hit by a car at one point when she jumped out of our car.

Suffice it to say, I was unconsciously worried about today. My dear friend K called last night to check in on me and offer to bring a meal to us tonight. What a doll! Considering how poorly I slept last night and how tiring it is to try to hang onto a 14-month-old coming off anesthesia, I am glad I accepted her offer.

One thing I have wondered during all this is whether other parents stew over stuff as much as I do or do they just go, "Ok, needs tubes. No biggie." As I told K last night, I just have to go through a certain amount of "try everything under the sun to avoid surgery." I did it with my c-section when G was breech; I did it with ear tubes.

It would be nice to take things in stride a little better, and, believe it or not, I do compared to how I would have handled this in my life pre-antidepressant. While D and I were waiting today, I started thinking about folks who have cosmetic surgery, not because they got half their face bitten off by wild dogs, but people who just want bigger boobs or tighter abdominal muscles or no crow's feet.

I will go to the grave with my tiny boobs, flabby abs and a whole flock of crow's feet. Rode hard and put away wet.