Swagger, what??? (Update on Peyton)

When we took Peyton in to admissions, I shortly thereafter checked my voicemail to find several messages, including one from just minutes ago from the operating area. GREAT. I thought to myself, this surgery better not be canceled.

Apparently the two departments have some beef challenges with communicating with one another, and surgery wasn't sure what time we were arriving. It all worked out in the end. Only one of us was allowed back with him, not sure why considering the other little girl's parents were both with her, and she was only in for a 7-minute thumb surgery, but whatever. I took him back, he got the famous cocktail, and then he got funny. Nurse asked if there was any abuse in the home, any reason to be scared. No, no, no. I joked that the only abuse was what I took from the kid on the table. Peyton was talking to his cute nurse about horses, and then called me a crab. But then he went on to call me a fish, and every other sea creature, so I guess it wasn't totally abusive. The abuse didn't start until they wheeled him off and I went to the waiting room with DH.

 

About an hour went by, and I decided I better use the restroom before they call me back to recovery. I left DH with all the gear, and walked down the hall. I'm very aware these days of "how" I walk, to make sure I'm not waddling. I come back, and do you know what my DH said? "Hon, you have a swagger." THANKS, you mean a flippin' waddle?! He thought he was being honest and cute about it. According to the Urban Dictionary, swagger is defined as: How one presents him or her self to the world. Swagger is shown from how the person handles a situation. It can also be shown in the person's walk. I guess by definition, I present myself to the world by rocking from side to side. Delightful. Nurse, can I retract my answer to the abuse question and change my response to, YES?

Peyton cried like a baby when he awoke. The wristbands and BP cuff bothered him more than anything. Poor Peyt. Once everything was disconnected, they let us take him home. He slept the whole car ride home. And when he awoke he was HUNGRY. He ate quite a bit of noodles and juice. Then he had Pamillwa Favorites and cake. And we thought he'd lose weight?! Well, the meds must have masked the pain enough for him to eat yesterday, because today, he won't eat.

I'm so glad he did so well, but can I be honest? He is such a typical male. His whole world is crumbling. When Gracyn is sick, she sucks it up. Don't get me wrong, I know he's uncomfortable and I AM ABSOLUTELY babying him to no end, but he's milkin' it too. I'm feeding him with baby spoons, and taking him to the bathroom, and giving up my bed. . .And, please, keep in mind that today he was well enough to go with me to a doctor's appointment, ask to go to Target, and WALK all the way to the DVD section, peruse all selections, and decide on yet, ANOTHER Tom and Jerry movie. Thank you for all of the prayers - now that he's home recovering, it is ME that may need the prayers - prayers for patience to endure the recovery period. I can only watch Bolt so many times you know. I think it's been played, oh, about a dozen times. I guess now we have Tom and Jerry, Fast and Furious. Oh, and then yesterday night, he insisted on watching his "Birth Day" video. Note to self: Do not watch self in labor and delivery weeks before due with 3rd child. Causes anxiety. Oh, and I do have Gestational Diabetes, so to top it all off, I'll have to meet with a dietitian, use a glucose monitor and do finger pricks 4 times a day, and TAKE a flippin' very educational course on nutrition. Didn't they say it wasn't my fault? Why the punishment? Okay, okay, I know. . .now who's being the BIG baby?!