A friendly technician waved a magic wand around my back and tummy this afternoon. I think she was giving my kidneys a good cleaning. I made sure to wipe lots of goop on Mom while she was holding me. She said it made her feel nostalgic.
Instead of baby glop tonight, I had some of what Mom was eating: homemade bread, plain black beans, and spinach. It was yummy, and I didn't hork even once. I only did it because I know Mom came home yesterday with a bagful of baby food.
At the neurosurgeon's office today, Mom, Dad, and the anesthesiologist decided my lingering cough doesn't earn me a stay of my spinal rearrangement. We're precariously balanced between waiting until I'm 110% healthy and not waiting until I catch something else. Sigh, I'll have to learn to fake better.
Before they cut me open and let my blood leak out, they want to test what's in me now. I can't say I enjoyed the blood draw much. I didn't even get a Dora the Explorer bandage. I snuck a look at Mom's arm afterward, though, and I'm pretty sure my veins are bigger than hers.
Surprisingly, although I pee way more often than I bleed, collecting a urine sample is turning out to be much harder. I'll skip the details and just say that we'll try again tomorrow.
I hauled myself up here all by myself. I'll go to impressive lengths for sufficient incentive: I wanted to see what Rebecca was up to. Plus, I can get to a lot more wires, tissues, laptops, and other yummy food this way.
Mom's going through the mail. I'd object to the mess in my playroom, but she keeps dropping paper treats on the floor. Every time I taste a piece, Dad takes it away and says, "No mouth." I think that means, "That one's not ripe yet, try another."
The good news is, the pediatric urologist says all my parts are working normally, unaffected by my spinal lipoma.
The bad news is, in order to find this out, he put catheters in places best left undescribed and, let's just say, turned the ebb tide. Repeatedly, over my vigorous protests. While Dad cheerily chatted with him about mutual college friends. I am so going to remember this when I'm the grownup and Dad's having prostate trouble.
Mom and Dad dragged me to the doctor because I've been coughing. The doctor says she wouldn't do anything under ordinary circumstances, but because of my upcoming spin with the scalpel she put me on some antibiotics just in case. This kind is strawberry-flavored, even though strawberries are on the not-for-babies list along with honey, wires, and Mom's eyeglasses.
The nurse measured me at 14 lb 13.5 oz. I like the scale at home better: it puts me just over 15 lb. Of course, I can eat 6 oz at a time and pee 8 oz between meals, so it's a moving target.
I accidentally swallowed one of my mouth-toys. It was a tiny little O-shaped oat cracker. I got it good and soggy and mooshed it up with my gums as usual, but when I tried to spit it out it went down my throat instead. Will it hurt me?
Now I know why grownups drink from big cups when they eat. It helps you not hork when you swallow.
The doctor says I have to stay healthy for the next three weeks or he won't cut me open and rearrange my spine. Does this seem like a good incentive to you?
So I'm in kid-quarantine now. No daycare, no mommy groups, no library, no art day, no playing with housemates. Even if my friends look healthy, the other kids they swap snot with might not be. Now I get Dad all to myself five days a week. Most of you can imagine what that's like. His version of "Hole in the Bottom of the Sea" ends with the spin on the electron. Need I say more?
Yeah, I'm a bottle baby now, baby. I have savoir lactaire. Mom sleeps through the night while Dad fumbles with formula at four-mula AM. It's no grand chose: I've been a connoisseuse of concentrate since I was ... hm, guess I still am a babe in arms. Not to be overweening about it, but I am over weaning.
Hey, somebody raised the walls in my crib. And my parents got taller all of a sudden. And the floor looks closer. Hmm... This wouldn't have anything to do with my having learned to push myself up to sitting, would it?
After two weeks on furlough, I was actually starting to look forward to running with the gang in the MSDF, but by the end of the first day I had a medical release. I have to be completely healthy for several weeks before surgery, and in the pre-toddler room, the only things running are noses.