The Mini Van Soap Box

5:00 am Wednesday morning alarm goes off to Rascal Flatts "My Wish". This horribly beautiful song about what a parent wishes for their child.

Great...Now, I'm singing that in my head in the shower.

I've got the family in the car and heading out promptly at 6:20 and made it to the hospital at 6:50. Only 5 minutes late. Not too bad when you have a 3 1/2 year old.

Blood pressure check, same questions over and over, temperature, mild small arguments over not being able to eat or drink and then next thing you know she's being walked down the hall.

At this point I'm extremely proud of her....and extremely confused.

I drop her off at pre-school and she'll throw herself on the ground and kick and scream as though I've just left her at a school of torture. But take her to the hospital and she turns around, kisses me, says she loves me and walks hand in hand with a total stranger down the hall.

45 minutes, 1 1/2 cigarettes, a cup of horrible hazelnut coffee (I did NOT read the label carefully enough), and 5 minutes of CNN....Dr. Para called me back to "the room".

She did brilliantly. SO brilliantly that he couldn't stop gushing. And then the nurses gushed. And then the very attractive male nurse. And then the receptionist. And then the janitor. And then the weird guy in the hallway having gallbladder surgery.

From what we hear - she was a dream. One nurse said the "best child patient we have ever had." Brave, funny and POLITE. Apparently she said "Thank You" after they gave her a little gas.

heh. Mommy feels the same way baby.

Anyway, as with most girls - we are brave in the face of adversity - but once you see your mama....You're a big puddle of mush.

Enter Me.

Once they brought her to me and put her in my lap she started to cry. And cry. and cry. and cry.

Then they "tried" to take her IV out and all hell broke loose. She moved - then they moved and blood went flying. I'm still not entirely sure if I'm going to be able to get the stains out of our clothes.

For anyone that knows my child, they know that she has pretty strong opinions. So, when the nurse tried to soothe her and say "as soon as I do one more thing, mommy and daddy can take you home."

Holy Crap - you would have thought that they just murdered Bambi right in front of her. Her response:

"NO - I WANT COFFEE"

heh.

I had promised her Hot Chocolate from Starbucks if she was a good girl. Clearly she has a good memory.

She's home now and the past 2 days have been hell. Apparently she doesn't REALIZE that she's sick.

At least until 4:00 this afternoon.

She came walking up to me with tears in her eyes, pulled on my shirt, and said ... "Mama, I'm really sick".

No shit sherlock. If you wouldn't have fought me every inch of the way the last 48 hours I bet you would feel a smidgen better. You've got a fever. You're in pain, and I imagine that everything is about 20 times louder to you all of a sudden.

Hopefully tomorrow will be better.





Interesting side note: An odd side effect of having your adenoids removed is bad breathe. Rather...rank, foul, just dined on raccoon road kill, six month old milk, drunken binge frat boy vomit - bad breathe.

What we do as parents.