Shortest Post Ever

More Like Medium

Sorry about the interruptus yesterday. I fully expected to be able to eventually unload Edward with a couple ten hours of on-demand television and get back to you but Ha! Ha! I say. Edward was(is) in no mood for unloading. Yes, he will watch TV and, yes, he will eat pudding and oatmeal and applesauce but only if he is reclined upon my person and only if I am hand-feeding him. He's gone full Caesar. I am the jelly to his Edward-sofa sandwich. We are as One: his half is crabby and irrational and my half has a crick in its neck.

He doesn't feel well. On the other hand he doesn't feel nearly as awful as I had feared he might. The vomiting, for example, was more of a fluke than a trend and stemmed from his yucky cough more than his... oh! News you can use, I almost forgot.

On Sunday Edward developed a fever to accompany his increasingly gloopy nose and roopy cough. He was as glassy as a skyscraper all day, barely lifting his arms to indicate touchdowns as he watched football with Steve. I thought since he clearly had a virus that there was no way they would continue with the surgery; and then I wondered what the chances were that a re-schedule between the months of October and March would somehow manage to catch him at a time when he didn't have an upper respiratory infection. It's kind of a catch-22, you see, since Edward's  non-stop gunk is what makes him a surgical candidate. Monday morning I called the ENT's nurse and explained that Edward had had a fever and was congested - what to do? Apparently this has happened before (huh) and she said that unless the fever was exceptionally high or the congestion was such that he was unable to breathe they would usually go ahead with surgery. She said the anesthesiologist would assess him before the procedure, though, and they would make the final call that day. So, to sum, they do not necessarily cancel pediatric outpatient whatsits simply because your kid is sick.

In our case the anesthesiologist listened to Edward's chest right before the procedure and said he was as clear as a bell. Edward then coughed up a small Bichon Frise and Steve and I looked at the guy incredulously.

"Oh that," he said airily, "is all in his head."


So she put in the tubes (I prefer the term grommets) and took out his adenoids (apparently they were roughly the size of a bus and inflammed like rhetoric.) His tonsils continue to be tiny so they stayed. I feel like I started somewhere else... 

Oh right. He threw up after surgery but I think it was more from the heavy coughing than anything else. He has also been clingy but not in much pain. On the parental scale of procedures that suck (hospitalization for SBI being a solid 8.5, tonsil/adenoids coming in at a close 7 and sinuses registering around 5) I'd give tubes/adenoids a 3.

I was totally convinced, by the way, that I was going to have Edward sleeping in our bed for a couple of nights but I had failed to estimate the effect of twin power.

This is how they usually sleep now that Caroline has officially moved into Edward's room.

This is how they slept last night after Edward's surgery.

(Do you know what you want to be when you grow up? You want to be the preschool aged twin of a kid who has had surgery. As the twin you get: all of the TV, all of the popsicles and none of the band-aids. Oh, sure, I suppose I could have said, no, Caroline, you don't get a chocolate kiss; only Edward gets one because he just took some medicine. I could have said that but I doubt I would have any eyebrows left after the explosion. Pick your chocolate battles, my friends.)

Another etiquette question for you. There is absolutely nothing riding on this other than my peace of mind but I have been dying to ask you...

Patrick's new school has yet another pick-up, drop-off parking lot disaster area. Again the parking lot is miniscule and again there is a large number of school-within-a-school commuters who do not qualify for bussing. This time, however, the school is bordered by multiple city streets and there is ample on-street parking. So... why do almost all of the other parents wait in the carpool line? Do they like it? This is a sincere question. The first few days I arrived at pick-up time, parked on the street, and walked over to get Patrick from the carpool kids. It took me about five minutes, during which time the carpool car line (which stretches - I am not exaggerating - down one block and up another) had not moved at all. So my question is: am I being rude by parking and walking? Am I missing some subtle code of behavior that is leaving me open to the quiet condemnation of all of those parents sitting in their cars, waiting their turn? Or are they just anticipating the cold, white future when it will be -15 degrees and the road will be walled in with snow?