Surgery and the Toddler Turncoat

Last Wednesday, I had my gall bladder removed. I'm still not sure I can explain exactly why it needed to come out. All I know is I had intermittent stomach pain and one gall bladder attack. Apparently there's not much medical science says you can do to "fix it" without removing the gall bladder. I had an ultrasound which revealed "small stones" and "sludge," which sounds incredibly disgusting because it is. The surgery went OK. After three c-sections this seemed like a piece of cake. It was Laparoscopic, which meant that it was out patient and I could go home the same day.

The only problem was that even if it's Laparoscopic, it's still surgery, and there's still recovery time involved. For someone with three kids age 7 and under (one of whom just turned 2) my life requires lots of alertness and lifting. And since I'm a Real Housewife of Elkhart County rather than Orange County I don't have a household staff waiting at my beck and call to fulfill my every whim and desire, I had to call for reinforcements. So my wonderful mother and mother-in-law each came and stayed a day or two to help me out with the meals and kids. Therefore,the kids had a revolving door of Grandmas for about a week who fed them, bathed them, changed diapers, read books, and played with them so I could sleep, rest, and recover. Great right? Yes, it was.

However, I discovered we have a turncoat in the family. I was surprised at how easily my sweet little 2-year-old's affections turned away from me. Due to my surgery and then the effects of the general anaesthetic, I spent most of Wednesday either at the hospital or asleep in my bedroom...without interacting with Audrey or the boys much at all. Which apparently, when you're 2, is the unpardonable sin. For the next 5 days she proceeded to ignore or barely tolerate me- far preferring whichever Grandma was staying with us at the time. How's that for loyalty? Now the Grandmas are gone and the peace talks have apparently begun. This a.m. she approached me with her empty sippy cup and a grin (like I was supposed to forget her screams of horror when I tried to kiss her goodnight a few days ago). I was tempted to be all like, "Oh, so you want me to get you your milk, do ya?" But who was I kidding, I was a sucker for the big eyes and soft cheeks. So I extended the olive branch sippy cup of peace. And now she wants me to come watch Curious George with her. I guess we're copacetic.

As for my recovery (thanks for asking), from last Wednesday on, I've sort of felt like the evolutionary "Cro-Magnon Man." Every day I could stand a little straighter. And today they gave me my spear back...