But sometimes three lefts do...

[You know the old saying that two wrongs do not make a right.]

What do you do with a cranky Mommy,
What do you do with a cranky Mommy,
What do you do with a cranky Mommy,
Earl-aye in the morning?

Throw her in the tub and give her chocolate,
Throw her in the tub and give her chocolate,
Throw her in the tub and give her chocolate,
Earl-aye in the morning!

I can do something about the tub, and in fact I will, quite soon. I was going to say that I couldn’t do anything about the chocolate, because even though I just dragged myself to the grocery store at 4:30am and spent $53 and change, I forgot to hit the chocolate aisle. And then I remembered that my visiting teaching supervisor at church gave me a purple vampire goodie bag at Relief Society last Sunday. I had a nice sensible mini bagel with cream cheese for breakfast. I just washed down a snack size Almond Joy with most of the rest of my milk. I love almonds, and I could use a refill on the joy.

This is a picture of LittleBit, looking pitiful, just before they put the happy juice into her IV. Cook Children’s Hospital is an amazing place. They put a wristband on LittleBit. They put one on me. And they put another on her bear.



The endoscopy went well. No sign of an ulcer, thank goodness, and no damage to her vocal chords from the reflux, though there is some thickening of her esophagus. They removed three polyps from her stomach and have sent them for biopsy. Her doctor said they didn't look malignant; she also said it is most unusual for somebody this young to have polyps, particularly in the stomach, and that polyps tend to run in families.

I've already emailed my sister to ask about her and our folks. And I emailed my former SIL to ask about the medical history on that side of the family. I’ve also left a VM for LittleBit’s dad, but no telling when he got it or if he will remember to call or text me back. He is pretty much in his own little world these days. There is no doubt in my mind that he loves his kids. I also don’t see a lot of what I would call useful, measurable action.

LittleBit had a very slight fever before she had the procedure. And it went up after the procedure and then obediently came back down. And after the procedure is when things started coming unRavelled. She had a panic attack when she was waking up. Wanted to see the BF, who is home from Marine Corps boot camp. Said that she wanted him and his mother to take care of her. And when I raised one eyebrow and opened my mouth to say something like Not On My Watch, she started sobbing and went right into an asthma attack.

Naturally, we did not have her inhaler with us. But the staff gave her a breathing treatment, and I reassured her that yes, we would stop to see The Boy on the way home from the hospital, and she calmed herself down. We stopped at his house for ten or fifteen minutes, and they hugged each other and did the teenage equivalent of “There, there”, with much patting of the back, and they both felt better when we left. So on the one hand, it put off a nap that much longer, but I think it was time well spent. He’s a good boy, and I met his mom, and I like her.

I couldn’t give LittleBit anything to eat or drink in the car, so when we got home I made her some mild pasta, and she ate maybe half a cup and couldn’t finish it. She went to bed. I went to bed. Life was good until she rousted me an hour and a half later to say that she’d gotten a VM from one of the choir directors, and she’d been called back.

I decided I would put my jeans back on and go remind them that she’d just had surgery. Took my knitting and my big tote. LittleBit decided that she wanted to come along. I ended up sitting in the choir director’s office, because it was a closed audition. In theory, LittleBit would read briefly, and I would take her home. In reality, she texted me at 8:00 and told me to go home, she wasn’t done.

I texted back, “You are kidding. You need to come home and eat and go to bed.”

No response.

I texted again, half an hour later, “OK I give up. Am going home. Love you. And you are nuts but you come by it honestly.”

And she replied half an hour after that, “I’m doing really well tho”

But I still didn’t feel good about it. What does a good mother do in a situation like that? Bust into the audition and say, “You’ve had her quite long enough, I’m taking her home?” when if she were two months older and living in NYC and auditioning, there would be no mommy to shepherd her?

She got home a little after 10:00, looking like she’d been beaten with the script. We had prayers, talked a little, and both went to bed.

When I woke at 4:00 this morning, I thought I could hear murmuring. She was on the cell phone with the BF. Couldn’t sleep all night, stomach hurt, fever was back. But did she wake *me*, like I had asked? No. I made her run a bath while I ran to the store.

And now I have 24 minutes to decide if I am going to work today, or not.

I told her that she’d obviously overdone it last night, and that I feel like a bad mother for letting her. But it’s not like she’s 6, and I can sit on her.

Enough.

Much knitterly progress yesterday. I finished seaming all the parts together while waiting for her to go into surgery. I took the needle and the book. However, I did not take the yarn. Thankfully, I also had the Sabbath Scarf with me. Made lots of progress on it as well; I will probably finish it before Sunday.

While I was sitting in the choir director’s office last night, I picked up the stitches for the first side panel of the hood. I had worked about 2-1/2” of it when I noticed that I’d dropped one of the sleeve stitches. So I ripped back to the picking-up row and fixed that, and I’m almost back to where I was.

Decision made. I’m going in. And I should have left nine minutes ago. If her fever spikes and I need to take her back to the hospital, I’ll grab a Cherry Coke and assume the position [hands at ten and two, knees permanently frozen at a right angle].