Strategic Old Ladies & the Surgery Recoverer

by Girl Gone Domestic

On Wednesday night we decide to go out to dinner as a family.  Peter was having nasal surgery late the next afternoon and would be fasting all the next day, so feast before famine, right!?  He got home much later than dinner time and the kids were in emotional upset, (kids’ emotions are largely affected by their stomachs, and they were “starving”)!  Usually going to a public place at this point goes against my better judgement, but off we went just the same.  As we waited for our food the kids kept kicking each other under the table, whispering insults (which we adults couldn’t hear) to Simon, age 4, to which he replied with insults, and may I add, that he has not perfected the art of whispering, his idea of whispering is a notch below yelling his little head off!  Benny was having a fit because we would not let him eat the salsa out of the bowl with his hand, and the list goes on.  Pete & I both joined in the whispering, but not insults, threats. By the time the patrons (two elderly couples) at the next table got up to leave, Peter and I were both developing stroke symptoms, you know, pounding head, racing pulse, cold sweat, maybe a little dizziness.  As these elderly couples walked past our table, one of the ladies stopped, I braced myself, and she said, “You have such well behaved children, what a nice family.”  And the other lady chimed in, “Yes, we are just so impressed by this.” Their husbands stood there smiling and nodding. My jaw nearly hit the floor, I almost couldn’t speak, had the stroke hit?!   I looked at them both and with all the sincerity of a saved stroke victim said, “Thank you, I needed to hear that.”  So this part of my post goes out to all the old ladies who take a moment, and usually its just the right moment, to encourage a potential, parental stroke victim.  Thank you, thank you, thank you, may God reward you!!  Oh, how I love noise reducing hearing aids!

On to my man and his surgery.  He is recovering quite well, with the assistance of vicodin.  Without it, the nurse said he would feel like he was hit in the nose with a baseball bat.  He does anyway.  He can’t bend over for 3 days and isn’t supposed to lift anything over 25 pounds for 3 weeks.  Poor Benny is at his wits’ end, having his wrestling buddy home and not being allowed to crawl all over him, and I’m afraid that’s one position I refuse to fill in for.  It does help that Pete has what looks like a surgeon’s mask that is about three sizes too small covering his nostrils, we call it Papa’s owee, and Benny looks on in awe.  So, Pete is pretty much living the dream, no obligations, no one expecting a thing from him, food & drink brought to his bedside, being able to lay in bed in his undies all day looking at magazines, dozing, and not having to feel a bit guilty, but I still wouldn’t trade places with him!