Tubes

So after pretty much near-constant ear infections since November, TLB had ear tube surgery this morning. In some ways, it was a very simple procedure. In other ways, it was quite an ordeal.

Our scheduled surgery time was 9:50 am -- which was horrifying to me when the surgery center called me and told me that, because I knew that TLB would not have eaten since his bedtime the night before, and was therefore likely to be cranky shortly after waking up. We had to be at the surgery center to check in by 7:45 am, which meant more than two hours of wait time once we got there.

I had read that they scheduled the surgeries by age, so I was shocked that they were starting so late, since I was sure that TLB, at his age, would surely be first. We checked in at the front desk and where led to the children's waiting room, where three other boys -- all younger than mine -- were crawling around playing with the toys. Another mystery solved.

In short order we were taken to our room, where we met the anesthesiologist, the surgeon, and were given TLB's spiffy hospital gown. Baby hospital gowns? Hilarous.

There were plenty of toys and lots going on to distract TLB from his hunger... for a little while. At one point, one of the other toddlers beaned TLB in the head and knocked him flat on his Pamper. I maintain that it's funny when someone gets hit in the head with a ball. Even when it's my kid.


We made it until nearly 9 am, at which point there was a meltdown from which no amount of rocking, carrying or cajoling could save me.

Eventually (mercifully) the surgeon found us in the hallway and told us we were next. At 9:54 am, TLB was taken from my arms by a nurse and back to the OR. At 10:18 am, the surgeon came in to tell me how things had gone. Minutes later, TLB was back in my arms, heartily chugging a sippy cup full of apple juice (his second since waking up). The nurse warned me that he might be grumpy, and that he would need a long nap to sleep off the effects of the anesthesia. She was wrong about the grumpiness -- he ate a banana and chatted happily the rest of the way home. She was right about the nap, though -- THREE AND A HALF HOURS.

He earned that nap. So did I.

Cheesy Tots!

I'm sure it was just God's way of telling me to lay off the fried, cheesy foods, but boy oh boy, there are few things that irk me more than a snarky teen who's sure she's right when she isn't.

BK Chickie: Welcome to Burger King. Can I take your order?

Me: I'd like a 12-piece cheesy tots, and...

BK Chickie: Uh, yeah. Cheesy tots have been discontinued... for, like, a long time, now.

Me: Oh. Okay. They're on your board. So I guess I'll have...

BK Chickie: No. We have funnel cakes up there now.

Me: Um. Alright. But you have cheesy tots on your board, too.

BK Chickie: I'll have my manager check that.

Me: Cool. So, I guess I'll have a cheeseburger and a bottled water.

BK Chickie: We don't have bottled water right now.

Me: Oh. Okay. I guess I'll have... an orange Fanta and a cheeseburger.

BK Chickie: An orange juice and...

Me: No, no, a Fanta orange soda.

BK Chickie: We have Fanta Strawberry.

Me: Do you have Sprite?

BK Chickie: Yes.

Me: I'll have that. Small.

So I pull around, pay the girl, and as she gives me my food she informs me, "I don't know what you think you saw on the board, but my co-worker just checked and there aren't any cheesy tots up there."

What I wanted to say: Well, I'd tell you your co-worker's making you look like a fool, but I think you're doing fine all on your own.

Or: Then one of us is delusional. Maybe she should double-check, just to be sure.

Or: "Have a nice day" or "Sorry we didn't have half the stuff you ordered" would have been better.

What I DID say was, "Okay, if you say so," and drove off with the cheeseburger I didn't really want in the first place.

If I hadn't been in a hurry to get to my martial arts class, I would have gone in and spoken to the manager. After cooling down, I decided to just blog about it instead.

For the record:

Orange Fanta was on the board, too.

Summertime!

I think I look forward to the end of school and the start of summer even more now than I did when I was a little kid. Oh, sure, when I was a student I always looked forward to summer vacation, when I could play with my friends and swim in the pool all day long, never put on shoes, and stay out until the streetlights came on. But by the end of vacation, I was always kind of ready to go back.

When I became a teacher, I developed the same antsy, drooly summer-lust I had as a kid -- and appreciated the vacation all that much more, because really, it's awfully short. Soon enough, I'd be back to work, teaching everyone else's kids, and don't get me wrong, I LOVE my job, but there's always that one kid (or two, or five, or that whole class) that makes you think maybe collecting garbage might have been a better career choice.

This year, I've been awaiting summer more eagerly than ever before, because it's been TEN MONTHS since I've had TLB all to myself. I know parents joke about dreading summer vacation and loving the start of school, and when TLB is school age I'll probably make the same jokes, but he's at the age right now where everything he does is nothing short of awesome, and now that I'm out of school, there are so many things we can do together.

We can go for longer walks. We can go for more bike rides. We can go to the beach. We can visit a different park every day, and figure out which one we like best. We can meet Daddy for lunch, and I can order TLB something off the menu instead of having to pack bottles and jars of food. We can play music and dance in the play room. We can go to story time at the library. We can go to the zoo, and the Alligator Farm, and Silver Springs. There are endless possibilities.

I've had some pretty good summers, but I think this is going to be the best one yet.

Progress

Couldn't sleep at 4 am today, so I got up and got busy.

Doubled my running distance today. It was farther than I'd intended to run, but I felt like I could do it, so I did.

Years ago, 1.2 miles is a distance I would have scoffed at, but this morning it felt like a major accomplishment. I ran the whole distance without even thinking about quitting. I hardly limped at all, and I wasn't even wearing my brace. I probably could have gone farther, but I'll save that for next week.

I logged a total of 3.6 miles before 5:30 am -- .6 warmup, 1.2 run, .6 cool down, and 1.2 walking the dog (if I can double my distance, she can, too).

I am reminded that RUNNING STINKS. No, literally. But I've missed that stinkypants smell.

Zombie Plan

I ran tonight. Twice as far as last night, which really isn't saying that much, but still, it's TWICE AS FAR. And really, running any distance is a huge accomplishment for my ginormous butt.

For the first time in a long time, I feel like I can do this.

I guess I should backtrack a little. It all began when I went to see "Zombieland" with Philip and Roland. I always felt like I had a pretty good chance of surviving a zombie apocalypse. But that was BEFORE. Before the destroyed ankle, before the reconstructed ACL, before the pregnancy.

The #1 rule for surviving a zombie apocalypse is CARDIO. And frankly, after a few years of injury and consequent inactivity, my cardio is crap. So I revamped my Zombie Plan, and set some goals.

When I was training for the 2000 Olympic trials, I used to run about 25 miles a week. It was a nice, comfortable mileage that was merely a supplement to my taekwondo training. For kicks I ran some road races, including the Gate River Run. I'd always wanted to run a marathon, but was advised against it by a doctor and more seasoned runner who said it would affect my kicking speed.

As I'm no longer competing in taekwondo, a marathon seemed like a fun goal. A half marathon seemed like a more plausible one. So in January, I registered for the 2011 Disney Half-Marathon.

The announcer at the Gate River Run this year said you can train for a half-marathon in six months. I figured I'd need it. It's been two years since I tore my ACL, and the strength of my left leg is still considerably less than that of my right. My "running" is really more of a hobble. Not wanting to re-injure my knee, I've been putting off running. And putting it off... and putting it off...

My friend Carolyn, a runner who had ACL surgery shortly after mine, has kept after me ever since I made this commitment. I need to just do it, she'd tell me. Running is the only thing that's going to build strength in my knee. Easy enough for her to say, since she was already in fantastic shape when she injured her knee, and she weighs, like, half of what I weigh. But still... she's right.

So last night I ran. It wasn't very far, and it was pretty pathetic, but it was a legitimate jog.

Tonight, I wore my brace and doubled my distance. And you know what? It wasn't too bad.

I will (once again) be revamping my workout schedule, and increasing my distance weekly.

I can do this.

Alex Stats - Age 1

TLB is a year old. The birthday(s) lingered for a few days, with our official (albeit low-key) celebration being held on Sunday, when my parents treated TLB's Godparents Uncle Phil and Auntie Liz, our good friend Uncle Roland, and us to lunch at Applebees (TLB loves Applebees). Phil and Liz brought cake, and TLB, while not especially interested in eating it, proceeded to decorate himself and the table with multicolored frosting.

I still can't believe it's been a year since our son came into our lives. So much has changed since those first few days in the hospital and on the bili-bed at home. Now he's a walking (sort of), talking (sort of) toddler.

Here are TLB's present stats:

Age: One year, five days

Height: 30+ inches

Weight: 25.5 pounds

Clothing size: 18m - 2T

Hair: Brown

Eyes: Hazel

Favorite food: Bananas, hands down. He recently became a fan of mini pancakes, however.

Favorite character: Mickey Mouse

Favorite song: "Head, Shoulders, Knees & Toes" and the song that his Tonka trucks play.

Favorite activity: Throwing things (himself included) on the floor, rides in the stroller and on the bike seat.

Favorite book: Goodnight Moon

Words: Lots.

Intelligible words: Mama, Dada, Bye-bye, Hi.

Teeth: 8. Molars are lurking beneath the surface, though. I know you're there, molars.

Steps: A few. He still finds crawling easier and faster at this point.

Minutes needed to completely dismantle the play room: 4.5

Breakfast is the Most Important Meal of the Day

Last week, I finally got the front-mounted bike seat that I have wanted since I found out I was pregnant. It's an iBert safe-T-seat. It's the most hideous shade of green and orange, but apart from that it's perfect.

Today, TLB and I took our first ride. We'd walked that morning (sort of) with Dad, but I only walked two miles instead of three because I knew I was going to take a bike ride later. After a quick jaunt to Starbucks, we donned our helmets, I threw my keys and my Blackberry in a little backpack, and we ventured out.

By the time we got to the entrance to the neighborhood, I knew I'd struck gold. TLB was having the time of his life! He was laughing and looking at everything, patting my arms and smiling up at me -- it was the perfect mother/son moment!

"Go down the hill, Mommy!" I knew he was saying. "Let's go fast!" So down the hill we went -- the same hill I rode my bike down every day to elementary school. We went so fast! TLB laughed even more!

Out onto Kinglsey we went to try out the bike lane. I've always wanted to ride in the bike lane. As we passed in front of an ambulance on a side street, I thought to myself, "Well, if I were to get hit by a car, I guess I'd want it to be an ambulance." <-- FORESHADOWING

We were about halfway back on Doctors Lake Drive when I started to think maybe I'd bitten off more than I could chew. But I used to run this all the time, the eager part of my brain cried. That was ten years and a zillion pounds ago, the rational part of my brain informed me. Stupid rational brain.

I was already planning my Facebook status upon my return: "-Went for bike ride with TLB. He had a blast. I nearly had a heart attack." The further I went, the more I thought this might be true. But I can downshift, I told myself. Sure, you don't go as fast, but you don't have to pedal as hard!

To make a long story short (too late!), I was soon walking. I was short of breath. My chest hurt. I was feeling very much like an idiot. I was pretty sure I wasn't dying, but I wasn't positive. I was incredibly fatigued. The sun started to look very bright and it hurt my eyes. I realized that I was not going to make it home on my own.

Acknowledging I was a big fat 'tard, I pulled my phone from my backpack. I could call Philip, but he was 30-40 minutes away. My dad was even farther. I was struggling to breathe, let alone push the bike. If I collapsed, TLB would fall. This was my primary concern, followed by the fact that a cardiac episode would really ruin my spring break. Reluctantly, I dialed 911.

The dispatcher for the sheriff's office quickly transferred me to the fire/rescue dispatcher. I calmly told him my location and condition, and that I had my 11-month-old son with me. He told me to get in a comfortable position and have my son flag down the rescue vehicle when it arrived. I assured him that while my son is quite advanced for his age, he could not flag down the truck (though he might wave at it). I told them to look for the hideous green bike seat.

The EMTs arrived in short order and confirmed (as I suspected all along) that I was not dying, but that I simply "overdid it a bit." They reassured me that I was not a moron and that I'd done the right thing, but told me next time I should ride a little closer to home until I was more certain of my capabilities. I recalled the day when I was about 8 years old and my mom and I biked to Burger King for breakfast. It wasn't that far of a ride, really, but I simply cannot function without breakfast. I barely made it.

I was perfectly aware of my capabilities. I had just ignored them.

The EMTs asked if I thought I needed to go to the hospital, but I told them that apart from being stupid, I was probably okay. I told them I'd called my husband and he was on his way, but he was coming from the Southside and it could take awhile. They kindly offered to drive me home (or rather, asked my son, "Want to ride in the firetruck, buddy?").

We arrived at my house with my bike strapped to the top of the firetruck, green iBert safe-T-seat displayed proudly for all to see. They deposited my bike, my son and me in my driveway, advised me to take it easy, and drove away -- with my backpack and house keys still in the cab of the truck.

Fifteen minutes later, I was in my house, safe and sound. The hubby arrived and fed TLB his lunch, and I collapsed into my recliner with a tumbler of ice water to try to pull it together.

Moral of the story: BREAKFAST IS THE MOST IMPORTANT MEAL OF THE DAY.