Syrup Ears

Moodle's surgery was yesterday, and it seemed like it went about the same as most ear tube surgeries do. The doctor met with us after the surgery but before she woke up. He said that they found that the fluid in her ears had thickened to the point where it looked like syrup or glue.

It broke my heart. It's her parents' jobs to make sure she gets what she needs. We were hesitant on ear surgery, because we heard so many stories of unnecessary surgery. Max Powers made the comparison that it was the braces of pediatric surgery, because they can be such a money maker. But in hindsight, we know that she needed it. The surgery seemed tailor-made for her problem.

I'm excited to see what happens to her language development. She wasn't behind, but she had the standard toddler-mangling of words happening. Maybe now she'll speak more clearly.

She's back at school today. At drop-off, the kids were being loud and rambunctious, and she seemed scared by all the noise. I know she'll adjust, but it was hard to leave her.

My Beautiful, Talented, Amazing Daycare Providers

To my beautiful, talented, amazing daycare providers;

Oh, how I love you. Let me count the ways. Wait, that's inaccurate, and plagiarism.

Oh, why I love you. Let me count the reasons.

1. You love my daughter, and you show her that love every weekday from 8:30 to 5:30. That alone makes you family. You love my daughter, even though you have your own kids to love. It takes a special kind of person to give that much of themselves.
2. You make my daughter feel safe enough to be adventurous. I see this in the bumps and scrapes she gets, and that your facility diligently informs me of in a timely manner. And you make me feel safe enough that I do not worry about the bumps and scrapes, because I know they were iced and kissed, and that my daughter was cuddled as much as she needed to forget about it.
3. You let my daughter get messy, in so many ways I could never have thought of. I do not mind when she comes home covered in dirt or paint or glitter, for it is your floor and tables covered in those things, and not mine.
4. You display her art proudly. She notices, and excitedly points out her scribbles and handprints to me as I walk through the building with her.
5. You did not freak out when I nervously informed you that we were not Christian. Your respect for our family's values has gone a long way in making me comfortable admitting that to other people.
6. You teach my daughter what she is ready to know, no matter how old she is. Your whole class of 2 year olds knows the alphabet and numbers to almost to 10. My daughter knows to put things away when she is done with them, and regularly goes on the potty. You see my kid, and not just standard development milestones.
7. You remember to tell me the little things. You fill me in on how my little one's budding personality is showing. You tell me the silliest or coolest or sweetest thing she did all day, every day. And that is precious to me.
8. It's like you can smell the ear infections. You have never been wrong when you have informed me that she was acting off, and I should probably take her to get her ears checked out. You are 3-0 this year alone.
9. You take the time to protect her. Eight little faces and arms and legs get sunscreen in the spring and summer, and eight little bodies got bundled and hatted and mittened all winter. I can barely do that for my one child. How do you manage to do them all and get them outside to play? But you do, every day.
10.  You are masters of zone defense. Where I would be herding cats, you have an organized game of ring around the rosie or story time or dance party or art. My daughter and all the children listen to you and respect you, because you have earned their attention and respect. And mine.

Happy Young Childhood Education Week.

Daniel Tosh's Live Show is Awesome

Max Powers and I saw Daniel Tosh perform live last night. It was everything I had hoped for when I dropped $150 on two tickets.

The best part and the worst part of the show are actually related. While there were minor annoyances, like the Murat Theatre's horrible seat numbering scheme which caused confusion during the show (yes DURING), mostly we had a lovely time. We even got to see him being sincere and gracious for a few minutes, which acted like a palate cleanser for the next round of filth.

But behind us was a very loud laugh whore. I'm not saying she has sex for money. I'm saying that she would laugh and hoot at every single word he said.

"Hi, I'm Daniel Tosh."
       "AHHH HA HA HAHA !"
"These are my dogs"
       "WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

This is not an exaggeration. This is how is set started for us. And this was the worst part of the show.

I mean, wait for it, lady! He's a funny guy. You can wait until he actually cracks a joke to start laughing. He's a professional, it won't take long! And once you start laughing, I don't need to know how funny you think he is. I, too, am laughing. Appreciating comedy does not require you to project!

And he did bring his adorable dogs on stage, just for a moment at the beginning of the show. They were very cute.

He was funny enough that we could mostly ignore her. But, after about 30 minutes of this hooting and cackling, he told a joke that had me laughing so hard I was almost peeing. He had just finished saying a string of horrible yet hilarious things, and the audience was into it. He chose that moment to address all the ladies who made a habit of hooting their approval, and informed them that within 2 seats of each of them, there was someone who was about ready to strangle them. And on in his normal fashion.

He ended the joke by pointing out that most of the women there would continue to hoot (to which they hooted), but that hopefully one woman would come to the realization of how annoying it was, and apologize to those around her. And the man sitting next to *that* woman would be his FAN FOR LIFE.

I wish I could tell you that the hooting, cackling laugh whore was that woman. She wasn't. But still, it was so cathartic to have her called out on stage like that. Money well spent.

Jesus Christ, Otolaryngologist

While the Wizard of ENT seemed like a knowledgeable, experienced sort of fellow, there were a few things in his practice that threw me.

For example, in our exam room, there was a certificate showing that he was a member of the Christian Society of Otolarygology. And nothing else on the walls.

My first snarky thought was, I had no idea that a simple carpenter had any surgical experience. My second, scarier thought was, this guy is old enough that his medical knowledge may have been significantly influenced by religion. Does he really use the most modern methods? Does he use prayer as a substitute for knowledge of best practices?

Apparently, this exists, and the website is kind of scary. What I found most off-putting about the website was the distinct lack of medical resources. Plenty of spiritual ones, but no medical ones. In fact, you could use the same website, use a find and replace for Otolaryngology, and insert any surgical field, and no one would be confused.

Christian Society of Podiatrists. Christian Society of Orthopedics. Christian Society of Ophthalmologists. All of them could use this website for their ministry.

Is this enough to ask for another doctor? Could I find a doctor in that practice that wasn't a member of that society? The second thing that gave me pause were several conspicuously placed Bibles throughout the practice. My guess is, if you were a partner, you toed the spiritual line.

Like most things, I turned to the internet. Those two things made me worry that perhaps I wouldn't be getting the best medical care if my doctor was distracted by his faith, but I had other resources. I took some deep breaths, and tried not to let prejudice or fear get in the way of fact.

The practice's website was noticeably devoid of any spiritual references, as was my doctor's specific page. And I find that he went to top medical schools and residencies (even if it was in the 1960s), has acted as Director of Surgery for a local, well-renowned hospital, and has held official positions recently in the American Academy of Otolaryngology. Also, their website was a font of information about Moodle's surgery, including links to modern best practices.

Information has a way of calming me down. The more I know, the better I feel, with just about everything. And now I have information. I have good reason to believe that whatever the Wizard believes, he believes in modern medicine, too.

The Wizard Has Spoken

We visited the ENT on Friday, and he told us that the surgery option was a no-brainer for Moodle. Apparently, ear tubes were designed for her particular problem. And since she is otherwise completely healthy, the surgery should present almost no risk to her. It took him all of 10 seconds of looking in her ears and mouth to make the recommendation.

He spent plenty of time answering our questions about getting her ears wet, flying, risks of surgery, and everything else. And another nurse in the office followed up with us while we were scheduling the surgery about more specific things we thought of after the doctor had left.

I'm still a little scared for my baby. But on to surgery!

My Dog, Myself

We started training classes for Fat Dog yesterday. She's a good dog, but she's stubborn, and fanatical about food, and jumps on you to say hello. The food thing means that Moodle has gotten knocked over pretty regularly, and has had her food stolen from her hand almost daily. Fat Dog is smart enough to know an easy target when she sees one.

Fat Dog has never bitten or snapped or reacted in any way to Moodle's slapping, pinching, tail pulling, and ear investigating, other than to get up and leave when she has had enough. Apparently the trail of Cheerios and the occasional stolen morsel is payment enough to ignore those atrocities.

But she does jump on Moodle to say hello. Fat Dog is getting skinnier, but is still a 30 pound beagle. And Moodle is getting bigger, but is still a 23 pound shrimpy toddler. You don't have to have my kind of physics credentials to see what happens.

We're getting better with both of their behavior, but training will help. It also provides needed focus and impetus on she and I taking daily walks (which we both need). And it gives me an hour a week with just the dog, for Daddy and Moodle to have some fun by themselves.

Matchbox 20

On the way to work today, after I had dropped off Moodle and could turn off the nursery rhyme CD that plays on endless loop when I need to distract her, I heard a song I haven't heard in at least a decade.

There are lots of songs I haven't heard in at least a decade, but this song gave me a little tingly feeling. It was "Push" by Matchbox 20. It's a good song, but not really special in its own right. But that song came out the summer before I went to college. The first summer I spent in Pennsylvania, just after we moved. The summer before the biggest adventure of my life, college. The summer I spent a lot of time in my beat up Reliant, learning my way around in between shifts at the Lone Star. The summer I listened to a lot of radio.

I remember feeling a sense of anticipation that stuck with me the entire summer. I remember feeling a little lonely, because all my friends were in a different state. But it didn't bother me too much. After all, I reasoned, I would have left those friends behind to go to college anyway. Mostly, I just felt an electricity that had nothing to do with the tired old town we had moved to. An eagerness to go to school, prepared, focused, and as awesome as I could be.

And when I heard that song this morning, I got to feel that electricity again, this time flavored by what actually happened in college, which made it sweeter. And now I miss all the great friends I made in college, especially the ones I made while that song was still on the radio.

Done with Butts; On To Ears!

Easter weekend came and went, and all our butts were fine. We had a lovely time hosting guests, even though our friends' baby was a little sick from the travel. Moodle loved having kids to play with, and even got used to the weird grown-ups being around, too. I don't regret the decision to take her off the Augmentin.

Now we're winding down. I'm figuring out what to do with three pounds of leftover ham (after sandwiches and ham bean soup, I got nothing), and 'donating' leftover desserts to the office. These particular guests are considerate people, so the house isn't any messier than it was when they got here.

And now we steel ourselves for the end of the week, when we speak to the wizard himself. Or herself. I don't know what our ENT is. We'll find out on Friday!

Crossing Our Fingers For All Our Butts

Max Powers has been having tummy issues since yesterday. Today, I have taken one more trip to the bathroom than I am comfortable with. And we all know what's happening with Moodle's nether-regions. 

But we have guests coming this weekend! And fun plans for those guests! And none of those plans involve staying tethered to a bathroom or flaming red diaper rash. In fact, even our backup plans are dependent on not having raw bottoms. These folks are not exactly family, but they are about as close as you can get without DNA, and we're really excited they are coming.

So, Mommy is stepping up the bland food diet for everyone, and trying to catch up on all the stuff I had to do this week to prepare, since Moodle was home for a day and a half nursing her bum bum.

Fingers crossed we do more than have our friends watch us take turns pooping.

Minty Butt Fire

Poor, poor Moodle.

I mentioned that we are in the middle of another course of antibiotics for Moodle, and trying to stem the tide of poop that usually comes with it. And we have failed. Augmentin has won, and has claimed by daughter's butt.

Moodle has been blowing out her diapers since Sunday, despite several servings of yogurt and bananas every day. And yesterday, her butt was so red and inflamed that she couldn't sit down. She actually penguin walked for most of the morning.

I called the doctor's office, and spoke to the nurse. She told me to put Maalox on her butt, let it dry, and then put on a barrier layer like I had never constructed before. A fortress of petroleum jelly so thick, we would not be touching her skin the next time we wiped.

I had never heard of this Maalox trick. And the internet seems divided on it. But I figured it couldn't hurt, so we ran out to the store to get some. She did great at the store, and I managed to grab some other things we needed while we were out. But Walmart was out of Maalox. With the pharmacist's help, I found the off-brand equivalent, but they only had it in mint flavor. Close enough, I reasoned.

I don't know if this trick is supposed to burn, or if it's the mint additive, but Moodle screamed like the devil as I put it on her. And then ran away the next time she saw me get the bottle. She was cool with sitting on an inch thick pillow of Desitin and Vaseline, though.

By the end of the day, she had stopped penguin walking, but was still sitting down very gingerly. Like, old lady slow. I actually saw her walk up to her bouncy toy, put a hand on it for a moment, regard it with a tinge of sorrow, and then walk away.

I took her back to school today, with butt paste barrier in place, and instructions to use the whole damn tube of diaper cream today, and that I would bring another tomorrow. It was a rough, slow drop off, effectively erasing all the progress we've made on getting me out quickly. But I guess minty butt fire is as good of an excuse as any to start over.

Short and Sweet

Yes, I am both short and sweet. But I am finding it increasingly difficult to keep my emails short and sweet. Actually, it's just the short part. If I have to write an outline for my email, it is too long.

And people are starting to get overwhelmed. My mother-in-law and a good family friend have recently replied, 'wow, that was too much information'. I can only imagine what my work colleagues think, when I write emails with actual information in them.

I know a picture is worth a thousand words, but I've become less likely to make a graphic since my computer has become more likely to crash when I open a Microsoft product. Leaving me to explain with hundreds of words of text.

Time to go on a word diet. Not here, of course, just in emails. This will continue to be lovably rambling. Because I love words.

Now if you will excuse me, I have to go wrestle an image into submission. Dumb images.