I've been home from work now for just over a week, recouping from my ass surgery. You've been home, too, cuz you're "between schools," as they say. You just started back to preschool on Tuesday, after three months off; it's only two days a week, but other than that, you're time is your own, as they say.
I think I may have had visions of my post-op period as a completely bed-bound invalid, my butt swaddled in gauze, you and Jakob held meticulously at bay by your daddy. But it is hard for an ass patient to garner much sympathy from a heart patient, and I think daddy saw this as a little vacation, a chance to take a kidlet break while I entertained you with my mere presence.
In other words, you and I have been steadfastly in each others' orbit, 24-7, for the past week. Jakob has had a break from me, as he has returned to school following his Christmas break, but you, dear heart, were stuck with me for the duration.
Today was the first entirely Percocet-free day, and we got out of the house for a bit and ran some errands. We dropped off four bags of books and a box of old toys at the thrift store, took about a million plastic grocery bags to the recyclers, took some more clothes to the clothes mailbox, and had lunch at Johnny Rockets. The last time I had lunch there with the two of you a couple months ago, I was in so much pain that I was nearly in tears the entire time. So this was a refreshing change. We even had a chance to stop at this sad little park for a few:
This depressing scene somehow reminds me of Steve Buscemi in "Con Air."
But the housebound days beforehand were pretty much just you and me, laying in bed watching tv, taking baths, doing crafts, laying in bed some more, mucking about on the laptop, reading books, eating snacks, doing each others' hair, doing our nails, cleaning out my desk and dresser drawers and laying in bed again.
I think it was the best Christmas present I could've gotten. Yes, I bled out a few times, I was high on narcotics for the most part and I think we both sniped at each other at least a couple of times, and even caught each others' colds for a couple days, but spending these days with you has maybe been the highlight of the past year, and I will be unspeakably sad to return to work next week.
You are smart and sassy and your razor-sharp wit has kept me in stitches (literally? figuratively?). You have this disconcerting way of stopping in the middle of a long, loud laugh to tell me that you love me. When you fall asleep in bed with me, your little hand blindly reaches out and pats me on the face. When I snag your hair when I'm braiding it, I say "sorry" and you always say, "that's okay." Same thing when I poke you in the eye with my fingernail, which happens more than you think it would.
Jakob is spending the night over at a friend's house tonight, so you and I made popcorn and watched one of the DVD's that you got for Christmas. Of course, you fell asleep before it was over, but I stuck it out and watched the whole thing. "Princess and the Frog." Meh. It was okay. I was never one for Disney princesses, but you seem to like them, probably because your Cali grandma force feeds them to you. But that's okay. Yesterday you asked if we could watch the last episode of Lost again. We only watched a little bit of it, but you told me what was going to happen before it happened. Weirdo. My little lovable weirdo, I love you so.
Good night and sleep tight, princess.
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