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Well! Now! I feel better!

Auggie’s procedure went pretty well this morning. We drug ourselves out of bed at 5, got to the hospital by 6 and then Auggie was on his way to the operating room by 7:45.

They gave him a drug called Versed (explained to us that it was “like Valium” by no fewer than 4 people this morning. OK! We got it! It’s like Valium! Sheesh.) which made him all drunky. He was really cute, lolling around in my arms.

So anyway, they took him off to the OR at 7:45 for this supposed 10 minute procedure. Well, time goes by and more time goes by, and no doctor. No Auggie. Mommy is getting worried. 8:30 comes and Mommy goes out to the nurses’ station to find out where the heck her baby is. The nurse calls the OR and says that they are finishing up and he will be out soon.

Mommy and Daddy wait some more. Finally, the doctor comes and gives us the scoop on the way to the recovery room. Apparently, he could get the probe through his tear duct, but when they tried to irrigate the duct, the water would not go through. I know. I’m totally confused too.

So they had to put in a tiny little tube to try to make a path around the obstruction. It should work its way out through his nose in a few weeks. I was worried that it would start coming out by his eye, but Tim said the doctor advised us to just “push it back in” if we saw it coming out. Oooooh kay.

Needless to say, once we got back to the recovery area, Mommy is completely absorbed in getting her baby to stop crying and oblivious to anything the doctor is saying. This leaves Daddy to gather the pertinent information about medication, behavior or effects of the surgery that we might see or need to watch out for, etc.

Needless to say, Daddy finds out that we need to give Auggie some eyedrops 4 times a day. For how long? He doesn’t know. What’s up with this weird bloody mucous coming out of his nose? He doesn’t know. Should we give him any Tylenol? He doesn’t know.

Oooooh kay! Daddy tries. We know. And we love him for it.

I guess Mommy can always call the doctor if there’s anything too weird or scary.

So I took an hour and got a facial at the spa tonight. Thank goodness. And thank goodness that all that bourgeois guilt that I felt last time melted away under the butter-like hands of wonderful Kristina. She even took pity on me and gave me a wonderful extra session of accupressure. Facials are wonderful things, even if you have to suffer through extraction.

OK, so tomorrow morning is the Big Event. The “procedure” to open Auggie’s tear duct should take less than 10 minutes, but I’m still a little uneasy. I mean, they have to put him under and everything! It’s very nerve-wracking for a mommy…

Anyway, thinking of happier things, Tim’s parents came over Saturday night for a dinner celebrating their 46th wedding anniversary. This is a great picture:

So wish us luck!

We just got back from a Cardinals-Phillies game with Auggie.

Actually, we had a very good time, thanks to a pair of free nose-bleed section seats from my step-nephew-not-really-because-he’s-not-even-blood-related-to-my-stepdad who got to go to Fernando Vina’s baseball clinic this morning.

Even though the Cards lost, Auggie found the action on the field riveting. We even got to be on the big screen when “That One Guy” who does all the fun fan stuff between innings came by and gave us free Sure T-shirts to start the wave with him. Of course, they were only larges and Tim and I were already sweating under our T-shirts and jerseys, so we were begging for the third out of the inning.

After the wave was over (and the “That One Guy” bolted like his seat was on fire — what was up with that? Did we smell that bad? Weird.), we peeled off the shirts and gave them to some 11-year-olds that thought we were the coolest ever. I chuckled to think about these kids wearing these Sure “Raise your hand if you’re sure” T-shirts to school like they were the latest in cool teen gear.

Heh.

Jeez, shopping with a one year-old is freaking exhausting. It kind of makes me nostalgic for the good old days when I just popped out his little pumpkin seat and stuck him on the top of the cart. Now, he’s grabbing for my wallet, pulling all the stuff out of my wallet, dropping the stuff from my wallet onto the floor, yelling when I take my wallet away, and generally being a pain in my behind.

‘Ah, just wait,’ you smile smugly. ‘Wait until he starts begging for every little item in the store.’

You know what? You’re right. He can keep the wallet.

Auggie ate an entire ice cream sandwich tonight.

OK, so it was only a “mini” ice cream sandwich, but still pretty impressive, methinks. A chip off the old block.

Yesterday afternoon, in an effort to quit watching so much daytime TV, I dialed up 3wk, a site based in STL, by the way. I heard a song from the new Flaming Lips album and it was heartbreakingly beautiful. I can’t wait to get my rear in gear and buy the dang thing from Vintage Vinyl already.

OMG, Tamyra just got voted off of American Idol. Unbelievable. I’m completely shocked. That is so wrong.

Yes, I am 15 when it comes to loving terrible popularity-based television shows.

Pop Stars? Oh, yeah.

Making the Band? No, thank you.

American Idol? I love it. Yes, the hosts are terrible, the judges are laughably predictable, the skits are positively offensive in their stupidity. But the performances are so compelling!

To wit:

Nikki is just terrible! I mean, who is voting for this Kelly Osbourne wannabe?

Justin is riding the whole curly-hair cutie-pie thing straight into the ground!

Kelly needs to stay far, far away from flesh-colored lipsticks!

Tamyra was the most consistent one of the bunch! But then she had to go and pick a Patti Labelle song and blow it all to pieces. Did anyone even enjoy “New Attitude” when it was originally released back in the ’80s?

But the real question is: Will I remember this in 20 years?

I need only to point to Sam Harris.

Remember that guy? He won the first season of Star Search back in 1984. Remember? The short guy in the Converse Chuck Taylors who sang “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”? I still remember that!

Have I ever purchased a Sam Harris album? Seen him live? Even heard of him since? No. But I still remember seeing him on Star Search, 18 years later.

Is that sad?

This weekend, after years of resistance, after taking so much pride in our luddite-ness in this one area, we joined the wireless phone masses. But we went about it in the squarest, most risk-free way possible — we bought a Tracfone. You know, this is the thing where you buy the Nokia 5125 and prepay for your minutes.

I’ve only placed one call on the thing so far, and I diligently pulled over to the side of the road (in our subdivision) to do it.

Now, if you know me (and Tim) at all, you know that we get excited about new technology. Sure, we don’t have the bucks to go out and buy everything right away, but we admire them from afar and then pounce when the price is finally right.

Another development over the past week is Tim’s scoring of a sweet IBM ThinkPad on eBay. I guess the seller listed the processing speed way lower than it actually was, and my sleuthing husband checked out the specs for the model number listed on IBM’s Web site. He ended up winning the auction for about half the price that the other auctions for the same type of laptop were going for.

So we now have more computers than we have people (including Auggie). And that’s just the ones that are currently on! We have at least one more downstairs that Tim can putter around on. And that’s not even counting all the printers…

Thanks to my wonderful husband, I’ve just returned from a delicious night out with a couple of other mommies from my playgroup. Without August.

Woo hoo!

We went to see My Big Fat Greek Wedding, which was pretty funny. A nice, light, airy, cheery movie with that guy who played the quirky DJ on “Northern Exposure.” (We don’t have cable, so I just remembered that he played Carrie’s fiance on “Sex in the City.”) Then we got some coffee at a local coffee shop. No big whoop. But I got to drive around, listening to my Beulah CD as loud as I wanted, singing along, not rushing. Very nice.

At the doc’s the other day, she asked if August was talking at all yet. I said that he says “Ma,” “Da,” and “bye,” but we weren’t really sure if he was saying “bye-bye” or what. (My mom contends that he is barking.) Anyway, she leaves and we’re waiting for the evil shot-administering nurse. We’re looking out the window at the parking lot below and a cab is driving away. Auggie sticks up his hand, waves and says, “bye.” Who knew? Has he done it since? Heck, no! Does Daddy believe this story? Heck, no!

So I’ve started reading this book called The Emperor of Ocean Park. I’ve heard really good things about it and I haven’t read a good thriller in a long time. So far, so good. I feel like the author is just kind of dropping little breadcrumbs of suspicion here and there. Half the time, I’m going, ‘What? Did I miss something?’ Then, within the next few chapters, I’ll be like, ‘Oh… Hm.’ I guess I’m just used to the Mary Higgins Clark-type story where you get the whole deal laid out in the first few chapters. I’m over 100 pages into this one and I still have no idea what is going on. But neither does the main character, so I don’t feel too dumb.

So I’m driving to the local Early Childhood Education center for a Parents As Teachers playtime thing and we’re early. I use this time to drive around the subdivisions in the neighborhood, checking out the houses and generally scaring the neighbors. Along the way, I randomly think, ‘You know, at my high school reunion next year, I bet that I find at least one or two people that live within two miles of us.’

When we get to the school, of course I run into one of my best friends from high school! It was freaky.

Must… Finish…. Thank-you… Notes…

Ugh.

Miss Manners needs to leave me alone! Would the world really end if people stopped sending thank you notes for every little thing?

Actually, I don’t really mind sending them out. It’s just time-consuming. I’m one of those people who can never just send out a card that says, ‘Thanks!’ on the outside and sign our names on the inside. I always have to include a personal note on the inside. And it has to be witty. And it has to fill the inside of the card. And I like to include a photo. Just ask Tim how long it takes me to get through our Christmas cards. Weeks.

I bring this all on myself, I realize, but it’s part of who I am. I am not a generic card sender. Sorry.

So I’ll stop complaining now. And get back to the thank-you card writing. Six down, 12 to go!

Oh! I bet you’re wondering how Auggie’s doctor appointment went today!

Well, here are the vital stats:

Height: 30.5 inches (70 percentile)

Weight: 23 lbs, 2 oz. (75 percentile)

Head circumference: 48 cm (75 percentile)

That’s my boy! Growing like a weed!

He also got both the MMR and the chickenpox vaccine. We (me and the doc) discussed the risks and research about both and she gave me this handout on vaccines and reassured me that they were safe, etc. Basically, I have no qualms at this point. He took the shots like a champ and seems to have had no negative effects at this point. Yay!

Oy.

Do you ever have those moments when that little voice inside your head says, ‘Don’t do that.’ But you do it anyway?

I had such a moment this evening.

We ate at a Chinese buffet.

I hear you, I hear you! I too had sworn off buffets of every kind. I mean after all the Dateline stories about the expired meat at supermarkets, unrefrigerated meat being delivered to restaurants after spending hours in unair-conditioned vans and the general evil-ness of meat in and of itself, how could you want to ever lift another meaty forkful unless you have raised the cow, slaughtered it, stored it below 40 degrees and cooked it over 170 degrees all by yourself? (You know, I have watched Dateline maybe, oh, 5 times in my life, and each time I want to vomit. Is this normal? I mean, this also happens when I catch 20/20, but that’s just because of John “Gimme a Break” Stossel.)

So the breakdown is this: we’re hurtin’ real, real bad. Tim more than me, definitely. Poor guy. Luckily, Auggie was not into anything there, but he was already a little oogy, having uked on me at least once this afternoon. And can I say that this is no longer a little, cheesy, sour milk-y spit up? It was not fun. Especially after the nuclear bomb of a diaper I had to change earlier this morning. It’s enough to make you want to go back to disposables! (Except that of course the diaper would be festering in the Diaper Genie instead of sanitarily flushed away right now. Yay, cloth diapers!)

In our defense, Tim was under the impression that this place was a “Mongolian Barbecue” which, for those of you unfamiliar with the term, is a restaurant where you assemble the fresh ingredients yourself, including the fixin’s for your very own sauce, and then some professionals cook it up for you, right in front of your very eyes! It is a wonderful thing, my friends.

The place where we went was not wonderful. At all.

Tomorrow, Auggie goes to the doctor for his one year old well-baby checkup. He’s scheduled to get his MMR vaccine, but I am a little wierded out by the things that I’ve heard about the tenuous connection between this vaccine and autism. The really annoying thing is that I haven’t been able to find much about the topic at my usual parenting websites. I’m hoping that this lack of information is only because the vaccine has been proven to be safe.

I’m worried that I’ll start asking our pediatrician about it and she’ll think I’m a nutjob. (As if she doesn’t already, right?) The main thing about the vaccine seems to be its inclusion of thimerosal, a derivative of mercury. I’m going to ask if the vaccine still uses it. And since so few cases of either measles, mumps and rubella occur in the US each year, I’m not worried about putting it off. The only thing is that it could be a total pain when Auggie goes to school, as we would have to get a special waiver.

Anyway, wish us luck!