When Every Idea is a Bad Idea

I had stage 2 of my reconstructive surgery yesterday. This means I now have nipples. Currently, they are being protected by a piece of a 5 cc syringe (imagine cutting a piece of a straw). I have to wear these little plastic pieces for 2 weeks and then they will take them off and take out the stitches. In 6 weeks Dr. Spiegal will tattoo some color into the nipples. I am so ready to be done with all of this. I know I should just be grateful and I am. But, I'm also ready to no longer be a patient. It's amazing how much can transpire in one year. As a little bonus, I had liposuction on my hips. She sucked out 700 cc of fat. Amazingly the liposuction hurts worse than the breasts. I imagine it is because the breasts don't have any sensation in them. Anyway, enough about my girl parts.

I'm breaking out my best mothering skills right now by allowing my children to sit slack-jawed in front of Sponge Bob. My mom was here all day, but I think she could't take it anymore so she fled the scene. She had all sorts of patience at the beginning of the day, but by the end of the day she agreed with me that my daughter should get dropped into school tomorrow. It's hard to be the benevolent grandmother when your grandchildren are acting like brats! I'm trying to give them some leeway. I think another surgery brought anxieties to the surface, especially with my eldest. It's so hard to be compassionate and give them what they need when you're tired, grouchy and sore. My daughter accidently stepped on one of my incisions and I almost went through the roof.

Lee and I have a theory. Every idea that a boy has is a bad idea. I can't think of one good idea that they (my sons) have had. The other day my middle son wanted his big brother to double dare him to jump of a ledge on his razor scooter. This is while he had his rigid boot on his foot. His big brother would have dared him had I not been there to stop it. I reminded my oldest that his little brother didn't need an excuse to act foolish, that it came naturally to him. Just one example, but they are all similarly bad.

The middle son has to take a collection of objects to school for homework. He is taking a collection of plastic knives. Hopefully he won't be expelled for this (this might be a bad idea on my part considering the kid). Other than cheerios, it is the only thing of which we had 50 items (no one ever uses the knives in the plastic cutlery sets). He had to write why this collection was special to him and his answer was "It's not." I found the humor in this and maybe his teacher will too.

From Streams in the Desert, compiled by Mrs Charles Cowman

"It is not necessary to be always speaking to God or always hearing from God, to have communion with Him; there is an inarticulate fellowship more sweet than words. The little child can sit all day long beside its busy mother and, although few words are spoken on either side, and both are busy, the one at his absorbing play, the other at her engrossing work, yet both are in perfect fellowship. He knows that she is there, and she knows that he is all right. So the saint and the Saviour can go on for hours in the silent fellowship of love, and he be busy about the most common things, and yet conscious that every little thing he does is touched with the complexion of His presence, and the sense of His approval and blessing."