Owen had to go to the surgery center this morning to have tubes put in his ears. The poor kid has had an ear infection since THANKSGIVING! He wasn’t nervous about the procedure…maybe that was because he had no clue what ‘getting tubes’ meant. All he complained about was that he was hungry, and he was mad because I told him the doctor didn’t want him to eat until after he got his Superman hearing.
Luckily we live close to the surgery center and we didn’t have to wait long to be taken back to pre-op. Owen started getting a little clingy while we were back there. While he was sitting on my lap, I brushed the hair back from his face and looked in his right ear.
It. Was. Blue.
“Owen, why is the inside of your ear blue? Did you stick a marker in it?”
“No, we were using the stamper things at school and I got the stamper stuff on my fingers and I stuck my finger in my ear.” *giggle giggle*
Only my kid! So they wheeled him away and I went out to the waiting room. I bought a coke and sat down to read an article in People about this psychopoorexcuseforamommy. I had barely finished the article when the surgeon came out to tell me Owen was finished. He told me everything went well and gave me a prescription for ear drops. We also had a good laugh about Owen’s blue ear!
I went back to recovery and saw Owen, laying there in the bed he rode back to the surgery room on, holding a stuffed puppy and rubbing his eyes.
“Mommy, he put that green thing on me and it made my eyes hurt and I had to close them.”
“Buddy, you fell asleep when he put the green thing on you.”
“I got on a different bed in that other room. I don’t even know how I got on this bed. I don’t even know how I got in this room! I don’t remember anything! Can we go to Cracker Barrel, I’m hungry?! I want bacon!”
“Yes, we can go to Cracker Barrel.” Owen drank some apple juice and then we put his shoes and coat on and we were on our way. He talked non-stop on the way to the restaurant. He started in on one of his rants about school. He has Sensory Processing Disorder and mild OCD, so there are a lot of things that grate his nerves, and he is all about rules.
“Mommy, Levi pushed me when we were in the hallway and I fell into the wall and it hurted.”
“Did you tell your teacher?”
“NO! We aren’t allowed to tell on people! We’ll get in trouble!”
“Owen, if someone hurts you, you are allowed to tell on them.”
“Well, Ah-leeee-laaahhh, she always bees taking crayons out of the community supply box and she doesn’t put them back and we’re not allowed to do that ‘cause it’s a community supply box and that means it’s for the whole class!”
“Well that’s not very nice.”
“And the new kid, he just goes to the bathroom without even raising his hand! He just gets up and he just goes to the bathroom and we’re supposed to raise our hand like this (raises his fist in the air and turns it back and forth) so the teacher knows we have to go to the bathroom.”
“Well maybe he doesn’t know the rules yet.”
“Can I order bacon and chocolate milk?” bakugan
“You can order whatever you want baby!”
**Owen was watching me write this post. He said, “Hey! I see my name! Why are you writing my name? Can I write ‘bakugan’ on there? “ So that answers the question of why the word ‘bakugan’ is randomly hanging around!**