A month ago Dr. SS admitted me into the hospital to put an end to my bag glued to my torso days. Although apprehensive, I was really looking forward to returning to some sense of normalcy. It seems like so long ago, but it has only been one month. Thanks to P's, JJ's and SS's loving care and attention, I am in a much better place than I expected at the one month mark. You three are my reason for living. Thank you.
SS gave us our laugh of the day early this morning. SS made a beeline for P's headphones, and they had the following exchange:
P: "Stay away from my headphones, you broke the last ones, that wasn't nice." SS cut them with our big people scissors.
SS: "Yeah, my fault." At least the girl is honest.
SS never fails to deliver laughs. Last Thursday SS gave me a good one, but sadly in public. When I tickle her I sometimes say "cosquillas en las costillas" (ribs tickles). SS must have been thinking about that, because in the middle of our playing she very loudly (is there any other way in public?) said "tickle n*pples," and proceeded to do just that. She is obviously still very interested in my breasts, no matter how many times she sees them, they still hold her interest, way too much. Trust me, there is nothing extraordinary about them. I am so praying for her boob phase to be over. But if her father is any indication, she might never outgrow this phase. I do not care much what SS grows up to like. I do care about having to be hypervigilant about SS grabbing my breasts in public, or even better, surprising me by sharing them with whomever is around us. The girl is quick, she can get my blouse and bra down in no time. We think she is going to make spending money teaching that trick to teenage boys.
Tonight I was thinking about my first surgery and wondered where would I be next October. Then I had a conversation with Michelle (thanks girl, you gave me a lot to think about), and I realized that at this point I need a goal. I need something to look forward to, something that will lift my spirits, help me stop obsessing over my mutilated torso, and stop fearing ending up defecating out of my torso again. In short, I need to let go and live, and I have a lot of living to do. Michelle inspired me to get off my butt and begin to walk again. Not literally, I have been walking consistently since I was a year old. SS and I are looking forward to resuming our morning walks. Her Hummer weights about 40 pounds, and I feel confident in my ability of getting it in and out of the van without damaging something I will need later. No matter where I end up next October, I am going to be just fine, as long as I have my family with me. It would be nice to add meeting a very good friend to that moment in the future.
We have always told JJ and SS that they can be anything they want to be, set their minds to and work hard for. That is a proverbial parental line of bullsh*t, a blatant lie. But somehow we feel compelled to pass on the myth from generation to generation. For example, President of the United States is not on either of our our kids' futures. SS was born in China, thus ineligible (at this time), and JJ is too darn honest, speaks his mind, and does not suffer fools. Wonder where he got that from. We can now add fashion designer and fashion trendsetter to the list of things SS won't accomplish. She does look mighty satisfied with her look. That is all that matters in toddler land.
Gross warning!!!!!!! If you have a weak stomach stop right here. While I do not want to stunt anyone's growth or make people lose their stomach contents, I had to post the two pictures below. Like P said, no guts, no glory. It's been a long, painful road, and I am taking P's advise and trying to look at my mutilated torso as something positive. I am alive, relatively healthy and able to enjoy life with my kids. That could have been cut short six months ago.