As far as DudeMomLife is concerned, this week has been pretty unamazing.
#1 spent the entire week
living la vida loca pretending to be an only child with the most laid back, indulgent parents on the planet.
Yeah, he was at Mimi and Papa’s house leaving the other two
to fend for themselves with me.
During this week of anarchy (#1 really is the rule enforcer around here), #3 had to spend time at Children’s Hospital being poked and prodded and put to sleep. It’s funny how days like that seem to drag on forever. Waiting for them to bring us to the recovery room after his MRI was quite possibly the longest hour and some change I’ve endured outside of child birth.
I spent the majority of it crying.
I cried when I watched them force him to sleep. He was so brave for the entire process, talking to the doctors, making jokes. He slid, James Bond style, down the hallway, back touching the wall, from the intake room all the way to the procedure room because he didn’t want anyone to see his chonies (underwear for you non-Spanglish speakers) on the way.
He failed miserably but officially decided that for Halloween this year he will be a spy.
But before he gets his spooky spy game on, we need to figure out what is going on with his body.
Only, guess what!
We still don’t know!
Children’s Hospital would like us to wait until September 9th to find out what the test determined may be causing his symptoms. Pushiest-mom-ever-who-will-literally-make-you-change-your-facility’s-phone-number-if-you-don’t-quit-playing-games-and-give-me-something-sooner ain’t got time for all that noise.
They have until I get back from BlogHer, and then I
mount my assault request information.
For his part, Dude #3 was back to blaming me for all of the world’s ills and his lack of chocolate for lunch by late afternoon of the same day and, against doctor’s orders he was jump kicking and back stroking across the pool at the end of swim season pool party by 6pm.
I tried, okay. But, he’s FIVE. And, he can’t stop moving (part of why we were even there in the first place), and you can’t take a 5 year old to a POOL party and tell him not to get in the pool.
As I tucked #3 in that night and laid my head on his chest soaking up his awesome, I asked him a silly question, “Will you love me forever little boy?”
His response, “Of course I will. Even when I die. Because I’m going to take these memories we make and shove them into my soul so I can take them with me. If that’s even possible. And, I really hope it is.” (HE IS FIVE, PEOPLE! F-I-V-E!).
I ended the day pretty much exactly how I started it: in tears.
Not much fun about that.
Feel free to link up your way more fun posts here so that Sharon at Mom of 6 and I can enjoy them!