One of those nights= One of those days

Ditz central, here.  Forgetful and foggy headed.  Why, you ask?

Well, the cat who was lost for a month came back (!!) but has spent the last three nights seeking attention most ardently between two and four AM.

Also, Winton claims to have nightmares but actually just likes some company on his midnight bathroom trip and then likes, if he can talk me into it, to sleep in my bed with me, ideally with his elbow wedged in my eye socket.

And the dog snores.

There Was Camping

At Assateague Island.  And everyone came home unscathed.
Triumph.

Summertime, and the leaving is . . . ups and downs

Winton had the pin removed from his elbow yesterday, a "minor" procedure which nonetheless required general anesthetic and a long day of anxious, hungry waiting.

Highlights:
-the check-in revealed that somehow his birthplace had been recorded on his surgical records not as "Baltimore" but as "Rwanda." (I wonder under what circumstances I would have delivered a baby in Rwanda . . .)

-overhearing a nurse yell at a young doctor "I've been looking for you! Your boy still has a staple in his butt."

and

-catching a glimpse of the pediatric OR surgery list for the day,  which included a vaginoplasty (lots to think about: much time killed thereafter).


Today, I left with the kids on a camping trip.

Packing, deferred til morning of departure?  Check.
Tired, post-operative 5 year old?  Check.
Errands to run prior to departure?  Check.
Unpredictable and ultimately rainy weather?  Check.
TPMS light on and off intermittently for the whole drive and neither I nor the guys at a remote "Mr. Tire" near Easton, Maryland could figure out if the problem was a slow leak or an electrical glitch?  Check.

Happily, we are ensconced at a hotel for the night, about a half hour from the beach.  Assuming the car tire is not deflating itself in the dark, wet parking lot, we will proceed to Assateague in the morning and camp tomorrow night.

We swam in the skunky indoor pool, and ate hummus in the room.  I have a bottle of wine from which I can now pour a paper cup's worth of night cap.

Dear Winton,

Thank-you for never locking your car door.  I ask you every time we get out, and yet you, seated directly behind me the driver, seldom do.  Sometimes I notice, and lock the door myself.  Often I don't.

Today I was in the Dulaney Plaza parking lot, in the bright sun, with the trunk open while I read the amoxicillin prescription the endodontist gave me.  I can't handle giving up caffeine (which allegedly might make my migraines less severe) and recovering from a "re-treat" on a root canal because of an abscess, so I was taking my pill and then heading in to Starbucks for an iced latte.  And what the hell, I was thinking.  My head already hurts, and  my mouth hurts, so I might as well. 

Distracted by abscessing self-pity and thick with self-justification, I shut the trunk, keys inside.

"Damn, F*ck, Ouch.  Damn!" I said, squinting at the too bright hot tarmac, and then I tried your door and it was unlocked.

And I climbed in, and pulled the latch for the trunk, and retrieved my keys and it was good.

My sweet, curly-headed, quietly disobedient boy.  Thank-you.

In this and so many other ways your being yourself in spite of me and what I ask of you is simply wonderful.

Love,

Mommy