Under The Knife

Mason goes under the knife on Monday. The mere thought of this is enough to make me want to pour a large glass of wine, stick my fingers in my ears, and yell "nana nana nana, I can't hear you". Unfortunately, I have to be the adult here, which really sucks.

Mason's pediatrician referred us to a Urologist, for his botched circumcision. It wasn't done very well (sorry Dr. Logan) and has to be re-done for a variety of medical reasons that all leave my head swimming.

We check in Monday morning at 7:30. Mason can't have had breakfast, or milk, or even water before we arrive. I don't plan to tell him that he's being starved until the last possible second, because the shit is seriously going to hit the fan. The kid loves breakfast!! Anyway, we check in at 7:30. Surgery is at 9:15. They tell us to plan an hour. And then we'll have 2+ hours in recovery before we can go home. It's going to be a very, very long day.

Do you think they'll notice if there's a little Baileys in my coffee that morning??

We will all take whatever good vibes, juju, prayers, anything you got, we'll take em Monday morning. I know he's going to be fine. But the idea of them knocking him out for this is, well, it's enough to make my skin crawl. Ugh.