We are one week post-surgery with Wild Thing, and his recovery is much slower than his dad or I expected. WT is waking nearly every night howling in pain. He comes thumping downstairs, shuffles over to our door and knocks until one of us wakes up. I must say that WineGuy has heroically gotten up almost every night with WT. But, last night it was my turn, for the first time in nearly a week.
3:15 a.m. I am just waking up to go to the bathroom -- note to self, tell Cheap Chinese to hold the MSG -- when WT comes whimpering to the door. I run to the bathroom and go right into the kitchen to prepare the pain medicine. I put on one small light to keep things quiet. I sat with WT at the kitchen table, and he would not, Would Not, WOULD NOT take the medicine. I offered him ginger ale, popsicle, ice cream, juice. Nothing worked until I promised to turn on the TV. We must have been up for nearly an hour watching the end of "The Muppet Movie". I crawled back into bed at 0-Dark-Hundred and fell asleep. I was a grouchy wreck all day. WT was too, although he must have been feeling better. He spent the day pushing Moose around and pestering Wizard endlessly.
I only realized the "error of my ways" when Wine Guy finally told me his midnight routine: put one small light on, pour the meds, serve juice with straw, turn on DVD, seat the child, and then give the meds. Ohhhhhhhhhhh, now he tells me. Really made my day, after listening to the wild boys bicker and pick at each other all day, and getting this kiss-off from Wild Thing at bedtime: "I am not waking you up tonight. You were grumpy and mean all day to me." Nyah ... bite me, buddy.
Oh, and all those women who claim to love staying home full-time with their children? They're full of crap. It is most certainly not wonderful being around these kids 24/7. I am counting the days until my babysitters return.