Def-Eying the Odds

We were ready for anything. The Mom van was packed full of supplies for pre-op and post-op disasters, delays, and any other trauma we could imagine. And so yesterday we drove 2 hours up the highway to the Children's Hospital to have Grace's eye surgery. It was decided that Tony would go into the OR with her because I cried through the "Welcome to our Hospital" DVD and after all, the OR is his turf. For someone who is always a cool head in a crisis, he got pretty pale and grim before his walk down to the OR suite with Small-but-Mighty.

The pre-op nurse prepared us for eyes that would be blood-shot and swollen, irritability, nausea and anorexia. It would likely take hours to recover with certain fatigue and lethargy for a couple of days. Words of wisdom to be sure, because today, Tony and I are suffering all of the above symptoms. Grace on the other hand is watching Dora, playing with her Pet Shop and eating the last of the Christmas cookies.

One-half hour after surgery Grace was downing glasses of apple juice and demanding that her pants be put back on. She walked out of recovery an hour later on a quest for food. We stopped at Swiss Chalet because Tony and I were a little disorientated and had the shakes and despite the anorexia prediction she inhaled anything she could steal from our plates. She watched another 3 episodes of Dora, ate a bag of goldfish, downed a couple more boxes of juice and once home hit the pillow for a good nights sleep.

We are truly in awe of our kids. We understood before adopting our daughters that they would be tough and stubborn and independent... a requirement for survival of their less than ideal beginnings. We've had a "no biggy" philosophy at our house because we don't want our girls to use life's inevitable bumps in the road as an excuse to avoid all the success life has to offer. Yesterday, my inkling was to over-protect, but Grace was happy with a minimum of reassurance,a few good cuddles and a pink Popsicle.

This morning Tony is looking like the-morning-after-the-night-before. He's dejected after having a call from his 28 year old daughter who could write a book on how to avoid employment...you know the spiel...she is a beautiful person but employment just isn't her thing so please don't cut down those money trees yet and please don't ask her to find a job because it hurts her feelings and we don't understand her. He laments that he has a full day of clinic without my help, a C-section instead of a lunch break and the day is looking pretty stressful for my lovely man.

"Oooh that's a sad story" mocked Grace, followed by squeals of laughter. And so a new day, with clearer vision begins. Its time to chop some trees down.