Sunday, August 8, 2010

Day 6?

Forgive me if I have somewhat lost track of the days. In looking back at what I wrote, today is day 6. Orit say's 5. Eleven years of marriage will do that to you (though I must tell all we're going through a really good period of parallel growth, so don't worry about us!) The operation was Tuesday morning - I started counting then. Today is Sunday. You do the math. With that established, today went as such;
Actually before I get into today, I want to add that we had a fun visit last evening post Randy’s Donut Therapy from our friends and neighbors, Sam and Lucy, who are always welcome to barge in unannounced. It’s what we love about their mom and welcome all of them over and over again. The three buddies had fun collaborating seamlessly to create a funky bird. They’re a funny and uniquely individual threesome that complements itself well and it was nice to see them together doing their thing, all being into the same thing.
Also I wanted to add, that I have received quite a few responses from some of you interested in the Randy's Donut Therapy technique and it's philosphy. I will put some brain power into that possible new age treatment and it's marketability soon enough.
This morning, little man woke up quite late for him. But I must believe that he's sleeping deeper, better and longer because he breathes better. We don't hear him. It's crazy quiet. I've been so used to my loud little man. The change was immediate. So he sleeps well and long. But, he woke up with an earache. And that too is one of the like clockwork moments expected from the benefit of having a long history of this procedure and much experience. Expect an earache on Day 6 was in the manual. Unlike our oral/medicine issues, the ear is fair game and little man is pretty disciplined at taking drops or olive oil or any other Orit concoction, so long as it's not in the mouth or nose. And no, don't say suppositories (Miriam). So we had him comfortable quickly laying on his side, watching tv, letting the drops soothe. By the way, there will be much damage control on the tv and sugar/nutrition front when this is all said and done. The manual says that's on day 10. I'm still holding out for an earlier success story. But, I'll take success story at it's own schedule nonetheless.
I'm in a revived interest of moving my body recently. Trying to find ways of constantly rotating types of physical activity so as to not get bored. And catch up and join Orit, whose been kickboxing for a while now and getting strong. I need to get it together before she can actually kick my ass. She's got the emotional hold, so it's only fair I hold on to the physical ability of not getting my ass kicked by my wife. Not that I would ever use it... But at least while we wrestle... Anyway. I had arranged it already last night to get up unusually early for me on a Sunday, to play tennis with David. He came over to see little man before hitting the courts. It's been a while since I've played. David and I used to play in NY and I used to be real good. Played very seriously when I was young until I abandoned it when I was 17. Still am good, just takes me a bit to get my rhythm back after a long hiatus and most noticeably the stamina is no longer what it used to be. I'll stay away from the age cliches as I feel myself as young (until the knees start to say otherwise). As I was leaving and trying to get Theo's attention pried away from the zombie state of tv and recovery, I leaned down to his level (as his head is sideways because of the ear drops) and said I'm going to play tennis. He rolled his eyes to me and said "are you good?" I said, Yes. And the eyes rolled back to Tom & Jerry. And I left. My mother in law and wife like to make fun of my attire and my fashion before leaving for my workout. Actually it's just my mother in law. Orit just joins in for fun, but secretly loves it. Theo is so used to my shit, it doesn't even phase him. And so I push my mother in law's buttons back. I'm proud of the black socks, black sneakers and cut off old sweats look I have. And I raise my socks higher in open defiance. I’m not going to the WASPy country club and I don’t own any white tennis attire. With my newly shaved look (my annual or bi-annual ritual of cleansing the head and the face, besides the added benefit of Orit feels like she’s having an affair...). I am who I am and mother in law, Miriam (up till now referred to as Safta - grandma in Hebrew) is as well. And we like to spar. And we're both good at it. So it works. And people around it get a kick out of it. And Theo, absolutely adores her. And she, there are no words to how much she lives through him and for him when with him.
Came back from tennis feeling good, but the muscles where secretly already conspiring to constrict and knot later. Edie and Charlie came over to hang out with Theo. The boys got some good peaceful play time. Little man was worn out after though and laid down to watch Ponyo, which was so graciously brought by our guests.The day has its ups and down moments with the emotional realms when you have a hard time communicating still. And your neck is stiff from holding it a certain way to avoid pain in the throat. So those moments still happen at times and as randomly as what may trigger them. But, we talk through them. Or sometime shut up through them. And move on. We went to Balboa Park to feed the ducks, ride the scooter on the path and get some fresh air. Funnily enough, we were feeding them right in front of the sign that mentioned why you should not feed the wildlife. Obviously, we did not see the sign before or this time, until we turned around to leave. But the ducks ate. And then scrambled away like running backs trying to hold on to the bread in the coming onslaught of bread thirsty ducks. And we enjoyed the moment. And he rode his scooter a bit and got sidetracked with a small meltdown and this little man is tired and weak. And normal. And extraordinary. So we went home. And we no longer have any kind of bed time routine. We never even know which bed. This week has dictated it’s own schedule. Baths or showers or bed time or pajamas are not much on the lexicon in regard to a certain hour anymore. In turn, things such as what is going on at the moment occur: I’m in the office, writing. Orit is walking into the room, disorientated, making a face and adjusting her eyes to the light since falling asleep with Theo on our bed 2 hours ago. Both in clothing, interwoven, creating some kind of chinese character shape. Is he out for the rest of the night? Probably. At least it’s quietly. And tomorrow will be good.

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