Timothy Robert Brandon Lee is five months old today.
This boy is what you would call an ‘active child’ in his crib, as the little sundial sometimes moves around at night. Recently, he went to sleep as he normally does, with his head pointing northward, but in the morning, woke up with his head in the same spot but his feet on the opposite end of the crib, having rotated 180 degrees. Maybe shouldn’t be a surprise given that he’s living in a house with a few other sleepwalkers.
You can tell that Timothy wants to crawl but isn’t yet sure how. He seems to have figured outthat he isn’t going anywhere lying on his back, and he’ll often quickly roll over to his stomach if you set him on his back (that rolling thing could get interesting in the hospital next week when he’s attached to tubes and wires). Sometimes he makes a little progress, but mostly he looks like a car stuck in the snow — the engine is going, he’s grunting and rocking, but he isn’t going forward much.
Timothy is still occasionally crabby while eating, normally in the evening and at the end of a feeding, and has also recently started trying out a new expression of frustration, which we’ll call his ‘Diva look’. It happens very suddenly. He can be looking calm or even happy and then his mouth quickly turns downward and his lips begin to quiver, and you can sense something’s coming. And then he lets out this loud, red faced cry.
I’m the current record holder, having been served last week 3 times over the course of an hour, mostly because he didn’t appreciate some funny voices (and I wasn’t getting the hint).
We were stunned and amused the first few times it happened, but now we realize there’s a calm before the storm, and if we can quickly distract him, we can often put the pout out.
But those first few times felt like being on a bomb squad.
The presence of the little man has upended the traffic patterns in our home. His bedroom used to be our den, which, containing the two most popular things in the house– the computer and the dog — was the most used room in the house. I no longer store my sweaters and sportcoats in his bedroom closet, and we don’t use the bathroom next to his bedroom in the morning as much. And so my morning before work now involves all three levels of the house and pretty much every room except T’s bedroom.
This is also why the start of my day now looks like one of the winding, dotted line paths of the little boy Billy from the cartoon ‘Family Circus’.
It’s T minus 10 days for Timothy’s surgery (we could’ve done it earlier, but he didn’t want to miss any Super Bowl parties).
We realize that this hospital visit could feel different than the first one.
We’re not very nervous about the outcome of the colon and ear tube procedures. We understand the risks, but we’re lucky to have a great surgeon and medical staff and we’re confident that the surgery will go well.
The first time he went through surgery, Timothy wasn’t even 100 hours old, and we’d gotten used to seeing him hooked up to tubes and had held him in our arms for less than six hours. But now, we’ve had five months with him, and he is a true member of the family, having peed and spit up on all of us many times.
So we’re not excited to see him go through the pre op clean out, being poked for IVs or us fretting about him getting sick or playing Sane Parent/ Crazy Parent (mentioned in an earlier entry).
I mean, let’s not overstate this deal –- it shouldn’t be life or death. This is not cancer or the other more serious surgeries happening in the same hospital. Still, it could be an uncomfortable few days for the wee man and his clan.
We’ll just plan to go in ready, positive and just take this one day at a time.
Besides, we’ve been spoiled.
We have spent five months with TRBL without a single dirty diaper, thanks to the wonder bag. That’ll change with the surgery.
And then a dirty diaper will signal that everything’s working.
Never before have we been so excited to change poopy diapers.
Ready for a Valentines’ Day,