Posts from — March 2008

“So everything looks great and we’ll see you back here in four weeks. Now before we go, I want to make sure to leave time for any questions you have about the pregnancy.”

“Yeah, actually I have one question.”

“Only one? I guess it’s all old hat by now, huh?”

“Well, no, it’s not that – I’m sure I’ll think of plenty of questions as I get further into the pregnancy, it’s just that there’s this one issue I’ve been wondering about.”

“Well, ask away – I’ve heard it all.”

“Right. So, the thing is, I’m in this comedy show and in one of the skits I shoot myself in the head with a prop gun and fall dead on the ground. So, what’s the best way for me to do that safely?”

“Um…”

“Like, should I just sort of melt to the ground like this? Or maybe drop to my knees first like this? Or maybe ask for a pillow to fall on? What do you think is best? You know, in your medical opinion?”

“You know what, I’m going to let you use your best judgment on that one.”

“Ok, I’ll just be careful. That was a new one for you wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, I’ll have to say it was.”

“Score.”

On Thursday when the Lorso and I went to see the first images of Bug’s brother or sister, Bug had a playdate with a little girl whose mom works with me at the PMO. When I came to pick him up, the mom said sheepishly, “I feel like I failed you. He peed in his pants three times!” He left there wearing his friend’s pink stretch pants and frilly purple panties.

But he had also used the toilet successfully three other times there, which was my first clue that something wasn’t right in Bugland. Then yesterday during his rest time he got up seven times to pee. Which (unless he is a NEWLY PREGNANT WOMAN APPARENTLY) is a lot of times to have to pee in two hours.

Then last night was just a pee-fest, with the Lorso and I getting very little sleep. So when Bug got up for good at 5:30 and told us his penis and back (hello kidneys!) hurt, we figured it was time to rush him henceforth to Ye Olde Doctor.

And bladder infection it indeed was, but can I just tell you? That boy peed in a cup like he’d been doing it his whole life. I’m strangely proud of that fact. Like “That’s m’ boy! He’s a sharp shooter, he is!”

I need a nap.

Right after I decided to leave med school, Lorso, Bug and I went out to dinner at Mama Fu’s, a nearby noodle joint. I love me some Thai noodles, but I especially like Mama Fu’s because their fortune cookies have actual fortunes in them. None of this “Patience is a virtue” proverb crap that other places (hello PANDA EXPRESS) pass off as “fortunes”. Mama Fu’s fortunes are For Real Fortunes. You know, like: Tomorrow you will be hit by a bus. I actually got one once that said: A friend will offer good advice the Friday after next. See, now that’s what I’m talking about.

My decision to leave my career track was fresh, and I was only just starting the grieving process, stuck somewhere between despair and relief. When I cracked open my cookie that night, my little slip read: This year your highest priority will be your family. And BAM, my eyes welled up with tears. Just like that. I still have that fortune tucked into a picture frame that holds a picture of the three of us, the Lorso, Bug, and me.

A few weeks ago I wrote this post about how great I felt after a particularly nasty round of strep. And the setting for that magical soundtracked moment I experienced that night was – you guessed it – Mama Fu’s.

Stay with me, it gets better.

Then about a week ago, Bug, a friend and I lunched at – where else, hey! – Mama Fu’s. And Bug popped open his cookie to find this:

And what do you know? BAM. The tears, they came again. Because old Mama Fu, she struck again.

Because my family has become my priority this year.
Because the soundtrack she provided to that moment on that night a few weeks ago was perfect.
Because someone new will be coming into Bug’s life soon, and I hope that they will be great friends.

Because two days after that Golden Strep-Free day a few weeks ago, I unwrapped another fortune cookie of sorts, in my bathroom, with a pounding heart.

And my fortune read: You’re pregnant.

OMG YESTERTIME CAN TOTALLY ALTER THE EVENTS OF THE FUTURE.

Yesterday, inspired by the random picture I had taken of the teensy toilet in our bathroom, I wrote about the crucial role that I believed that pot would play in the BM success of our Terrified to Poop In the Potty Kid.

And two hours later, we were poking around outside when Bug got off his tricycle, said “I have to poop!” and ran inside. He then went into the bathroom, pulled down his drawers and then DID THE DEED IN THE LITTLE POTTY.

Throne of Triumph it is.

You sit there neglected
Day after day
Promises of poop unfulfilled.

Your lot is to be eschewed
In favor of Potty the Greater.
For it is there that the Wee One (pun intended)
Can “Pee pee like Daddy.”

But whatever the Greater’s draw
It has not the power to move the bowels.
Your stature has the potential to bring forth
What has up until now been a fantasy.

So hold steadfast little pot
And keep that lid held high.
For your day will surely come.

And when it does, rest assured,
Throne of Triumph
Your new name shall be.