A lesson in bravery

I seriously have the best kid in the world.

No, really, I do.

He is oddly chill. He rarely cries. Very little bothers him. He happily sits in his high chair, a shopping cart, or at a restaurant for up to 45 minutes at a time without fussing.

I don't know where this genetic trait came from -- I doubt it's from me and I am very certain it isn't from my husband. But I am exceedingly grateful its there.

Scott's angel-baby behavior was on full display yesterday morning as I strapped him in his car seat and drove him down to Phoenix Children's Hospital for his long-awaited ear tube surgery. We hope it will keep us out of the pediatrician's office for at least a month.

(Tank has had six -- yes 6! -- ear infections in his right ear since the end of January. That's an average of one every 3.5 weeks.)

Normally, I wouldn't have been surprised at Scott's happy, giggily behavior.

But on this morning I was already on edge, because really, the idea of putting my 10-month-old under general anesthesia to slice a small hole both his ears is just a bit disconcerting, if not outright nerve wracking.

And I was fairly certain Scott was going to be one grumpy baby because he wasn't allowed to eat or drink any food before the procedure. And we all know how much Tank likes his mealtimes.

I tried minimize this problem by waking him up at 1:45 a.m., and giving him an extra bottle before his 2 a.m. fasting cutoff. I am pleased to say this worked brilliantly to some extent.

Mom and I made it to the hospital by our 7:15 a.m. appointment time.

Showing off our ankle ID.

(I should mention: Daddy was at home in bed, having gone to the ER the night before in agonizing pain, where we discovered he had a rather large kidney stone. Umm...ouch.)

Since it was still "there," Friday morning, Jim was in a medication-induced fog during Scott's tubal surgery.

The hospital waiting room has a strict no food or drink policy, because, well, having adults chowing down on Egg McMuffins and coffee just isn't fair to all the little ones who have been denied their morning meal.

It's a good thing Scott was already in surgery when one couple in the waiting room broke this rule and pulled out breakfast sandwiches and lattes, 'cause Tank probably would have gone over there and stolen part of their cheese and sausage. (With my blessing.)

I mean, really, guys? Eating in front of little toddlers? Classy.

In any event, Scott tolerated the first 45 minutes of his pre-op wait really well. But by about 8 a.m., hunger and fatigue had kicked in, and he started getting pretty fussy. Unfortunately, there was little I could do to make it better.

Have you ever tried to explain to a 10-month-old why you "forgot" to give them breakfast? Did you have any success? Yeah. Me neither.

Seriously, I am over this "adventure." Could someone please give me a bottle and put me down for a nap?

We were finally called back to the pre-op room around 8:15, about an hour after our arrival.

The new surroundings settled Tank down for another 20 minutes or so, and he was once again a dream child as the nurses took his temperature, blood pressure and other vitals.

Scott made new friends, and was, in my opinion, exceedingly patient for a 10-month-old. Again, I have the best kid in the world.

Making friends...I noticed that all the babies got to play with mommy and daddy's cell phones as surgeries were delayed and parents became increasingly desperate in their quest to avoid the dreaded "baby meltdown."

But by 8:45 -- a good 25 minutes past our scheduled surgery time -- I was really getting annoyed, especially since my starving, tired child was on the verge of losing his mind. I don't know how doctors get behind when your surgery is scheduled for first thing in the morning, but ours did.

They finally took him back around 9 a.m.

I've been told that some hospitals and anesthesiologists let one parent stay with their child while they put them under.

I asked if I could do this. No one would let me.

In retrospect, I am glad they said no. While we were in recovery with Scott, I saw how small and limp some of the kids were who had not yet woken up, and I know seeing my own precious angel like that would have freaked me out.

There are some images, as a mother, I just don't need.

Scott's surgery took maybe 10 minutes. The doctor came out, said he did great. He also said his right ear was again full of fluid, even though he had just stopped taking antibiotics a mere six days ago. Had we not done the tubes, we most certainly would have been headed for infection #7.

A few minutes later, a nurse said Scott was awake and we could see him.

For me, this was probably the most shocking part of the entire day. Like I said, my kid just isn't a crier. But, as is common, he was delirious as he came out of the anesthetic and pretty much inconsolable. He cried and thrashed and screamed.

I gave him his bottle and he quickly closed his eyes and happily gulped down 2 or 3 ounces. But then he started crying hysterically again. I held him, I rocked him, I wrapped him in a blanket, I shooshed him, I walked with him, but couldn't get him to calm down.

Unhappy Scott. This is probably one of only 2 or 3 photos I have of him not smiling.

Briefly content with a bottle.

Proud mommy of a brave little boy...

I must have looked pretty freaked out, because the nurse quickly assured me that this was normal, and that he would be himself in a couple of hours, usually after a good long nap.

Scott's grandma walked with him and tried to calm him while I got the take-home instructions and filled out the final paperwork. He cried probably for about 15-20 minutes, before the anesthetic finally wore off.

Grandma tries to soothe Scott without much success.

And then, just like that, he was my kid again.

By the time we got him back into his carseat, he was happily talking to his toys. He took a nap when we got home and is now acting like nothing ever happened.

Unfortunately, Jim's unexpected kidney stone leaves us unable to travel to California to see his family as planned this weekend. Both Tank and I are hoping he gets to feeling better very soon.

In the meantime, give it up for my kid: the bravest 10-month-old I know.

Certainly braver than his mommy, who admits to quietly shedding a few tears of relief upon hearing from the doctor that everything went a-ok.

"Awesome ends with me!" Yes, it does Tank. Yes it does. :)