I let her stay up as late as she wanted. I watched Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel with her for the 10,000th time. I gave her a big snack and juice box at 10:30. She got to go to Mamaw's to watch the penguins with her daddy until 11:30. Neither of us had the heart to be stern or angry with her, and she's so darn cute anyway. She's pretty much queen of the world as she lay snoring on my bedroom floor. It's called a parent's guilt. When they're getting ready to put their child through something that they would not want to put themselves through.
Though no choice is had, I just feel terrible. I have been talking to her all week about the surgery. It's just that, well, she's two and a half and how much can she really understand about the pain and sadness she will endure? She is pretty darn excited to have surgery. She will tell you that she's going to the doctor and she's "gonna take me a big nap." Today when I said, "and when you wake up you will have owies in your mouth, right?" She said, "and my throat too mommy." SO, she must understand some. She's pretty excited about the applesauce and yogurt and ice cream buffet to follow. She will say, "AND soda" because I told her I would even give her soda. She doesn't have to know that it will likely be something like diet 7-up. No sugar, no caffiene, 100% treat.
She's loudly reminding me of the why's as I type and she squirms and rolls. Who knows, after this, maybe she'll sleep with her mouth closed. Maybe she won't be so crabby all the time. No. Wait. That's not apnea, that's genetics. Never mind. I will likely update in the morning and for the days to follow. Pray that she comes out on top and the pain meds are friendly. Pray for my sanity as I prep for my finals Monday. Life. Never. Dull.