Hambage

In case I've forgotten to return any messages from well-wishers, Porter is fine. Thanks for thinking about us. The surgery went off without a hitch and turned out to be no-biggie compared to the monster anxiety that preceeded it (what can I say, stress is my emotional fall-back).

As proof, here's Porter after coming out of the anesthesia. He looks like he got punched in the lip but other than that, he was his cheerful (yet groggy) lil' self. The nurse kept saying how amazed she was at how compliant and patient Porter is (refer back to the mom-is-a-stressball comment to understand why the kid has to be so easygoing).

Anyway, aside from when the nurse wheeled Porter's bed back into his room after the surgery and he immediately started whispering "want a mama," my favorite part of the experience (are you supposed to have favorites when it comes to hospitals and oral surgery?) was when Porter repeatedly called the bandage that held his IV in place his "hambage". My least favorite part was everything else. Here's hoping this first trip to the "hop-sitl with a big crane" (they're doing construction on the hospital and Porter loves the tractors and the cranes) is our last.

P.S. (can I P.S. on a blog?)

Yes, I do know it's weird that I archived the hospital trip.

I'm just trying to ensure his baby book is the most detailed of all the other kids on the playground (besides, from what I hear, the rest of the kiddies will be lucky if they even get a baby book, so I'll save the mellowing out for number 2+).

P.S.S

Yes, I know I owe you all some Easter pics. Coming soon...