I had a great title but I really can't remember what it was...

"Conversations with Rachel"

Her: "Mom?"

Me: "Yeah?"

Her: "Since I didn't have an Ice Cream Sandwich for dessert last night, can I have it for breakfast?"

Me: "What? No..isn't there anything else you can take for breakfast?"

Her: "No. The cupboard is empty."

Me: "No it's not. But I guess I do need to do some grocery shopping."

Her: "So I can have the Ice Cream Sandwich?"

Me: *sigh* "Yes, but only 'cause I am a really cool Mom like that, instead of making you take this head of lettuce in the crisper."

Yeah, I sent my daughter off to school with nothing but an ice cream sandwich in her belly and a smile on her face. I dropped her off at the bus stop, kissed her good bye and mumbled something to myself about being a horrible Mother.

A week from tomorrow, I go in for some Surgery. I haven't mentioned it, 'cause it isn't really all that serious. Just outpatient stuff for my Knee. But the closer it gets the more I start thinking about the risks. Then the paranoia sets in. I have to "go under" (unless of course I want a spinal tap and stay awake for the thing. HA! Like I wanna see him digging weird tools and knives into my leg?). All the complications that can arise just from that alone. I am putting my life into the hands of some guy with ether and a tube. He controls my breathing for the next 2 hours and decides whether or not I come back to the land of the naturally living. It weirds me out.

And, Chris has decided that I am going to need his constant attention that WHOLE weekend. I told him I would be fine. I'd appreciate it if he wanted to stop by to see how I was but that I can manage on my own. My Mom is going to get me to and from the hospital. But he keeps insisting that he be there to get me water and help me walk...etc...

There is something he needs to learn about me. I don't like be treated as if I am incompetent or needy. I am sure I can manage a glass of water, getting up to go to the bathroom and wiping myself...thanks. I dont' like being fussed over. Well wishes are one thing, ya know like "Hey, I hope you are feeling ok." "Hey, how are you doing?" etc, I am not talking about that, I am talking about if I breathe or stir or moan, he is all over me wondering what's wrong. It drives me nuts. In my mind, I want to be as normal as possible as soon as possible. If he fusses, he is going to make me feel worse about the situation. Call it denial, but I already know what I need to do and not do and I just don't want to be nagged if I should get up out of bed. If he wants to be helpful, then maybe bring over a chicken garlic pizza, pour me a diet Dr. Pepper and watch a movie with me while I doze in and out of my drug induced coma. Then go home and leave me to my ginormous bed and purring kitties.

I suppose I sort of sound like a jerk, I am thankful for his concern and attention but he tends to go to extremes (big dramafied extremes) and I dont' want him to make more out of this than it needs to be. He already thinks that because I don't sleep good some nights that I have some sort of sleeping disorder and should go to one of those clinics. Sheesh...