I snapped this with my good hand Wednesday afternoon while I took up residence on the den sofa. The problem had been a cyst which had formed just below the area where your thumb meets your wrist. It's the part where nurses will take your pulse. Having a cyst there felt like having a badly sprained wrist. Constantly. And this is my dominant arm... which means I continually hoist my purse and the diaper bag onto my right shoulder. Doing this with what feels like a sprained wrist was less than comfortable. All. The. Time. So, it had to come out.
Now, two days post-procedure, things are OK. I overdid things a bit yesterday, but Jeff was working, so I was alpha-parent in charge of Bobby for 24 hours. I am prohibited from lifting anything greater than 10 pounds. Darling Bobby is well over 10 pounds. In fact, he tipped the pediatrician's scale at 20 lbs., 6 oz. at his check-up today. All day yesterday, I had to be creative and, above all, careful as I lifted him and carried him around. I managed, just shy of assembling a staggering display of ropes and pulleys. But today? Oy vey, am I paying for it. I skipped my pain meds yesterday, opting out of being high as a kite on Vicodin while driving the kids to and from school. Today, however, since Jeff is here, my two little white pills every six hours has been a slice of pain-free heaven.
So, anyway, back to the room full-o-boy I have here. I'd love to say I blame my decision to host this overnight extravaganza on the painkillers. However, as I said, we planned this night a while ago. I feel kinda bad that I'm not going full Betty Crocker and providing a bit of holiday baking fun. But the boys are watching "A Christmas Story," and playing video games. And as luck would have it, Kate and Dylan are here in the kitchen ready to start baking some cookies. How I lucked into an evening of holiday movies AND cookies (that I'm not responsible for baking) I'll never know... but I sure wouldn't trade it for anything.