In Which Olive and I Tackle Seattle Alone.

Ever since Liv started seeing doctors that are not local (about 18 months ago) I have enlisted the help of someone else every time I go.  The husband, my mom, Katie, Tasha, and Nichelle have kind of rotated turns depending on if they are in the state, not taking finals, not working, or not too pregnant.  Sometimes its been for emotional support, but more often than not it is for the physical support.  For a long time it was too hard to attend to the needs of my child while driving long distances, and then too hard to lug Olivia, a stroller, two bags, and an oxygen tank around by myself.  I needed balancers.

For Olivia's most recent Botox surgery all of my balancers were unavailable for several versions of those reasons, so Liv and I braved it alone.  Which actually sounds really pathetic.  Cause this isn't nearly as scary/bad as a lot of things she has been through, but I can hardly be realistic about a lot of things concerning this stuff anymore.  Anyway.

We got there late afternoon and decided to take advantage of the non-rain and walked to City Center, take in some sights, and go to the EMP.  If we are being honest, it's really more a museum for me.  But I think she enjoyed it, too.

The EMP was designed by Frank Gehry, a genius.  I don't get all excited about architecture all that often, but what he does is art, and the EMP is a taste of that genius.  Liv was equally enamored, exclaiming things like "Shiny!" or "Red!" or "It's bright!"  I could really dork out on you right now and start talking color and lines, but I'll spare you.  (You're welcome.)

Inside we headed straight for the Avatar exhibit, something I knew Liv would get a kick out of.  She pounded on the computers, inspected the artifacts, and even became an avatar herself.  She dabbled in the art of mixing and producing, played a left-handed guitar, barked into a microphone, very animatedly jabbered about the guitar sculpture, and allowed me to teach her a little bit about Kurt Cobain

She let me think for an afternoon that maybe, waaaaay deep down there is a little bit of cool left in me.  Maybe?  Probably not.  But she let me indulge in that anyway. 


The next morning as we drove to the hospital I gave her my usual pep talk:

Me:  Okay, today we will go see the doctors and we will be so brave.
Liv:  Doctors. 
Me:  And they will help you take a little nap to help you breath better, okay?
Liv:  Okay.
Me:  So you will take a little nap, no ow-ies.  I'll be there when you wake up, you'll have a Popsicle, don't throw it up, and then maybe we can go home!
Liv:  Popsicle!  YES!

Everything was pretty routine,  We checked in, sat in pre-op for 80 million hours, I suited up and held her as they put her under (which she didn't even cry this time.  It somehow makes it worse that she is used to this), and waited for her to come back.  There was some concern that she wouldn't do as well post-op as her ENT more than doubled the Botox since it seems to be wearing off faster.  But as they wheeled her back in to the room, it was clear our concern was unnecessary.  There she was, propped up on her pillows, one leg crossed over the other, eating a Popsicle.  Her nurse informed me that the second her eyes popped open she said, "Popsicle, please." Apparently my pep talk got through to her and the only thing she retained from it was Popsicle=home.

That's my kind of girl.

So what did I glean from all this?  I can totally do Seattle alone (especially when the EMP is involved) and not to underestimate the power of pep talks and Popsicle motivators.