Yesterday I purposefully woke up my son at 6 am. Why would I do this to my kid with a former-sleep-disorder? Because Sam was getting tubes in his ears at 2 pm and if I wanted him to get any food in his stomach it would need to be at 6 am. So we ate and then faced eight hours of wakefulness without food. As it turned out, the anxiety of just thinking about keeping Sam from food was worse than the deed itself. My boy who normally asks for at least four breakfasts (seriously, on a given day he will have a bowl of oatmeal, a scrambled egg, a cheesy tortilla, and a banana all before 9 am) was just fine. It was nothing an unlimited supply of popsicles couldn't cover.
He did fine. More than fine. Moments before the nurse took him away to the operating room (which I incorrectly thought would be traumatic), Sam announced, "See how much joy I have?" There was one sad moment when he said to the nurse, "Can I please have a healthy snack? I really need some healthy food in order for my body to be healthy." We placated him a bit then sent him off to the operating room "driving" his bed on wheels.
It took him a while to wake up and when he finally did he had about 30 seconds of craziness where with wild eyes he frantically ran his hand all over my face (it was like Helen Keller searching for her mother).
It went well. The only hiccup was when we drove back from Riley to Marion we did so in the midst of a tornado warning. Sam looked out at the yellowish, blackish sky and announced, "Something is wrong with America!"
We got home. We tucked the kids in. And I sat. After being "on duty" without food since 6 am I was exhausted. I said aloud: "I have been waiting for this moment all day."
And then John puked.