Thank you all for the prayers and good wishes for Soccer Son. His surgery will take place at a hospital that's about two and a half hours away from us, and I've debated with myself whether to go or stay put. I keep coming back to the decision to stay home, but I could still change my mind. His Lovely Wife to be Someday will be with him, and her mom will be with HER, and they'll all be traveling there the day before and traveling back the day after. Soccer Son and I have talked about it a couple times, and his feeling is that I should do whatever I think would be best for me; he tends to draw within himself and focus a bit in times of stress, and I get the impression from him that he's happy with as little fuss as possible. So . . . . Well, right now I think I'm going to go to work as usual on Monday and just wait to get the phone call letting me know surgery is over and everything went well. It's hard though, and it's only likely to get harder until I get that call on Monday afternoon. And we all know that a week from now I'll wonder why I worried, right?
Today Soccer Son and I planned to meet up at the nail place, and I suggested I pick up sandwiches for us on my way there. When I arrived about ten minutes before he did, I found the salon jam packed with 20-something women, all getting their toes and fingers done. I've never seen more than two or three customers in the shop at that time of day, so I'm pretty sure it was a bachelorette/wedding party thing. I quickly realized there was no way Soccer Son and I would get pedicures today.
When Soccer Son pulled up in his truck and I gave him the disappointing news, we quickly decided to go to a nearby park and have a little picnic lunch instead. After all, I already had our sandwiches and drinks. And, as it turned out, we had a really nice time, eating and talking. Better, maybe, than getting pedicures, even if I don't have cute toes and soft heels to show for it!
The funny thing is that yesterday evening, the Wild Child asked me if I wanted to meet her for a pedicure on Friday and I had to turn her down. Now, though, I think I see that pedicure in my future after all. And a chance to have a little quality salon time with the Wild Child, who will be leaving on Tuesday to spend two weeks in New York. This time, though, I think we'll call ahead and make our pedicure appointments.
Posts
7 comments:
the only time my girls ask me to join them in a pedicure is when they want me to pay!! lol
any procedure on the heart is without some risk. how far do you drive for a quilt store ?I'm just saying.
You know your son better than any of us and if you think he doesn't want the fuss, then don't fuss. That won't stop you from worrying, but it actually might put his mind a little at ease. Whatever you decide to do is a tough call, but it's your call.
My thoughts and prayers will be with you and your family on Monday.
Thanks for sharing.
cindy
Guys do tend to want to be left alone and not fussed over! I however am an overbearing mother and no matter what my children say you could not keep me away from that hospital! You are a much stronger woman than I for having the restraint to follow his wishes!! I would be a hot mess and not get a thing done that day! Keep stong and ya'll will get through it!
To Anonymous, Comment #2:
That was a very rude comment. If you read the post, you would have understood that it wasn't just a matter of a 2 1/2 hour drive. It was truly uncalled for. I hope you weren't trying to be funny as it was definitely not.
Julie
As someone who spends a lot of time in the emergency room with my husband....My husband hates it when his mother shows up at the hospital. He never feels the need to be upbeat or cheerful or even chatty when I am the one waiting. I have long insisted that everyone respect this in him. You do what is best for soccer son.
Have fun getting pretty toes tomorrow.....
What a difficult decision to make! I will echo what Julie said - do what is best for your son. Everything will be okay. We'll be thinking of you all. Sorry about the pedicure letdown. I'm due for one myself.
Post a Comment