[2] It's all food, food, food
Day 6 in the Big Brother House. Only because we start at day 0, which is fair enough. And since just before it all started life has been centred around pretty much nothing else but food, at whichever stage in it's journey.
With MOTS (no longer Mother Of The Son, but Mother Of The Sons [a girl would have made her Mother Of The Sprogs!]) going through the backup plan of another section she had strict instructions to eat nothing on the morning of surgery, and drink nothing after 6, no milk, just water, etc etc etc. Needless to say she was a little jealous at me and number 1 son tucking into big bowls of cereal and rubbing our tummies.
It was a hive of activity after that. Dressed, nursery drop-off, then all the pre-op stuff we talked about earlier. Part way through the op MOTS clearly got hungry.
I can smell food
I couldn't, even with a good long sniff. Perhaps the faintest whiff of something cooking, perhaps, but I wouldn't have been willing to confirm it.
I could hear the surgeon behind me chatting away, the clashing of instruments, the suction of he vacuum. Oh, there's that whiff. And then it dawned on me. Hmm, time to keep quiet and not tell MOTS just yet, but that cooking smell is actually her, as the surgeon goes in with the hot irons to stem the bleeding by cauterizing some bits and bobs in there. Perhaps now isn't the time to mention that one. Not when the "cooking" smell is making her more hungry. Later, perhaps.
The poor lass didn't get her tea and toast until quite later on, after I'd dashed home. The order form was in for tea though, which she did enjoy. Don't get the fish though, it's awful.
Number 2 son was more than happy with his booby juice, I'd had a WHSmith special, remember the trauma of trying to work out logistics for feeding Grandparents (and now forgotten what the outcome was).
Friday was harder. Logistically speaking anyway. Grandma and Granda sorted themselves out along with number 1 at lunchtime, Granny & Grandpa had a late one after visiting, I didn't bother, number 2 son had more booby juice. And I let MOTS into the secret that was the cooking smells were the previous day, and having looked at her tea it appeared to me that she was found that prospect more appetising than the hospital fare that had been on her plate.
By Saturday food is starting to settle. MOTS refuses to order tea because she won't be there for it. It came.... we weren't released in time. Granny & Grandpa had a stew on for the big homecoming. Bliss.
Two days after coming home I took MOTS out for lunch. A long lunch, appointment at the registry office, and number 2 slept through it all. I was so pleased at getting out for lunch so early, MOTS deserved it. The coffee and cake in a small coffee shop yesterday went down a treat too! We are so spoiled for coffee out, two already and he's not even a week old!
Since coming home number 2 son has had a little wobble on his fluid intake, so we've hit the bottle for a top-up. Not that it's bothered him in the slightest, he has no bother going between the bottle and breast. Sounds like a great Friday night out to me!
