Another day, another doctor’s appointment. Took Merrick back to the neurosurgeon for his 8-week post-operation checkup. Spent about 45 minutes driving to downtown Oklahoma City, half an hour in the waiting room and about 5 seconds with the actual doctor–TRUE STORY, NO LIE. While I have much respect for this man’s mad knife skillz, he himself is such a fucking bore to talk to. When we first met him, I thought his personality sucked partly because he was trying to be serious and sensitive to our plight; now, after everything with Merrick is cool, he still sucks. For that man to touch my son’s head and say "Looks good to me," I’ll be charged $600.00.
I love my kid. That’s a given. I’d do anything for him, even if it meant racking up 6 million dollars in bills for daily speed-dates with the neurosurgeon.
Growing up with all sisters and never having a boy myself up until now, I never understood what all the fuss was about having a son. I pretty much assumed (both of) my mothers-in-law were delusional crazy ladies because they thought their perfect little boys could do no wrong. I honestly couldn’t have cared less if I ever had a boy, and that if I did, I certainly wouldn’t think he was God’s gift to the world.
My, how the tables have turned. I never felt quite this way about my girls. I don’t know how to explain it. I love them both to death, but they never had me totally wrapped around their little fingers like they have Caleb, and like Merrick has me. I guess I know what it’s like to be a girl–and I got no sympathy for them. I know that’s probably wrong. I’m so protective of Merrick. I am absolutely in love with my son. He is truly perfect. And sweet, and adorable, and there’s no way he could ever grow up to hurt anyone, or be disrespectful to women…He will stand up for what’s right and defend the weak. Basically, he’s a super-hero without a cape. But that’s just cause I haven’t learned to sew. Give it time.