Getting ready for “happy juice” in her party hat and fish gown and pink gloves pilfered by Daddy.

Yesterday was a rough day, but I was prepared.

Or so I thought.

There’s nothing more frightening than being unable to comfort your child and succumbing to total helplessness. For a short while, and thank God it was fleeting, I had a moment when I saw my daughter hurting and scared and I could do nothing in my own power to truly alleviate that pain.

Miss A was scheduled to have a tympanoplasty, an outpatient procedure to repair her right eardrum, at 11:30, so we had to be downtown at the surgery care center at 9:30.

I am so thankful I married a man with a sense of humor, who is extremely gentle with his daughters but who is also tough as hell (side note to all you single women, this is a great combo). He could sense Miss A’s nervousness as she was prepped for surgery so he “borrowed” a few pink examining gloves that were in stock in the surgery prep area in honor of Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

The surgery took less than an hour, as expected, and while I read a book in the waiting area the hubby walked with Miss C down to Rotiers, a Nashville mainstay from the 1940s known for its cheeseburgers and famous clientele, like Jimmy Buffett.

The surgeon called me back to a small meeting room and told me everything went well, although more than once he’s noted that she really “did a number” on her ear. I want my girls to be overachievers but I draw the line when it means self-inflicted BODILY HARM.

I went back  to the waiting area for about 15 more minutes and was told I could come back to see her in the recovery area. She was out of it and as she woke up it was obvious she was in a lot of pain. That I was NOT prepared for. She is a tough girl with a high tolerance for pain and I knew she was really uncomfortable. The nurse gave her morphine through her IV and then about 30 minutes later Miss A was able to sit up and she gave her Lortab. That’s a lot of medication for a 41-pound little girl but after another 30 minutes or so passed she was finally able to make a few meager attempts at eating a grape popsicle and she was ready to get rid of her IV.

We headed home and she spent most of the afternoon dozing on the sofa and watching the same Scooby Doo DVD over and over, and I tried to keep small amounts of fluids in her but she kept getting sick.

I knew she was turning a corner about 5 when she wanted to sit in the recliner. She just wanted to sit and rock gently for a while and not read or watch TV. Trying to make her laugh, I lifted up my sweater to show her my tummy and told her I’d eaten way too many french fries at lunch.

She patted my stomach and said, “Ewww mommy cover THAT UP! You’re going to make me throw up again!”

And that’s when I KNEW she was going to be just fine.

All kidding aside, Miss A has had a great night and is sleeping as I type this. She woke up once at 3 a.m. and came in our bedroom to tell me she was thirsty and hungry and that she was sad that she never got to eat breakfast yesterday. She also told me that I was the best mommy in the world, that her daddy was the best daddy, and that Miss C was the best sister and that I was pretty even when I wear my glasses.