Tigger? You're off the hook...

Well, it appears I may have been a little hasty in my rants against Disney yesterday. (What? Me? Fly off the handle for no reason? No way!) I'm not so sure Brigid does recognize Tigger, after all. Last night, when I got home from work, Steve once again asked the hated question, 'Brigid, where's Tigger?', and the kid looked down at her heart covered t-shirt, and pulled it out to show me. He followed that with, 'Brigid, where's mommy?', and wouldn't you know it? Exact! Same! Response!

So, bottom line...she still has no idea who I am, but at least I can take comfort in knowing that Tigger isn't so special, either.

Elmo, though? I still hate that little monster.

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We were supposed to be heading to the cardiologist tomorrow for yet another heart check on Miss B, but those goons! They switched doctors on us at the last minute! They tried to stick us with the old guy we went to once, vowing never to return to again! We want the other guy! The one we've been to every other time! The one that we feel comfortable with because he reminds us so much of our friend Nick!

Ok, so I don't really think that's the only reason we feel comfortable with this doctor. He was the doctor we spoke with in the hospital when the heart murmur was first discovered, and he was the one who gave us the all clear after a couple of office visits, when it became clear we didn't need to be as concerned about the hole possibly affecting her lungs. He's just a very nice guy, with a child about Brigid's age, and we relate to him better than the scary old man who seemed to brush off our concerns like they were nothing.

But the fact that I can picture our friendly neighborhood cardiologist doing an impression of Nick, doing an impression of Arnold Schwarzenegger? I don't think it hurts, that's for sure.

(I'm sorry, I like to use humor to deflect tension. And what I'm picturing in my head when we visit with him? Very humorous. It helps you sort of keep it together when they tell you things like 'your daughter may need heart surgery at six-months'.)

(Man, that whole time period sucked. I'm glad that damn hole got smaller.)

(Also? I really hope they have good things to tell us when we finally get in there two weeks from now.)

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While I won't be giving you a breakdown of Brigid's diet every single day (I promise! Boring, much?), I will be doing so today. But it's only because for dinner last night, the kid ate a mushroom omelet (yolks only!) with some pureed garlic cauliflower, followed by apples sauteed in a little bit of butter and cinnamon for dessert.

Seriously? That's what the kids are eating these days?

I don't even eat mushrooms, but she loved them. And Steve is so happy to have someone to cook for, it's ridiculous. Apparently, when you request chicken or ground turkey at every meal, your husband gets tired of providing for you on a daily basis.

Thank goodness we had a kid.