Mr. Rogers was a genius

I had crazy love for Mr. Fred Rogers as a child. Nothing made me happier than watching Sesame Street and then my beloved Mr. Rogers. The land of make-believe always held such wonder for me, such great life-lessons.

When my sisters were young, they never really got into Mr. Rogers, which was very disappointing. He wasn't "cool" they'd tell me. How the hell did they know what was cool at that age?!?

I thought, *my* children will love Mr. Rogers. And we got to the point where they dug Sesame Street, but they would not want to watch Mr. Rogers. This caused me some heartache, but I decided that it was obviously my issue and tried to let it go.

And here we are. The magic age. Baby Girl is 5 and Little Man will be 4 tomorrow *gasp*. And holy crap, they are watching AND liking Mr. Rogers.

I think the issue is that so much kid TV is so colorful and has such spastic movement and Mr. Rogers is just mellow. (I remember that argument being used a few years ago about Sesame Street and the result being they "scheduled" each segment. I crabbed about it at the time, but now think I understand).

My surgery went well. Ran about an hour over because they discovered a hernia when they went in (explains why stomach crunches has actually hurt, heh). And my gallbladder was so impacted with stones, they actually had to extend the incision at my belly button because they couldn't get it out at first. That's a nasty looking incision. So if I suddenly lose an amazing amount of weight, I will still be restricted to the "tankini" swimsuit. I officially have too many scars on my belly to every allow for a true bikini.

I've been amazed at how much it hurt, I imagine something similar to a c-section (I love walking around, holding my belly because it hurts). I called the doctor today to ask for a less powerful pain pill. I still need something, but what they gave me makes me queezy and sleepy. Since today is my first day with the kids alone, not a good combination. Plus I'm tired to being queezy.

As I mentioned, tomorrow is Little Man's 4th birthday. I'm struggling with how to handle it. I want him to know it's his birthday, but I don't think he'll *get* why he has to wait for his party. Not fair to him, so I'm at a bit of a loss. Plus, my ass is just tired.