Kid Stuff

My littlest boy, B, is going to have his teensy, non-functioning tear ducts fixed! I'm glad he's finally going to have clear eyes (at least I pray the 'probing surgery' works and he doesn't have to do the next step), but I'm so sad for my baby to have to go under general anesthesia. At the eye doctor today , I told her his eyes actually looked good, and she replied, "That's not good, cause his eyes are bad." It freaks me out a little, only cause I remember coming out of anesthesia when I was 16 and feeling totally out of it, and cursing like a sailor and totally on defensive mode. Don't know why. I have no recollection of dreams or anything during the time I was out, just majorly pissed coming out of it. Friends of mine who have had their kids have surgeries this little, assure me that he'll be fine, but there's always that one friend of mine whose son almost died from a hospital mistake during a simple test. I'm the type to think of every angle of something, what ifs, and worst case scenarios. Yes, I drive myself crazy with this type of thing. I know that God has this under control though, so that gives me peace, if now only I could shut off that over-analyzing part of my brain.

Q woke up last night crying and didn't know why. After laying in bed with him for a while, he stated that his legs hurt. When I asked him where, he pointed to his shins. Is it too early for growing pains? Or could it be shin-splits from walking up hill while sledding yesterday?
It snowed on Sunday night, and we were left with maybe 4 inches of snow. Scott came home early because they closed his office and took him sledding for the first time. On the way over to the sledding hill, I kept telling Scott to not get his hopes up, because I didn't think Q would dig it. After all, during the last snow, I was pulling Q around on his sled and he freaked out if I went to fast, or went down the slope of our front yard. Scott kept saying, "He's going to love it". Well, Scott was right, he LOVED it. And he even went down by himself once. He did request that I go down the hill with him, and I did. At the top of the hill, I asked him if he liked sledding. He said yes, and I said, "Good, cause I don't." was my reply. I do not like sledding. I don't like being in the cold, and then being on a piece of plastic careening down a hill with little ability to steer. Yes, I don't like being out of control. (and I know I"m sort of a control freak).
That's about it from the home front.