First, a few housekeeping notes, this is NOT a Thanksgiving post.
I am sticking with 7mg today and will go to 5mg on Friday.
The BIG news? I went to the grocery store for the first time in a month on one of the busiest food shopping days of the year and I was FINE. Woot!
The hubby is doing a happy dance too. He hated going to the store, poor guy. He couldn't win. I would thank him and then tell him all the wrong things he did/bought all in the same breath. He is terrible at picking out produce--always always always finds rotting produce and buys it. How, I don't know. It's his gift. I'm sure Oscar the Grouch is jealous.
Also, I am very lucky the hubby thinks bitchy on me is very funny.
I don't get it either, but it certainly helps make our marriage work.
Anyway, today we are driving down to relatives while watching Bob the Builder on the DVD player.
I do not like Bob the Builder by the way.
While the Baaaaahb the Builder theme song becomes my personal earworm from hell, for your entertainment, here is this little vignette of the toddler's ongoing physical therapy...
The other night I was watching some random sitcom and the toddler was in the other room stacking dress-up clothes on top of our very patient black lab, topping it off with a pirate hat and then sitting on the dog.
That dog deserves something better than heaven when she passes. The toddler is no lightweight.
So the sitcom ended and CSI started. I couldn't find the remote to turn it off/ change the channel fast enough.
Of course the toddler wanders in just in time to see the corpse close-up.
The really bloody corpse close-up.
HUGE parenting FAIL anyone?
"What's that mommy?"
"CLOSE YOUR EYES! GO TO YOUR PLAYROOM!" I screeched, frantically digging between the couch cushions for the effing remote.
"What happened to that man, mommy?" she asked, eyes obediently closed and walking into a wall. (Note: Toddlers are very literal. They will do exactly as you ask, except for when they don't want to do anything you ask.)
Locating the remote, I shut off the TV and, thinking fast, said, "He didn't do his physical therapy exercises and he got hurt."
Would you believe, instead of ignoring me or arguing about it, she has done all her PT exercises since?
And I think I explained it well enough, in terms she understood, that she won't be scarred for life from violence on the TeeVee.
WIN for Mommy.
Now, where's the remote again?