You know you’re a real grown-up when you’re so draggin-ass tired you fall asleep on the couch and there’s no one to carry you up to bed. In fact, you not only have to take yourself upstairs, but also two smalls humans, a cat and your heating pad. And the stuff that keeps you up at night are things like that jerk who reprimanded your daughter right in front of you when HELLLOOOO! I’m her mom. I WILL TAKE CARE OF MY CHILD. If you have a problem with her behavior, the appropriate thing is to TAKE IT UP WITH ME.
Consequently, it seems like the people who think it’s okay to reprimand other people’s children right in front of them tend to be clueless about their own. Go ahead and chastise my daughter for picking her nose while yours is eating her own boogers. Yeah, you’re better than me. Perhaps it’s because it happens to them – people jump in to parent their children – and that’s where they began to think it was okay to be a-holes. I have news: IT IS NOT.
My loathing for people like this is equal to the depth of my love for The Joker by The Steve Miller Band.
The same goes for unreliable people who act like I’m the unreliable one. Please do not judge me for your shortcomings.
Oh, and beat-around-the-bushers. Spit it out for the love of cookies. If you don’t have the cajones to say what you want to say, swallow it. I don’t have time to decode your mystery message.
Now I feel compelled to show you the videos I’ve made for our playgroup over the past three years. But I can’t because I haven’t asked permission. So I just watched them and cried because I love them so much. Also because the lady waxed my eyebrows a little too much today and I look perpetually surprised.
I’m going to go eat a doughnut and some sweet gherkin pickles.
We picked her up Monday night. And we’ve been doing a lot of this.
(Please ignore my bedhead. Showering isn’t a priority when you get your should-be-dead cat back.)
And it’s doing some good, I think, because she’s now drinking on her own and eating with help. This morning, she rolled on her back to let Dave rub her tummy. Later, she played with Lucy and explored the house a bit, despite her coordination and balance issues.
She’s timid and tired, but she’s still Picasso. I am so grateful.
Picasso didn’t come home today, so I went to see her. She’s in a critical care hospital, which meant I had to wait more than an hour to see her for about five minutes. But it was worth it.
I think she looks pretty good, all things considered.
She has a broken jaw, which is what she needs surgery to fix. Her vitals are stable and she is now breathing on her own, but she’s still very swollen. And though her x-rays show that her skull, spine, neck – pretty much everything except her jaw – are in tact, she’s having some trouble coorindating her movements due to pressure on her nerves from the swelling. The vet needs to see her controlled movement return before he’ll perform the surgery.
She moved plenty when she saw me, though! As soon as she heard my voice, her head popped up and she scrambled to her feet and flopped toward me. She pushed her head against my hand, like she always does when she wants me to pet her MORE! and HARDER! And she purred and purred and purred.
She’s going to be okay. It’s just going to take a little longer than we thought.
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