Some days are good, some days are bad, and some days are really really bad. This is the 3rd good day in a row and probably something to celebrate. But I’m still leery and scared because the last time I celebrated, it bit me in the bum. For 6 weeks. So, we’ll just say I’m having a good day, good enough to blog briefly.
I’m sure you’re wondering just how bad my days have been. Let’s just say that my toilet and I have become a lot more intimate than I am comfortable with. But even sadder is that my toilet and toddler have also become a lot more intimate than I am comfortable with. We spend a lot of our time in the guest bathroom he and I. There are strict rules that must be followed:
the toilet bowl must be clean at all times
the toilet must remain flushed at all times
the toilet seat and rim must be wiped down after every use
the blue stool must be present at all times
the shower curtain must be open and draped up at all times
there must be clean hand towels readily available
a clean glass must also always be readily available
and absolutely NO pooping in the guest bathroom (or at least I must never know about it)
Little Man has really grown into his own and now has to take care of his Mom. Here is a teeny-tiny dysfunctional glimpse of the happenings of our house these last few weeks:
Yes, that’s my three year old holding my head and rubbing my back as I throw up. He’s also saying, “Mommy, it’s ok. You’re going to be ok.”
I know. It’s pretty sad. He then gets me wet towels and fills a glass of water and then demands that I drink,…and then swallow. And he watches me, and waits, to make sure I swallow.