It’s one of those weeks.
Saturday Delilah snapped at my husband for no apparent reason. By Sunday we figured out that she was snapping anytime one of us touched her tail. Somehow my idiot dog broke her tail. We still haven’t figured out how, but the more I think about it, the more I think it had been broken for a few days. It was the saddest droopy tail I’ve ever seen and by Sunday she was clearly in pain and following me around pathetically. Our old vet in the city (about 30 minutes away) keeps Sunday hours, so I rushed the dog in while my husband took the baby to her first swim lesson (I’m less pissed about missing it now that I know she screamed the whole time).
I told the vet we needed pain pills. Dogs aren’t really capable of pill seeking, although she was probably worried that I was going to sneak my dogs pills with how insistent I was being. Turns out dogs get the good stuff and we left with opiates. Delilah has been happily blissed out for a few days. We also got a potent anti-inflammatory, which seems to be really helping. The swelling has gone way down and her tail has been at half-mast the past few days (she even made it to full mast for a few minutes today). She’s also letting me touch it without going ballistic or raising a backhawk, so I think she’s better. I still have no clue how it happened, though.
This morning Charlotte had a pediatrician appointment at 8:45, but she decided to sleep in until almost 7:30 (she slept for about 12 hours). Her reflux has been getting worse, so the doctor made me bring her in. He changed her medication from Zantac to Prevacid, which meant I needed to find a compounding pharmacist (compounding pharmacists can convert tablets or capsules to solutions). Turns out there is one across the street from the doctor’s office. I’m a little surprised that my pediatrician didn’t know that (he kind of told me I was on my own if I wanted it compounded instead of dissolving it myself).
Anyways, problem solved. Except for the part where it cost me $40.
After we dropped the prescription off, we ran by my polling place on the way home. Luckily there was almost no line, so we voted and then rushed home. At that point we were supposed to have 30 minutes before C’s PT, which should have been enough time to let the dogs out for a walk around the block, but the PT pulled up as we got to the corner. She was running early (that happens a lot, which I don’t mind), so I gave her the baby and ran the dogs out to pee.
Charlotte was doing PT without screaming before I came back, but she decided to try to get out of it once I walked in the door. I took the dogs into my kitchen to see if she’d stop once I was out of sight (she did). That was when I had the brilliant idea to hook the dogs’ leashes on a kitchen drawer so I could take off my coat.
Yeah, that turned out exactly as well as you think it did. The good news is that the drawer is not broken despite smashing to the floor. However, the quarter cup did not make it (RIP).
We spent the rest of the afternoon doing our normal eat, play, nap routine.
The rest of the day went ok until dinner when Charlotte managed to knock a container of baby food out of my hand. On to my white shirt (the splatter actually made it down to my knees). It know, it totally looks like poop, but I promise it isn’t. I had to strip down to my bra so that I could pick the kid up without smearing baby food all over her.
I decided the solution to our insane week was some quiet storytime. I grabbed The Runaway Bunny off of the shelf. I thought it was lame. Until we were halfway through and then I lost it laughing:
Yup, feeling better already.