Posts Tagged ‘Family’
A while back I relayed the tragic and historically inaccurate tale of what I have come to love and accept and refer to as my FrankenArm. It was worse at one point, it was FrankenZombieArm when it was melting off nuclear green allergic reactive flesh. Anywho, I admitted in those blogs that I hadn’t quite told the whole truth about how my beloved FrankenArm came about. For the sake of historical accuracy, I will do the best I can now.
I did break it in a fall, but the fall was helped along by my 15 (at the time) year old daughter. She and I were in the midst of a heated argument after I found out she was lying to me about some activities she’s been involved in. Push did come to shove and when she landed on the floor, she began kicking out and slapping at me, she slapped my glasses off at which point I backed up and began extricating myself from the area, my brains had kicked in and alerted me that this situation had gone too far and stop immediately… as I turned and moved away from her to walk away down the hall, she at once tripped me with one foot and kicked me with the other, propelling my 200lb as down to the floor in a tripped up, flailing fall, which I attempted to (stupidly) stop by catching my (remember, 200lbs) self with my left arm. All my weight, falling down hard and fast, landing on my outstretched, single arm. How smart was I?
The sound of that snapping (I heard and watched both bones in my forearm snap as I collapsed) is horrible to me, and I can still hear it in my head. The only thing I’ve ever broken before was a middle toe! Heck yeah, I had 2 kids and didn’t blink an eye, but that was different…
The other day I came to some realization of why I reacted so ‘dramatically’ when my arm broke. First and most obvious was just the situation itself. I had actually gotten in a physical brawl with my beloved daughter whom my therapist often told me I was ‘deifying’. She was the reason I got up in the morning for years. She was the only reason I was/am actually still breathing and walking the planet and not sleeping with the worms like I had every intention of being before I found out I was pregnant with her. She had changed my entire world.
Secondly, I’ve spent my whole life being ‘the strong one’ and was just damned tired of it. I decided to just take a little ‘me’ time and scream like a loon until the paramedics got there (they were called because the girls thought I might have whacked my head on the bricks on the floor as well… bricks? You say? They were holding down the base of the cat’s kitty tower until it could be re-tightened. My head never hit them, I was just being a shrieking drama queen for the moment).
So that’s it. The truth about HOW the arm got broken. I’ve spent the last 2 years either flat out lying about it or sugar coating it. Next, I’ll clear up the ‘after’ story. I lied about my recovery at home and the ‘help’ I got from the Girls. TOO (the Other One) did what she could, she had 2 small kids…PS (Princess Satan) didn’t even stay with me when I got home from the hospital. Even though when I was discharged I do remember somebody instructing us that I wasn’t to be alone for a while. After a few days PS would even refuse to take my dog out for me, saying ‘Your arm’s broken, not your legs!’ My Mom told me on the phone she felt bad, she should have came out & taken care of me (she lives in Cortez, CO) so I lied & told her the girls were making meals for me, doing my laundry, helping me bathe, etc. None of it was true. A bath would take me so long I had to nap afterwards because it wore me out, washing my hair was terrible. TOO helped once because I got in while she was here, and PS helped twice…both times bitching and rushing and snapping at me when I’d direct her to rinse an area or get behind my ears…so it was easier to just take my time & do it. That’s the one positive thing breaking my arm taught me; slow down, take my time, it’ll get done. Oh, and I can do stuff for myself I didn’t think I could, just create a new way to get it done. Like opening cans with a regular can opener (god forbid I asked PS for help, but most of the time she wasn’t there…this is the time period she moved in w/ TOO because of the problems she & I were having that culminated in the broken arm incident.) It took ages to get them open, and hurt, but I figured it out (one handed, lol).
First, you need to remember I was adopted at 6 months of age.
I was talking to my mom today, we talk almost every day, and discussing my Nana in England’s (my Mother is British) 100th Birthday on Nov. 6th and that she and my Aunt Jane (who still lives in England) had been discussing what to include in the local newspapers little interview they do with all the significant birthdays/events, like where she grew up, what she did as a job, etc. and my Mom says to me that they discussed ‘this & that,’ ‘and that she has one Daughter living in Wroxham and a Daughter living in the United States.’
Period. That was the end of it.
This didn’t completely shock me, in fact it took a few seconds to register, because I’ve been through this before. Being dis-included, that is. In something as monumental as my Granny’s 100th Birthday. Because I am her ONLY Granddaughter, (the only other ‘Grandchild’ is my adopted Brother; my Aunt has no children) and I am the ONLY Grandchild who had kids, I have 2 girls, and my oldest daughter is pregnant with her 4th, so that makes ‘and 2 Grandchildren, 2 Great-Grandchildren and 4 Great-Great-Grandchildren in America…’
Only none of that is there.
Mom also say stuff like ‘My Dad’ when she talks about her Father instead of ‘Granddad’ or ‘your Grandfather’, the same with Dad/her husband. She refers to him as ‘Dusty’ and not ‘Dad’ or ‘your dad’. She’s even corrected herself when she did say ‘dad’; I don’t understand it.
Even with my own little family I’ve ‘created’, I still feel so unattached and alone. My oldest is closer to her dad’s side of the Family, and my youngest, I just don’t know, it’s like she spends so much effort keeping me at a safe distance and control.
Maybe I tried to hard and ended up getting the opposite.
I don’t claim ‘Damage Control’ as one of my occupation for schiesses and giggles. I picked up that career when my oldest went to live with her Dad’s family.
Doesn’t look like I’ll be retiring anytime soon.
My granddaughters have been staying with C* and I the last few days. Because their mother and father both are in jail.
Again.
Now we’re faced with the very real decision of whether or not to take steps to permanently take custody of them from their obviously inept parents. These babies cannot keep living like this and watching their parents routinely being handcuffed and hauled off in a police car. Not to mention the bullshit that’s going on to bring about these repetitive and unannounced visits from law enforcement. Days before this latest trip to the clink, she miscarried twins (she was approx 12 weeks), which, god knows, was all for the best. I know how she lost them. Well, I can’t say how 100% but I’m sure ‘his’ ‘behavior’ towards my daughter didn’t help the situation any. Thank God my grandson is somewhere else, safe from ‘him’ finally, but I would be dishonest if I didn’t place half the blame on his own mother, who not only let things happen, but contributed. I’m tired of the denying and minimizing of this entire situation. I thought after having 3 she would know how to prevent bringing more children into the world and her dysfunctional life, I can only conclude that it’s pure and utter selfishness and laziness. Which is exactly why she’s back where she is as well.
That’s a hard, painful thing for a Mother to admit about her firstborn baby. Especially after she has produced (although not under ideal circumstances) three wonderful, beautiful grandbabies.
But I have to accept it. I have to put her children, my grandchildren, ahead of all that when I see their situation deteriorating.
I will be honest. I don’t want to raise children this young again. They are 20 months and 4 and a half years old. Heck, I’m not even done raising my youngest (16, who, believe it or not, still needs her mom on occasion!) I am only 40, but I have a number of health and personal problems that would make raising another 2 difficult.
I shouldn’t have to. I think that’s what pisses me off the most. How my own daughter could keep screwing up in so many ways on so many levels leaving a holy mess for everyone else to clean up.
That’s enough for now.
I still have some work to do around the house before I can call it a night.
I’ve missed Squidbillies 2 nights in a row, dangit, too tired to stay up! I think I’ll get to see it tonight (it’s on in 15) but I’ll pay for it in the morning!
Only Tony himself, my (estranged) husband and maybe one or two other ppl who ‘know’ me would appreciate that title.
Considering the current state of things…
So I spent the entire weekend at Tony’s, because obviously, we don’t want him to be alone. He is being taken care of by a wonderful set of nurses and hospice, but the majority of his time is being in the company of his sister (he is still living at his own home, the nurses only come a few times a week), although there are other wonderful family members and one or 2 friends who take a turn hangin’ out with Lord Anthony.
He is in bed full time now. He does get up to use the bathroom and wander (with his wheeled walker) into the kitchen to grab a quick snack, but I’m afraid even those brief trips are going to end very soon. He’s done remarkably well, considering. 4 years ago when they told him he was terminal, they gave him 6 months to 2 years, and when he took this latest down turn in approx September and was told he was officially in End Stage Liver Failure, they gave him 2 weeks to 2 months. He himself didn’t expect to make it to Xmas; I told him at least the New Year, then he decided he wanted to see the New Year, and so he has. I think he’s simply worn out at this point though. He’s just tired. He used to be several inches taller than me, now he’s a couple of inches shorter than me.
He had a good weekend, blessedly. He’d had a few bad days before that, which is how he seems to go, a few bad days, a few good days, but each cycle takes a little more out of him.
We had a good weekend, pizza (although he kept trying to fall asleep in his) movies, ghost hunting and crime TV shows, talking and laughing, getting up at 5am, drinking a pot of coffee & eating pancakes then going back to bed til one, lol. Oh, and trying to find the perfect virtual fireplace screensaver, and a free one at that. No, we didn’t find one. I tried out a few then uninstalled them after annoying pop up ads kept obscuring the crackling fires… I think maybe we were too picky about our fireplace too… oh well, we spent a couple of hours enjoying each others company over that so it was worth it. Toby went with me the first night; he’s gone loopy in the head these days, he kept growling at every strange noise and faint bump or child’s screech from the other apartments, and with Tony trying to sleep a good portion of the day, that’s not too productive, especially when Toby’s laying on Tony’s bed and growling, at least when he’s next to me I can put a pillow over him… and press down, ever so slightly… I’m just kidding. I love my neurotic Toblerone. The first night, Toby continued his freaking out, especially when the neighbors finally went to bed (Tony’s hospital bed is in the living room, so I sleep in his room) and we could hear ‘romantic’ noises coming from behind the wall, good lord, I don’t know what that guy takes, but Toby was wigging out half the night. After a few hours of sleep, whoever next door, falls or something (this is how we woke up) and it sounded like someone fell down a flight of stairs, long, loud, drawn out falling & bumping & banging & crashing & thumping… Tony’s jumping out of his skin, and after all that racket, I hear from the other side of the wall a male voice, very bored sounding, say ‘ow’.
Toby stayed with C* over here the next night. And would you believe, Tony & I spent that whole next day wondering why Toby was being so quiet…? Tony even asked me at one point if I had to take Toby out to potty because I hadn’t taken him out in a while, he threw me off for a minute and I was wandering around looking for the dang dog!
Anywho, now I have a Blight kitty laying on my mouse pad, her butt keeps bumping the mouse, and despite all the goofing off & sitting around watching movies with Tony I did, I’m worn out so I’m actually going to bed before 4am tonight.
I just had to share a little. It makes me feel better. I don’t write alot or include a lot of detail because it’s just too raw and difficult right now.
I still think it’s better to be able to say goodbye and spend some time together. I couldn’t do that with my Dad. There was a lot (A LOT) that I wish could have been dealt with but never will be, and so, I must deal with not being able to deal.
Why is it always a ‘Dad issue’? Thank you, Austin Powers.
Goodnight, Tony.
Very few people publicly lay their intimate and personal secrets out for anyone to stroll by and read about, especially when it involves mental illness and/or learning disabilities, although there are a few, notable celebrity and/or higher profile individuals who have come forward and made it a little less of a dirty secret. Particularly when someone is trying to create and maintain an impression of intelligence and normalcy. For example, if I say I’ve seen a ghost, my story is taken seriously by more people whether they believe it or not, they believe I experienced something I can’t explain. Now if I say I saw a ghost and they’re aware that I am Bi-Polar (I am), they’ll most likely immediately dismiss my story entirely, believing I couldn’t be a credible and trusted witness with something like that clouding my ‘normal’ judgment and rationality. The same thing goes for other situations where if someone knew a person was autistic (I’m not) they would probably not consider them as intelligent as ‘normal’ people and that opinion would unavoidably cloud their view of everything the person had to say when discussing perceived ‘intelligent’ or ‘complicated’ and ’sophisticated’ subjects.
I’ve decided I am me, and need to accept who I am and what I am and absolutely not be bothered about what anyone else’s opinion of me and my abilities and intelligence is. I also have grown tired of all the pretending and faking I’ve done throughout my life, trying to fit in and seem normal so as not to be viewed in a separate light as others, and by being separated, would be picked apart more.
So here, publicly but yet not, is a running list of everything we (my doctors, therapists and I) are aware of at this time. Oddly enough and even at my age, we’re still ‘discovering’ things.
When I was 16 a ‘Psychologist’ told my parent’s I had ‘no conscience’. I was actually in a foster home at the time (that will be in a later blog) and our family and individual therapy was court ordered. He said nothing like this in front of me, in fact, I don’t remember seeing him more than twice for 30 minutes at a time, and I don’t remember seeing him as a family at all. I may have forgotten this (I forget a lot, and I remember vividly the most ridiculous and unimportant things!) and I don’t remember in detail anything we talked about!
I added this because for some reason, it’s very important to me. I resent that statement and for whatever reason it’s stuck with me and gnawed away at me for 24 years. Probably because I think my parents believe this too.
I have always known I was somehow different from most people and that I definitely thought and perceived things differently than everyone else I was around or could compare to. From the age of 4 I remember being fascinated with the ‘darker’ side of things. When I was 5 I fell in love with Vampires. I would also lead my younger Brother in archaeological-ish digs in our yard with the purpose of digging up the devil. I wanted to see Him and this Hell place. We’d hit a rock and one of us would screech ‘it’s a horn!’ my Brother would screech and jump back, I would become more excited and dig faster. At either 5 or 6 I ran away from home for the first time (I went to a friends trailer half a street up and sat on their stairs until it was full light, then came back home and snuck back to bed. Their Mom, a ’single Mother’ my parents weren’t thrilled about me taking up with her 2 girls, had answered the door woken from her sleep and told me they weren’t up yet and wouldn’t be for a while. I went back later that day and sat at her kitchen table watching her drink coffee, smoke & feed her Venus Flytrap flies. I enjoyed sitting with her because it was so different from my own Hell/home. I rarely went into their home, my parent’s didn’t approve of that.Kids just played outside from sun up til sundown, went in their own homes for lunch & dinner and never had sleep overs, although I did eventually start going to sleepovers and had one or two, they were few & far between and as time limited as possible.) at 6 I knew I didn’t belong in this World. I hated it, and most of all, I knew I wanted to be dead. So with all that mostly irrelevant information said;
THE LIST:
Bi-Polar (also known as Manic Depression)
Borderline Personality Disorder
Schizo-Affective Disorder
Dissociation Disorder (NOT the one formerly called Multiple Personalities)
Panic Attacks
Symptoms of; OCD, PTSD, Schizotypal Personality Disorder, Agoraphobia, Adult Attention Deficit Disorder, Dyslexia, Paranoid Schizophrenia. Remember these symptoms could be created/caused from the main diagnosis’ so it’s almost redundant to keep adding names when stuff could probably be covered already. I just say I’m a DSM explosion, I got a little of almost everything all over me, and some more so, some less so than others, some missed altogether.
Physically, several of my problems I have now and am developing are a result of my weight gain and past drug use and probably, my age, 40 (12 years of erratic; as opposed to daily/steady/constant; Crystal Meth use). My back problems, my weak bones, weak knees and developing knee problems, sleep apnea, fatigue, irritable bowel syndrome, history of ulcers/gastritis, endometriosis (I eventually had a partial hysterectomy after my 2nd Daughter was born with this as a secondary factor, the first was a prolapsed uterus. That pregnancy was a difficult one, but that’s for another blog entry.) I also have rosacea that has gotten progressively more pronounced in symptoms the last 10 years. I have a minor heart valve problem, I actually contracted Hep C (from drug use several years ago) and somehow fought it off before they put me on the medication for it, and most personally, the genital herpes I contracted from my rampantly cheating 3rd Husband in 1991. Now, I do have one of the Worlds Worst Memories and might have forgotten a thing or two, so I may have to revise this, but for now… this is it. Next blog I’ll tell you what all I take (meds) for this plethora.
***
It seriously has, over the years, seemed like I was ‘collecting illnesses’ and they popped up steadily adding themselves to the list. I know there are people who are much worse off with serious, painful and horrible illnesses, but this is just me. Just my life, just my story. I just don’t want it to EVER sound like I’m seeking any kind of sympathy or pity or whining (although I do enjoy whining within reason!) or attention whoreing. I simply wish to leave something of me, who I am, what/who I was and some of my life experiences. Why? Because I can. It’s pretty much that simple. We all want to be heard and recogniozed as existing, even if it never matters to anyone else, although, being of some positive influence from something one says is always a bonus.
My three amazing Grandbabies. I’ve loved you before I even met you, and it only grows just as you do.
Transcend the dark and acrid; embrace love, honesty, family, truth and happiness.
We are bound together in blood, love, spirit and mind. My heart beats with the same strength and rhythm and soul that helped create your own.
I will always be here when you need me.
Gods and Angels watch over and protect you, listen to them, when they say ‘Yaya loves you’, and you smile, my heart will feel it no matter where we are, how near, how far.
Yaya LOVES & ADORES You!
*Note; Pics have NOT been posted on this blog.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
FrankenZombiePlague Arm
If ur easily squeamish, use caution if u go look at my latest arm pics. Maybe don’t be eating anything…lol.
It looks worse than it feels, it feels wonderful, considering what its gone thru. The only thing that hurts is wen I try to rotate it, like just enough to face palm up…ow. Thats going to be what I’m working on in physical therapy, (haven’t started that yet, prob in 2 weeks) that and I still have quite a bit of numbness in my index finger and thumb. Dr thinks those nerves should heal to close to 100% eventually, again…phys therapy. But if my phys therapist hurts my wittle arm, I WILL kick! I can’t help it, thats my automatic reaction, lol.
I don’t see Dr again for 2 weeks, he just pulled off the steri-strips & cleaned up the top incision, snipped the stitches out of the side one, scrubbed it down w/ Betadine & peroxide, slapped some gauze on it, re-wrapped it & re-splinted it. He’s thinking we may not even have to put it in a cast at all; I just have to be careful…no hockey playing or teenage daughter smack down wrestling (most of you know by now what really happened & why).
As for my little friends, the metal plates, if they end up needing to be removed, it’s usually a year down the road.
My girls stomached it better this time; C* even got picture happy above & beyond what I’d expected she’d do, she was directing me, ‘hold it this way, the lights better’. S* even pulled herself outta her cuddly bed, got Lola put together and drove me to my appointment, and while there, she didn’t even throw up, even tho she had an empty tummy! I’m so proud of my girls. S* didn’t even complain while she taxied me all over town to pay bills.
Then I had to come home & take a nap.
I’m a Grandma…I can do that.
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Almost Time for the Unveiling…
Tuesday morning I go to the Dr. again and they unwrap my arm. Like ‘The Mummy’, I bet there’s creepy music playing in the background, if not, I’ll have to hum something… haven’t seen it since last Tues when it went all plague looking on me. Its feeling kinda weird lately, I’ve never had a broken bone, so I’m not sure whats up w/ it, but maybe its part of the healing. It doesn’t feel ‘bad’ or like somethings wrong, so I’ll take it as healing. Its been itching like crazy, lol, and I have 2 huge incisions down both sides or my arm so I can’t stick anything down there to itch. I kinda feel maybe the metal plates in there are causing some of the weirdness feelings…Dr says most times, the plates eventually come out/off the bone, so that means another surgery, I forgot to ask how long I have until this usually happens, you know, how long the plates usually stay in, hopefully I’ll remember to ask Tues. I told the girls they had to take pictures when the wrappings came off, S*said: ‘No go’, with a grossed out look on her face, she’s a party pooper. C* just took my remark as a request, like ‘take the garbage out’ I’m sure she’d rather not, but she knows Mama said, so fine, she’s resigned to pointing the phone & clicking, lol. I told her she didn’t have to look, you know they both totally will! It doesn’t have that crazy-itchy almost painful itchy feel like last week before we discovered the steri-strips (we think) had caused the zombie arm/plague arm allergic reaction…that whole melting globs of flesh stuff…
Anywho, look, you just read a whole blog about my arm that tells you absolutly nothing interesting! Sorry, I just felt like blogging and I can’t get my brain together (silly pain pills and one handed typing) to blog about some things I’ve been thinking way too much about. I will tho, cuz I’ve been thinking way too much about them…
Originally posted as a Journal entry;
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
How Me & My Arm Spent Tuesday;
So I went to my broken arm Dr this afternoon with C*, S* & baby L*(T*). We’ve been waiting all this time for the swelling to go down so I could get a cast on it finally. So we go in, kinda curious, I didn’t look when they re-wrapped it after my surgery before I went home; it was still too new & sore & weird…the girls didn’t see it either; so we’re all waiting to be amazed by FrankenArm, I know it has 2 big ol’ incisions in it w/ stitches & the tape stuff over then, blah, blah…well…ew…first the nurses start unwrapping it and begin talking amongst themselves about getting saline & working the gauze off, & as they do that, ‘oh, we better get the Doctor for this one’, and ‘does that hurt? Because it looks like it really hurts…’ and ‘oh, wow, I’ve never seen that before..wow, oh, don’t slip in that, its just oozing everywhere…get me more absorbent gauze, more water on it, flush that off…oh, its just coming out…’ ‘Ya, better get the Dr.’
At this point I see both my girls’ faces going white & pasty, to match the nurses, C* actually rolls her chair back, her eyes are huge, S* looks like someone just tried to chloroform her, so now I’m feeling weird, and look over at my emerging arm…ya, it was kind of like when someone gets space goo or monster acid or alien drool or something on them and their skin bubbles up & oozes green & pink stuff. So one takes off for the Doctor, I mouth something like, ‘water…feeling faint…woozy’ they grab me a bottled water which the girls promptly grab from me and guzzle from themselves, fanning their own faces! The Dr. see’s my draining face and promptly lays me down on the table and goes about examining my sci-fi arm. And the only thing I can think of is ‘I wish my other Grandkids, N* (4 in May) and D* (5 in May) were here to see this, they’d LOVE it!’
He’s only seen this once before, says Dr. it looks like an allergic skin reaction the suture tape stuff and/or adhesive stuff, but he’s never seen it this bad. Well, glad I could contribute to medical knowledge. C* relayed to me a sight she caught; probably give her nightmares, lol, she said she witnessed a ‘big chunk of the skin of my arm just slide off in a blob and u could see flesh underneath’. She didn’t eat anything all day until just before bedtime.
Poor kid..tee hee.
I’d even picked out my cast color, neon green…well, I got green…nuclear, weird arm allergic reaction green bubbled up skin with the right amount of oozing pinkish fluid & melting flesh…
So he re-wrapped it, put the splint back on, refilled my fun pain meds, added some antibiotics and sent me home until next Tuesday.
I looked behind me at the floor on the way out, glad nobody slipped in that, hope they got it cleaned up okay…thats part of my wittle arm I left on their floor.
*Note; This entry too, will be updated with a second part containing the actual details as opposed to the ’smile & fake it’ that’s written here & what I posted elsewhere.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
My Wannabe Bionic Arm Update…
I saw my Dr. today who did my surgery, the x-rays look great, well, aside from those 2 prominent metal plates and screws in my bones, lol, but they do look pretty good considering what they were! Nice & straight, but he didn’t put it in a cast 2day, he wants the swelling to go down a bit more, so I’ll be getting a cast on Tuesday. I’m thinking that neon green color. So if u wanna sign it you’ll have to come by, I haven’t attempted driving my car yet, (duh, I’m on pain killers & muscle relaxers, so I have no business in the drivers seat of a car anyway) and don’t think I will for a while (it’s a 5 speed)…that might be interesting when the time comes, I’ll be sure to have lots of spotters tho, in case Its just not gonna happen. Today’s the longest I’ve been out of bed since this happened and I’m doing good so far, just don’t try & make me say big words or complete sentences. This is also the 1st time I was outside & walked around a little, glad it was warm. I’m just so paranoid without the cast on for that little bit of extra security & stability, the Dr. flat out told me if I re-injure this I’m pretty much screwed.
On another note, my estranged went back to jail Monday, when the girls called him to tell him what happened w/ me he said I was faking! He’s on zero tolerance parole, he had an empty meth baggie on him and was high at the time, so if they follow their own rules he should be going back to prison. Maybe now he’ll sign the divorce papers, he’d been refusing to since I’d drawn them up after he agreed to the dang thing in the first place! Dang games people play just to amuse themselves! If they amused everyone it’d be different…we’d all be happy.
I’m kinda getting bored of always sleeping on my back tho.
Big Giant Thank You to C*who helped me take a bath & wash my hair, and Tony my Super Bud who at the last minute was willing to take me to my Dr. appt (S* had to be at another Dr with M* who had some pretty serious shoulder surgery today) and ended up sitting there for 2 hours with us! Without even a hint of a frown or fidget. And thanx 2 busy S* who managed to then go get my meds refilled and help C* with Toby all day even while she was busy w M* & the grandbabies! And Toby, my little trooper! Not one accident or naughty behavior in the house! Just by my side constantly and cleaning up my crumbs so I don’t sleep in them and get all uncomfortable, lol, and keeping me company and cuddly & warm in bed and while I watch tv!
