That's right. You're mine, twice a day, and I am going to whip you into shape.
I am SO MEAN. I AM THE WORST MOTHER EVER IN THE HISTORY OF THE WHOLE WORLD. CLEARLY I DO NOT LOVE MY ONLY OFFSPRING. And, I make people eat green vegetables on the weekend.
You have been warned.
Oh, the physical therapy just sucks. Period. End of discussion. Twinkle does NOT want to do it anymore. It hurts, it hurts, IT HURTS, MOM!
I have never seen this much drama confined in one small human being, ever.
When Twinks was a little younger, we would tease her about her "dramatic tendencies". We would tell her to stop being a DramaLlama, that if she didn't quit putting on such a big show, we'd have to put out chairs, and start charging people to watch. Her dad, The Wrench, has always been the best at bringing her out of it; he teases her, plays with her, gets her laughing, and the next thing you know, all the drama is over.
Well, not anymore.
She's really hurting - I know that. But I also know that if she wants to have any chance at all to relegate that damn wheelchair to the storage shed in the back yard, she's going to have to work at this. Because the arthritis in her feet won't get any better. And the braces that we will go back to Hospital City to get in a couple of weeks will create more atrophy than is already there... So the physical therapy is now a permanent feature. It has to be. Because I'm not going to let her spend the rest of her life sitting in a wheelchair if it can be avoided.
Even if it does mean I'm the Worst Mommy In The World.
Poor Twinkle. Life in Mommy's House of Pain is not going to be easy. But it will get better.
It has to.