He Said WHAT?!

A few minutes ago, I was on the phone with my darling older son, checking in to see how their day is going at home. In the background I hear Hubs shout, "What did you just say?"
Seems that Isaiah was taunting/teasing who-knows-what at Daimean when he threw out this lovely little insult -
"Pussy!"
When asked where he heard that word, he promptly blamed his brother.

So I had a chat with them about how to conduct yourself like a gentleman, instead of (in the words os Ricky Bobby) a retarded gang banger. (and yes, I'm still very anti R word) This was directed more at Daimean, since Isaiah dropped that word right in front of dad, I don't think he understands it's a bad word.
*sigh*
I have earned every one of these grey hairs, I tell you.

Art Imitating Life?

If the art is of a red nosed, anemic girl, then yes.
You know those days when you feel kinda like crap, but you do your hair and wear your favorite outfit and figure that will make you all better? At least, make you LOOK better?
Yeah, that was me this morning. I'm getting over a bad cold, and still feeling a little wrung out. My lips are a bit chapped, too. So I grab some tropical scented lip stuff, it's yellowish, kind of like mango colored. Then I head to the rest room and catch a look at myself.
HOLY HELL - the yellow lip balm has cast an ugly yellow pallor to my lips, so now I look like I'm suffering from a very strange ailment, or I've been huffing yellow spray paint. I actually laughed out loud when I saw myself! So rather than remove the offending color, I tried to put pink gloss over it. Ew, it turned kind of orange. So all I have left it a super deep red, which would probably make me look like a clown (or a hooker, or a hooker-clown) since I'm so pale.
Ah, I love being a girl :)

Love Letter

Dear Fall '10 Semester,
You sucked. I'm glad you're over. I'm sure you've screwed my GPA, and I'll never forgive you. And to the d-bag professor (yeah, I'm talkin to you, Grossman) who consistently gives me shit grades, go back to Nicaragua, you commie bastard.
Love, Me

So I Said to the Cabbie, "Yo Homes, Smell Ya Later!"

Note: If you are easily offended, please go read something else.

O.M.F.G.
Today I decided to pack up all my school stuff and head to my local library to get some quiet time in order to complete 4 final papers. Quiet, yes. I've got quiet. A place to plug in my lap top and free wifi, too.
But the smell! Or lord, the smell is threatening to choke me. I've already changed tables once already, too. Jesus Tapdancing Christ, this place is a haven for the unwashed.
Don't even *think* of lecturing me on the plights of the homeless. I get it. I donate clothes and food, and I sign petitions to fund food banks etc. But I'mma be honest here, I'm pissed off that I pay taxes for a broken public school system that I don't feel safe sending my children to, and a library that smells like ass. I am not here to come up with the answers for our fucked up society that allows people to fall through the cracks to the point where they have no place to shower. I'm here to complain that there is a gang of hobos here stankin' up the place.
*chirp, chirp*
That sound is the crickets that are left over when all my page advertisers run for the hills because I'm complaining about Stinky Pete over here, who smells like he hasn't bathed since Carter took office, and may possibly have rolled in a pile of dog shit as recently as the Clinton years.
One paper is done, and I'm going to attempt to write the outlines for the next two before I pass out from the stench in here.

Reverse Psychology

D went and messed up at school again, not turning in his work. Besides the usual grounding (no video games, no having friends over) when I saw his dismal progress report, I said, "And we're going tomorrow to cut your hair the way *I* want it cut" because well, it's a pretty effective punishment.
Or so I thought.
He went from this...

To this...


Now, we've been down this road once before, where he was growing his hair out, messed up at school, and I cut it off. He was pissed at me for a week. He hated me. And his hair wasn't even all that long back then. NOW his hair was longer than mine, and he fancied himself a Sampson of sorts. His hair was his pride. What set him apart. That was why I'd allowed him to keep it long. Now, what sets him apart is the fact that he doesn't do his damn work, so I figured he didn't need long hair anymore.

Then a funny thing happened. He wasn't mad, or upset. He was downright pleasant. All morning, leading up to the hair cut, I waited for the surliness, the protestations of unfairness to come out. But they didn't. I'd already explained to him that just because he was in trouble didn't mean that I didn't love him, or didn't like him, and that we could still go on to have a good weekend together, but he needs to understand what got him into trouble and the steps he must take to pull himself out of it. So, I thought, maybe it's starting to sink in, and he gets it. Maybe he's not trying to blame anyone else for his mess up, and accepts that punishment is a part of it. So off we went, he got his hair cut the hell off, and we proceeded to have a good day.

Then we dropped his brother off at a cousin's house to spend the night, and part of D's punishment is that he can't spend the night anywhere. But instead of being mad, he treated it like a score for him, because it meant he got to hang out with mom one on one all night. So we picked up a movie and some popcorn and headed home.

On the way, he got really quiet. I'd ask him a question, and he'd respond with, "Mm-hm". Then I started to worry that this had all been an elaborate, psychological coup, where he lulled me into a false sense of security, then *BAM* - hits me with resentment and anger. I thought, "Damn. This is a dangerous kid."

Turns out he'd just put his headphones on, which he's happy he can do now without his hair getting caught in them. Why was I worried that it was all some mean plan to make mom feel like shit? Well, frankly, because that's some crap I'd have done!

Intolerance?

I'm seriously getting pissed off about all my service calls being answered in Johannesburg and Jaipur. I've been on the phone for 10 minutes trying to get something done, and when the person on the other side puts me on hold, I swear he's checking an Afrikaans-English dictionary. And truly, I respect anyone who is fluent in multiple languages, because let's face it, I'm not. BUT I'm also not trying to work in customer support in a language I CAN'T SPEAK either!

And yes, I get the unloading of jobs to other countries and all that. This isn't about the politics behind it. It's about me and this guy on the phone who are having a serious breakdown in communication here.

So, for one of my classes, I'm writing a paper on the banning of the veil/headscarf in France and beyond. What are your thoughts on that? Is it more important to protect religion from government, or people from religion?

Christmas Cards, Etc.

Hahahaaa! (in case you couldn't tell, that's my maniacal laugh)
I actually have my Christmas cards done already! Right after the tree was put up, I took some pics of the kids, went straight to the computer, created and ordered my cards. Now, when I'll have time to address them is something else all together.

Saw a news story about an atheist billboard in NJ. Nice to see another point of view out there.

Hey! I've got a great idea for celebrating Christmas! You should totally adopt a dog! Please visit the Almost Home Foundation to find furry faces that need homes. Like Plum, an adorable little chihuahua who's being fostered here in Chicago.

Hey, I've got another idea! You should volunteer at local soup kitchen, Boys and Girls Club or maybe someplace close to my heart like the Maryville Crisis Nursery! I can't think of a better way to celebrate your own good fortune than to share it and help others :)

I Could Do Some Damage

Tuesday I start my new job. New job means new clothes, right? A little back story - a few years ago, Hubs and I stopped using credit cards, and we're STILL paying off old balances. The only one I kept was a Bloomingdales account, and I used it once a year for the charity shopping event that the Save Abandoned Babies Foundation was involved in. So yesterday Hubs suggested that for once, I not worry about money, and use my Bloomies account to pick up some clothes. So out of curiosity, I checked the credit limit on it.
Oh my.
I could do some damage there. I see a nice new pair of boots in my immediate future.

*Muahahahaaaaa*

On Music and Maturity

I had quite a revelation listening to Jodeci from a married adult’s perspective.

“I’m sorry I left you, I left you crying, since you’ve been gone I’ve been all alone.” Well, yeah, dumbass, you left me crying…

“Tonight, let’s start out love again, tonight we can be more than just friends” What? Tonight? And tomorrow it’s back to crying? Forget it. I don’t have time for this.

Another Cringeworthy Moment

Attention parents of male children:

In the beginning, you think, I'm having a baby, it's great! He'll learn to walk, and talk, and learn his ABC's, and to ride a bike.....
And you have all these dreams....
but you stop dreaming long before your young man hits puberty. Because no one fantasizes that they'll have a little boy, love him and nurture him, and then catch him sneaking porn.

SO today Hubs walked by Daimean's room - which has no door, which is a story for another time - and said child closed out whatever he was looking at on the computer. Which is right in front of the open door, facing the door, so there's not much room for privacy, you see. Hubs, being a curious kind of guy (and a dad) checked the browser history and found animated porn having titles which included phrases like lap dance and blow job.

This is the first time it really occurred to me that porn, in all it's raunchy glory, objectifies women in a way that I don't want my tender darling son exposed to. Previously, I'd have just said it's inappropriate, and leave it at that. But now, I see a bigger danger, one that has men looking at women like they're only put on this earth for one thing, and it's not our wit and humor. One that causes some men to misunderstand that no means no.

Dear lord that's terrifying. So Hubs had a talk with him, and then I talked to him when I got home. He was honest and said he was looking because he was curious and that he thought he wouldn't get caught. I dig honesty. I get it. So I laid it out, and had to explain words like misogynistic to my little man. Fun times all around.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again....

Parenting is NOT for the weak.

But on a lighter note, Isaiah was invited to join a gifted program at school! How awesome is that? His teacher says that he finishes his work faster than the other kids, and then starts helping *them* with theirs, and explaining it like a little teacher :)

Another Boring Blog Post

Gawd! Aren't you tired of reading this whiny ass blog already?
Wah, school is hard! Wah, work sucks! Boo hoo, I want something more!

Well, whine no more! Me, not you. I mean, you could stop whining, too, if you want. But I'm getting off topic.

I quit my job.

Of course I have another one, but the point is, I've accepted an offer of more money for less work. I'll be going back downtown to a "real" office, with a real job title. I'm excited.

I've noticed, and not for the first time, that my World History West professor's pants are too short. He's a tall guy. I shouldn't see his socks. Doesn't he feel a draft? Or has his wife not told him that he's buying his pants too short? Ooh he's looking at me again. I should probably get the hell off my blog.....

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

Well, it *is* a dark and stormy night, and I'm avoiding homework like it's the plague.

Last night, Hubs and I had a date night, and since the kids were at my brother in law's house, we had no reason to rush home. So we decided to go to the lake, like we did back when we were young. We picked a beach, drove around the barriers (since the parks/beaches close at 11pm) and went in. We got to a spot near the water, parked and got out.

We left 5 minutes later.

Now, I am not a superstitious woman. Don't believe in ghosts or spirits or psychics. If someone tells me how they FELT something when someone 7 states over died, or that they SAW a face somewhere they damn well know they were alone, well, I'd just laugh and mock that moron. So it's all the more serious when I say something was off out there last night. Something was very wrong. We walked toward the water, and stopped, looked around, and realized it was absolutely, totally abandoned. Even when there's 3 feet of snow on the ground, there's *someone* out there. Walking a dog, sneaking Boone's Farm with nefarious intentions, late night bonfires.... but last night, we were the only...ones...there. It was deserted, and quiet, and, and

Okay, maybe I watch too many horror movies. It's possible.

Either way, we both felt it, and we didn't stick around for the zombie horde to come after us. I swear my heart rate didn't return to normal until we got home 15 minutes later, and it's possible I had a small heart attack just crossing the back yard from the garage. I've never ever ever in my whole life felt that way. Anxious, no, scared for no reason whatsoever.

Besides my tiny neurotic episode last night, here's what's new:
Mom is stopping chemo 2 treatments early. She says she just can't do it anymore. As much as I'd like to argue with her, I just can't. I see what it's done to her, and how it's worn her down. We'll talk to the doctor on Friday, and as long as he doesn't say, "Celeste, you will die if you stop chemo right now." then I'll support her. She just wants this to be over.

Oh yeah, school. Um, that 500lb gorilla in the room that I've avoiding right this moment. It's progressing, like flesh eating disease progresses.... slowly and painfully.

Isaiah turned 7. Still not sure how the heck *that* happened.

Hubs told me that I have a tendency to be a tad dismissive of other's feelings. *snort* Took him 12 years of marriage to get around to telling me that?

Isaiah had his first overnight away from home. See creepy date night above. Was my apprehension at him being away somehow tied to my outright fear last night? Hmm....
Nah.

I'm pretty sure I could think up a few more, but these books are staring at me with disdain, and if I don't finish my homework, I'll just be up all night tomorrow doing it. Damn.

Celebrations

Today is Isaiah's birthday. My "baby" turned 7, and had all of his OWN friends there to help celebrate. Gone are the days when his parties were filled with the children of my friends, although, some of them were there, too.
My little Zen baby, my father's namesake.... he's so big, and still so small at the same time. Quite a paradox - but one that all parents understand :)

About my friends being there... with each year that passes, I'm more thankful for the extended family we've made.

Too tired to write anything prolific, or even funny today. Back to work on one of many midterm assignments, and that's been eating my time like a fat lady at an all you can eat nacho bar. Back to Central American history, and my explanation of how economic developments affected the political and social developments of Central America and the Caribbean...

Quick Update

Mom's doctor is very pleased with her progress, and says the extra week between treatments 8 and 9 really gave her body a chance to recover. He says this shows that once she's done, her body will do what it's supposed to do, which is recover, and she'll start feeling better than she has in a long time - first the cancer wore her down, then the chemo. So now we're really on the countdown.... 9 treatments down, 3 to go.

And now back to our regularly scheduled homework.....

I've Got a Million of Em!

Last night I watched Interview With the Vampire. Well, part of it. Damn, that's a long movie. So today I'm chock full o' IWTV quotes. (I'm full of something alright)

Shut up, Louis!

What if there is no hell, or they don't want us there. Ever think of that?

Where do you think we are, my idiot friend?

A vampire gone mad that pollutes it's very bed?

Hmmm, there are a lot of questions in that movie.

Turns out the only fictional ghoulies I love more than zombies are vampires. And it's not as if I love any partcular zombies, although Bubba was ok. Just the idea that the dead would rise and attack, that's pretty scary stuff. But vampires, that's absolutely romantic. You can be young for all time, and sickness and death could never touch you.... And so the lion fell in love with the lamb. What a stupid lamb. What a sick, sadistic lion.

But enough of my non-sparkly vampire friends. I've decided I need, NEEED a pair of black, matte motorcycle boots. The question is, where to get them?

I'm going to go back to eating potato chips for breakfast (is it any worse than hash browns?) and pondering life's big questions. Like whether I can sell 29 $10 raffle tickets to meet my fundraising requirement.

Update!!!

My mom is cancer free!

The PET scan shows that the tumors are gone. All gone. She's almost done with treatment, and all will be well.

Many, many thanks to my amazing and wonderful friends that helped me through this, gave practical advice, and were shoulders to cry on, sent get well cards and are just awesome in general.

With Alacrity

I'm going to go on a small rant, like small children do. I love stingrays! This weekend I took Isaiah to Stingray Bay, where you can interact with the stingrays. It was amazing. Isaiah said he was nervous, and didn't want to touch them. I'm pretty sure when I was 6, you couldn't have paid me to stick my hands in there, either.

Yesterday Isaiah climbed in my lap and said, "You know what I like about you? You love me." That was odd, but nice anyway. Well, if that's all it takes....

My kids are so affectionate. They're very huggy, and very liberal with the "I love you"s. I compliment them often, whether it's on school work, on how well they did a certain chore, whatever. Now they, in turn, compliment others often. I like to see that. It's a positive cycle :)

My mom is doing well, she's got 8 treatments done and either 2 or 4 to go. We'll know more after the next PET scan. On Friday she went to see her PCP, Dr Wilson. She said that Dr Wilson asked her to say hello to me. All I could think of was when this whole thing started, sitting in Dr Wilson's office with my mother, when Dr Wilson assumed this was lung cancer. She said, "You never know what will happen. I've had patients who were told they had 3 months to live, and they lived for 3 years." And all I could think was THREE YEARS?? It's not enough. It's not enough. It may sound unnecessary to say, but here it is anyway: I'm so glad that dr was wrong, and that my mom will be ok.

All things said, things are running smoothly at Martinez Inc. I'm looking into my fall class schedule, and facing the possibility of Saturday classes. I don't like it, but if that's what I have to do, so be it. I'm hoping to get a chance to have all 3 instructors be ones that I've had before, which will theorhetically make things easier since you already know what to expect and how they grade. We'll see.

Oh, and the title here? I was reading a Petrarch passage for my Renaissance history/philosophy class and I had to look up "alacrity" to find out what it meant. Now you have to, as well! Muahahaha!

63

Sixty three is the number of infants that have been successfully placed in safe, loving adoptive homes though Illinois' Safe Haven program.

Sixty three families that have opened their hearts and homes to children whose parents wanted the best for them, but couldn't provide it themselves.

Sixty three birth mothers that trusted in the law, and trusted their babies to the arms of adoptive families.

Safe Haven in Illinois has made these sixty three adoptions possible, but it only works if people know about it. The Safe Haven Law allows for an unharmed infant up to 30 days old to be left with personnel at any police station, fire station or hospital. The baby is given a medical exam and the adoption agencies spring into action to place them with their forever families. The parent is given information on caring for yourself after birth, the Safe Haven law, and the Illinois adoption registry. They can provide as much - or as little - information as they want, and mail it in later. The goal of Safe Haven is to have no children abandoned, and no parents being prosecuted. No shame, no blame, no names.

Safe Haven worked for these sixty three babies, but sadly, there have been 62 babies abandoned in Illinois since 2001, and half of those did not survive. Please, take a moment to tell someone about Safe Haven today.

Passive Aggressive

Some days, I find that I take my frustrations out on the wrong people. And when I do, I apologize. Hey, I'm only human. And when I say, "take out my frustrations", I don't mean I'm snarky or abusive. Just less pleasant than my usual sunny demeanor.

But I am not passive aggressive. I'm just.... misplaced aggressive.
When I want something, I will ask. When I don't like something, I will let you know. When I say "yes", it means yes. When I say "no", I mean no. I'm pretty obvious like that. Not only do I not play silly mind games or participate in ridiculous pissing contests, I don't appreciate it when others do.

Really, dear Hubs, when I said I thought it was awesome that you got baseball tickets for free, and that you should go and enjoy it, and thank you, but I just don't have the energy to join you.... I meant it. Plain and simple. No hidden agenda.

Looking Forward to Communism

Oh hai! Thanks for stopping by.

Block party was a success, and I even remember some people's names. And and and, I even remember what a few of them do for a living. Why is that the first thing someone asks? Why are we so defined by our jobs? Or am I just bitter because the AC is out at work and I spent every minute of my 8 hours there today hating the shit out of that place? Hmm, could be.

School is coming along well. I'm anxious to be done already. Each time I look at how many classes I still have to take (and how much I *already* owe in student loans) I wonder what the HELL I was thinking when I decided to go back.
My kidlets are adjusting ok to being back in school after summer break. Probably better than I am. Well, if we compare my wine consumption to their SweetTart binges, we're probably about even.

Today I hate being a homeowner. I hate being anchored to this one thing, and all the things I can't do because of it. Can't take the kids to Disney World. Can't go visit my sister. Can't quit my job.....

Sunday I dragged took the kids to Family Mass. As a family that receives financial aid from the school to reduce tuition, we're pretty compelled to attend once a month. Half way through, Isaiah said, "I can't wait to go to second grade and get my first communism."
"It's communion, kiddo."
"Yeah, that. I want that."

Block Party?

There was a big, neon green notice on our door this morning. No, not from the gas company. It's about the "1st annual" block party to take place next week on our block. That made me laugh. How do you know it's going to be annual? What if neighbor A hits on neighbor B's wife and a fight breaks out? What if the people in the only apartment building on the block scummify things with their lack of social skills? (and believe me, they lack social skills)
Wasn't sure how to react to this. Giddiness, at first. Yay! We're having a big party! But then suspicion. Uh oh, we're having a big party. I only know 2 of my neighbors by name. Well, if "Fuzzy Head" counts as a name, since that's what we've been calling him for the 5 years we've lived here. Oh, and I do know the daughter's name of the other neighbor. She and her husband sometimes take all the kids bike riding around the 'hood. Does that count? And 2 years ago I talked with the woman who runs a home day care on the block. Okay, we're not exactly a close knit community. We know one another by sight, and we exchange pleasantries. Or head nods, same thing, right? Except for my neighbors to the west and their neighbors to the west, they kind of hate each other. And that's also the place that I suspect called the police about Ilio. Yeah, I don't want to share any pot luck with them.

BUT in the spirit of community and all, we're in. The day starts with yard sales at 10am (so, um, we're just going to barter our cast offs to one another?) then pot luck lunch at 2, and an extra large bounce house in the street until 6pm. Fingers crossed that a lovely time will be had by all.

The Dark Side

Muahaha - I've gone back to the dark side. Back to my roots (at least, I think, something close....) and that's my somewhat willing prop, Ilio. He didn't understand what was going on so he started barking and jumping, he figured it was a party.

My mom says she miscalculated the end of her chemo, it'll be in November, not December. Yay! That much closer to being done!

Something Wicked This Way Comes

That's the name of the movie that was my dream last night. It was part action movie, part horror movie, part How to Train Your Dragon, and it starred

*sigh*
There was even a logo for this dream/movie, and it looks suspiciously like the WuTang W.... I'll chalk that up to my watching a lot of old Dave Chappelle lately. So there was an invasion by some lynx-looking dragon monsters, there was Brandon, there were cribs in trees (no, I don't understand that either), there was Brandon without a shirt, there was a cruise ship that completely submerged as part of it's amazing tour, and everyone was just supposed to KNOW to hold their breath when it went under, making me fear for the lives of all babies and small children aboard. Just as we were starting to figure out how to defeat, or at least not become dinner for, these dragon things, I woke up.
:(
And now, some gratuitous Brandon Boyd pictures, for my viewing pleasure.

Fickle

Last night, at bed time, Isaiah was fighting sleep, and fighting for more time to stay up. After a few minutes of sitting with the kids, I shut off the TV, which made Isaiah sulk. Since I ignored his sulking, he started harrumphing. Finally I asked explained that school is starting this week, so they’ve got to start getting to bed earlier. While I said this, I was rubbing his back. With tears in his eyes, he told me that he was angry and he pulled away from me. So I asked, “Do you want me to leave you alone?” He nodded solemnly. As I stood up, he said, “But you don’t have to go.”
I actually started to laugh. So, you want me to leave you alone, but you don’t want me to leave? He said, “Yes. You can stay. But you can’t touch me.” Again, I laughed. As I sat back down, he softened his stance. He reached for my hand and said, “But I can touch you as much as I want.” So I let him hold my hand. Then he said, “Ok, you can touch me one time. You know, in case you want to give me a hug.” Which turned into, “Well, you can touch me two times.” When I reached over and put my hand on his back, he gave in and said, “You can touch me ten thousand million times. No, infinity times.”
So of course, I stayed with him until he fell asleep :)

In Communist Germany ...

Today is chemo session number 5 for my mom. Last time, she said that the IV removal was very painful, and her wrist did swell immediately following. My aunt said if they got the solution under her skin, it would cause a chemical burn, and would erupt or blister in a big way. Scary stuff, right? But a few days went by, and nothing happened. She said she was having shooting pain from her wrist up her arm, so eventually she went to see the nurse, who suggested she have an xray, because the pain she’s describing isn’t from the chemo, but she may have fractured her wrist. She was persistent, though, that what she was feeling was due to their negligence when removing her IV. She says at that point, the nurse said they wouldn’t continue her treatment unless she got a port a cath inserted.
She’s been screaming malpractice since.
This morning her anxiety over having the cath inserted reached absolute fever pitch. She was talking about hiring a lawyer and suing them for pain and suffering, because WHO are THEY to FORCE her to do something she doesn’t want to do? FUCK THEM! This is bullshit! And you know what? This is just like communist Germany!

This time, I couldn’t help but laugh. Really? Communist Germany?? So she verbally assaulted the people at registration, and at outpatient surgery. I walked behind her apologizing and thanking everyone for their patience. In fact, I should just issue a blanket apology to anyone that came into contact with her today 

Yes, I use humor to diffuse frustration, to sooth hurt feelings (mostly my own!) and to cope with unpleasant things. I have to say, I’m so very thankful to have a support network. A dear friend came and stayed with my mom for her chemo today, because I had to come in to work. No, not because my company is unfeeling or doesn’t care. In fact, my company has been great. No, it’s because I have work to do, and ok, I’ll admit, I didn’t want to be around for her emotional breakdown during chemo. I love my mother, I do. When she’s not beset by chemo induced craziness, she’s lovely. Right now, things are tough for her. And some days, all I can do is laugh. Don’t judge me!

The Cheetos Truck

This truck came in the mail today, addressed to my boys. With a note from my aunt explaining that she'd brought it for her brother, my father, and wanted them to have something of his.

I actually started to cry when they opened it. Just last night I was talking about him, telling my husband how much I miss him. And when this came today, I felt like I got a little piece of him back. When I was a kid, we used the truck to send Cheetos back and forth through the house, much to my mother's dismay. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if it still had orange crumbs in the trailer. I hadn't thought about it in years.

Marcia said, "Ask and you shall receive." Yesterday I was hurting, and I didn't even *know* what to ask for. But today, I received.

Renaissance Woman

Well here we are, at the bi-weekly abuse session, also known as my mom's chemo appointment. The infusion nurse is all alone today, and handling 6 or 7 patients on her own. This, and everything else, is making my mother angry. Since we've been here she's told me all about her expert opinions on civil engineering, custody disputes, oncology, general dentistry etc. And she is always right. When I stopped agreeing with her, she called me an asshole. I'm considering leaving her here and letting her walk home. Now that would be an asshole move.
What I really don't understand is how she can be so mean to me, and so incredibly nice to everyone else. She's thanking people left and right, apologizing for nothing, telling them how she's going to take them all for lunch after this is done. But me? The daughter who has been here every time and every appointment, listened to all the tears and screams, I'm an asshole. Of course.

Sorry, this is a whiny ass blog today. I'm going to suck it up and deal, because really, what else can I do? No point in being pissed off all day. No good to LET her push my buttons. Since I can't control the way she acts, all I can control is my reaction to it, right?

What I *Meant* to Say Was...

This morning while I was in the shower, Daimean made breakfast for Isaiah. He made french toast sticks and sausage. When I came in, still half asleep, Isaiah was extreme-pouting at his plate. He didn't approve of the way Daimean made his breakfast, and there was some debate about whether the french toast sticks were done. Poor Daimean jumped in and said, "So I put them back in the microwave, and then I even sprinkled cinnamon on it like you do, but I didn't know how much...."
So I told Isaiah to be thankful that his brother is so nice and did this for him. Then I thanked Daimean for being so nice, thoughtful and helpful, and told him, "Some day, you're going to make a great parent." Then I looked at Isaiah and almost said, "and some day, you're going to make a great kid."

ALMOST! Thankfully my censor kicked in and stopped me before it came out, because really, how horrid would that have sounded? It sure made me laugh though.

Take Another Sudafed

http://www.cnn.com/2010/HEALTH/07/22/drugged.children.parenting/index.html?hpt=Sbin

The article on CNN is about parents using benadryl and other medications to sedate their kids FOR THEIR OWN CONVENIENCE. It's being called child abuse - as it should. Seriously? They feel overwhelmed so they medicate their kids for no reason??? One person says it's better than a parent getting upset and slamming doors and "losing it"... really? The grown up sedates the child so that the GROWN UP doesn't ACT like a child??!!

Really, I try not to be judgemental, and I try to respect that everyone parents differently. But giving your child medication so YOU don't have to deal with them isn't parenting.

When we were kids, we'd psych ourselves up to be sick in the morning so we could stay home. My friend's mom stayed at home, so my mom would naturally send me over there. She'd give us cold medicine to knock us out, and every time we woke up, she'd tell us to take another Sudafed and go back to bed. We laugh about it now. We didn't know any better back then. But as a mom, I sure as hell know better now.

Lessons Learned

School's the golden rule. - Dad
You never want a job where you have to ask, "You want fries with that?" - Uncle Sol
Love is all you need. - John Lennon
The best thing a father can do for his children is to love their mother. - Grandma
Clever people, them Japanese. - The Chief
I love you more than pie. - Isaiah
Life isn't fair. - Mom
It depends what the meaning of the word "is" is. - Bubba
Having sex isn't a mistake. A mistake is when you walk in on someone else in the bathroom. - Angela
Yes we can. - Obama

What are the best lessons you've learned?

But the View is Great

Blogging from the hospital, in what I'm now going to call Mom's Bi-weekly Abuse Sessions. Five or six hours in a confined space with my mother, she's sure this is her chance to irritate me to her heart's content, because what kind of asshole would walk out while they're mom's having chemo??
It's still early, but we started with, "Oh, Mexicans eat lamb? I didn't know that." So I said, yes, of course, and in case you weren't aware, Mexicans eat everything you eat, dummy. "Oh, just hotter though." It would almost be funny is she wasn't so willfully dense.
But we're here, chemo number 3 out of 12. But who's counting?

This weekend we're taking the kids to Oregon, IL (my new favorite vacation place) to Oregon Trail Days. We're going to stay in a tipi, go canoeing and watch all kinds of cowboy gun slinging and Native American dancing. I'm told it's where the Blackhawk indians lived, and the whole weekend is a big fundraiser. We're excited :) Okay, I'M excited.

Dammit, I have to go find a place to plug in my laptop before it dies. Maybe I could unplug that lady's oxygen over there....

Mrs Incredible

You know that Pixar movie, The Incredibles?

Today I feel like Helen, also known as Elastigirl. The Chief is still in the hospital, I'm heading over there after work. My mom's chemo is Friday, and of course I'm not going to make her go alone (no matter how mean she gets) Isaiah called from day camp asking me to pick him up early because he has an earache.

Feels like I'm being pulled in too many directions.

The Chief

This is The Chief, otherwise known as my grandfather. He was in the Navy during WWII and the Korean war, hence the nickname. He has 4 biological children, but raised and loves my grandmother's other son just like the rest of his children. He worked in sheet metal and HVAC when he retired from the military.
Today, he was rushed to the hospital via ambulance. His blood pressure suddenly plummeted. He's feeling fine now. But he looks so small in that hospital bed. They're running tests, and so far, everything is fine.

I've written about The Chief before, because he's one of my favorite people. He's truly and kind and gentle soul. He loves his family, he loves his country, and he loves his cat. He makes (bad) jokes, and he laughs a lot. In fact, he was making (bad) jokes at the hospital, too :)

Each time I visit my grandparents, I say I'm going to sit with him and review his extensive picture collection, put names to the faces, and scan them all. As I rushed over to the hospital I thought, "I should have spent more time with him when I had the chance!"

Now's the chance. And I'm not going to waste it.

A Very Punny Blog

Hair today, gone tomorrow.

Last night I shaved my mom’s hair off. Well, what was left of it anyway. I tried to keep the top and front just a little longer, kind of like Jamie Lee Curtis since she’s been hawking Activia. When I was done and my mom looked in the mirror, naturally, she started to cry.
Since I’ve been relentlessly positive with her since this started, I took a different tactic last night. I hugged her and told her it’s ok to be sad. It’s ok to be angry. It’s ok to cry.
In the end, only a few tears were shed. We pulled out the wig, worked on styling it, fitting it. She has two turban looking head wraps, we took turns trying them on and laughing.
When we were done, we toasted with valium, since mom can’t drink. And as she hands it to me, she says, “I bet the last time you took one of those was right after your dad died.” Ouch. That’s true. My grandmother’s answer to severe emotional pain is medication, so she came over with a bottle of valium. I took one. The next day, the rest were gone. 3 guesses who took those.
She seems ok today. Maybe her long dormant coping mechanisms have kicked in. In fact, she just called me to see if I wanted to go out to lunch, since she had a dentist appointment near my work. I know she’s not looking forward to more chemo but I’m glad she’s come to accept that it’s necessary.

But it doesn’t make it suck any less.

Cancer Sucks

But you knew that already, didn't you?

Mom's having a rough day. Last Friday's chemo and following 2 days weren't bad, she said she was feeling much better. Last night she even made herself dinner, for the first time in weeks. We were talking and laughing, and for a little while at least, cancer was out of sight, out of mind.

But today she's dealing with what she thinks is a toothache, but the oncologist believes it's jaw pain from the lymphoma dying off in response to the chemo. On top of that, she's got some sore on her arm, for which the doctor prescribed antibiotics. He says she's more likely to experience sores or infections from minor things because she her immune system is compromised. AND her hair is falling out. I offered to take her to get a short, short haircut, but now she's embarassed. So tonight I'm going to do my best to give her a pixie cut, and hey, if I screw up, she already has a wig.

Will You Marry Me?

This is the ring that Isaiah keeps presenting me with, when he asks me to marry him. Lest he grow a bigger Oedipus complex, I kept explaining that I can't marry him because I'm married to Daddy. Today I gave in and said OK, I'll marry you. Then he patted my belly and told me I'm having a 3rd kid.
Now which one of us needs therapy more?!

My mom has gone completely insane. She vacillates between meanest woman alive, and sweet old grandma. One of my BFFs explained that her sister went through a sort of bi-polar existence when she was having chemo. That describes my mom perfectly right now. Friday, she spent the day berating me, calling my parenting into question, and in general just saying the meanest things she could. Then Saturday she calls me and she's a-ok. Today she calls me and repeats everything she said yesterday. When I told her this, she said she doesn't remember talking to me yesterday. Have I mentioned her propensity to self medicate? She's eating Valium like they're candy. Great.
On the major plus side, the doctor has her taking Prilosec for her stomach troubles, and when she complained some more, gave her something else for the 2 days after chemo, and she said she's feeling pretty good. I think it may have more to do with the fact that she spent the weekend with her brother and sister in law, and is having fun and not focusing so much on cancer, but instead on the things that are making her happy and making this fight worth it.

Be Still My Heart

Just found something more exciting than Elcipse (which I haven't yet seen)

Brandon Boyd is launching a solo album! If you aren't aware, I spend my days pining away for Señor Boyd. Okay, not exactly pining. But as of right now, Incubus is the only band for which I'll insist on GA tickets. I'm getting a little too old for that crap, and I've never really been big enough to hold my own in the pit. But it matters NOT when Incubus comes to my fair city.

Neurosis Alert

Come on, I can't be the only neurotic mom out there. Everyone has their little idiosyncrasies. Things that make you freeze in your tracks, or spaz out for no reason.

Today is Isaiah's first time going swimming with his day camp group. I'm freakin terrified. Tonight we plan for private swim lessons. My nervous system can't take this.

CNN's been reporting non stop on 7 year old Kyron Horman in OR, who has been missing for ... well, wya too long. Every time I see his picture my heart breaks just a little more. I bet his evil step mom knows what happened. This makes my heart break even more.

Why Can't I Microchip My Kid?

Fear. Dread. Near Panic.

That’s how I felt last night, thinking about Isaiah’s first day at day camp. Then I woke up at o-dark-thirty to worry some more. It’s a public park, with no electric fences safety perimeters to keep them in, or bad guys out. With horror, I realized he hasn’t memorized my cell phone number yet, so it’s written on a card in his pocket. Of course, my mind is crawling with worst case scenarios. Abductions. Run away tanker trucks. NAMBLA conventions.

I can microchip my dog, so why can’t I microchip my kids?? My car has Lo-Jack, but I’m not allowed to install it on my kids? Something’s wrong here. Is there someone, somewhere that makes money on lost kids? Is it like refusing to cure the common cold, because too many medicine companies would go out of business?

Of course I worry about Daimean, but not quite as much. He’s been at this camp for a few years and knows his way around. He can swim. Isaiah can’t swim, but he thinks he can. I’m afraid that he’s going to go jump in the deep water and those lazy, good for nothing lifeguards will be too worried about looking cute to care. And Daimean’s got a cell phone, which he could use, say, if he was abducted and locked in someone’s trunk.

Yeah, I’m going to go back to worrying now.

Nice to Um, Meet You?

Just sent an email. An every day type of thing, right? Typed it up, hit send. Sending pictures and info and smiles across state lines. Know why I'm so excited about this?
The email was to my sister.
My long lost sister, the one I'd asked for help in finding. Turns out, she found me first. Thank baby Jeebus for Facebook. She didn't even know my married name, and was just browsing profiles looking for someone who *might* look like me. Or what she imagined I'd look like now. She hasn't actually seen me in 18 years.
So we exchanged a little info, to make sure neither of us was some lying, conniving crack pot. Once assured I was me and she was she, she sent me her email address and phone number. I sat on it for like 6 hours. Because once I *had* it, I wasn't sure what to do with it.
Once I was home and the kids sufficiently busy enough with dinner and didn't need me right-that-instant, I picked up the phone and called her. As the phone rang, I asked myself, "What if she's insane?" I mean, really. I don't know her from Adam. In fact, the only Adam I've ever known IS insane.
But she *seemed* pretty normal, and she made me laugh a lot. Her childhood wasn't great, but she hasn't held any anger or bitterness. Her mom made her believe that our dad didn't care about her. I emphatically ensured her that was wrong, that he cared very much, and he always loved her and thought about her - AND always paid that child support on time. He didn't find out until much later that her mom didn't actually USE it to SUPPORT her child. So if she got nothing else from that conversation, I hope she understands that her father wasn't perfect, but he did love her.
Don't know what will happen next. Whether we'll continue to talk and get to know one another, or whether the excitement will wear off and we'll drift apart. Either way, I'm really happy to have made this connection. To know she's happy and healthy. To know she's out there. And for once, I can actually just pick up the phone and say hi. Or send a quick email. Just like that.

Two Stupid People

All Hubs wanted for Father's Day was to buy a new bike for Daimean to replace the one that was stolen. So, after he did the price check thing online, off to Target we went. To buy a bike. A fully assembled bike.
Two *smart* people would have taken Big Bertha (the Jeep) for this. However, two *stupid* people take the VW Jetta and are actually surprised when confronted with a bike that won't fit in the car.
On the plus side, it was A FREAKIN' BIKE so Daimean and Hubs took turns driving one another on the way home.

Daimean met a girl this weekend, at the school's summer celebration. She likes him. He likes her. I heard through the grapevine (which consists of other kids and her mom) that she planned to kiss him on the cheek at the end of the night. He hasn't talked about it yet but I'm hoping he might. Besides Daimean's first hint of action, the party was great fun, and reminds me how thankful I am that we're a part of the extended family at SJB.

Mom is doing alright, but riding my nerves like a jockey. I thought maybe it was because we've been spending way too much time together and she knows how to push my buttons. Until I sat down last night and read my last pregnancy journal. Found it a few weeks ago, tucked in among a bunch of old picture books. It was from when I was pregnant with Isaiah in 2003, and it asks a lot of questions about your own parents, your upbringing and your current relationship with them. Apparently the urge to throttle her has always been just below the surface. I guess some things never change, huh?

And... They're Off!

Yesterday was mom's first chemo treatment. She tolerated it well. 1 down, 11 more to go. The bone marrow came out clean, so she's officially stage 2b. It's true, what they told her. She walked out of there like nothing had happened.

While mom was in the infusion room, I spent a few hours talking to my aunt. It was great for me to have someone there who understood what was going on.

One thing I didn't expect was the strange feeling of sitting across from someone who looks like you. Strange, but positive. It automatically makes you feel like you belong. Having no siblings, and only one parent (the one I don't resemble, of course) and 2 kids that look like their dad, well... It was comforting to see at least a little bit of myself in someone else.

This is my aunt's last night here. I'll miss her.

And the Beat Goes On

Yesterday my mom went and picked out a wig. I know that was hard. They showed her how to wash it and care for it, and let her know they offer free styling and trimming. Her mother went with her, so she wasn’t alone. This must be hard for my grandmother, to see her daughter going through this. I wouldn’t know because I’ve avoided calling her.

Holy mother of coincidence! A young guy from work just walked in here and told us he was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma. He’s starting chemo in two weeks. It’s a small, fucked up world afterall.

My aunt got here last night. I loaded my mom and the kids in the car and picked her up. We went to dinner, where the kids acted like absolute savages. Didn’t get home until almost midnight, after dropping my aunt off at her hotel. I’m jealous. I wish I had a room and bathroom of my own!

Father’s Day is Sunday and I’m wholly unprepared.

Tomorrow’s the big day. We get up early and head to the hospital for mom’s first chemo treatment. Wish us luck.

And How Was Your Morning?

This morning, I awoke an hour before my alarm was set to go off. I *thought*, just maybe, I'd heard Hubs call out from downstairs. I listened for a moment and didn't hear anything. Decided to take the dogs out and start coffee, so I head downstairs.
Hubs is standing in front of the TV with a very strange, almost alarmed look on his face. Slowly, I ask, "Um, did you say something?"
Which led directly to this:

Yes, that is me holding my husband's second most favorite possession (only after the Jeep) because the mounting was falling off the wall. So now the TV is temporarily back on it's original stand, and just over it, is A BIG HOLE in the wall. Yay! Goes well with the hole in the kitchen ceiling that was covered, but not repaired. Also the ZERO thresholds separating the rooms. Oh, oh, and the bathroom door that was only roughed in, and still missing the trim around it. And the kids' room, where it's only half painted after the wall was removed. Did I mention I have an aunt coming from out of town? She's going to take one look at my Half Done House and think I'm living the crack head dream.

Yesterday I went to visit an awesome friend in the hospital. A doctor was in the room, going over the surgery she's having today. Triple bypass, yikes. Anyway, the doctor is asking a ton of questions, and I can see how hard it is for my friend to give straight answers. They just begged for sarcasm and humor. Finally, she broke when the doc asked if she had any missing teeth. She pointed to the back of her mouth and said she'd had a wisdom tooth pulled. Doc asks, "Anything loose in front?"
to which my dear friend replied, "Well, I've got saggy tits, does that count?"

Today I'm blogging from the hospital where my mom is having her PET scan and bone marrow biopsy done. The waiting room I've been banished to has no coffee. Instead of breakfast this morning, I was on TV holding duty while we tried to get it off the stupid mount. It's going to be a long day. And how was *your* morning??

Disturbing Mental Images

I was at the park with the kidlets when Daimean says, "Hey mom, how does that Halloween thing go? You know, trick or treat, smell my feet...."
I said yes, I know it.
"Give me something good to eat. If you don't, I don't care, I'll pull down your underwear??"
Again, yes, that's the way it goes.
Cue serious, disturbed face while he says, "But isn't that kind of sick?"

Get Yer Game Face On

My mom went out of town this weekend with her brother. When she came back, I expected her to be in good spirits.
I was wrong.
She’s impatient, emotional and quick to anger.
The good news is that she’s always been like that. The bad news is that now she has a damn good reason for it. We sat down and reviewed the plan for this week, what tests on which days, etc. She’s really pissed off that the PET scan is early in the morning, but the bone marrow biopsy isn’t until the afternoon. How dare they make her wait! No matter how many times I explain that they have many other patients and that they did, indeed, schedule her tests as quickly and closely as possible… waiting is inevitable, just deal with it. Again, she’s always been like this. I remember once, when I was a child, we were waiting in line at Montgomery Ward, and she had an armful of clothes for both of us. After 3 or 4 minutes, she declared the wait to be ridiculous, dropped it all and walked out. *sigh* She also believes that cutting up a credit card and mailing it to the issuing company effectively closes your account. So you see the irrationality I’m up against.
We received some good and practical suggestions regarding her hair and making a transition to a wig. Yesterday I talked to her about it, but before she could make a decision, she got upset. Hell, it’s not even my hair and it makes me upset. I told her we could get matching blonde wigs and pretend we’re Marilyn Monroe. She didn’t laugh.
Good news – my aunt from FL is coming in to town. My mom has always liked her a lot, so to me, it’s like calling in reinforcements. The big plus is that my aunt works in oncology. Now that’s a great person to have on your side. She’ll be here for the first chemo treatment, and while I have a feeling she thinks she’s coming here to help my mom, having her here will make me feel a million times better. Oh, and this aunt is from my father’s side, meaning she’s not insane. Had to clarify.

People Like That Are the Only People Here: Canonical Babbling in Peed Onk

In case you didn't see the whole post title, it's "People Like That Are the Only People Here: Canonical Babbling in Peed Onk" This was a short story from Children Playing Before a Statue of Hercules, edited by one of my heroes, David Sedaris. Peed onk is short for pediatric oncology.

It popped in my head today, as I spent most of the day in on the oncology floor with my mother. That's one place you never expect to be. Sure, statistically, plenty of people will be there at one point or another, either as a patient or in support of one. Then one day, you're there. Wishing you weren't. Wishing you were anywhere else. Trying to balance remaining positive with understanding the fear your loved one surely feels. Saying it'll be ok, when you know that right that moment, that person sure as hell doesn't feel ok.

That said, it was an incredibly positive meeting. Dr. Malhotra was patient and kind and above all, positive. He literally said that classic HL is "extremely curable" and well, ya can't say that about every cancer. Below is a picture I snapped of us on the way out today, see, she's smiling.



The plan is this - chemo every other week for 6 months. He believes her to be stage 2, with multiple masses on only one side of the diaphragm. They've scheduled another battery of tests, including a PET scan, in order to create a baseline for comparison while she goes through treatment and verify that the masses they've documented are indeed the only ones present. A bone marrow biopsy (ouch, it hurts just to write that) to make sure there's no cancer in her bone marrow, which would move her to stage 4. He says even in that event, it would still be curable.
They have plans for controlling nausea, so her hope of losing weight on The Chemo Diet were dashed when Dr. M said she probably wouldn't lose much weight. But, he says, you will begin to lose your hair 2-4 weeks after the first treatment. Now, I know that everyone says this is a little, minor, temporary thing. But dammit, imagine for one moment that you're going to lose YOUR hair, and see how you feel. So we talked wigs and scarves. That doesn't make her feel any better. Your identity and self esteem are directly linked to how you look, how you see yourself. It sucks.

And so, a week from tomorrow, she begins the cancer fight. There's a great prognosis, a solid support staff at the hospital, and friends offering help. I'm happy about these things. I know it will be ok. But right this moment, somehow it's just not. When we got home, I asked, "How do you feel? Ready to do this? Positive? Optimistic? It's only a few months out of your life. You're going to do this. So.. how do ya feel?"
She replied, "I feel scared."

Me, too, Mom. Me, too.

"I Was Meant for More Than This"

Oh my dear, abandoned, pushed aside blog! It's funny, I started blogging as a way to vent, share and be able to jot down my musings and experiences for... well, I don't know.
But here I am, busy as the day is long, and in need of venting and sharing, and I've stayed away from the blog here.
No more!
So here's where we are, dear reader: My mom's been diagnosed with Hodgkin's lymphoma, and had surgery last week to remove a lump from her neck. Today we meet with the oncologist to discuss the next steps, which will be chemo and/or radiation.
Terrifying? Absolutely. Before there was a solid diagnosis, they thought it was lung cancer that had already spread. all I could think was that even though she irritates me on a regular basis, she's my mother, and I can't bear losing her. Over the last year or so, we've finally gotten into a rhythm of talking and hanging out without constantly arguing. She's my shopping buddy, and my confidant. I can tell her anything and she will always support me (unless it has to do with punishing my kids....) no matter what. She's on my side, right or wrong.
I tell her that cancer sucks, but that this will be over by the end of summer, and it's something she'll be able to put behind her.
My uncle is on his way to pick me up, because he's going to the oncologist appointment with her. My grandparents were invited to lunch today to present a unified front and show our support. However (and this is where it gets fun) they live in my aunt's building, and my aunt has decided to sue my uncle. So while they're battling it out in court and out, my aunt told my grandmother that if my uncle shows up in court this morning, he's going to be arrested because she's having him charged with molesting her when she was a child. So my grandparents are afraid to see my uncle for fear of pouring gas on the flame of my aunt's insanity. Oh, and they've got to get 6 dog licenses today, because their neighbor's called the city and reported them for having too many dogs. *sigh*

And I'm sitting here, watching Mark Consuelos and Kelly Ripa host Live! with Bradley Cooper visiting. This makes me want to quit working and stay home to watch daytime tv forever.

Karma Schmarma

It's been a trying week, a very hard week.

But you know what? Once again, the amazing network of friends that I've been blessed with has come through for me in unexpected ways. No one makes it through alone. You might like to think you're a one woman show, but the fact is that there are other women holding you up. And for that, I am thankful.

"And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make."

A Word on Alter Egos

Yesterday after a particularly bad day, I was driving my safe, German car, with the Sinatra station on. With the A/C on, no less.
A woman on a motorcycle whizzed by my left, swung into the turn lane, then took off. At that moment, I wanted that. The wind, the speed, the freedom and release. I've always been a fan of Rose is Rose. Rose is a momma, she takes care of her family, but deep inside she's a hard core rebel.
Maybe it's time to let my own alter ego out for a while. Sometimes you need to dig deep and let another facet of yourself out. What good is having a wild side if you never let it free?

Something Like Normal

Since school is out, I'm trying my hardest to create some sort of routine. A schedule. But since the majority of the kids' belongings are still in the freakin' dining room, this is proving somewhat hard. No, Hubs has not finished the wall fixing (after the wall knocking down) but it's getting closer. I have a feeling I'll end up painting the room myself once he's done with the sanding etc. *sigh* Why is it that HE decides to take on a project, then I have to work on it?? Well, I shouldn't complain. At least he's doing something.

Over the course of 2 busy semesters, 1 job and 1 fundraiser, my eating habits became more atrocious than normal, and exercise... well, let's just say my treadmill had more dust on it than Pompeii. So another thing I'm working on is eating better and exercising. Ironically, exercising automatically makes me watch what I eat, because then I think I'm undoing all the pain and suffering the treadmill has put me through. But damn, this morning I wanted McDonald's something fierce. I didn't go. I'll eat my Quaker True Delights bar instead.

I mentioned I've been having nightmares. Oh yeah, raging nightmares. In one, someone broke into the house, and I killed him with a hammer. It was gruesome, but I woke up feeling like, "Hell yea, I'd kill to protect my kids! Don't mess with me!" But of course, the only one to hear this newfound badassness was the dog.

Vote for Tucker - More of the Same

Oh Monday, Monday, how I hate you Monday....

School's out! Like Alice Cooper, I'm partying. Well, if by "partying" you mean hanging out with the kids, reading for fun and catching up on lost episodes of Jon Stewart, then yeah, I am.

I've been plagued by nightmares for the last few days. I know why, too. On Friday night I sat up and watched the Biography of Ted Bundy. Not that I didn't already KNOW about him and his craziness, but sitting up, at night, alone.... and realizing that monsters are indeed real? That they do come into your house at night? Oh hell now, it was just too much for my fragile mind.

And now, it's about lunch time, so I'll have to come back to this later.

And yes, I'm still scatterbrained. Obviously.

Confessions

It's true. I'm totally in love with Paul Rudd. No, I can't explain it. But I did have a dream once where he played Rob in the movie version of Get Fuzzy.

Venting

*Disclosure* Feel free to skip this blog post, it's my last whiny, woe is me post. I swear.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! Yeah, so I'm pretty close to the Cliffs of Insanity. I know this week is going to be rough, but after that will be smooth sailing until the fall semester starts. If I live through tonight - and that's a big "if" - and the fundraiser is a success, tomorrow I may even sleep late!
Between home (where my husband just knocked down a wall without consulting me first) school (where I've got finals this week) the kids (who desperately need attention) and work (where everything, strangely, is fine) ..... it's like I'm losing my mind.
AND my husband copped attitude with me this morning, almost winning him a roundhouse to the solar plexus. Seriously? Wars have been started by people with more mental stability than I have today.

Impact

It’s easy to get bogged down in your daily life, and forget that you have the power to impact others.

Each year, I help to run an art contest for Safe Haven. Contacting hundreds of schools to get students to produce posters or works of art to help educate their community about the law. Each year, I stress over it, and then get a ton of amazing entries right at the deadline. Last year, one of the winners was a girl at an alternative high school, who was clawing her way through a horrible home life to try to make something better for herself by finishing school. It was an absolute pleasure to meet her and present her with the award.

This year, after stressing out as usual, I got ONE lone entry to the contest. Just one. It was a great one, don’t get me wrong. But I was bummed out that we got only that one.

The school was notified and congratulated. I ordered the certificate and sent info for the prize money to be distributed.

Then the teacher called me. She said, “You don’t know how much this will mean to her.” Turns out this student is a ward of the state. Working her way through school, dealing with self esteem issues, trying to fit in and get through. She did the project on her own, no extra credit, and never expected to win anything…. She did it because she thinks it’s important. Because she wants babies to be safe and loved.

And now, it’s going to be my pleasure to present her with her award, and tell her what a great job she did. And it will serve as a reminder to me that everything we do impacts someone else. Not everything works out as you planned, but it all works out. And what you do can impact someone else’s life in ways you didn’t expect.

Oooh Reeealy?

Didn't I say I'd be right back with some "better you than me" moments for your enjoyment?

Today, my 12 year old son came home with something that looks a whole lot like a hickey. Cue absolute mortification.

Of course, he says it's totally not a hickey, because that would just be wrong. Oh no, he says a girl just pinched his neck when they were playing around at school. Yeah, those lies didn't work when I was young, either.

So now he's upset because I told him I don't believe him. Now he believes we're at an impasse. I explained that A) he's too young for this crap and B) even if he weren't too young for this crap, that defacing someone's body is plain wrong. I told him that if I see another mark on him, or find that he left one on someone else, I will hold a press conference with his teacher, the girl's mother, and the school paper.

There have been plenty of times he's done stupid things, and lied to avoid trouble. This, however, is the first time he hasn't eventually told the truth. That bothers me. A lot.

Well, Hellloooo

No, I haven't forgotten about my blog. I've just been busy.
It's not you, it's me.
Like right now, I'm in my political science class. And if my professor realizes I'm blogging, she's going to call me out in front of everyone. And that would suck.

So I'm going to talk politics (which I enjoy anyway) and will regale you later with tales of my amusing and sometimes infuriating children.

Hello! My Name Is: Asshole

Last night, Aunt Flo had me laid out and miserable. The kids are on spring break, so I've been letting them stay up late. Last night, I went to bed at 10pm, and let the munchkins blow up the air mattress and sleep in my room. Before we laid (lay? lie? whatever) down, I explained that I really didn't feel well, and I was super tired, so it was time for bed.
Then Isaiah jumped on my bed. Which was fine. Well, it was fine until he kept climbing on me, and poking at me, and waking me up every time I’d doze off. By 11pm, I was mad as hell. He was twirling some plastic knife around and hit me with it. Then he dropped it on the floor. Then he dropped it again. Each time, he’d jump OFF the bed, then jump back ON the bed….. until I yelled at him that if he did it again, I’d throw out the knife. He settled down for a few minutes. I went back to sleep. Then he woke me up to change the channel, and I told him no. Then when he woke me up AGAIN for a glass of water (the tried and true bed time delay) I yelled at him to go to sleep.

He started to cry.

I said, “Really?? You’re crying because I won’t get another glass of water?!” And he nodded his little angel head while the tears spilled over.

Now I’m officially an asshole.

I dragged my ass out of bed, went downstairs to get a glass of water. When I brought it back, I apologized to him. He told me it was ok, that he still loves me. I felt like a total jerk.

Then this morning, he couldn’t find his knife, so he asked me on the phone if I threw it away. Yes, because I’m a mean, horrible person that makes kids cry. I told him no, that it’s probably under the covers, or on the floor next to the bed.

Then he noticed something, while we were on the phone. He asked, “Momma, did you put a heart on my hand?” and I said yes, and he was happy. You see, before I left this morning, when he was (finally) sleeping peacefully, I took a marker and drew a heart on his hand. So that when he woke up, he’d know I love him. Hopefully that’ll replace the image of half asleep, angry momma. *crosses fingers*

Did You Just Say "Abe Lincoln?"

Out of nowhere, Isaiah announced, "I miss Abe Lincoln."

Daimean curled up next to me on the couch, and decided to hold my foot as if he was holding my hand.

I told Isaiah to stop peeing on the back of the toilet. He laughed maniacally.

Daimean walked into the living, stood in front of the tv, and started to dance. Then, calmly walked away.

Children are strange little creatures.

You know how the saying goes, that time heals all wounds? I've noticed that I miss my father more as time goes by. Not less. Sure, I stopped sobbing every time I think of him (years and years ago, actually) but there are so many things I wish I could tell him. I wish he could see my kids. I wish my kids had the chance to know him. *sigh* So I guess the reminder that the people you love will not always be around prompted me to visit my grandparents. It's awful to see my grandfather so frail. In my mind, he's this big, strong Navy guy. But now he's small and ashen. My grandmother, well, she's still as opinionated as ever, and loud. And kind of rude, too. But we had a very nice visit, chatted about current events, our dogs, etc. Strangely, the kids actually wanted to go with me. Like most kids, mine are creeped out by elderly people. It's odd for me to see my grandmother not know how to talk to my kids. She always made extra effort to relate to me as a kid, and she did a damn good job. But with my boys? I don't know. I don't think she even knows their birthdays. To this day, I don't think she can spell their names, either.

Capital Punishment

Ok, so I explained Belly's sudden desire to draw on furniture. Well, Saturday morning I woke up to a raging sore throat and snow coming down. But I dragged my arse out of bed because I'd promised to take the kids to Breakfast with the Easter Bunny and the book fair.
On the way out, we pass the refrigerator. My lovely stainless steel, side by side, first new appliance I ever purchased refrigerator.
And there is a now familiar jelly bean person scene on it.
I flipped. I told Isaiah he is on punishment, and that he's going to clean that off. Then he informs me that it's done in Sharpie. WTF. My reply? "Then you're going to FIND a way to clean it off."
He cried.
I fumed.
Hubs cleaned it off.

The Ultimate Answer

What is the one question you can never know the answer to? You know, the biggie. Is there a God?
Last night I had a strange dream. There was a room that you could go into that would either confirm or deny the existence of God. No explanation of how it happened, or how people found out about it. Sorry, dream wasn't THAT detailed. The catch was that you could not change your belief or life or actions based upon the answer, and you couldn't tell anyone what you saw - or didn't see - in the room. The world was going crazy, debates sprung up all over about whether people really wanted to know. There were religious people who claimed they didn't need some side show oracle to tell them what they already knew. There were atheists who said that anything they saw in the room would be invalid. And sorry, for any non-Christians, this was the Catholic God model. I don't know what non-Christians were expected to see. Or not see. Or what. Some absolute truth? Any of the guys above?

My question, absolutely hypothetical, is whether you'd go into this magic room. If there WAS an answer, would you opt to find out?

Time

Hours. Minutes. Days. Weeks. Months.
It's relative, of course (thank you, Mr. Einstein) and time seems to fly when you're having fun. But today, all day, I felt some strange sensation. Now that I've finally had a chance to sit down for longer than it takes to pee, I reluctantly recognize what this cerrping feeling is. Panic.
This week has been very hectic, and shows no signs of slowing down. Tomorrow, in between work and school, I'm escorting my mother to a wake. Yesterday I visted a friend and her son, and it was wonderful to see them, even if under less than ideal circumstances. Today I went to get a hair cut. That was great. But I felt terribly guilty for the time and cost. Monday..... I don't even recall.
Tonight I've got to study for tomorrow's test. My massive research paper for one of my major classes is due April 6. I've barely started. Daimean's birthday falls on Easter. I need to make Easter baskets. I have to arrange a birthday party. I *think* I have a meeting for the school's fundraiser next Tuesday, when I'm supposed to be using my spring break to work on aforementioned research paper. And I think I'm just about of dog food. I've spent next to no time with my boys since this weekend. And even then, we were busy with a baby shower.
I'm so overwhelmed today. Maybe tomorrow I'll slip back into my virtual suit of armor and be ok. Right now, I feel like closing my books, crawling into bed, and saying Fuck environmental biology. Forget the test. I don't care. But I won't, because that's just not me.

Have a Heart

And adopt a Catahoula today! Visit this site for more info, and to see pics of the cutest little 'houlas around.
As you may know, my Ilio is a Catahoula. He's my buddy, my protector, and my garbage disposal. Everyone deserves that kind of loyalty in their lives!

Murder Scene

That was Isaiah's bed this morning. When I walked in, it became highly apparent that he either had a nosebleed during the night, or he sacrificed a chicken in his bed.

He keeps drawing on random things in the house. With marker, of course. I mean, he's SIX, not 2! What the hell? He drew a basketball scene on the toilet paper/tissue tower thingie in the bathroom. I told him to erase it and he said, totally straight faced, "But momma, it's in PEN." Duh. Then he drew a shooting scene on the bunk bed frame. THEN I saw a few red, I don't know, amoebas? on the side table in the living room. Damn it! I asked him WHY on earth he'd do that when I already told him not to draw on anything but paper. His reply? "That one was before you told me."

One of these days.....

Almost Got Me

Yeah, I know why 90% of the people I go to school with are going for early childhood ed. Because they can do the education major and then just pick a minor. But me? Oh no, I'm doing secondary education. I have to have a real major, and then another education major. The result? Takes me twice as long.
So last night, in the wee hours, when I tend to obsess over everything, I almost broke down. I thought, if I drop the history major to a minor, I can finish a lot sooner and actually start teaching. BUT I wouldn't get to teach older kids.
This morning I awoke with a new sense of purpose, and my resolve is strong. I. WILL. FINISH.
Eventually.

I Know I'm Good

When Isaiah finished his homework last night, he took a red marker and drew a star and wrote "100" on it. I asked him what the heck he was doing, and he said, "Well, that's what my teacher does. I was just helping, I did it for her!"

Such confidence!!!

Not A Cry For Help

Oh, insecurity, you're a tricky little bastard, aren't you?

School and work and parenting and everything else at once isn't easy, but I had this idea that it was something like noble suffering, you know? Something like a trial. If I can make it through with my sanity (somewhat) intact, I win.
But what do I win?
The many times I've been told, directly and indirectly, that my hopes of getting a teaching position teaching high school history are nil, well, they're starting to create cracks in my fragile facade. What if I haul ass through school, somehow make it through student teaching, but DON'T get hired full time anywhere? I mean, look what happened with the police dept. Hauled ass through school, passed all their exams.... and still never got called. Yeah, I've been burned before.

Damn you, insecurity, for making me doubt myself.

And Each Other, Apparently

Dear Lord these children are going to be the death of me... and each other.

Hubs and I are still sitting over dinner, kids are done and playing. They start to fight over a pen. A freakin' pen. And not the Bic kind, with a soft ball at the end. Oh no. A fountain pen with a very sharp point.

You see where I'm going with this, don't you?

Isaiah asks for the pen. Daimean says no. Isaiah grabs for it, Daimean won't let go. He bends over, clutching the pen by his knees. Isaiah tugs, pulls it free, and it goes STRAIGHT INTO HIS NOSE.

They both knew something bad just happened. They moved apart, and Isaiah covered his nose with his hands, while tears filled his eyes. I reach for him, and calmly ask what happened - because at this point I believe they had bumped heads or something like that. Daimean tells me the pen went into Isaiah's nose, while Isaiah starts to cry.

And bleed. A lot.

Some ice, paper towels and love helped, and all is well now. Oh, except when he sneezed about 5 minutes later and gushed blood. But really, he's fine now.

And I've lost 5 more years of life expectancy.

My Kids Are Trying to Kill Me

Yesterday Isaiah gave me a heart attak, then just made me mildly uneasy.

In the morning, I don't know what the heck the kids were talking about, but Daimean asked Isaiah what he would do if someone in a van told him they'd give him candy if he'd go with them. Isaiah replies, "I'd check it out."
WHAT!?
Daimean says, "No! You never take candy from strangers!" to which Isaiah calmly replies, "I didn't say I'd take it! I said I'd check it out!"
So I called him over and talked to him about stranger danger (which we've talked about before, and they learn in school as well) and how bad people will try to lure kids in with candy, but you should run the other way and tell an adult you trust. Well, not I think I've scared him, because he's got tears in his eyes and his lip is quivering... so I ask what's wrong, and he says, "But I like candy!" *sigh*

Then later in the evening, I overhear him ask Daimean, "D, who's your favorite serial killer?"
WHAT!?!?
Daimean handled it like a pro, and I told him so. Afterwards. I didn't interfere, I wanted to see how this was going to unfold.

D: Isaiah, why would you even ask that?
I: I just wanna know. I won't tell!
D: It's not about whether you'll tell. Serial killers aren't funny. That's not a joke, and it's not something you should even be knowing about. Now stop talking about it.
I: Okay.


Serial killers, strangers with candy, too much SVU.... I'm going to have a heart attack before I'm 40!

Most. Awesome. Ever.

This is my Valentine's present from Hubs. It's a mix tape. Sort of. 2010 style. It's a USB stick packaged in a cassette looking box. With a list of songs that only he would put together for me. Like TKA "Louder Than Love", Elvis "Can't Help Falling in Love", Van Morrison "Brown Eyed Girl", Louis Armstrong "Wonderful World" which we danced to at our wedding, Beatles "I've Just Seen a Face", Incubus "Stellar", Michael Jackson "You Are Not Alone", Bill Withers "Ain't No Sunshine", Foo Fighters "Darling Nikki" .... and things like Erik B and Rakim "Know the Ledge", sure it's not a love song, but it makes him think of me :)Oh, and D'Angelo "Brown Sugar" even though I'm pretty sure I'd be bleached white packet sugar.

It's the little things, you know?

Friday Friday Friday

The day started out with us getting stcuk in the snow on the way to drop the kids off at school. No worries, I wasn't going to let it get me down. Even with Belly insisting we should abandon the Jetta and take the Jeep. Eventually got out of the snow bank, and got Daimean to school 10 minutes late.
Wait - let me summarize.
1) stuck in snow
2) Late to school. No one answers door to let child in.
3) Attempt to go to other school building's main office. 3 streets blocked by trucks.
4) Arrive 20 minutes late. Try to buy school sweatshirt, they don't have my size.
Still rockin my laid back friday vibe at this point. Until....
5) Pick up breakfast at McDonald's and find out they have royally botched it.

I lost it then. Sounded like I had Tourette's Syndrome.

But I recovered at lunch time when I went and picked up a new stainless steel crock pot for only $12. Score!

Which is More Dangerous to a Mom?

A) Watching too much Law & Order, Special Victims Unit
B) Watching too much Cold Case Files
C) Reading too many serial killer books
D) All of the above

The answer is D. Last night I had a terrifying nightmare that Daimean was abducted, and was texting me, asking me to help him. And I couldn't find him. Seriously, is there anything more heart stopping for a parent?

You Know it's Friday When

Today I brought a gun to work. No, not a real one. It has little plastic bbs, they don't hurt, exactly, but they sting. It was a Valentine's Day gift from Hubs. In honor of the St Valentine's Day Massacre maybe? I dunno.
Anyway, my office gets pretty wild on Fridays. So we played with the gun earlier, threatening people, flashing it from waist bands, etc. Then I put it away and went back to doing what I get paid to do.
But there's one person here who has made a running joke about being afraid of me. Yeah, all 5 feet of me. Anyway, I waited until he walked in our office, and I shot him. Didn't say a word, just pulled out the gun and shot him in the chest. Well of COURSE he was startled and jumped, grabbed his chest and looked like he'd really been shot. Then I said, "I'll give you something to be scared of."

THEN I laughed until I was crying and gasping for air. Ah, most fun I've had all day.

Boy, You'll Be a Man Soon

Isaiah lost his first tooth. Next thing you know, he'll be off to college.

Kids Say the Darndest Things

At the craft store tonight, Isaiah saw a small, wooden cross. He picked it up and asked if I wanted it. I said no thanks, I've already got plenty of crosses. So I asked him if he wanted it to hang up in his room. He said yes, then informed me, "This is the cross. Like the one that Judas got Jesus put on. Only this one is midgeter."

Prelude to this - why were we at the craft store in tonight's cold and snow? Because Daimean said, "Oh mom, I need a poster board and a stencil.... my science project is due tomorrow."

Did I say that kids say the darndest things? I meant the &@^%@!$@#%^ things!

Where No Woman Has Gone Before

Too… tired. Can’t… go on.

I do a decent Bill Shatner. Okay, I really don’t. I’m just feeling unmotivated.

New! Try It!

Last night we saw a McDonald’s commercial for a Big Mac snack wrap. As I understand it, it’s got Big Mac ingredients inside a soft tortilla. Looks awful, really horrid.
Isaiah gets excited and says, “Look! It’s a Happy Meal taco!” Then proceeds to tell the rest of us that since we like tacos, we should try it. I asked him if he’d be trying it, and he said, sadly, “No, I’m not a big fan of tacos.”

It Only Takes a Moment

Isaiah told me something today that stopped my heart. He said, “You know that thing that was on my shield? I ate it. I didn’t know.”

I must have looked puzzled, I assumed he ate a toy, for crying out loud. Then I thought about his shield, and he’d had a box of mints on it, so I asked about those. He said, “No. It was medicine. I didn’t know.”

Cue heart racing panic.

Daimean chimes in, “Yeah, he ate a Rolaids. It was on the dining room table.”

Yesterday I pulled a few coins, and for some reason, a Rolaids chewable tablet, from my pocket and absentmindedly set them on the table, then wandered off and forgot. Of course, one single Rolaids isn’t going to hurt him, but it’s a hell of a reminder that medicine often looks and/or tastes like candy, and it only takes one second for a child to eat it.

Please excuse me while I try to get my heart rate back under 200, and take a moment to be thankful that it was only antacid that I’d been careless with, and not Tylenol, Mortin or Excedrine – any of which may be found in my pockets or bag on any given day.