Going Huxtable, Snacking on TP, and Anxiety

There's not too much to say today. School is finally falling into a somewhat predictable routine and the kids are finally beginning to come out of their shells. On our way to have pictures made this morning, one of my boys turned around and said to me, "My mom won't even be sad that she forgot to make me dress up because I'm so H O T!" As he said this, the patted his rear. Geez. Maybe a bit toward the inappropriate side but at least I'm finding out that some of the kids have a sense of humor. Whew!

As for other things, I still don't have any word on what the verdict will be with Dasha's bus situation. I do know that she took three pretty major spills today, though. I absolutely understand someone's hesitancy to take responsibility for her when they have 30 or more other kids to watch, too. So, I've just sort of decided to let this whole situation slide to the side of my brain where dust bunnies live and I'll deal with it when I have something more to work with.

Beyond that, the biggest drama was more huffing, puffing, eye rolling, and stomping around here. At one point tonight, I had to go all Cliff Huxtable on the residents! Grant has decided that his only job between 4:00 and 9:00 should be to hold the office chair down with his butt and play Roblox online (like online Legos). When I ask him to do something like put his laundry away, he starts huffing and puffing like a freight train. At one point today, I called him Thomas the Tank. He didn't think it was funny. Lately, he doesn't seem to think too much about me is funny. But, while I was dealing with Dasha's homework and Annie's meltdown over not getting to drink a cup of milk left over from yesterday, I asked him to run upstairs and grab something for me. He huffed like he was working on the third little pig's house made of bricks! At that point, I just told him that he had two choices. (All of the books say let the kids have a choice - so I do). Choice one was to do what he'd been asked to do and be a "happy helper" when asked. In return for being a happy helper, he gets dinner and fresh folded laundry. Choice two was that he could find his own meals and do his own laundry and still have to get up off of his butt and help. I'm really not sure which option he chose. He is currently loading his laundry in the washer but he did clean his room up, too. Hmmm..... I might should sleep with one eye open tonight! I guess this is just "normal" middle school junk but it makes me nuts! There's enough work around here for five adults! I can't do it all myself and the big kids are more than capable of helping out. Why must he be some dramatic about everything?

And, just for kicks and giggles, I'll tell you what Dasha was doing while I was going Huxtable on Grant. Dasha decided to load this dishwasher. I think she was trying to stay under the radar, actually. However, she decided to put all of the scraps from the plates down the disposal. This included napkins, Annie's plastic fork, and a baby wipe that I'd used to clean Annie up. I heard her turn the disposal on from upstairs. Instead of making a sharp hum, it sounded like it was chewing on a blanket. I finally managed to fish everything out of the disposal only to watch Dasha "feed" it more napkins. Yep. I went nuts on HER at that point. When I asked her why she kept putting the napkins down the drain, she said, "I just don't want to walk to the trash can." OK, folks. Everyone is quite aware that I'm not playing with a completely full deck these days. I have way too many Jokers and Jesters in the deck and not enough Aces. But, when Dasha tells me something so ridiculous, I can literally feel my blood begin to boil. I'm not sure how long I stared at her before beginning Lamaze breathing and walking away. I sent her upstairs to get her bath only to find her sitting naked in the bathroom floor eating toilet paper. No, I'm not kidding. I didn't even ask, "Why," this time. I just told her to spit it out. (No, it wasn't the new softer TP that someone left in my mailbox! (Very funny, DB)! Grant already stashed those rolls in my bathroom)! I mean, what am I supposed to say or do? She's eating freaking toilet paper! Why? She's always eaten all sorts of weird things and the doctors have hundreds of reasons for it but it's just so hard to accept that this child who is capable of functioning "normally" some days would sit naked as a jay bird in the bathroom floor and snack of squares of TP. I'd like to be able to tell her that it would hurt her stomach but it never seems to. She must have the guts of a goat!

Anyway, beyond these minor hiccups in the day, things were pretty normal. Tomorrow, I have to take Dasha to have new braces cast. Fun. She has to have new knee immobilizers, foot something or anothers, and then new orthodics for her shoes. Fun.

As for me, I'm very anxious about this weekend. There's a huge part of me that feels like Eric gets to come back and play Disney Dad and be the fun one and take the kids fun places and do all of the things that I'd like to do with them. Yes, I know that it's a matter of priorities and that I could leave the chores behind and go have fun but I'm the one that has to face those chores when the begin to back up. And, the finances I have are already spent on necessities. Pooh. I guess I'm just always curious, too, as to what Eric is thinking. Is he thinking, "Geez, I'm so glad I left that bitch?" Or, does he ever even think about it? It's just one huge mystery. What I thought I knew for almost 20 years has vaporized into a mysterious thing. I don't even know where he lives! Oh well. It ultimately doesn't matter what he thinks. He made his choice over a year ago and although it's taken me almost six months, I've made mine too. He can't have me back even if he wanted me. Despite my decisions, I'm still anxious as to what the fall-out with the kids will be when he leaves. I'm pretty sure that Annie will spend the next couple of weeks asking where he is again. Hopefully, she won't do the tears this time, though. But, I just don't know what to expect of Grant and Dasha. Both of them want to be part of his world but he holds them at arm's length not wanting them to know any of the details of his daily life but just wanting to play dad at a surface level - just talk the talk, never mind the walk. Maybe this all sounds ugly. Maybe he reads this crazy stuff I write. I don't know. Maybe his relatives read it to him or call him to tattle on me and what I "said." I don't really care. This is my blog and these are the thoughts that I need to purge from my brain before heading to bed. Anxious about how well he'll play the role while he's here. Anxious about the aftermath that'll be left for me to clean up when he goes back to playing house. And, wondering if he'll even make it back for Thanksgiving or Christmas and what that will look like as a single mom. That's my reality.

Tonight, I'm heading to bed. I'm not taking any papers upstairs to grade and I'm sure not going to start more laundry or even turn the dishwasher on. I'm done.

Good night, all.

Joe Dirt, Billy the Exterminator, and Bad Bananas

Just checking in. I probably shouldn't say it but it was a pretty smooth day. Homework is finished. Bathrooms are cleaned. Laundry is "in progress." One child asleep. Two children reading. I'm about to try to hack into the school's grading system to fish my grade book out of cyberspace and then I'm going to bed, too.

The best part of today was the visit from the pest control guy. My parents have used the same company for... since dinosaurs roamed around, I guess. I called their "people" to get a second opinion on my mortgage-sized termite fix. When the guy walked in, I didn't quite know what to think. He looked like he'd walked straight out of the movie "Joe Dirt." If my mom hadn't been standing there, I might have laughed out loud. Anyway, Mr. Joe Dirt went back outside and crawled around under the hedges in the front yard a while and then paced the perimeter of the house and all inside the garage. Then, he came back in with a handful of dirt. He said, "See here. You got 'em in the molding out there yonder 'round your winders." I was in a real bind at this point. I was struggling with having Joe Dirt standing on my new floor with a handful of dirt and hearing him say that the little buggers had invaded the window frame, too. Cry? Laugh? Suck my thumb, rock back and forth, and say, "Find a happy place, find a happy place?" I ended up just staring dumbly at him for a few seconds. He asked me to come 'out yonder' with him and look at the damage for myself. Yep. I could see where they had snacked on the window molding (which had been caulked up and painted over by the last crew that painted our house - nice). When I finally admitted to him that Terminix had also surveyed the damage and relayed to him what their damage report said, he looked quizzically at me. The guy on Saturday told me they were in the soft part of the stucco. This guy told me that I don't have soft stucco. I have hard coat. He then began using a huge crow bar to chip away the bottom few inches of stucco to prove to me that there wasn't any Styrofoam in there. He invited me to stick my hand up under the stucco, too, but I know my limitations. Heck, this guy was like Billy the Exterminator and Joe Dirt rolled into one. Are you getting the image now? Anyway, he then went on to show me that the Terminix guy hadn't even tried to pull away the landscape cover from the wall to check a thing. I'm not prone (at this point in my life) to blindly believe what other folks tell me so I surveyed the situation myself. He was right. Not a piece of the decaying pinestraw behind the shrubs had been moved in any location other than the one Mr. Dirt had just exposed. Long story short, I ended up chatting with this guy for a while. He and his wife have two grown sons. One of the boys has Downs. I wish you could have seen Mr. Dirt's face when he talked about this child. He said that he's non-verbal and simply likes to sit and watch movies all day. He said that he had to transfer all of the movies to VHS tapes because his son gets excited and starts throwing them and can ruin them. Not once did a look of frustration cross his face. Geez. I wish I could be more like that. But, back to the bugs.  Basically, the little colony these critters have set up will only require a heavy spot treatment and then the rest of the house will be treated, as well. This guy will also do all of the stucco removal and handle the whole job for $700. So, the first guy is going to charge me $1300+ and that didn't include any of the demo. Mr. Dirt was lucky that I didn't give him a big hug! So, by Saturday, the colony having the all night buffet in my walls will be on its way OUT! Thank goodness! And, instead of destroying the sheet rock inside the house, this guy only needs to put several small nail-sized holes in. I admit that I did ask him how much he'd charge to get rid of the other "bugs" in the house (as I point to the rest of the clan - Annie sitting on the table eating ice cream, Grant at the table blowing air into his water so it splashed up in his face and was making Annie laugh hysterically, and Dasha trying to figure out how Grant was doing it but simply submerging her face in her glass). The guy said, "Anything with two legs or under gets way out of your budget, mam."

As for the update on day two of Grant's sex ed class, he wasn't as amused today as yesterday. I guess the novelty wore off. Today was on HIV  and AIDS. He didn't have too much to say about it. However, I did learn that my joking around yesterday with him about terminology for out of control parts backfired. Now, he's acting like he's in 4th grade and commenting on anything that resembles, well, you know - a banana. I finally had to put an end to the silliness when Annie picked up a long Lego and declared that she had a "banana." Yeah, she was pretending to have a real banana to eat... oh, my.... ok. Let's change topics. Anyway, no more body part names in front of Annie. Dasha has been sequestered to the library during the sex ed classes for the last two days. She thinks that she's having some sort of privilege. I can't imagine what the girls are learning!!! Can you imagine the look on her face if she'd had to listen to some of those conversations? Wow.

OK, so I'm heading into cyber space now and then to bed.

Good night, all.

Captain's Log, August 29, 2011 - Sassiness and One-Eyed Willy

3:00 a.m. - "Mama, I scared. I cuddle in your bed?" This was sweet when it started about 2 weeks ago. The girl sleeps like she's a squid. She literally puts her legs across your back (or in your face) and can't sleep unless at least 70% of her body is touching yours.

5:30 a.m. - "Mama, what that noise? Mama? Wake up Mama! I hear the birds."

6:20 a.m. - "Mama, I wanna take my blocks to Miss 'Tima's house." No problem until all gazillion of them spill across the sidewalk while trying to get everyone to the car.

7:00 a.m. - "Oh, Mom! I forgot! I need more lunch money!" Perfect timing since I don't have any cash or my checkbook!

7:01 a.m. - "Mom? I forgot to get some of those things from the box at home and I don't have any in my bag." Well, now. I don't have any of those things in my purse so I guess I'll go try to barter crayons for pads.

7:15 a.m. - "Bye, Mom! Wish me luck! I'm going to learn about S E X today." Yep. He got my attention with that one! I'd forgotten that it was sex ed day.

7:30 a.m - bell rings and students enter

7:45 a.m. - "Ms. Randolph? I just can't stop itching." As I gingerly look around to see what body part is being scratched, yep, it's the part that kids normally complain about being itchy if it's not clean! Ugh. I managed to say something like, "Did you tell your mom about this before you got on the bus this morning?" The kid looked at me bewildered and said, "No way!" Seriously? I don't know if I should feel privlidged or degraded. (I talked with mom a bit later to find out that he's on meds for a yeast infection. I didn't know boys could get those)!

8:00 - 2:30 p.m. - Thankfully, pretty uneventful but productive and fun all at the same time.

3:10 p.m. - As I pick Annie up from the sitter's house, "Mama's here! Look what I made for you!" She handed over a car made from bristle blocks. Seriously? She's 2 years old! When I told her we needed to hurry and leave, she hugged the other little boy and gave him a kiss on the cheek. It was quite sweet until my warped mind fast forwarded about 15 years and replayed the scene! Ugh!

3:40 p.m. - "Mom, do you know what a stiffy, wood, and a long dong are?" At that point, I had two choices, play completely dumb and blow it all off or act wise beyond my years and mortify him with some other names that he could add to the category. I went with the second option and got the reaction I wanted - a completely mortified 11 year old! Timeless! I did revisit the conversation with him to find out more about what he'd learned in sex ed today. I was very thankful that his band director was the point of redelivery for the information and that the group he was with was pretty tame. I do admit, though, that I love those moments when I can completely shock him into thinking that maybe I'm not SO old that I don't know anything at all!

4:00 p.m. - "Mom, don't you have a code to use to get my social studies book online?" I limply drug myself to the office and riffled around in the file cabinet to give her a solid, "Nope!" She stomped off toward the table. (These new floors make everything ten times louder so it sounded as if a herd of elephants was trekking through the house)! I followed the herd to figure out what drama was about to unfold. So, tonight, she didn't bring her social studies book home and chose not to fill her agenda out because she "didn't have time." Hmmm.... My sassy retort was, "Maybe I just don't have time to feed you dinner tonight." Ok. Not so mature and not very appropriate for a mommy but I was tired and didn't want drama. Without missing a beat, Dasha sassed back, "Well, maybe I don't want any dinner!" Lamze breathing was never handy during child birth but I've found it quite useful when trying to convince yourself to slow down and walk away. In retrospect, my response to her sure wasn't very loving or caring and I guess she simply responded in like nature. Put another gold star on my chart, please!

6:00 p.m. - "Grant, go get your uniform on. Papa will be here in just a minute to take you to scouts." Once again, I was met with stomping. I'm going to have to start some sort of marching band or step group to give all of these stompers a constructive outlet for their stomping! OOOOOHHHH! I just figured it out! I need rolls and rolls of bubble wrap! They could just stomp their little hearts out popping the bubbles! (I shock myself with my Solomon-like wisdom sometimes)! Anyway, Grant did go get his uniform on but then informed me that he needed quite a bit of money for some stuff at school. Really? I might as well just let the county divert my paycheck to the middle school! Oh well.

6:15 p.m. - As we're eating dinner, Dasha is literally sitting with her mouth hanging open letting mac n' cheese dribble out. It was like watching some sort of mental patient eat! My conversation with her began something like, "Dasha, when you see other kids at school eating like animals, what do you think in your head?" (Note, the whole time, I'm hoping that she keeps those thoughts in her head and doesn't say them aloud). She responded to me with a questioning look, "I think they are gross!" Ok. At least she recognizes what table manners should NOT look like. I responded with, "What do you think other people think about YOU when they see you eating like that?" She just sat and stared at me. I didn't know if she'd even heard me. She just had a blank look. I finally asked, "Do you ever think about how other people see you?" She finally answered, "No." She was serious. She absolutely lives in her own bubble without any worry of those around her. I guess, in a way, that's a blessing but there are some definite positive things about peer pressure. - like Grant deciding that showering isn't such a bad thing when other kids begin to notice your stench! Anyway, it's moments of realization like tonight that I just wonder what the future will hold for Dasha. She's 13 and oblivious to what others think about her. Wow. That explains a lot but also gives me quite a bit to ponder!

7:30 p.m. - "Mama, I don't need a bath tonight. I don't smell like a pig." Oops. I guess she'd overheard my pleas to Grant about showering a few too many times! Ok, yeah, I admit. I didn't bathe her. Bathing her is like trying to bathe a wild cat with 15 arms and legs! She's fine until you get her hair and face wet. Then, she's like a little Gremlin bursting out of its pod! In fact, she gets crazy enough to be the gang leader, Stripe!

8:00 p.m. - "Dasha, I asked you to get a bath while I got Annie ready for bed. What happened?" The girl looked at me and said (this is verbatim), "I decided that I'd rather just read for now and get a bath later on when I feel like it!" Once again, Lamaze breathing saved me from a night in lock up at the Cherokee County Sheriff's office! Where has the compliant, sweet girl gone?

8:30 p.m. - "Mama, I scared. I want in your bed! You cuddle me now!" Crap, crap, and more crap! The girl is persistent and conniving. (Maybe you can't / shouldn't really call a 2 year old conniving). I told her that we weren't going to my bed and that I'd rock her and read her another book. Of course, she picks the worst Dr. Seuss book ever written for me to read to her - There's a Wocket in my Pocket. I hate that book! I would gladly read Caps for Sale, Old Hat, New Hat, or even If You Give a Moose a Muffin (or a Mouse a Cookie or a Cat a Cupcake - basically - don't give animals human food)! Anyway, the read was worth it. She actually fell asleep right in my lap and started snoring before I'd finished the book. It was the kind of sleep where they just go limp and you have to carefully put them into bed for fear of an arm or leg getting twisted up under them. I admit that once she fell asleep, I rocked her quite a while longer. It's one of those things that I won't be able to do with her forever. (Good grief. The thought of me trying to put Grant in my lap and rock him is just hysterical. Ugh - especially after his questions this afternoon).

9:00 p.m. - "Mom, how do twins form and why are sperm called tadpoles?" This was a complete sneak attack. There was no warning before he lobbed this at me. Maybe it was his way of paying me back for my earlier response to his question in the car. I was able to answer the last part of his question without any problem. (I didn't know quite how much he knew so I started off very vague but he kept asking for more details). I did my best to answer the first question based on what I'd learned in Mrs. Pittman's biology class back in high school. Heaven help me! If I'm struggling to answer these questions for him at 11, what am I going to be telling him at 18? Do they make a "Puberty for Dummies" book? I figured it was a good time to debrief about what he'd learned today, as well, though since we were already on the subject. I was glad to hear that they'd been told to "keep it in your pants" but not thrilled with the "here are ways to hide your ------ (multiple choice of vocabulary after our earlier conversation)." Maybe this is a good conversation to have with a boy. It's sure not one that I would have ever thought to have. I got quite a chuckle when he explained the different ways of keeping out of control objects (um, I guess that would be an object - not plural) off of the radar. This conversation led back to matters of the heart and he shared what he was thinking with and processing right now. He never fails to amaze me with the depth of his understanding. There were several moments when I had to call a time-out just so I could process what he'd said. He likes to talk in metaphors and similes. It's like trying to have a heart-to-heart conversation with Socrates. At one point, I wanted to cry out, "Must. Stop. Energy. Levels. Depleted. Brain. Hurts. Must. Rest." Geesh! Anyway, my heart breaks for him because he truly "gets" so much of what's going on right now. I finally sent Socrates off for a shower. He's been in the shower quite a while. I don't dare go near the bathroom for fear of what might be going on, though. How am I supposed to deal with this? I'm in foreign territory where I don't know the rules of engagement and I feel like I'm going to take a bullet to the chest at any moment! Ugh! Boys are so weird!

10:45 p.m. - I'm heading to bed having successfully procrastinated and can now justify that it's too late to clean up the kitchen or finish grading papers. I stink at time management. I've got to get this figured out. The moment I have the kids situated and have my first free moments of the day, I just feel like doing nothing productive! Oh well.

I did not delete last night's post as I'd planned to do. In a few weeks, I want to be able to look back on last night as a turning point - a defining moment. Last night, the light that has been flickering on and off in my brain stayed lit. The light is on and I'm definitely home. I am a person of worth whether he wants me or not. My kids are worth fighting for and so am I. I will not go down with the ship. In the words of Annie, "Argh! I'm a pirate!" (I won't be calling any pirates "One Eyed Willy" after my discussion with Grant, though)!!!!!!

Good night, all!

Grieving the Loss

Throughout the counseling process, the counselor continued to talk about identifying your losses and grieving them individually. I had quite a list of losses. However, tonight, I'm adding a new one to the list. I'm grieving the loss of the person I "thought" I was married to. I thought there was integrity, a Biblical foundation, and a strong conviction for family first. Tonight, I officially know that it was all a lie. I'm not grieving the loss of Eric. Jana can have him. Obviously, they're perfect for each other - A man who would openly cheat on his wife and leave her alone with no help with three kids and a silly young twenty-something who knows that she's seducing and sleeping with a married man but continues to do so. I don't want him or need him. I don't know him. He can ride off into the sunset with his beautiful new lover and I'll simply bid them, "Adieu." It's kind of like that moment when you realize the truth about Santa Claus. Except with this, I don't even want to savor the memories. I want to be brain washed of it all. That would be doable if it weren't for the fact that I have to look at Annie every day who has his face, his attitude, and his soul. She's a walking memory. It was all one big joke. Sometimes, I think I should grieve the loss of my innocence, too. (Along with the kids'). Just when I think the roller coaster is slowing down, I realize that the operator was simply pressing the clutch in to down-shift and increase the speed with no regard for the posted speed limit.

Good freaking night, all!

Rows vs. Columns, My Gingerbread House, and RAGE

Update...

Flooring - Ask dad to start staggering the slats this morning. It doesn't work. The end he started with doesn't line up with slats that you have to cut. So. I now have a mishmash of rows, columns, and staggers. Oh well. We stopped for the night. Dad was SO tired. He was having a hard time picking his feet up and his speech was so slurred that I had to keep asking him what he'd said. Since his stroke, this is an obvious indicator that he's exhausted. I feel so guilty that he's worked himself into this sort of spot. He told my mom that he wants the house to look perfect before Eric gets here next weekend. I hate it even more that he feels that kind of responsibility and pressure.

Squatters - As we moved the baseboards from the front wall, I noticed a huge blackish-brown spot on the back side of the molding. Upon investigation, I realized that it was a hole with bugs in it. Perfect. More inhabitants that don't pay rent. My hope was that these were some sort of wood eating ants but I knew better. I called Terminix (I cancelled my pest control contract with them last month - of course) and ask them what to do. They said they'd send someone out immediately. As soon as they acted excited to send someone out, I knew that this was not going to be cheap. They were seeing dollar signs and I was seeing stars. So, the guy came out and confirmed that the little squatters were termites and that they were in the front wall of the house. I now know that termites find stucco to be a very yummy snack. I finally ask the guy the big question and wanted to know what the financial damage would be to get rid of the critters. He pulled his phone out and started punching in numbers. Then, he just showed me the screen. He didn't even say it out loud. The screen simply read 1320. I'm smart enough to know that they didn't dispatch someone immediately on the chance of making $13.20. I couldn't help it. My eyes welled up and there was no stopping the tears. I know the guy thought I was a loon but that's more than my house payment! He didn't stop there, though. He continued to tell me that we could hire a Terminix contractor to cut the stucco off the front of the house above the soil line for $25 per foot. (There are 23 feet involved). But, since he was such a "nice guy," he told me that I could rent an emery cutter for about $100 and do it myself. This idiot had seen the inside of my house with the flooring going in and he thinks I'm competent to cut the front of my house off? Crap was definitely NOT the word I was thinking. The guy finally asked me if I wanted him to come back on Monday or Tuesday afternoon to do the work. Um, no! When he realized that I was about to completely lose control and have a real live melt-down, he said, "Well, we do have financing. How's your credit?" I wish I could have summoned Clark Howard and Dave Ramsey and had them attack this guy. However, I guess I have to figure something out before the stupid little bugs eat my house like it's some gingerbread house made of cookies and icing. I'm going to make some phone calls on Monday and see what my options are. For now, I guess there's an all night buffet going on in the wall of my living room. (On the bright side, if we hadn't removed the baseboard, who knows how long those little bugs would have gone unnoticed).

I seriously thought I was over having ill-thoughts about Eric when these things happen. This would have happened even if he'd been here. Those bugs don't really care whose house they're nibbling on. But, as I swung the hammer over and over again putting those boards into place, I noticed that dad kept moving further and further back. I have a feeling that the sheer anger swirling around in me right now might just give me enough energy to finish the whole dang floor by myself this afternoon! Swinging that hammer felt pretty good.

Anyway, that's the majority of my day. I'm posting now because once I go retrieve the kids from mom, I have a feeling that it'll be a roller coaster until I drop into bed at whatever time tonight.

So, here's an early, "Good night, all," but I'll also add, "Don't let the bed bugs bite!" Do termites bite people?

The Eye of the Hurricane?

I've waved a white flag. I've tried to reside in "numb mode." I've tried to pretend that this is the new normal. Nothing is working.

When I got to work this morning and turned my computer on, I had an email from Dasha's IEP holder at school. The email simply says that she doesn't need to continue riding the regular bus. She needs to ride the special ed bus (the short bus) because she's having too much trouble getting on and off the bus. No big deal. Right? Wrong! When we wrote her last IEP, there wasn't a special ed bus that leaves from my school (where the kids get on) to the middle school. I can't drop her off via car line because the kids can't go into the middle school building until 8:00 and I have to be at school by 7:20. The math just doesn't work. I could transfer her to our "home" school so she'd be in district and a special ed bus could pick her up at the house but our zone doesn't catch the bus until a little after 8:00. Same problem. I can't leave her home alone to catch the bus. Perfect. So, I've filed a petition to see if they will divert a special ed bus to our school to pick her up. What happens if I get a, "No?" I'm not sure but it might just be the last straw for my emotional stability. Why? Why? Why? I've been through this a hundred times. What lesson am I supposed to learn from this journey? What's the "take away?" I thought I had figured all of that out but the barrage just seems to continue.

To top it all off, I came home to find that Dad was laying the flooring down. Once again, let me preface things with how grateful I am. However, he hasn't staggered any of the slats. They all line up in rows in columns like grid paper. There are huge seams running across the floor where the slats end and begin in unison. What am I supposed to do? He completely wore himself out today but was so proud of his work! I tried in vain to remove the boards myself so I could spend the night re-laying them correctly. But, I can't budge the darn things without damaging the tongue-and-groove mechanisms. I'm sure the sight of me and Grant sitting on our butts both tugging at the same board was hysterical to outsiders, though. Ugh. At this point tonight, I think I'll just suggest that we start staggering them where he left off. Maybe I can find a beautiful rug to lay down over the other area for distraction. Crap. My heart can't bear the thought of making my dad think I'm disappointed with his workmanship but it's just blaring not right. (Having his blood sprinkled across the boards as evidence of his hard work doesn't help me too much, either, where he sliced his finger with a box cutter). I'd just decided to wait a few weekends to start the job so that we could enlist the help of some more knowledgeable folks. However, once he started ripping up carpet yesterday, I knew that there was no turning back.

So, I'm heading to bed knowing that in the morning I get to face my dad and potentially hurt his pride and trying to figure out how to keep Dasha in school while keeping my own job. Just some light brain teasers!

There have been bright spots this week and I know that I'm letting the dark clouds block the light but DANG! I just can't seem to catch a break!

"I cry out, 'My splendor is gone! Everything I had hoped for from the LORD is lost!'" (Lamentations 3:18 NLT).

My prayer is that I can begin to see more bright spots and less thunderstorms as I close out this chapter of my life. I don't like being like this. I don't like the fog that clouds my heart and prevents me from experiencing life with the kids to its full extent. No matter how much I try to keep things in focus using this lens, though, it seems like the cloud just follows over my head - kind of like Pooh and the little black rain cloud. The faster I run, the faster and larger it gets. At this point, we've moved through thunderstorm, tropical depression, and right up the scale to a category 5 hurricane! I'm tired of being fearful of those calm moments. I don't want to always wonder if I'm just standing in the eye and waiting for the winds to begin whipping back through and wreaking havoc. I'm also tired of removing a few sandbags thinking the storm has passed only to figure out that the storm surge hasn't reached it's full potential yet. Basically, I just want out of the storms and some clear skies for a while. I know that I was never promised an easy life and I'm ok with that but I didn't know that I'd have to endure this sort of crap.

Good night, all.

Help! They're losing brain cells and I can't find them anywhere!

Thursday's Drama...

• I emailed Dasha's teacher for the class that she has a 34.75 average in. Apparently, this is all self-directed and Dasha is failing because she takes too long. Hmmmm..... I'd have a whole bunch of pissed off parents if I told them that their kiddo was failing because they weren't pacing and monitoring their own work and then didn't tell them until a few days before the module was closed out. So, she has to go to school early for makeup sessions which will still be computer / self driven and it really won't change anything other than the fact that she'll have longer to sit there not knowing what to do. When I went to sign her agenda after she'd told me that she didn't have any homework, I found notes from teachers saying that she hadn't brought her things to class and should do them for homework. Um, guess what! Those same books that she didn't take to class are still in her locker at school! Am I really surprised? Dasha told me that she could just do all of the work during homeroom in the morning. We'll see how that works out for her.
• I came home to find Dad ripping carpet and my current hardwoods out of the foyer, living room, and dining room. The furniture is simply stacked on top of itself and all of the kids' things that were in the rooms are now stacked on top of the precariously perched furniture. I hadn't gotten all of the odds and ends and crap out of the areas so I'm clueless as to their whereabouts. My old antique clock is now laying on the floor with a lamp sitting on top of the beveled glass front. I'd move it but I can't get to it. As I said, I'm so grateful for the gift of new floors but I would really like to have a better plan in place before bringing in a demo team of one and letting him loose with a crowbar and box cutter! He plans on coming back tomorrow morning to finish off the hardwoods (glued directly to the concrete slab) and take the molding off. I'm now Googling and watching as many You Tube videos about laying 12 mm laminate flooring as I can find hoping to save this situation from disaster. (I even Googled how to use a table saw and install the blade correctly). Anyway, enough of that. I should be thankful and just leave it at that.
• Grant told me that he only had a bit of homework so helped Dad with the demo. Funny thing, about 8:30, he suddenly decided that he had more than just a "bit" of homework. I just finished doing a worksheet on prepositions, writing sentences from the Wizard of Oz with prepositional phrases, reading The Wounded Wolf, and doing a worksheet about character motives, conflicts, and story elements for Grant while he tackled his social studies. (By the way, this would be the same social studies class that has shown an "art" video two days this week with tons of nude relics. Yeah). Grant also just informed me that he didn't do well on his preposition test (maybe because mom did the homework) and needs to be at school at 7:40 in the morning for a tutoring session and to retake the test. Hmmmmm.... If I have to be in my classroom and receiving kids at 7:30, something isn't going to work out so well!
• And then, there's Annie. Annie is pretty consistent in the insane department. She still has a cold so that doesn't help her attitude much. She hates it when her nose runs so she's resorted to asking you if she can wipe her nose on your shirt. It's gross! I guess the sitter lets her do this. After she slimed me the first time, I gave up and became her personal walking Kleenex, too. Oh well. Her newest trick today was turning every word into at least four syllables. I swear she must have watched Hee-Haw today or something like that! She sounds like some country bumpkin! When she answers "yes," she says "yea -aaaaa - sss." And the word "then" comes out "theeeee-unnnnn." It's so weird but funny. If it continues on, I think it'll lose it's humor, though. She also completed her first "real" puzzle today. It had 20 pieces and was of Tinkerbell. I was pretty impressed. But, at the same time, my heart broke a little to realize how fast she's growing up. Before long, she's going to be ten (still with a paci and diapers, though)! Anyway, Annie can be my undoing with her temper or my bright spot with her revelations about life. I'm more thankful for her everyday - especially as the older kids seem to be veering toward a mental facility or a maximum security prison.
• As for me, I'm over middle school. So far, the only positive thing I can say is that the building is nice and clean! I can't begin to tell you how many videos the kids have watched and how many questionable conversations teachers have engaged in with students. I can see that two of Dasha's teachers actually teach and one of Grant's teachers but the other teachers seem to hand out busy work and then expect the kids to go home and read their text books and figure out the missing pieces. Problem is, when Dasha comes home, ALL of her pieces are missing and we're left at ground zero! I can NOT continue to teach 24 kids all day long and then come home and reteach the 6th grade curriculum. I'm so tired that I literally don't remember driving to work this morning. While I'm trying to keep everyone above water academically, I'm still trying to shield everyone from the emotional shrapnel flying around, too. Eric is coming to town for Labor Day weekend so that will add another layer of stuff to deal with. So, this weekend, I will pretend to be Bob the Builder and learn to use a table saw and lay laminate flooring with Dad. Maybe it will be a time of bonding or maybe it will be a time of wondering how my mom let him live this long! Who knows! I'm just praying that this floor goes together as smoothly as it's supposed to. Now, I'm heading to crawl into bed with a humongous stack of papers to be graded. I literally fell asleep in this same stack of papers last night while I was grading them. Hopefully, I can stay awake long enough to get the necessities taken care of so parents won't begin to wonder who in the world they're leaving their babies with all day long! I am thankful, though, that my classroom has finally begun to fall into a routine and the kids are finally coming out of their shells more and laughing at my lame jokes to puff up my ego a bit. I still haven't gotten comfortable with administrators wondering around my room with clipboards making unknown notes and then silently leaving. Are they taking some sore of data on my sanity status? (This is happening to every teacher, though). I guess it wouldn't bug me so much if I thought that these folks even knew who I was! I've never really even spoken to two of them personally (although one of them lives up the street from me and I've been SO tempted to station myself in the shrubs and lob Nerf darts from a high powered toy at her as she walks her frouffy little dogs). I don't expect to be their best friend or even their friend but I'd like to at least have them know my name before they start analyzing who I am as a professional. OK. Enough of that. Once again, the flip side of that coin is that I'm SO thankful to have a job that affords me great hours (sans the 6:20 a.m. departure), insurance, a solid enough salary to keep everything turned on, food on the table, and a roof over our heads. Whew. That's actually a whole lot to be thankful for. Although, I may have a roof over my head but I might not have flooring under my feet after tomorrow! Ah. That's minor, I guess. So, as I said twenty minutes ago, I'm heading to bed to grade papers and make sure that all of the other inmates are locked away and won't be trying to wrap me up in the massive piece of carpet that's now laying in my backyard with who knows what kind of spores and mold living in it. Good night, all.

Gimme a break!

So, this is simply an "I'm alive" kind of post. Yes. I'm still alive and so are all three of the Siamese Fighting Fish that I have trapped under one roof!

After I discovered Grant's cleaning secret (nothing like Victoria's), he was pretty bummed to know that he'd be on techno restriction for a week. He tried to negotiate his sentence but he really should have hired a better lawyer because he lost. The remainder of his days have been spent on school work which he decides to get serious about at 9:00 at night and then goes to bed after midnight only to have me literally drag him from bed the next morning. This morning, his wake up call came via a squirt bottle of ice water.

Dasha has spent her days this week on homework. She starts as soon as we cross the threshold and only stops for dinner. Ususally, I have to wave the white flag about 9:00 and simply call it quits. I just checked her grades online to find that she has a 34 average in one class. It's a technology class. What the heck? When I started to question her about the situation, she couldn't even tell me the teacher's name. When I ask her if she ever asked the teacher for help, she told me that she had to log into her computer and "text" him for help. I give up. She can barely get her thoughts from her brain to her mouth much less make those thoughts take another route and have to be typed out. Do I talk to the teacher? Do I give it more time? She thought a 34 was good.

Then, there's Annie. She's had a cold so that always put her in a most jovial mood. NOT! Despite her attitude, she still continues to amaze me with her verbal abilities as well as her agility. I'm beginning to think I should skip the swing set idea and go for something more along the lines of one of those agility courses that trainers use to work with dogs! Anyway, today, while we were waiting in car line to pick up the big kids, Annie and I were discussing animals and where they live. When I asked her where a cow lives, she quickly and frankly said, "Chick-fil-A!" I admit, I didn't correct her. It was too cute. (I'm dwelling on that cute anecdote as she clings to my leg whining that she wants to go "somewhere." She hates being home and prefers to be on the go constantly)!

As for me, I'm hanging by a thread. Trying to deal with this whole middle school drama has been too much. From the things that the kids are hearing and asking questions about to the sheer volume of seemingly pointless homework assignments, I'm weary. I was glad to mark Curriculum Night off of my list last night since that is another one of those situations where you have to smile all night and pretend that the parent you're talking to doesn't belong to the kid that told you earlier in the day that they slept in the bed every night with mommy and daddy and showered with daddy sometimes. (Not so bad until you know I'm talking about a little girl)! I'm convinced that some gene pools simply need a couple of gallons of Clorox added in every few years! (My pool might need some muriatic acid)! Anyway, I thought I'd feel better after that was over but now I'm moving on to trying to destroy my living room and dining room in order to put this new flooring down this weekend. It just never seems to end. Yesterday, I discovered that my poor van's air conditioner was, indeed, fried by its attempt to swim on Saturday afternoon in the flooded parking lot. To top it off, my counselor has decided that she doesn't think I'm serious about the sessions and thought I should "look for other options." Um. Yep. Be glad to. I quickly told her I'd be glad to send the notebook back to her, as well. Maybe I should see if Dasha's therapists offer buy-one-get-one-free sessions.

Things aren't as bad as I'm making them sound. I'm just tired and so frustrated with the big kids. Between homework and attitudes, I feel like I'm running some specialized wing that houses mental patients! Without my parents' help over the last few weeks, I really don't know what I would have done. They have constantly prepared dinners, watched the kids, and are now putting down new flooring. I really never thought I'd be one of those people who ends up being dependent on their parents again in their 30s but I guess I'm there. I really don't like it. When it's their money, I feel like I have to give them the final say on things. No. They don't expect that but I feel that way. I just can't figure out how to make this work any other way.

Anyway, I'm headed off to bathe a grumpy toddler, check homework for a native Russian speaker doing prepositions, and a freaking whiny butt who keeps procrastinating about finishing homework and once again didn't bring the right books home - not to mention the pile of papers that I need to get graded and the pile of laundry piling up and now flowing down the stairs. When do I get a break?

Good night, all.

Girly Cupcakes, Swimming Vans, and Hidden Undies

OK, so just when I thought I'd figured out what MY problem was, everything hits the ceiling AGAIN! As I've been dissecting my feelings over the last couple of days, I figured out that my love tank is empty. This sounds silly. Yeah. Basically, I've given all I have to give and I'm running on empty! I give to 24 children all day long plus do the ridiculous bidding of the administrators and politicians running the building. Then, I head home and give to all three kids until they drop off to sleep. Then, I give to keeping the house in running order. Some nights, that means paying the bills. Other nights, that means doing laundry or packing lunches. I'm just all give out! There's nothing left to give. Kaplooey! Zip-O. Done.

Then, my question became, well, "How do I refill the tank?" Yes, there are absolutely ways that I can re-energize and renew my spirit but I'm even emotionally empty. There are no more tears to cry. There are no more tantrums of "It's not fair-itis" to throw. There's truly nothing but auto pilot.

While I was pondering this, I decided to try to do something fun and different with the kids this morning. I heard about a cute little cupcake and ice cream shop across town. I figured the kids would love to substitute one of those choices for a PB&J sandwich for lunch so we loaded up and headed out.

They're coming to get my food!

Do you seriously want me to share this?

I thought I was doing something nice. Grant actually was quite a pill (that's putting it kindly) all the way to the store but I figured he'd get over it. When we got there, Grant and Dasha decided that they wanted ice cream instead of a cupcake. Geez. We could have gotten ice cream back on our side of the world AND I had budgeted for cupcakes - not ice cream that you pay for by the ounce! I tried to curtail the big kids' toppings and encouraged them to choose lighter toppings like sprinkles instead of M&Ms. That didn't go over so well, though. Oh well. So, two cups of ice cream and one cupcake took a $18 chunk out of the budget. Are you serious? These folks really thought highly of those cupcakes! Like I said, "OH WELL!"

As we got back into the van, Grant suddenly got sullen again. I'd just about had it. I finally told him he had two choices. Choice one was to tell me what he was pouting about and choice two was to tell me what he was pouting about AND have a consequence. He burst out with, "That is such a chick joint!" What? Really? Are you kidding me? After a few more questions, he told me that all of the GIRLS at school talked about going to this little cupcake place and he felt like I'd insulted his manliness by "forcing" him to go there. Hmmmm... He sure didn't seem to mind it so much when he was downing his $7 cup of ice cream! I really tried to just let it go and believe that this was just one of those weird middle school things that I was just going to have to go along with despite not understanding it. Meanwhile, the girls were in the back of the van talking about going to grandma's house to get more ice cream. My thought was, "Yeah, you could have two gallons of ice cream AND M&Ms!"

When we got back home, I gave Dasha a list with three chores on it to complete while I went upstairs to finish laundry. I'm trying to get all of the DVDs and toys out of the living room before we start the job of ripping up the carpet to put the new flooring down. I know that if I have things clean and organized before the demo begins, I'll be in a much better place mentally! Anyway, I put Annie down for a nap and told Grant that his room had to be cleaned before he could do anything else. I also told him that it needed to be done up to MY quality standards - not his!

I left the kids to their various tasks and headed to my room to fold the tower of laundry that was oozing off of my bed. I ironed and folded for almost an hour before I heard a scratching sound. I thought maybe Annie was up. Nope. I went to check Dasha's room. One of the jobs that she'd needed to tend to was moving some of her winter clothes into a plastic storage box. The scratching was coming from inside the box. Yep. My cat. Inside the box. Lid snapped on tight. Should I cry? Nope. It doesn't help. It just depletes my energy. When I asked Dasha to explain the situation, she could only tell me that it was an accident. Yeah. And my finishing off those chocolate chip cookies was an accident, too! Whatever! Believe it or not, I just walked away. I still haven't even addressed it with her. It doesn't seem to matter. She'll agree that it's a bad thing today but then do it again tomorrow. It's pointless. I guess I'm just going to have to give my poor old cat away. She's too old for this kind of torture. I just went back to folding laundry. I really sort of felt like Rainman. Standing there taking great comfort in folding clothes. Kmart sucks. Kmart sucks. Kmart sucks.

Then, this afternoon Dad and Grant went to a race at Dixie with the scouts so I decided to try to convince mom to let me stash the other two inmates with her. Mom agreed to take charge and I was left to figure out what to do. I had two options. My first option was to go and get a pedicure. This is a major luxury but one that I try to take every so often. My second option was to go roam the fabric store without any children trying to kill old ladies on scooters or escape from the buggy (remember that trip)? I decided to head to the fabric store. I've wanted to make a new curtain for my bathroom for some time so I thought tonight would be a good night to look for something suitable. Mom asked me to return a couple of things for her at a neighboring store while I was out. Obviously, I agreed quickly for fear that she'd renig on the babysitting deal!

I took the longest route possible to the fabric store. I opened the sunroof, the windows, and turned my music up. It was just what I needed. (If I'd only known what was coming next, I would have just gotten onto 285 and kept doing laps all night long)! When I reached Hobby Lobby to return mom's stuff, I noticed that it was getting cloudy and I thought I heard a rumble of thunder. The ONLY concerning thoughts I had at that point were about Dad and Grant at the race and being pretty sure that they didn't have an umbrella and calling Mom to tell her that Annie has just developed quite a fear of thunder. So, I stopped and called Mom and then went on in the store. About the time I'd finished the transaction, the bottom fell out. It was like the scene from Forrest Gump where he describes the rain as "coming up from the ground." Oh well. I decided to roam around the store for a bit while the rain slowed to more of a monsoon-type rain. I could hear the rain pelting the roof but I really didn't think too much of it until someone on the loud speaker said, "Could the owner of a white van please come to the front of the store?" Yeah. At best, my thought was, "Crap!" I was quite sure that they weren't calling me to the front to tell me that they were going to give me a million dollars for driving a white mini-van! Nope. There was quite a gathering of folks standing in the foyer of the store staring toward where I'd parked the van. The van was swimming. Yep. The water was up over the door jamb. All of these jerks standing there were laughing about it. As I stood there wordlessly trying to figure out what to do, I just felt lost. Some how, I finally got my senses together and realized that I could wait the rain out but the water in the parking lot probably wouldn't recede very quickly. The drain in the parking lot was obviously stopped up. Or, I could just make a run for it and crawl in through the back of the van and try to move the van before any more damage was done. I went with the second option. I literally shoved my way through the amused patrons and ran toward the van. Before I reached the van, the water was up to my calf. Not good. Now, I had all of those goof-balls watching me, too. So, I popped the back of the van with the remote (yeah, real cool like Knight Rider or something). What I'd neglected to think about was the stroller and the box of clothes that were stowed back there to go to the consignment store. Great. Somehow, I managed to crawl over everything and over the back seat knowing that everyone was watching my wet butt struggle over the seat. By this time, I was majorly pissed and crying. For me, those two things don't translate into grace or patience. I finally dropped into the driver's seat and looked around to see that most of the carpet was dry. That was at least a bit of good news. As I put the key into the ignition, I suddenly wondered what would happen if the van wouldn't start. Thankfully, it did. I backed out of the water without any more drama. I drove around the parking lot a few times to make sure that the brakes were ok and that nothing was going to blow up. There was some shrill belt squealing but it stopped eventually. (I'm not sure if the belt just blew off and the poor van didn't have the heart to quit on me or if the belt just dried out).

So after a wet vac and some elbow grease, I think the van will survive. My emotions, however, are shot. I started off the day in the "numb" category. Normally, that is like "safe mode" and protects me from tears or other outbursts. It didn't work today, though. I know the people at the car wash where I vacuumed the van thought I was completely nuts. I didn't care.

I finally got back to Mom's and grabbed the girls and high-tailed it to a safety zone - home. I went back to the comfort of doing laundry after I had the girls in bed. Grant and Dad were still at the race so I went into Grant's room to grab his laundry basket. I figured that when he'd cleaned his room up this morning he'd unearthed at least a couple of pairs of undies from under his bed. Hmmmm. Empty hamper. How? Wait a minute! Yep. As I pulled his mattress back from the wall, I found everything that had been littering his floor stuffed behind the bed. The deal was that he was supposed to clean up based on MY cleaning quality standards - not his. Does he think that this would meet my standards? His room was supposed to be cleaned before he went to the race tonight. He tricked me. Do you remember my statement about feeling like the big kids had decided to both play the crazy card on me at the same time? Yep. This is just more evidence.

So, Grant will be sad to know that when he gets home, his phone will no longer do anything more than make phone calls. No internet, games, or anything else. And, he won't be surfing the internet on any of the home computers, either. I have truly never had to put him on a serious "restriction." Maybe that's why we're dealing with it now. I don't know. I'm sure not in a position to figure anything out tonight except how much Nyquil I can take without doing permanent damage! Geez.

I do admit that I rolled around in quite a bit of "It's Not Fair" ooze over the last few hours. I kept thinking, "While I'm dealing with one snotty nosed child that hasn't slept through the night in a week, one child with Pig Pen's genes, and one who seems to be intent of knocking my cat off, he's going out to eat, going to concerts, and sleeping in." I don't even know why I travel down that road anymore, though. It's not like it makes me feel any better and it sure doesn't change anything. I just don't understand. Don't get me wrong, though. There are days when I'd like to walk away from everyone and everything for a breather but I could never do it for than more than a day or two. It's been almost three months since he's seen the kids. How? I've got to tell you that absolutely NOTHING could keep me from these kids even at their craziest moments. I just don't understand. The kids don't understand. Oh well. He's not the man he once was I guess.

On that note, I'm going to bed. My head is a hurricane of thoughts swirling around and my heart feels physically heavy. (No, my blood pressure is just fine, thank you. I had a check up on Wednesday and got a clean bill of health minus the sinus infection)! Anyway, I know hundreds and thousands of other women have walked this road and probably had worse situations than I have. I just don't know how they do it. Where I used to think I was strong, I now find that I'm weak or maybe it's just that I'm broken. Too much to figure out for me tonight or even for a counselor in a year!

Good night, all.

Recap

Don't panic. I'm still alive and all three children are still alive, as well. I'm heading to bed but wanted to calm everyone's nerves. I'm cracking up at all of the emails wanting to know if things are "ok." Yes, things are ok. It has just been one of THOSE weeks. I can't wait for tomorrow, though.

Here's a recap of the last few days...

-Dasha has a book report due tomorrow (150+ page book) but hadn't started the book as of Tuesday night. She'd been reading a cookbook in her room when I thought she was reading the chapter book. We read the book in two nights and finished the book report minutes ago. I won't begin to mention all of the other assignments that have gone unfinished simply because they weren't "fun" for her. Suddenly, if it's not fun, she doesn't deem it necessary. (Heck, if fun was the first thing on my checklist, I would have been out of here by now)!

-Grant has had a crappy, drama filled week. I know that he's "at that age" and "going through so much" but he almost lost his head more than once for huffing at me. He's tired and has been impossible to drag out of bed each morning which doesn't put me in the best mood. He lost a book on Monday. His band director said he didn't turn in the $140 check I sent in. He was "pushed" to the ground at scouts and sustained quite a surface wound (more character). He dropped his phone and the touch screen shattered. After that, he received a text from Eric that was meant for Eric's "baby." (OK, this one did him in for the night and I didn't know if I'd be able to calm him down. His words were, "I feel like I just got slapped across the face)!" And, tonight, he went with my dad to the Rachel's Challenge program at school and endured watching my dad pretend to NOT cry and diverting those tears into squirming around like a five year old doing a potty dance! He'd better be in bed right now!

-Then, as usual, there's Annie. She's been a roller coaster this week but it all made sense tonight when she started sneezing her head off and her nose started oozing goo. Yep. She's sick. Just what I need for the weekend!

-As for me, I've been sick, too, but there hasn't been time to slow down and worry about it. I went to the doctor on Wednesday and got some meds, though. I'm living in a state of numbness right now to avoid anything that might puncture through to my raw emotions. I'm hoping for some rest this weekend to recuperate and get my act together!

So, we are all still alive and living under one roof. No one has had to be bailed out of the Cherokee County lock up (yet). Tomorrow night, we'll head to the school Groovy Dance so all bets are off as to what happens there. Whew!

Night, all!

Big Bird's Nest, Tag Team Goes Pro, and Manners 101

Good news - I feel better.

Bad news - It was one of THOSE days!

Remember my plan last night about taking Nyquil and dropping into bed. Well, that did happen. However, when I went to get Annie up this morning, I found her in her closet. She'd pulled her old crib bumper out of a plastic bucket and snuggled into it like a nest. Now, before you go nuts, there's absolutely NO way that she slept like that all night! That was my first thought and I about burst into tears! I'm not a heavy sleeper - even under the influence of Nyquil. I would have definitely heard her migrating into her closet! I think she probably made the move when I got up to get a shower this morning and opened her door. Anyway, that was the first drama of the day. Granted, it was kind of funny after the initial shock wore off but at the moment, I really thought I'd failed as a mom and not heard her last night!

My day at school was what I'm going to call the "new normal." There are just so many changes that I'm not sure which end is up and which end I should be kissing!

When I got home, it all broke loose. Grant informed me that he had NOT received his band equipment today eventhough I wrote a check and sent it in on the very first day of school. He swears he turned it in but the band director said he never got it. Great. Then, Grant tells me that he lost his language arts workbook. I would have believed this coming from Dasha but Grant is pretty organized and hasn't ever even lost a library book. So, I emailed his teacher to find out what the replacement cost of the book was. While I was emailing this teacher, I got an email notification that a grade had been posted to Grant's account of NHI which means "not handed in" and gets a zero. What? I hate when the kids tag team me in the crazy department and I don't realize when they're changing roles! Once again, Grant promises that he turned the paper in. I gave him 24 hours to try to figure it out on his own before I start calling teachers.

(Note, while all of this is going on, Annie is at the top of the stairs wailing because I told her that she couldn't bring her paci downstairs. The rule is that the cork is for bedtime only - and for when I really lose control and don't care what anyone has in their mouth)!

So, I moved my assult on to Dasha. Last night, I discovered that Dasha had several assignemnts that weren't complete. Yes, I'm a deliquent mom and don't even peek in bookbags until 10:00 on Sunday night! So, I just wrote a big note and stapled it into her agenda and basically told the teachers that she'd take whatever she had coming to her! Well, what I didn't know was that one of the things that she "has coming to her" is a book report that's due Friday over a book that's at least 150 pages long. Um, yeah. Then, the book report format is going to take us years to complete! I'm thinking that there's going to be a lot a crying for the rest of the week about this deadline. And, this was only one of four assignments that she hadn't turned in. When I questioned her about the others this morning, she simply said, "Oh. I guess I just forgot."

Now, I really didn't see this coming. In the past, the big kids have worked as a team and they take turns being crazy. Annie maintains a consistent state of crazy but I expect that so I'm not shocked when that happens. However, the big kids seemed to have changed their game plan and they've decided to BOTH play the crazy card on me. Can I buy Valium over the counter? I think I'm going to need something stronger than Crystal Light to calm my nerves!

To top it off, Dasha just finished up a project where she had to cut pictures from a magazine and glue them into categories. I gave her some OLD Southern Living and Martha Stewart magazines. For some reason, she thought she also needed to remove pages from my new IKEA catalog. Seriously? I'd been saving that catalog to look through when I could peruse the pages without any sticky little fingers trying to treat it like a Where's Waldo book! I thought I managed to Lamaze breathe through the whole situation and move on until Grant came downstairs (he'd been at scouts) and informed me that he had to do the same project but with things about Britain. What? I left him on his own to figure it out. He's probably cutting pictures from the IKEA catalog (even though that's Swedish) and will then move on to find some other treasure to hack apart. I don't even care as long as he gets the darn thing done and goes to bed!!!!

I did manage to feed the girls before the magazine drama hit full tilt. Dinner actually was quite amusing tonight, though. I'm trying so hard to teach Annie table manners. I've given up on having her sit in her chair so I'm just requiring that she stay in one chair and not play musical chairs throughout the meal. Tonight's lesson was supposed to be eating with your mouth closed. She didn't get it. The poor thing kept trying but couldn't figure out how to chew and keep her lips together. I'm not sure how to help her figure it out but she finally just told me that it was ok if I saw her food in her mouth.

I did give up and let her eat her pizza like a wild animal. It wasn't like it was a DiGiono pizza or anything fancy. I guess eating a $0.99 pizza with your mouth open is better than letting caviar or something expensive dribble out of your mouth! Hey, it's all relative tonight.

So, with Annie in her bed (and not in the closet in a nest like Big Bird), Dasha in her bed reading her book for the book report, and Grant still cutting out random items from magazines, I'm calling it quits for the night. Hopefully, tomorrow will bring less drama!

Good night, all!

PS - Dad bought the laminate for the floors today! He didn't even remeasure the area! AAAHHH!!!!

Sickness, PVC Weapons, and Help Wanted

Today, I keep counting my blessings. I'm having one of those days when I'd just like to throw in the towel but I'm determined not to lose ground!

I knew I was getting sick on Friday afternoon. My throat was sore and I was just generally achy. Part of me tried to blame it on the stress of the week but I knew better deep down inside. I'd had two students go home sick so I figured that they'd left me a parting gift of some leftover germs. When I finally left school on Friday about 5:30, I basically came home and crashed. No sooner than I'd plopped down on the sofa, Grant pulled out "the tooter" and thought it would be a good idea to get some practice time in. Now, I'm all for practicing but WHY does he need to do it under my direct supervision? I finally had to tell him to give the goose killer a rest for a bit. He was definitely hurt that I didn't want to be lulled into relaxation by his "music." I don't quite remember how the rest of the night went but I remember something about some Robitussin and Tylenol. Saturday was a haze of nothingness. I felt worse but was able to just lounge around. (I just cracked myself up at the thought of lounging around in this house with three kids. It's all relative)!

Anyway, this morning brought a round of fever and crazy children. I felt horrible and just wanted to rest in peace. It seemed that none of the children habitating here agreed, though. Suddenly, things that they can usually do by themselves, they needed my undivided help to do. Ugh. I'm just not sure how I'm supposed to gracefully be sick and still run this house! To top it all off, Dasha is in major crazy mode and went after Annie with a piece of PVC pipe from the playhouse. She ended up hitting her in the mouth but didn't cause any damage beyond some hysterical siren sounding screaming and tears. I can't even begin to address that moment in time right now. I was seriously counting it a blessing that I didn't feel good and didn't have the energy to chase after her and... I don't know what I would have done to her. She ended up spending time in the Randolph Stairwell Penitentiary, though. I don't think she minded, though. (This drama is added atop of her drama last week at school that I might have the nerve to write about one day when I can think about it without having my blood pressure sky rocket)! Heck, I'm beginning to think maybe I should commit some misdemeanor crime and get sentenced to a few days behind bars. Clean sheets, room service, protected from the outside world. Doesn't sound too bad right now. Kind of like a vacation.

I admit that a couple of months ago, I would have gone into a round of "Woe is Me! It's not Fair," after a weekend like this. However, I skipped the song and dance and just went for the ugly thoughts that I managed to keep to myself. I just wanted someone to come hold the fort down and let me stay in my pjs, in bed, with my eyes closed completely (not peeking out continually to see which child was standing over me with some blunt object)! It has been a very long day. Somehow, everything got done and all of the children have been account for, drugged (oh, I mean given yummy vitamins), and put to bed for the night! (Geez. You all know I'm kidding! I can't even give my crew Benadryl. It hypes them up. It really was a vitamin! I don't need to be met at school in the morning by Deputy Dunkin Donuts Dan asking me questions about medications)!

Thankfully, I'm feeling better and I have things organized enough to get everyone out of the house in the morning and get to school before bus duty begins. (Ugh. I hate bus duty weeks). So, that means that I can go to bed and hopefully sleep undisturbed all night long and wake up feeling like that crazy singing princess from Enchanted! (If that girl ever burst into my bedroom singing like that in the morning, I think I'd look for some PVC pipe and start swinging, too)!

On a completely different note, my parents have decided that for my birthday, they want to put "hardwood" floors in my living room and dining room. The carpet was shot when we moved in six years ago! However, my dad is convinced that he's going to put it down himself. (Yes, I hear the hysterical laughter from all that know how my dad operates)! I absolutely love my dad but his attention to detail is, well, non-existent. If anyone reading my crazy story knows of someone who needs to do some community service (like helping lay snap together laminate flooring), would you please let me know? There's absolutely NO way that dad could handle the labor alone even if he wore a cape and tights (ugh, gross). And, I can't ask them to foot the bill for having it professionally installed (beggars can't be choosers) and I can't afford to pay someone myself. I'm just asking to see if anyone would be interested in helping. The only pay that would be involved would be food, drink, and my undying gratitude (and my dad's). And, please don't tell mom and dad that I'm soliciting help here in the public. I don't ever want dad to think I underestimate his abilities but... He thinks I have some magical phone book that I can pull out and just call a couple of guys to come help out. Um. No. I think that phone book must be on the shelf with the "How to Be a Superstar Mom" and "How to Grow a Money Tree" books.

Anyway, I'm heading to bed with a full cup of Nyquil, the alarm set at the highest volume, the baby monitor moved right next to my head and turned all the way up, and the baby gate at the top of the stairs. I figure the gate would keep any prowlers out unless they have little ones of their own and know how the open the darn thing and it will keep all of the intended inhabitants in the upper quadrant of the house!

Good night, all.

(If you know someone who'd be willing to help, you can reach me at swilliamsrandolph@gmail.com).

I don't have to...

FRIDAY...

• I don't have to lay out anyone's clothes tonight.
• I don't have to enforce bath time.
• I don't have to be the homework warden.
• I don't have to make anyone walk the plank and go to bed early.
• I don't have to pack lunches, snacks, or ugly letters to teachers.
• I don't have to clean off the counter (or anything else)!
• I don't have to grade papers.
• I don't have to set the alarm. (If only Annie had a snooze button)!
• I don't have to do anything! Friday is my favorite night of the week!

Date Night and Tooters

What a long day! I'm finally getting into the routine of things at school and I think the kids are too. Grant seems to be leaving the flair for the dramatic woe is me stuff behind which is such a relief. Dasha, on the other hand, is still struggling. She's having a hard time navigating the building physically and emotionally / socially, she's just a mess. The words from the first therapy session keep coming back to me. "Things will get worse in middle school." That was an understatement and I just didn't know it! Whew! But, we made it through another day! After taking 3 1/2 hours last night to do 5 homework problems, I was unsure of what I'd do if we had to do another marathon like that! (I emailed her teacher only to find out that she was supposed to do the first couple of problems)!

Tonight, Grant had to be back at school to pick up his new instrument. After all of the paperwork I signed, I really expected to be handed a set of keys to a car or a house! Instead, we were handed a french horn. To Grant, that was equally exciting. He loves his music class and is so excited to finally have his instrument.

After we picked up the tooter (I believe that's what I'll call the horn until he masters how to play it), Grant and I had our own little mini date night. We went out to eat at a real restaurant (thanks to blessings from a friend) and just leisurely chatted. Um, well. Chatting usually requires two people to talk. I don't think I got to say more than about five words throughout dinner. Grant ordered for both of us and then continued to converse with me throughout the meal. It was neat to hear how grown up he suddenly sounds.

As for me, It's after 9:00 and I just put the girls down and still haven't graded a single paper yet. Not good! I'm heading to the quiet of the dining room table to finish up for the night and head to bed. It's a good thing tomorrow is Friday becuase dragging these kids out of bed at 5:45 is getting harder and harder each morning. I literally drug Annie from her bed this morning! She was not amused at ALL!

As for my own roller coaster ride, I'm currently perched at the top of a hill and just waiting to see which way I'm going to go. I'm looking forward to having time this weekend to hang out with an old friend who is always so wise and grounded and just talk things through to figure out a plan to get off of this dang coaster! Dramamine just isn't doing the trick any more and I'm tired of being motion sick! (Insert barf bag)

Good night, all.

Bring it on!

Most of my life, I've been a rule follower. I want to keep status quo and not cause any wrinkles. Over the last few months, my skin has toughened and I'm proud to say that I'm not afraid of a little battle here and there. I still don't thrive on discord and disputes but I don't mind holding my own to protect my boundaries or those I love.

I'm tired of being nice about things. I'm tired of being a door mat. I'm tired of being quiet. I'm tired of counting change to make ends meet! And, I'm tired of drying Grant's eyes as he goes to bed at night! I'm tired of having dreams that haunt me and have me seeing the clock at all hours of the night. I'm tired of feeling like I was the one that wasn't "good enough."

Well, let me just say, this girl ain't goin' down without a fight! And, I won't let my family go down either! Bring it on!

Good night, all!

Door Damage, Goose Honking, and Guarded Thoughts

I'm heading to bed. It's been a long day. School went smoothly today and I finally felt like we had the routine up to a normal speed. The last week has drug on with all of the fluff of first week of school activities. I'm finally able to put the real meat on the table and get busy. That makes me happy.

As for the other occupants of this house, they are all going to bed in varying conditions tonight. Annie took an early nap at the sitter's house today and was a nightmare until the hour when I could justify sending her to bed. Then, she started screaming and I ran upstairs to see what the problem was and swung the door open only to knock her to the floor with the door. I never dreamed that she'd be standing right on the other side of the door. There wasn't any permanaent damage done and rocking and reading a bazillion more books seemed to undo any damage that had been done.

Grant woke up this morning with a sore throat. So, tonight, he was sentenced to a hot shower and an early bed time. I wish someone would saddle me with that proclamation! Whew. However, he was in better spirits about school. He has sort of a block schedule where he alternates band and gym. Today was a band day so he was thrilled. I'm amazed at his natural talent when it comes to music. In less than a week, he learned to read all of the notes in the treble and bass clefs and can identify and count the different notes. Yes, I know he'd had some instruction before but he is so motivated to do this of his own accord. It's not because I'm forcing him to do it. Wow. Tomorrow night, we have to go "purchase" his instrument. I don't think I'm ready for that home practicing to begin. He pulled out my old trumpet last week and was "practicing" with it. The whole house was rattling with goose honks! I sure hope he becomes competent quickly so those goose honks will actually sound something like music. (He's chosen to play the French Horn which is what I played in high school so maybe I can help him along a bit or find some extra foam to soundproof his room with). So, I'm slowly learning that his vision for what kind of day he's going to have is largely based on what specialty class he has that day. I'm not thrilled to think that he'll have gym 3 days next week and band only 2 days!

And then, there's Dasha. I'm going to limit myself on what I say here because I'm still emotionally fired up at her this evening. All I can say is that the sweet little girl that came into our home five years ago has temporarily stepped out of the building! In the last week, there's been lying, spitefulness, stealing, and laziness. She doesn't see the importance of school since it's not "fun" any more and isn't making any attempt to figure things out. I'm at a loss with her. I'm not in the building with her anymore and I can't just walk around to her teachers and ask for clarification on assignments that she's "forgotten." Anyway, like I said, I'm not going to publish too many of my emotions tonight surrounding her actions other than it's not fair that she's dominating the little bit of time I have at night with the kids with her own selfish hysterics. Grant ended up on Annie duty tonight for quite a while so I could unravel the lies and deceit of the papers she'd hidden in her binder and the homework that she hadn't done but had erased from her agenda so I wouldn't know about it. Ugh.

As for me, I'm going to fall into bed with a book and feel like I'm finally beginning to keep my head above water at school - even it's just mere millimeters above - and know that I truly did the best I could with everyone and everything tonight. I do feel guilty that Grant took the brunt of Annie's sleep-deprived wrath but I'm prayerful that God will use this time in his life to make him into a better man one day. He's going to make someone a great husband who will come equipped with the knowledge of changing diapers, doing dishes, cooking, doing laundry, handling a two-year-old's melt downs, bathing squirmy toddlers, and even reading every book off of a bookshelf to lull a fussy baby to sleep - all without a complaint (at least not to my face)! :)

Good night, all!

Boxers or Briefs, Flag Boys, and Hiding My Eyes (Maybe)

Lost. Today was a day when I found myself dealing with things that I admittedly know NOTHING about! I felt like I was trying to change the motor in a car. It was the first day that Grant had to "dress out" in PE. I absolutely remember how mortifying that whole locker room situation was to me in 7th grade. Why in this world would you purposely change clothes in front of a room full of people you don't know. In fact, that's one of my nightmares! You know! That dream when you find yourself standing in public somewhere wearing nothing more than your birthday suit? I think everyone has had a similar dream and I'm sure that there's some meaning behind it. Anyway, I've "been there and done that" so I really didn't think it would be too hard to coach Grant about what to expect. I should've know that I was failing when he had a meltdown last night because I hadn't bought him new undies. It wasn't like he was wearing UnderRoos or something! He actually has a drawer full of Eric's old undies that he had "issues" with. Ok, maybe TMI. Sorry! Anyway, mom ended up making an 8:00 run to Kohls last night to buy him new boxer shorts. I just couldn't figure out the importance of the underwear. I should have realized that I was missing the big picture when I couldn't even figure out buying new drawers for the kid!

Anyway, he made it through PE today but completely blew me away with his report of what was being compared in the locker room. Seriously? I didn't know that guys REALLY compared those things! Grant wanted baggy drawers to hide his "manhood" from being sized up. Geez. And I thought it was all about style!

If that wasn't enough for one day, I just spent the last two hours helping a group of 6th grade boys create a patrol flag for scouts. At first, the scouts were kind and seemed to be courteous since there was a "lady" in the room. However, after a few minutes, that kind of behavior grew boring and they started to let it all hang out. What was I to do? The teacher in me wanted to demand that everyone sit down and get quiet. But, this isn't school. What's protocol? Grant is the patrol leader and I kept looking at him hoping he'd give me some sort of indicator as to what was going to happen next. Were the boys going to tie me up and hoist me to the top of the flag pole with the new flag or had I just become a static piece of furniture in the room? As the boys used a hot iron to fuse the fabric on to the flag, I began to realize that I'd tried to impose Martha Stewart crafts on a bunch of boys. No wonder they were miserable. There weren't any explosions. No blood. No guts. No dirt. There were scissors, fabric, and a hot iron. Geez. Once again, OUT OF MY LEAGUE! The boys did finally complete the flag (not in the style and perfection that I would have preferred) but my blood pressure sure took a hit.

As we started to leave, I asked Grant if I'd embarrassed him. He just looked at me. I didn't sing. I didn't skip. I didn't make them color Dora pictures. What exactly had I done? I need to know so I don't do it again. I don't know what's acceptable to boys. (Now, there's definitely a line where I don't care what the heck they think - such as when they started pounding each other in the face with a basketball for fun). Grant never did give me a specific answer but I'm going to demand one before I put myself into that predicament again.

As for tomorrow, I've washed the new baggy boxer shorts and they are ready to be worn. I didn't check his math homework and circle problems for him to redo. (I can pull rank in this area at any time). I didn't burst in the bathroom door to brush my teeth while he was in the shower. (I stumbled in blindly covering my eyes and proclaiming to him that I couldn't see a thing. Um, one day, he'll realize that if I couldn't see anything, I wouldn't be able to get my toothbrush)! I'm trying to accept the fact that he's growing up but I don't like it! He'll always be my baby boy.

As a side note for tonight, the bank was kind enough to reactivate my debit card and put $400 of the $800 back into my account. The remaining $400 is still "pending" investigation. Why didn't the investigation that cleared the first $400 also clear the second $400? This has been a major frustration! I'm not happy with the way they've handled things but it's not as if I can go into the bank and demand my $400. If I remember correctly, isn't that called robbing a bank?

Good night, all!

My name is Susan and I'm a passive aggressive control freak. So?

^"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11

My revelation for today was simply that I don't like change unless I'm in control of the change. Yeah, I admit that I learned that from the stupid therapy workbook as much as I'd like to ditch the book, it does offer some very solid insight. I knew I didn't like change. That wasn't a big surprise. However, I do enjoy some changes like moving the furniture around or going somewhere different. I was finally able to find the lens that makes it all make sense, though. It's all about ME being in control. There's a huge piece of me that huffed when all of the pieces fell into place and things became clear. I immediately thought, "Duh! I have to be in control right now or this whole joint would go down the crapper!" Maybe I didn't think those exact words but after you knock the vulgarities off of my thoughts, that's the point you'd find. Control. Yes. I admit that I'm a control freak. And I even admit that I've learned that I control things in a passive aggressive way. Isn't that better than being an outward bi.... oh, oops. You know what I mean. But now, maintaining control means even more than it ever has before. It's all up to me. I have to control the kids, the finances, the house, my job, my students, my own emotions, the kids' emotions... The list is endless. Now that I have ultimate control over everything, I don't want it. I want to hand the reins over to someone else and just pass out for a few weeks. What a luxury that would be. Now, I know why the beginning of this school year has simply run me into the ground. We have a new principal, a new AP, the big kids are at different schools, I'm having to live a different life, and having to have different expectations of everything! And, absolutely none of that is truly in my control. I can pretend to control some of it but I can't. So, what do I do? Yes, I know that I can hand all of my burdens over to God and I routinely do that but I can't just say, "Ok, God. Here's my junk. You take it and I'm going to go to the beach." I wish it worked that way. I have to walk the walk and I'm growing weary. Yes, I have other folks who offer to help but as I've said a zillion times, it's just not the same. And, the other thing I'm learning is that the more help I accept, the more power I seem to give away. That old saying about beggars not being choosers keeps playing through my head as I feel like I'm losing a bit more control as I solicit more help. Maybe it's just all in my mind.

Anyway, at least I made it to the end of the first section of the therapy workbook. I'll admit that I didn't have too many revelations as I worked through the material. Most of it was simply self-analysis which borders on hysterical these days. As a perfectionist (on top of being a control freak), I'm probably tougher on myself than anyone else and that's part of why this whole therapy business is hard for me. There's a sliver of me that believes that if I can't "fix" everything, then I'm not perfect. Yeah, I know. Newsflash, I'm not perfect but it bugs the heck out of me to think that I've screwed it all up so bad that I can't figure it all out myself. (I know that this is all my own self-criticism playing out and that no one else sees it like this but, hey, I'm being honest).

Today was a pretty uneventful day at the Randolph compound. There were no escapees, no assaults, and no protests. The biggest problem was that Annie has now learned to string all of her intelligence together to formulate plans. Case in point - Last night, mom gave the kids a bag of peppermints. I put them on the counter out of reach of Annie. (It was out of her reach last night). When Annie spotted them this morning, she started whining for a piece. I told her, "No," because I didn't want to clean up the sticky red peppermint drool. I went on cleaning up the bar area and had my back to her. I might not have seen her formulate her plan but I sure heard her. She went to the bathroom and opened the door (new skill that she's perfected), got her step stool, and drug it back to the kitchen. She placed the stool right in front of the stove. By this time, I'd turned around to see her grab one of the knobs (thankfully, to the back burner) and turn it on. She thought her new trick was great! She was like a little caveman who'd just figured out how to make fire! When I grabbed her and pulled her down, I scared the poo out of her and thought she'd learned her lesson. I put the stool up and busied her coloring. At some point, I got lax with supervision, though. I never heard her get the stool again. However, what I heard was the over door slamming open. I guess she'd tried to put her foot on it and use it as leverage to pull herself up onto the stove. Perfect. Now, the stool is hidden in "time out." Tomorrow, she'll probably try to drag the sofa to the counter, though. When the girl is determined, there's no stopping her! She'll jump baby gates, climb tables, jump from the piano to the sofa, or even stand on top of a ball in order to get what she wants. It's exhausting. Grant NEVER did these things! He always stayed right by my side.

So, tomorrow, I'll drop Annie off at Fatima's, warn Fatima that Annie might try to turn the stove on, and run! For now, I'm going to finish grading my last pile of papers and put laundry away. Then, I'll climb into my sheets that are only semi-clean thanks to Annie's decision to unscrew the lid of her cup (new skill) and drink without the lid on letting milk dribble onto the sheet. Yeah, I should change the sheets again but, hey, it's only me and it'll probably happen again tomorrow morning so why bother?

Good night, all!

Teflon Brains, Dasha vs. the Granny, and Ninja Mom

Do you know how sometimes something you read or hear just sticks in your brain and keeps revisiting you like a bad dream? That's what I've dealt with today. Lately, not much sticks to my brain. It's like my brain received a permanent coating of Teflon. I find myself having to write this down or risk irretrievable information. Maybe this is age, maybe it's not. Who knows. But, today, for some reason, I keep hearing one piece of information ringing in my ears. (And it must be pretty loud to be audible over the roar of children around here). Anyway, the point that people will remember you by how you handle your challenges and not how you handle your blessings has repeated in my mind today. This has bothered me for a bazillion reasons. So, you're telling me that folks aren't going to remember anything about me other than how I've walked my journey through burying my daughter and waving good-bye to my husband while in the arms of his mistress and trying to explain it to our children? Hmmm... I don't think I like that because I'm human! All of this pondering has to do directly with this blog. This stupid blog started out as a way for me to spew my guts and emotions and hopefully leave evidence of a path toward healing. I didn't know and still am clueless as to what "healing" looks like but that was my goal. Yeah, I linked it with my FB account but I only did that after scraping the sludge off of the bottom of my "friend list" on FB so the folks that were actually viewing this were supposedly a very few selected chosen ones. Then, I had my anonymous friend show up and and spill the juicy sprinkles about all of the details of this journey that I hadn't really intended for public knowledge. After that happened, I figured that just about anything was fair game. However, what I didn't know was how many crazy people would start following my insane journey down this road that I absolutely never dreamed I'd be wandering. At this point, for all I know, parents of my students might even be following this and that's where it gets really sticky. I'm finding myself candy-coating some of my emotions just to schmooze things over in case someone is reading this that might find me "unfit" to teach their child because I'm emotionally tied up right now. So, back to this point that's been rattling in my head all day about remembering me for how I handle adversity. I think I do believe that statement even though I don't really like it because I feel like my life just might be in the spotlight for the next twenty years as I walk through trials and adversity. I'm human. I have moments where I scream and yell and even hurl things across the room. (Ask the kids. They've seen the absolute worst of what I harbor on the inside and the distance which I can sling things. Maybe I should look into a shot-put team). But, that's what people are going to remember about me? Egads. I'm just kind of sitting on the fence about this whole blog deal right now. I can either make the whole thing private and by invitation only or I can just go for broke and put the truth out there and let others like it, lump it, or leave it. Oh well.

In other news tonight...

Today was actually a pretty productive day. Annie and I got up early this morning and actually got quite a bit of cleaning done before the big kids started rattling around. Grant had to be up and out the door by 9:45 for a scout event but he still got a couple of extra hours of beauty sleep.

While he was out haggling Kroger customers for money for candy, the girls and I went to JoAnn Fabric Store. Grant has to "help" make a flag for his patrol. It's the last thing that's holding him up on his next rank. So, I decided to go ahead and get all of the supplies so he can just take them to his next meeting and get the job done. I realized today that somehow, the doors on the JoAnn stores are kind of like a time warp for me. I could spend hours in there just looking at the fabric. I'm content to not even buy anything. I just like to wander around and dream about what I could make with this or that fabric if I had the time and energy. For some reason, though, the time warp doesn't work when children are in tow. Believe me, I had a very detailed plan of how I was going to approach this trip in order to curtail Annie's impact on my blood pressure. She nearly refuses to sit in a buggy any more and can unbuckle herself from the stroller and escape like a mini Houdini so that's pointless. That leaves me with two options. The first option is to buy one of those baby leashes. I've always been so judgmental of folks who walk their kids like dogs on those things but I'm beginning to think I might need to look into them and see if they have any that come equipped with Lo-Jack or some sort of shock device. My second option is to let her walk. Crap. Crap. Crap. I was forced to go with option two. JoAnn's was crowded this morning so this made things even more difficult. My plan was to grab "fat quarters" which are little squares of fabric that are pre-cut and you just grab what you want and pay for it. You don't have to stand in line waiting for someone to cut it for you. (And, they were 50% off)! The fabrics are arranged by color and I have the layout memorized. The red fabrics are right at the front door so that's where I started. I needed two pieces of red. Ok. Check. Got those without drama. Then, I needed a piece of green. Ok. Check. Then, I needed some brown. About this time, I look down at Annie to see that she's also holding about ten pieces of fabric in her own little hands saying that she's going to "make a project." I let her keep holding the pieces figuring that if her hands were already full, she wouldn't be able to grab anything else. Wrong. She started stuffing the pieces into her pants and shirt and grabbing more. It was like watching the security video from some amateur thieves knocking over a 7-11! Ok. Regroup. I took the fabric from under her shirt and pants and told her that I'd "help" her hold them. Then, I went back to get a buggy. I stowed Annie in the cart and headed back to the brown area to find something appropriate to make a rock. I felt like I was back on track and semi in charge. About that time, Dasha staggered backwards to regain her balance. (She's not walking very smoothly this week. I think it's due to sheer exhaustion). Anyway, as she stutter stepped, she fell over and landed on a lady driving one of the motorized carts. As I tried to get her up and off of the poor old grandma that had just been the victim of a surprise landing attempt, Annie started learning out of the cart and picking quilting accessories off of the shelf and tossing them into the buggy. The whole trip was supposed to take less than 15 minutes. We were in one of my favorite places to just get lost in time. However, I could definitely see that I did not want to be LOST with the passengers I was responsible for. I put all of the little grandma's things back into her basket and made sure she was ok. I stationed Dasha at the front of the buggy so she could hang on and use it like a walker. (Later on, I wondered if I should have ask the little grandma to let Dasha sit in the basket of her cart and they could be little riding buddies). I finally managed to get all of the fabric pieces I needed. The last thing on my list was the stuff you can use to stick pieces of fabric together with an iron. I don't have a clue what the technical name is. I just know it works. They'd rearranged lots of the shelves so it took me one loop around the store to figure out where it was. However, things were moving more smoothly now and I guess I got a bit too cocky. As I was comparing the prices of the sticky stuff, I didn't realize that just a few feet down (at the front of the buggy where Annie and Dasha were) there was a display of different sorts of pads that could be used for bathing suits or, I guess, a host of other different things. Of course, Annie and Dasha started having a conversation about them. Dasha noted that they looked soft. Annie poked at the package. The girls continued their innocent conversation so I semi-diverted my attention to my price comparisons. When I turned back around (I'm talking less than 10 seconds), both girls were holding packages up to their chests. Come on now! We were SO close to getting out of here without me uttering something I'd regret or meeting the security guard personally. I tried to give them "the look" but it was pointless. I burst out laughing until Dasha handed me a package and told me that it looked "my size." Ugh. Game over. Somehow, I managed to get everyone out of the store in one piece and willingly (and without a security guard ushering us out). I hope Grant relishes that next rank badge. Not only did I basically buy it for him, I also endured emotional damage to make it happen! :)

When we got home, everyone had a quick lunch. It was actually pretty easy to serve lunch today. The Little Ceasars' Pizza from last night was still sitting on the kitchen table. We just opened the box and ate what was left. Yeah, maybe I should be worried that we might get sick but when Annie is hungry, you don't really have time to think. You just react. I figure if she can eat cereal from under couch cushions that several years old, a pizza less than 24 hours old won't hurt her! (And, if Dasha can eat deodorant and not get sick, pizza sure won't hurt her)!

Why must she sleep like this? It freaks me out!

When the pizza was gone, I sent everyone to bed. Annie put up quite a fuss and laid in her bed for quite some time reading to herself. I changed out her selection of books next to her bed so I also got to enjoy the entertainment of hearing her "read" some new stories over the monitor. With Annie reading in the background, I was determined to get a few things done around the house. I found myself tippy toeing up and down the stairs and hallway outside the girls' rooms. After about the fourth trip up and down the stairs, I realized that I'd become something like a ninja mom. I was moving with stealth silence. I only walked on the outside of the steps where they're nailed down to avoid squeaks. I waited until the washing machine was on the roaring airplane / cyclone cycle before opening my closet door to put clothes away. (My closet door has become something like a sealed crypt due to the humidity in the house. There was one night last week that I seriously couldn't get the door open and just resorted to wearing something that I'd thrown in the "to be ironed - or just thrown in the dryer again" pile). Anyway, I did get quite a chuckle when I thought of my new title as a ninja. For anyone who has ever had a child that's a light sleeper, you know what I mean. You'll do anything to muffle sounds!

The girls slept for almost three hours. I finally woke them up because I knew I'd never get them back down tonight. However, I did. Last week just exhausted everyone. Part of me wishes that I'd napped too but I sure am glad to have the house in a semi-presentable condition again. I'm sure Martha Stewart wouldn't call it that but to someone that left the house at 6:15ish every morning last week dragging three kids behind and didn't cross the threshold again until at least 5:30 each evening, I think the house looks pretty darn good compared to the mess that had evolved.

As for a recap from yesterday...

• No, the money has not be re-credited to my bank account yet. I'm not surprised.
• No, Grant is not faring any better today. (Today, his dramatic soliloquy was about Eric getting to go out to eat all of the time when he hasn't been out to eat in over a month. I did remind him that he'd at least had plenty of food even if it had been served by the meanest waitress in Woodstock and told him that if he felt such a strong desire to eat "out" that I could have his meal delivered outside tomorrow night. Sometimes, I think he's trying more to push my buttons than actually mourning his losses).
• Yes, I discussed the whole evolution thing with Dasha again and looked through some books with her. She still doesn't understand how two adults could have different information. I finally framed it by saying that even adults lie and don't tell the truth. I think I made the whole darn thing a bigger mess. I've taken her from just being confused about the origin of Earth to doubting adults. Perfect. Add another star to the Mom of the Year chart for me, please. Just as a side note, the teacher that dumped all of this information into her lap via video is also the one that she's been hanging on. My mom took a stab at trying to address that tonight, as well, but how can you explain to Dasha that some adults are liars and some can't be trusted to simply give you a hug? Bye bye innocence. 

Tonight, I'm headed to bed to snuggle into my nice clean sheets free from crayon marks, spilled milk, and half a tube of Butt Paste. Ahhh.... It takes so little to make me happy these days! Tomorrow, we'll head for church and then get ready for next week. I'm determined to have everyone's clothes laid out for the WEEK, dinners planned (realistically), and everything clean enough so a quick fifteen minute marathon can put everything back into order. It sounded so much more realistic before I actually typed it out. Oh well. I can dream.

Good night, all.