Compromises and Distractions

I told you that I was struggling this week and that was no lie. Next week, the battle will intensify. I'm already a weary and wounded soldier but I'm trusting and leaning on my faith to get me through. I'll give you the summary and then sign off. And, I can tell you that I most likely won't post anything again until next weekend. Sometimes, it's best to keep all of the beasties creeping around out of the public view until I've had a chance to fight them and put them back into their boxes.

Last night, about 9:00, I decided that I would make it to church today no matter what. So, I laid out clothes for everyone and made sure that things were ready to roll. I knew that I had to stop for gas before we hit the road so I even added time into the equation for that. (I tried to fill up yesterday but my debit card kept saying "not authorized." I only had the girls with me so I didn't bother to get them out of the van and lug them into the gas station).

So, when my alarm went off this morning, I drug everyone from their toasty little beds and started the routine and torture of getting everyone ready to go. While I was in the bathroom, Annie hoisted an empty laundry basket onto my bed and then climbed in it. She kept saying that it was her "boat." Ok. No problem with that. But, then, I guess the sea got rough and she decided to stand up and surf in the basket. She proceed to surf off of my bed and onto the floor. She even managed to land in the basket. Her award for a superior landing, a bloody lip and a black eye. Strike one for getting to church on time. Note to self - do NOT allow a toddler to surf on the bed in a laundry basket!

We made it to church just as the music started. Since this church doesn't have childcare, all three kids piled in around me. Annie colored for the majority of the service while the older kids pretended to listen. I'm hoping that something did actually sink in, though.

Ok. Check. I attended church with the kids. I heard the message but I didn't really let too much of it sink in for fear of softening the scabs. With three kids in tow, there's no room for emotions beyond happy to be visible while they're around.

Next stop, IKEA for three light bulbs. After sitting on I-75 for nearly 40 minutes with Annie screaming that she was hungry and the sun was in her face, I finally got brave and put my life in the hands of the GPS to find a way to the big yellow and blue warehouse that did NOT include I-75. We made it with relatively little drama which was a good thing. We had a quick lunch and grabbed what we needed (ok, I did pick up two timers, an umbrella, and a small garbage can for the car - a little more than the light bulbs). Oh - and as a side note, one of three bulbs was broken when I opened the package so I'm STILL short by a light bulb!

My plan was to let Annie nap in the car and head toward the pumpkin patch. We still had not gotten a pumpkin. For some families, it's ok to grab a pumpkin from WalMart or Publix. We've ALWAYS gone to Burt's Farm to get a pumpkin. It's just tradition. I knew that I couldn't do Burt's this year for a multitude of reasons but I had intended to take the kids to a pumpkin patch. Shoot. I even bought the Groupon coupon for the place in Oxford - so much for that. Anyway, my plan of Annie napping was one of those pipe dreams. She preferred to sing the entire way. Better than screaming. I decided to give the kids a treat and stop by Krispy Kreme. Last year, Eric got the kids some pumpkin doughnuts there and Annie has never forgotten. She asked for them a few weekends ago and it took me forever to figure out what she was talking about. So, we stopped at the big Krispy Kreme joint (the hot sign was not on) but we did get pumpkin doughnuts. Then, it dawned on me. Orange and black icing in the van. My sister would KILL me if she knew I'd even toyed with the idea after she had my van detailed for my birthday! So, we took the fried sugar cakes back to my parents' house. Hee hee! Grandma just loves her grandkids too much to complain about a trail of orange icing on her floor AND they have a dog that will lap it all up!

Next stop, Berry Patch farms for a pumpkin. I knew it would look like a Charlie Brown Christmas tree but it didn't matter. It was more about the journey than the actual pumpkin. However, Annie was at meltdown mode by this time and I was over the journey AND the pumpkin. I drove to WalMart to pick a pumpkin out. I told Annie we were going to the pumpkin patch at WalMart but she didn't fall for it. The big kids were disappointed, too. But, what was I supposed to do? Believe it or not, WalMart was out of pumpkins. They had the ones that look like gourds and have big chunky nasty warts on them and then the tiny little ones. I bought a prepackaged bag of the little ones hoping that Annie would find them so novel that she would forget about the "patch" part of the deal. It worked - momentarily. So, for the first time in 14 years, I don't have any pictures from a pumpkin patch to add to the scrapbook. Blah.

Anyway, by the time we got home and I put Annie down for a nap, I realized that she was running a fever. Nothing horrific but enough to put me on edge and make her feel lousy. So, I Tylenol-ed her and put her down for a nap. While she napped, I tried in vain to finish her blasted Cookie Monster costume. I would have been better off to have paid the  $30 on etsy to buy the thing. After 300 yards of tulle (the kind that comes in rolls of 25 yards) and too many battles with the cat who thought it was a new toy, the costume is still not finished. I'm out of hot glue and I can't use the stuff I normally use to fuse things together because the iron melts the tulle. (I learned the hard way). Blah. Blah. And blah! She might just have a costume with a one eyed monster. Maybe I could show her a picture of that monster from Monsters Inc. and tell her that she'll look like him.

Currently, all three kids are in bed. Lunches are packed and I have a few more things to finish up for school before heading to bed myself. I just wanted to make a few comments before I sign off for the week.

1) My biggest hurdle for this week will be Eric's visit. He is bringing his friend with him again. This is not what bothers me. Both of them will be spending time with the kids. Grant thinks she is wonderful and fun. Dasha thinks she is pretty and nice. Who knows what Annie thinks. I'm handing my three most prized possessions over to someone who willingly walked away from his family and someone who knowingly ruined a family. And, the kids (at least the big ones) think this is all ok. What if they prefer her over me? Where is the line when I say, "No. I won't expose them to this."? However, if I say that I don't want the kids around her, he won't come. I want the kids to be with him. They miss him horribly in ways that you could never even begin to put into words. But how do I protect them from this sin without keeping them from their father? What's the right thing to do?

2) The second punch in the gut that I'm waiting for is Saturday night. They (kids plus him and her) are all going to hang out with some of "our" old friends. Heck, these folks used to be our Sunday school teachers. They stood with us as we lowered Ansley into her grave. We've vacationed together. We've shared way too many intimate silly secrets. They are welcoming them in with open arms. She is literally stepping right into my shoes and showing up on the doorstep with my husband and my kids. What have these other folks told their kids? "Oh, by the way, Mrs. Susan looks a little different. She will look a lot younger and..." This worries me. Grant still doesn't tell people that his parents are getting divorced. He tells them that his dad is working in TX. So, when he shows up and his old buddy starts asking him questions about the girl that is with his dad, what will he say or do? And, what will Annie do? She'll be in a different place with only Eric and her. She hasn't seen Eric in weeks. He doesn't have a clue about her fears and securities right now. Does he know that she hates thunder and will not sleep without her pink puppy? Who will comfort her when she gets cranky or upset or tired? Grant? Probably. But this shouldn't be his role. He's not the parent. Crap. This whole thing sucks. Why do the kids have to go through this? Yeah, I'm sure this girl is nice just as Grant, Dasha, Eric, and Eric's mom continue to rub in my face. I know. She was so nice that she ruined my family without regard to a binding union. Yeah, I messed up and didn't do everything perfect but we stood before God and made the deal. Yeah, real nice. I don't care if she's the freaking Queen of England. She didn't have enough respect for my kids to leave their father alone so why should I trust that she'd have their best interest in mind now? What if.... Oh, those darn what if monsters are simply everywhere. I can't trust either of them with my innocent kids!

3) For the last 20 years, my life has been one compromise after another in order to make everyone else happy. I'm over it. While I am definitely in a bad spot right now, I know now more than any other time in my life that I have the resources I need to keep my integrity and not have to make compromises regarding my wants, desires, and needs. Now, I just have to figure out how to work all of this into the above two issues. Easier said than done.

So, I'm sure I'll have major regrets about hitting "publish post" by midnight. However, I'm not going to compromise and sugar coat my feelings right now. This is where I'm at. I have a serious job to protect my kids and set a Godly example for them. Knowing how to set that example when it's in the face of this kind of choice is overwhelming. But, as I said, this is where I'm at. I won't apologize for stating the truth. I'm sure that someone will read this and get majorly offended but that's their problem. I want the legacy that I leave for my kids to be nothing more than pure. Not tarnished. Not filled with my own selfish choices. I want them to look back at me and know that I did my best at every corner to seek God's will and do the right thing - even if they don't like it now.

Now, I'll finish up my school work and get ready for tomorrow. Hair painting and ice cream with 22 kids. Finishing up a Cookie Monster costume. Cutting a pumpkin. Dealing with a sick toddler. Going to the bank to get my debit card off of the "fraud" list for the third time - thank you MetLife for screwing with my identity and causing untold amounts of drama. And then, getting ready for a major SACS - CASI visit at school on Tuesday. Then, Thursday, we (Eric and myself) will meet with Dasha's teachers to try to get to the bottom of all of the problems at school. Then, on to Friday and Saturday. Hopefully, by then, I'll be able to reset the "numb mode" enough to enjoy my day off on Saturday.

Anyway, I won't post again until next weekend to give myself time to figure all of this out and an opportunity to filter the monsters that might be lurking around the corner waiting to snatch me by the ankles and drag me down like those urban legend guys that grabbed women in parking lots from under their cars. Nice, warm, fuzzy bedtime thought, huh?

Good night, all.

Having My Butt Kicked

And this, my friends, is the single thread that I'm holding on to right now. Somewhere amidst the constant chaos, there is a calm peace at my core that I can momentarily retreat to for escape. There's no time for luxurious blogging tonight. There's only time for fragmented thoughts...

• Letter stating that MetLife screwed up the taxes on maternity leave with Annie and I'm now responsible for more taxes and must file and adendum. Yeah. Just what I have time to figure out. And, that was three freaking years ago!
• FedEx letter stating that MetLife compromised my "identity" and that they have voluntarily paid for fraud protection for me for the next year but I need to pull all of my credit reports and contact any creditors. Once again, their screw up has now become my problem. This seems to be a common theme in my life right now.
• SACS visit at school next week which translates to everyone walking on eggshells, gearing up for a major dog and pony show, and a race to see who can do the most butt kissing in the shortest amount of time. Perfect. Newsflash, I don't have time to kiss anyone's butt. They can just kiss mine!
• Sick two year old who has decided that eating dinner is optional and that it's much more fun to wake up at 2:00 a.m. screaming that you're hungry and want a snack.
• Thirteen year old who has simply jumped off the deep end and I'm really wearing out trying to tread water to pull her ashore. Homework lasts from 4:00 until 9:00 or until I call a time-out and say, "Screw it." Last night, we subtracted mixed numbers with different denominators for 2 hours but she still failed the test today.
• Eleven year old that wants to talk constantly and tell me everything but I'm not really listening. Yeah, I hear him but I hear him over the roar of Annie clambering for me and Dasha saying she still doesn't understand the homework.
• Three calls from the school nurse today about Dasha. Seriously? She fell twice and then had a surprise "visitor." I didn't need to be informed about any of this. She falls often and never goes to the nurse. When I got her home, I figured out what was going on. She had several substitutes and she was milking their attention to the max. Neither fall left a single mark on her.
• I've yet to figure out costumes for Halloween. Annie wants to be Cookie Monster. Where did she get that from? She doesn't even like Sesame Street! I found a cute pattern but that means I have to find time to make it.
• That audiologist appointment she had... Well, who knew that an audiologist wouldn't write a pediatric prescription and that our pediatrician wouldn't honor the paperwork faxed over and write one for us. Now, I have to figure out a time to get her in to see the pediatrician to get a prescription for her ears (plus pay another co-pay).
• This doesn't even begin to cover lesson plans, house keeping, yard work, grading papers, dealing with the next book report, or sleeping. I just don't have it in me to be all things to all people. I'm empty.

I'll admit that this is the closest I've been to simply losing it. After dropping Grant with my mom so she could take him to music lessons last night, I seriously thought, "I wonder how far I could drive on the gas that's in my tank?" Then, I realized that would simply strand me in the middle of nowhere with two hungry and cranky girls. No thank you. I'll revisit that thought when I'm alone. I just want a morning when I could sleep past 6 a.m. and a night when I could fall into bed before midnight and sleep through the night. My mind is at about a category 5 hurricane right now worrying about next week and all of the things that will happen. It's like the first time when you take your kid on a roller coaster and they sudden want off and begin screaming when they see what really lies ahead of them. Yeah, I'm that kid screaming to get off of the coaster - except I'm all alone in the seat and no one seems to be listening.

Maybe I'm simply a whiny whimp. I don't know. There are so many other women who've walked this road and seem to come out of the ride unscathed. Why can't I get it right? I have a roof over my head. A good job. Supportive co-workers and family. A solid faith that I'm clinging to. What am I missing?

So, tonight, I'll spend at least another three hours sitting here finishing up masterpiece lesson plans in case the SACS group decides to peek at them, setting up parent conferences, and feeling utterly alone. If you think I'm a whiner, then stop reading. I dream of just one night going to bed and not sleeping in a huge bed alone and having someone else go to comfort Annie in the middle of the night or busting Dasha for taking her braces off at 3:00 a.m. I'm so weary of being the responsible one. Just one night I want to plop my butt in front of the TV and ignore everything. My kids deserve my best but no one is getting that right now because there's nothing left to give other than mandatory maintenance.

Yes, I will overcome this and look back at the journey I took and probably thank all of the therapists, pharmacists, and host of other folks who helped me through. But this leg of the journey is kicking my butt. It's hard to fight when you're weary.

O my God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer. . . . All who see me mock me; they hurl insults, shaking their heads. . . . I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint. My heart has turned to wax; it has melted away within me. My strength is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. . . . I can count all my bones; people stare and gloat over me. . . .

"But you, O LORD, be not far off; O my Strength, come quickly to help me. Deliver my life . . . Rescue me . . . save me. . . . . For he has not despised or disdained the suffering of the afflicted one; he has not hidden his face from him but has listened to his cry for help. . . . . They who seek the LORD will praise him" (Psalm 22:2, 7, 14-15, 17, 19-21, 24, 26).

How do you spell relief?

So, here's the Cliff Notes version of my day.

6:00 a.m. - Annie crawls in bed with me. I try to snuggle her under the covers in hopes that she'll go back to sleep only to find out that she's naked from the waist down and has just peed in my bed. I'm not kidding, folks. The girl has a serious thing for peeing in my bed. Why? Why can't she mark her own territory? It's a whole lot easier to strip a toddler bed and change the linens than a freaking king sized bed! Argh. Good morning!

7:00 a.m. - Laundry is started and Annie has been fed. I started vacuuming the rugs so I could pull them up and use a real mop (not a Swiffer) to clean the floors. Blah. I hate real mops. They take too much effort.

8:00 a.m. - 2:00 p.m. - I'm not sure where this time went but I think it got sucked into a time vaporizer. I know I cleaned out the gazillion products from under the kitchen sink. (Minor melt down over tossing the orange hand cleaner stuff that Eric used to get grease off of his hands). Annie napped. I got Dasha started on finishing up her book report. And, Grant came home with all of his stinky belongings in tow.

From there, it was sort of like a downhill ride. The more help I tried to give Dasha, the more combative she got. Grant was sound asleep upstairs trying to recoup two nights worth of sleep in a couple of hours. Annie was, well, as she usually is - everywhere.

By 5:00, Dasha was still at the table working. She'd had several breaks but she hadn't made much progress. At that point, I finally told her that I was going to set the timer and she had to have the essay outline finished. What was I supposed to do? She didn't want my help but she hadn't even completely finished reading the stupid book (remember, the one about Judy Blume and sex)? At some point, my mom was kind enough to drop some dinner off. I gave Dasha a break and Annie decided that she wanted to "paint." That's what she calls using markers.

However, when she couldn't get a perfect circle drawn on the paper, she lost it! She kept screaming, "The marker won't let me draw a circle!" Yeah, that'll sure work out. Blame the marker. She finally settled back down and continued to color while I helped Dasha try to complete the blasted graphic organizers for the report.

But, then it started again! What's up with this kid? Normally, she's demanding but doesn't turn the water works on and off again constantly. She just figures it out herself and does what she wants to.

If you've never thought about this before, please do so now. If the markers are washable, tears will simply make them run! The black smudge of marker she had on her face ended up running down her cheek an onto her white (of course) shirt. I told her she looked like a racoon and she got even madder! At this point, I just told her to go and wash her face off and I went back to working with Dasha - until I heard water sloshing onto the floor.

Blasted little bugger! Last time I checked, she couldn't reach the stopper in this sink. I guess she can now. Oh well.

So, that's how the evening went. The kids all alternated taking turns to see who could produce the most drama. Grant wanted my undivided attention (meaning don't look at Annie when she's crying, don't look at Dasha if she throws something, and surely don't swat at the cat for clawing at the rug). Annie just seemed to want to be hysterical for anything she deemed uncooperative such as, well, everything. And then, there was Dasha. At some point in this whole debacle, I took Annie upstairs to give her a bath. While I was doing that, Dasha erased EVERYTHING that she'd done over the last six hours. Not just a sentence or two. Everything. Poof. Vanished. Gone. When I tried to calmly ask why she'd erased it all, she just said that she didn't think it was right. I think I remember my explicative filter blinking "overload" and then saying something to her like, "Well, something that was wrong was better than the nothing you have there now!" At that point, I had to text Eric and tell him to take over the show. He Skyped with her for a while but she just doesn't get it. She does not put any value in doing work for the sake of learning. She puts value into not getting into trouble for not doing the work and getting caught, though. I can't wrap my mind around it. Now, I know that 13 year olds don't walk around saying, "Oh goody! I get to learn something today to fill up this cavernous noggin sitting on my neck!" But she just doesn't care at all. So, when I'd adequately calmed down, listened to Grant retell every detail of his camping weekend, and put Annie to bed, I tried to reason with Dasha. Why do I do this? It just frustrates me more. I tried to explain the value in reading a book and showing the teacher the things you learned but she just sat there and stared through me. Then, it's like she just snapped. She propelled her head forward and smacked it square on the table. Again, and again, and again. I told her to stop. I told her she was going to hurt herself. It's like I was talking to a wall. When I finally grabber her, she had quite a mark on her forehead. Once again, I tried to reason with her about not hurting herself. Once again, my reasoning did not resonate. I tried to refocus her and figure out if there was any use in trying to even complete the project. I mean, you can only whack your head so many times before work becomes counter-productive. Strangely enough, she seemed to settled back into the idea of finishing her project and started working again. I edged a few feet away into the kitchen to try to put the dishes away. She started talking to me about her classes at school and it was like she didn't even remember what had just transpired. It was like she just hit "skip" and skipped ahead by 15 minutes - not even fast forward - I mean skipped. When I started talking to her (on her terms because I was really getting freaked out), she told me that she would act better when things went back to "normal." Ok. That's a great statement if I knew what "normal" meant. So, I asked her. Unbeknownst to me, that was not the correct question to ask. She got mad again and started yanking at her hair as she answered me. She said, "Normal is when I won't have to do this hard work anymore and things are fun!" If I hadn't been so freaked out, my sarcastic mind would have probably spewed something out like, "Good luck with that! I guess you'll never see normal, then!" No, I didn't say that but the whole situation was just crazy!

A few more minutes passed and she seemed calm again. I told her to go on to bed. No, once again, the project is not finished but I can't do this crazy stuff. Is this some sort of hormonal thing or is this really something bigger? I've mentioned this to the psychologist and their thought is that it is the only way she knows to manipulate situations but this was just... creepy. There's even a little piece of me that wonders if I should put the baby gate in front of her door tonight to make sure she stays put. I admit. I'm a little afraid of her when she gets like this. She might be little for her age but she is strong as an ox. Ugh. So, she went on upstairs and left me trying to find my bearings. When I did go upstairs to trade out loads of laundry, I heard her riffling around downstairs in the glass jar where I keep pencils. (Every sound in this house is amplified with these hardwood floors)! I went down to see what she was doing and I just stood there astounded. She was taking the mechanical pencils from her book bag and putting them back into a package of new ones through a little hole in the back. I didn't even know the bag was opened. When I asked her what she was doing, I scared her to death. She told me she was getting a new pencil for school. Ok. Nothing wrong with that. (I've been giving her mechanical ones because she can gnaw on the plastic without it actually coming off like the wooden ones). But why was she sneaking them and putting the old ones back in? I didn't even ask. I just opened the package and dumped them all onto the counter and picked out the ones with used erasers (my clue that those were the old ones). She watched me do this but said nothing. Then, she went to bed.

Someone help me. I'm not cut out for this! I've been working with kids for 15 years. I have three degrees in dealing with kids. I have special needs kids in my classroom most years. But this? And the other baffling thing is that the teachers at school never see this sort of behavior. I feel like they think I'm making this stuff up. Why? Like I have time to sit around and dream up this mess. Poor Grant has gotten really good at staying under the radar and keeping Annie with him when these things break out. Tonight, he ended up diapering Annie and dressing her for bed because I was dealing with Dasha. He even baked the cookie dough mom brought and then Annie helped herself to an undisclosed number of cookies using her blasted step stool again. That thing is going to have to go!

Ok. Enough of that. I'm lost. I will call the pediatrician tomorrow and see what to do next.

Like I said, all I want is one drama free day. No book reports. No divas. Just quiet and calm.

So, now I'll head to bed and fold clothes for the next hour to even uncover my bed. Blah. I'm going to invent disposable clothes that you don't have to launder, fold, or put away. You just pull out a nice new set each day. That's what I need!

Good night, all.

Naked Apple Trees, Empty Petting Zoos, and Mountain Meltdowns

Choice A: Stay trapped in the house all day and clean. Choice B: Take both girls to an apple orchard in Ellijay using the Groupon coupon that I bought several weeks ago. Duh! I took choice B!

Here's how it all worked out. Annie got up around 5:15 because she was hungry and had decided that daddy was going to take her to the beach today. ??? I don't know where in the world she came up with that plan but she was quite determined no matter how I tried to reason with her. Not today, honey, it's too cold. No, daddy's not here right now, maybe later. Maybe he can take you when it's gets hot again. Nope. Nada. She didn't buy any of those excuses. She just kept on. So, by 7:00, I was already about to scream. She'd even dumped her entire dresser to find a bathing suit and started frantically looking for her "floaties." Not the kind of morning I had been dreaming of.

So, I decided to load up the girls and make the hour drive to Ellijay to go pick apples. As any good teacher / mom would do, we talked about how apples grow on trees and then the farmers or machines pick them and take them to the store so we can buy them. This was the discussion that dominated the drive (also interspersed with music from Cinderella, Enchanted, and Mary Poppins).

As I discussed the logistics of the farmers getting the apples to stores with Dasha, I kind of lost track of watching the GPS. You know, those things are great IF you have a signal! I'd chosen to use the app on my phone instead of plugging in the TomTom. However, I didn't realize that I lost cell service at some point so the pretty blue dot on the map (me) stopped moving while the van full of crazies kept barreling down the highway. When I hit Blue Ridge, I realized that something was wrong. Duh! I plugged in the real GPS and then had to back track almost 20 minutes! By this point, the girls were getting hungry and tired of being in the car. I was seeing dollar signs as I had just wasted quite a bit of gas and now I was going to have to make an unplanned stop for food. (I'd packed pretzels and water bottles but the girls destroyed those before we ever left Woodstock)! Oh well.

We did manage to find the orchard which was actually not even correctly routed on MapQuest! Argh! However, the place was swarming with people. I'm convinced that every person there had at least ten kids and out of those ten kids, at least four of them were screaming! If you don't know me well, you might not know that I HATE crowded places! But, after driving that far, by golly, we were getting our 1/2 peck of apples and a hayride!

We had to wait in quite a line to even get to the ticket booth to trade our coupon in for the goods. However, when we got to the cashier, she said in a cute little southern drawl, "All our apple trees are empteeeeeee. I'm gonna give you a bag and you can just go over there and pick you some apples out of them there bins that they got filled with different kinds of apples." What? I just spend 90 freaking minutes telling the girls about picking apples from trees and now this. Nice.

The trees were indeed bare. However, tons of rotting apples littered the ground. Annie insisted on trying to pick some up. Of course, she picked up the most rotten and squishy apple in the entire orchard which popped open and oozed nastiness all over her hands. Do you think I had any wipes with me? Nope. Of course not! So, as she whined about being yucky with apple guts, we walked toward the other big draw of this orchard - the petting farm. Uh um. The petting farm consisted of a couple of goats, a baby cow that some young 4H students were showcasing, a turkey or two, and two little puppies. Yeah. Not what I really had in mind.

Ok. I tried to keep it all positive. At least I wasn't at home scrubbing toilets or mopping floors. So, we headed off to the next attraction, an apple cannon. I admit that the views were spectacular despite the naked trees and shabby petting zoo. I love the fall and I especially love the mountains at this time of year. I'll admit that I did have quite a time trying to fight off the memory monsters that kept trying to creep in and bring back so many trips from years past. But, the girls and I enjoyed the hike across the orchard and discussed the different kinds of trees and the horrific smell of rotting apples.

So, we reached the apple cannon (that would be singular - not plural) to find a massive line. By this point, both girls were tired of walking and hungry. They were more amused with the thought of sitting down than hurling apples into the valley with a weapon.

So, we decided to hand off our tickets for the apple cannon to a group of kissy faced newlyweds and head back down the hill to the hayride. Did I mention that both girls were already exhausted? Yeah. I didn't take the stroller out of the van because Annie never wants to ride and it just becomes a piece of luggage for me to drag around. However, today, she sat down and started crying for her stroller. Nice. Stranded at the top of a mountain-like gravel paved hill with one child having a tantrum, one constantly falling over her own feet from sheer exhaustion, and me wishing I'd taken the opportunity to pee before we'd ever started out on this journey.

By the time we got to the bottom of the hill, I'd carried Dasha on my back for part of the journey and had Annie clinging to my front. I felt like one of those weird sloths that carry their babies in every possible manner from tree to tree. At one point, I started getting pissed off that no one around had even offered to help but what would they do? And, honestly, what would I have said? Sure, why don't you carry this 90 pound child down the hill like Heidi for me? Uh, no. After making it back to level ground, Annie had stopped crying finally, Dasha has reestablished her footing, and I was dreaming of being at home elbow deep in a toilet bowl scrubbing it clean.

We picked our apples from the bin with Annie wanting to know (for the millionth time) why the apples were in boxes and not on the trees like we'd talked about. I'll admit that an ugly little voice in my head just kept thinking, "Just get the dang apples, kid, and let's get this over with!" Did you know that 1/2 peck of apples equates to about 8 apples? And, if you choose ginormous apples like Annie did, you'll only get about 5 apples in 1/2 peck! Oh well. She settled down and then..... Crap. I'd lost Dasha. She was just standing right there picking her own apples from the boxes. I mean, in less than ten seconds, she vanished. Remember who you're dealing with here. I'm a completely paranoid mama and I'd still tether each child to my belt loops if I didn't think they all bolt in different directions and pull my jeans to my ankles or just rip them right off of me! So, I picked Annie up (who, of course, started protesting by screaming) and went looking for Dasha. She had walked inside the building talking with another girl about her age. I spotted her pretty quickly but that surge of adrenaline that propelled me through those 120 seconds completely zapped my energy and patience levels. We took our 1/2 peck of apples and went to the van. No hayride. No apples pies. No apple cider. No nothing. It was just too much.

All I wanted was a fun outing to the orchard. That's it. I wasn't expecting anyone to stay clean or even keep to a specific schedule. I just wanted to go and have fun. Fail. It was a fail for me, at least. I think the girls can look back on it as a fun thing but Annie is still ticked about not getting pick the apple from the tree and Dasha may never roam more than about 3 inches from my side after the leveling I gave her once we were in the van (with doors and windows shut tight to avoid any strangers hearing my insanity)!

And this, my friends, brings us to the end of our fun-filled day at the orchard.

Tomorrow, I'll scrub the toilets, floors, and even the windows before taking another "fun" journey. I know that I can't rely on Grant to fill in the gaps of helping me with the girls all of the time but for outings like this, I'm just going to have to admit that I can't do it by myself. Physically trying to help Dasha maneuver in crowed areas is tough when it's just the two of us. But, when you add Annie into the mix, it's just too scary.

Now, I still have a Groupon left that I bought to a pumpkin farm in Oxford, GA. Anyone want it? It expires on 10/31 and there's just no way that I'm going to do this again next weekend. There are plenty of other little pumpkin patches I can take the kids to in this area without risking completely losing my sanity (or one of the kids).

I'm not even going to begin to address the whole event of Dasha wandering off. She still doesn't see the problem and didn't even consider it wandering off since she could technically still see me. Scary is about the only thing I can say. It's days like this when I completely understand why single moms run into the arms of the first living, breathing (even if it's on life-support or oxygen) thing that crosses their path. It's simply a matter of someone to help carry the load (or child). Never mind all of the mushy gushy romantic stuff like love. I can completely see where it becomes more about survival. No, I'm not uploading a profile to some dating service or anything. I have no heart or mind for that kind of journey at this point. I'm just saying... The burden is very heavy and on days like today when I literally and figuratively falter under the load, help would be nice.

I'm off to finish up the laundry before Grant comes charging back in tomorrow with a pack full of nastiness from his camping excursion. He's probably still wearing the same outfit he left in (including underwear) but absolutely everything will have to be washed from the sheer stench of being in his vicinity. I wonder if I have enough Clorox left? Hmmmm....

Good night, all.

The Journey: Lessons Learned

So, it's late but sleep eludes me. Each picture in this movie represents some sort of lesson that I've learned over the last six months. From learning to lay flooring to juggling three kids, the learning curve has been steep and I'm still not to the top of the curve but at least I'm holding on...

Addendum to lightening bolt targets for tonight...

Fail. Tried to help Dasha with the Judy Blume book report. She forgot the book at school so I downloaded it to my Kindle. Pretty smart, eh? Never mind that I just spent money that I didn't have for a book that she won't read. Anyway, as we filled out the graphic organizers to write the essay, one of the paragraphs had to be about an interesting fact from the book. When I asked Dasha about this, she said, "Sex." After I calmly put the pencil down and stopped imagining it as a lightening bolt, I asked her what she meant. She went on to tell me that Judy Blume wrote books to help girls and boys understand sex. Yeah, I remember the whole taboo deal with reading Are You There God, It's Me Margaret. But, why has Dasha not retained anything except that Judy Blume had been divorced twice and writes about sex? When I asked Dasha what sex was, she said, "You know. It's when boys and girls start liking each other. Like me and Andrew." The M&Ms that I had resorted to crunching down on to keep myself calm all just got stuck in my throat and time froze. Do I ask more specific questions or just wait for her to say something? I don't want to lead her to say something she doesn't mean but.... I finally asked her how she and Andrew had anything to do with sex. (Andrew is the kid that in her last period class where there are only two students and a teacher). Her reply, "That's what we do." Look, I just finished a major blog post about how I'm struggling here. This is NOT what I can handle tonight. That whole crap about God won't give you more than you can handle is malarkey. I didn't know whether to run from the table, up the stairs, to my bed, and hide under the covers or sit there and wait for her to elaborate. I didn't have the energy or the faith in my legs to hold steady to run. I waited. She finally said, "Andrew and I are kind of like sex. We like each other and are friends. Sometimes he even carries my books and helps me." I want the 4-1-1 on this Andrew kid. I've avoided any conversations with Dasha about sex. Heck, she can't even remember to put deodorant on and still streaks naked down the hall without one thought of modesty. What am I supposed to say? Do I have to address this now? A freaking Judy Blue biography just put me in a position that I really can't handle right now. (When I scrolled through the book, there were many references to Blume's writings about teen sex and how controversial her books were at the time).

Seriously, people. If you have any connections with the owner of this ride that I'm stuck on, would you please forward my S.O.S. to them?

The book report will not get done tonight. The teachers can think whatever they want to about me and my parenting skills. Whatever. Maybe I'll just leave Dasha at the sitter with Annie tomorrow. I hate this journey! I don't like this path! I'm feeling a bit like I took the road less traveled in the yellow woods but now I want to go back and change my mind. Never mind what a difference it might make! I want to be on a nicely paved path where I can see where I'm going and maybe even have someone along with me to help carry me when I trip and fall or get too tired to keep going! AAAHHHHHH!!!!!

Hey, Zeus! Can I borrow your lightening bolts to zap a bunch of folks in the butt?

Tonight my thoughts are rambling. They are being thrown to and fro. Yes. No. Wrong. Right. Why? Why not? Do. Don't. The only thread that binds all of the reckless ideas into some semblance of order is weariness. Weary. So, tonight, I won't spend effort to try to put things into any kind of chronological order or even piece the thoughts together. This will simply be a vision of what it would look like if all of the thoughts from my mind flew out of my ears and slammed themselves all over a brick wall like graffiti. (Sounds like a scene from Roger Rabbit).

• Today marks six months. "No, I can't stay home with Grant today. I'm leaving." That's what he said. And he left. He had it planned for months and just waited for the right moment. I was the idiot not to see it. The signs were all there. Naive. Not any more.
• I'm tired of holding it all together. The roller coaster ride is getting to me. I just can't stomach much more. There aren't so many loop-the-loops any more but the constant hills are making me long for solid ground. I hold my emotions in at home so the kids don't think mom is upset. The worst question is from Annie. "Mama, why crying? You sad?" If only she knew. At school, there's no time for my own personal drama. I'm juggling the lives of 24 children who deserve my stability and attention. So, please tell me when I can drop my armor and just be weak and weary without concern that I'm letting someone down or that someone is going to drive their spear through me while my armor is off and I'm resting.
• I feel nothing short of hopeless with Dasha right now. Forging my signature. Filling in her agenda with her own made up assignments. Hiding papers. Telling teachers that I send her to bed without feeding her dinner. Telling other teachers that I don't allow her to do her homework. Emails from those teachers with accusatory undertones about my parenting skills. Hey, I never made any proclamations about my parenting skills. They suck when it comes to Dasha. Last night, I finally solved the mystery of her agenda not being filled out. She doesn't fill it out during class and then comes home to fill it in with whatever she "thinks" the assignment should have been. She also leaves out writing down assignments that she'd rather not do, like book reports. So, after completely losing every shred of my sanity last night trying to reason with her, I sent her to bed. Mind you, this was after about 4 hours of homework drama. No, she didn't finish some assignments. Did I really care? No. (When I sent her to bed, she spent the next 30 minutes in her bed punching her headboard with her fists like a wild animal). I sent her assistant principal and teachers an email telling them about the problem of her filling in the agenda. Heck, she has a para-pro for two periods, a small group resource class for two periods, and a class with only two students in it for another class. Why can't someone check to see if she's writing crap in her agenda? I'm not asking them to do it for her! The other problem is that she has yet to receive any consequences for not having her homework completed - all year! So, why in the world would she actually do the work if she doesn't have to have any consequences? Anyway, the teachers responded with emails telling me how sweet and hard-working she is and that they just think she's doing her best. Seriously? Doing her best is concocting her own homework assignments? Is this a creative arts school where she gets bonus points for imagination? So, tonight, she's been at the table since 4:30. She had to do a ton of classwork that she didn't do from yesterday and today, homework from both days, and she has a very elaborate book report due tomorrow that she hasn't even finished reading the book for. Anyone read the biography of Judy Blume? Yeah, not me either. But, I don't feel like I can send her to school tomorrow without it all done. I feel like my own freaking reputation is on the line. They already think I'm a crappy parent and that I'm asking too much of her. Heck, I haven't even begun to check right and wrong answers so I'm really not even asking anything of her academically other than to have some sort of product to turn in. A friend keeps telling me that this is not really a reflection on me but on her hardships early on. Ok. That sounds sweet but it doesn't make me feel any better. Do you know what I think when a kid continues to not turn in homework? My first thought is, "Why can't your mom or dad help you make sure this gets done?" Sorry. It's true. Children are definitely a reflection of their parents and I feel like Dasha makes me look like a major loser. But what do I do with her? Her room currently only has a bed, book shelf (it was too heavy for me to move), and her dresser. I took everything out of her room and set goals for her to earn it back but she doesn't even care that it's gone! And, while I'm trying to deal with all of this, Annie and Grant are left to their own devices to entertain themselves. I only have a few waking hours with them a day and this is how I have to spend them. Once again, this sucks and I can't keep it up.
• I can't even keep writing all of this out tonight. Dasha is now ready to start her book report and just realized that she left the book at school. Come on! Do I cry? Do I scream? Do I simply walk away? What do I do? I just need a safety zone to unravel. Yeah, mom and dad watch the kids but I'm still ultimately "on call" if something happens. Yeah, I can get a sitter. But, once again, I'm ultimately "on call." My life rotates between giving to my kids at school and at home. I don't feel like I'm "getting" back from anyone! Take, take, take. Yes, that's my job as a mom and teacher but there has to be a point where you wave the flag and ask for a time out.
• And, then there's Grant. He baffles me. He tells me one thing but his dad something different. Then, I'm assumed to be a liar making up stories to make Eric feel guilty. Come on. I don't have time to concoct lies to cause injuries. I just don't know what's going on with Grant. Is it just the preteen thing? He can be so loving and sensitive and then do a 180 and act like he's just insulted by my very presence. I've had a stomach bug for the last two nights and he's actually stood over me in the bathroom and pulled my hair back as I puked. He's freaking 11 years old. That's not his job! Then, he told me that someone should invent something to hold your hair back when you're sick. I hated to tell him that it's called a rubber band.  Then, when I'm engaged with Dasha, he takes Annie and distracts her. I can hear him playing kitchen with her over the monitor and it just makes me feel like such a loser. He's having to be the sane adult and protector while I act like a raging lunatic. Ugh.
• Then, there's the subject of church. If you're easily offended, just stop reading now. I don't have any filters functioning to keep things PC or even polite. Consider yourself warned. Basically, I've lost my place in church. Church seems to be for married people or young single people. The sight of couples sitting contently though service together makes me crazy. Selfish, yep. I just can't stand to see it. Beyond that, I'm trying to figure out a few things about the "church" in the role of an adulterous relationship, as well. Back in January, we sat in a new small group together and laid out the story and trials of what we'd walked through and where we were headed. (I feel like SUCH a fool now thinking about that night. The things he said about where our path was headed were lies and I wonder how many people sitting in the room knew it before I did). Anyway, one couple in the group said that they had had an affair and cheated on their spouses but they were simply "soul mates" and just meant to be together. They left their spouses and got married. Then, they went to church, joined a small group, and felt safe to share that their marriage was born of sin. I almost vomited as they told the stories of cheating and how "right" they were for each other. I could think of nothing but Eric and Her sitting in some small group telling the same sort of story. Now, mind you, I thought that WE had chosen a different road and were heading toward putting US back together at the time. Eric and I even talked about the other couple's conversation. But now, to think that a church would embrace people in these kinds of relationships bothers me. Maybe I'm really wrong. Probably. But, how can they just waltz into a Holy place and play the "God game?" Eric tells Grant that he goes to church every Sunday now, too. Once again, where is the church's place in this? I know that "love one another" is the starting point but when does someone point out the sin? As I write that, I can hear someone saying, "What about the log in your own eye?" Yeah, yeah, yeah. Remember, I said this was not PC or even reasonable. However, when Grant brought up going to church last Sunday, I just didn't know what to do. Sitting through a service is so hard. Yeah, I should focus on the message and not others around me but it's so hard! Seeing husbands and wives whispering back and forth. Holding hands. Crap. The whole thing just makes me sick. I absolutely know that I'm being selfish like a two year old and saying that if I can't have it, no one else should either. I am my own worst enemy when it comes to brain battles. I have the head knowledge. A lot of it. But, getting it to an application stage is sometimes very difficult. So, I guess this all basically boils down to the fact that I'd like to summon the powers of Zeus for a few hours and lob lightening bolts at all of the people that I don't think deserve to go to church. Sounds reasonable. Right? Argh. See? When I write all of these rantings down, somehow, I see how stupid they sound and I can just argue with myself even more about being reasonable and Holy. How do I get a foot-hold to get back to that place? Do I harden my own heart and put on more armor to hide everything?
• Well, now that I've confessed that I'd like blow up most of the known world with lightening bolts, I think I've pretty much purged my rage for the evening. However, I now must go and help Grant roll up a sleeping bag and stuff it into a sack that looks like would only hold a washcloth - not a ginormous sleeping bag, and help him finish packing for a big camping trip. In my attempt to help, I keep asking him if he remembered to get this or that and he rewards me with huffing. Geez. On the last trip, he was upset that he'd forgotten TP so what am I doing wrong by asking him if he packed it this time? I just can't get it right! Then, I get to go "help" Dasha fill a bag with items that represent Judy Blume, decorate the outside of the bag, and then write a five paragraph essay. That ought to be fun considering I haven't read the 220 page book! If it were Grant, I'd probably send him to bed and just do it myself. That doesn't work with Dasha. Her first words to the teacher would be, "My mom wouldn't let me do my own book report. She did it and made me go to bed!" Then, the teacher would send me another accusatory email. Maybe she'd like to take Dasha for the weekend and see how long she could endure.
• Bottom line, I need a break. I need to let my guard down and let the emotions out. I've found myself in a state of anger and rage that I haven't know in some time. My numbness mechanism seems broken and every single thing zips right through to my soul and stings like a hot dart. Someone asked if I was depressed and needed some meds. I don't think so. I've talked with my doctor about it and she would write me a prescription without hesitation but I just don't see this as depression. I just feel like I'm in war and I keep losing battle after battle but I can't put down my weapons or armor for fear someone will need protecting or someone will try to attack me. It's weariness. Not depression.
• What an entry this has been. Like I said, the thoughts are like splatters on a dark alley wall. They are messy and probably violate some sort of city ordinance but they are real and represent what's thrashing around in my noggin right now. So, sweet dreams to all as I go and learn about Judy Blume and pull out the glitter and glue. Blah.

Good night, all.

Drunken Monsters Having a Keg Party

Days like this don't even deserve taking a Mulligan on. I got nothing accomplished with my side-kick in tow today. Then, I realized that I somehow entered the mortgage payment twice in epay and was rewarded with counting pennies to pay for gas when my debit card wouldn't work. (And, I don't have a credit card so I was literally stuck). Then, as I tried to change the light bulb in the light on the front porch, I fell off the step stool and into the holly bushes. Normally, I would have waited to handle such a task until daylight but several cars have been broken into in our subdivision (including mine - didn't take anything but left my GPS on the ground and greasy hand prints all over everything) and I've been leaving the front porch lights on for my own sanity. Now, to finish laundry and cleaning up the corpses of millions of little flying ants that must have crawled in through the window (closed) and decided that the end of their journey should be on my windowsill. Really?

I'm not quite sure why anyone is still reading this stuff because I'm struggling to even find humor in this journey right now. Yeah, I know I'll come out on the other end of this dark tunnel in a little bit but, for now, the light that I see at the end of the tunnel is only the light of a freight train headed straight for me. I'm finding out that when you're at your darkest point on this journey, all of the monsters and haunts suddenly feel the freedom to come creeping out. All of those thoughts that float in the back corners of my mind in the cobwebs start to surface like, "What was so great about her that he'd leave me and three kids in this mess?" Or, even better, "What's wrong with me that's so horrible?" And then, there's the recounting of the laundry list of things that he said were "wrong" with me and I wonder what I could've done differently to keep him here so the kids would at least have a dad. I've already battled these monsters and I knew I hadn't slain them but I sure thought that I'd done enough damage to render them incapable of eeking out of their dark corners. But, they seem to feel quite confident to creep out in the darkest moments. And tonight, they're having their very own kegger right in the middle of my brain. Drunken monsters rummaging around. Knocking over boxes of thoughts and memories that I'd packaged up and stacked neatly in the very back shelves of my mind.

I just want a day to reset and battle the monsters and throw them out. I don't think it's possible to completely kill these kinds of monsters but I need time to do enough damage to knock them out cold for at least.... oh, maybe 50 years!

So, I'm not headed to bed any time soon. I'm back at a point where I dread sleep. The monsters come out the minute I close my eyes. Tomorrow, I will get up and do my best to open the windows of my brain and let the light shine in and send the furry beasts back to their corners so I can take care of the business at hand and get off of this dang detour on my journey and back on track.

Good night, all.

Charlie Brown's Teacher and Monster Spray

Yep. This about says it all. Just when I think I have things mildly under control and can collapse onto the sofa without worry that the house will burn down around me, this kind of thing happens. What makes children so darn strong willed? She says she wants milk (warmed). I don't get it fast enough. She decides to get it herself. She managed to open the refrigerator, get the milk, get a cup, and was opening the microwave when I found her. Heaven forbid, I was trying to change the loads of laundry. The bright side of this is that she hadn't tried to actually pour the milk into the cup yet. Ugh.

So, it's Friday night and supposed to be my favorite night. I'm beginning to think that there's not ever going to be a favorite night again because they all seem quite alike at this point. If I'm not putting out fires (like the one Annie could have started), I'm trying to keep up with the chores. If I'm not doing chores of some sort, I'm mucking through tweenage drama. Pardon my selfishness, but when I do simply get a night off?

I did manage to make it through school this week. That's another bright spot. This week was supposed to have been a bit less stressful than last week but that sure didn't work out.

While the Boosterthon team was at our school, I got a letter full of rage from a nutty parent wanting me to know that she completely disagrees with fundraisers and just wants to give a flat donation. Um, well. First of all, why blast me about it and why don't you just do it? This set the tone for the rest of the week. We also had benchmark testing which doesn't mix well with Boosterthon. It's kind of like feeding a kid a whole bunch of Varsity dogs and then putting them on a roller coaster that is on a direct flight without any stops. So, after doing my darndest to bribe the kids to do their best, here's what I got.

This was the science benchmark finale. I'd already told this kid's mom that he was having a hard time getting through the entire test each day and was getting lost in daydreams. I think I simply sounded like Charlie Brown's teacher to her. We'll see what she has to say when she gets the email with this picture attached. (No, I'm not heartless enough to not notice the sad face on the creature. I see it). Do parents think that I really like taking my own personal time to call and gripe about their child? Believe it or not, I have much better things to do with my time - like getting Annie her milk before she does it herself! I just want to meet the folks that think all of this standardized testing is appropriate for eight year olds. Come on! I can't begin to tell you how many kids were sucking their thumbs by 2:00 this afternoon. They were exhausted. They couldn't even hide those sleepy little secrets that normally only sneak out when they are at home sacked out on the sofa! And, the crying... Oh, the crying. I had kids crying this week that probably wouldn't shed a tear if you stuck an arrow through their arm. Anxiety, excitability, and exhaustion just don't make great foundations for testing how much a kid has retained.

Let's add to the drama of dealing with a classroom of mostly melting down kids, writing a grant proposal in less than a week, picking new insurance plans, finalizing report cards, and attending to various other silly jobs!

For Grant, keeping up with his homework has become my burden. I can't recount how many times he's told me that he finished his homework in class only to find out that it wasn't completely finished and he thought he'd be able to finish it during homeroom. He's also given me the slip about tests. When questioned, he tells me that he knows everything and got a great grade. Usually by the next afternoon, I have an email from the online grade book saying otherwise. So, I now get to go back to holding his hand through homework every night in order to keep his grades up. Should I care? Should I just let him fall on his face and get kicked out of advanced classes? I just don't know. He's SO capable but he's just not motivated. Blah!

For Dasha, a trip to the audiologist proved to be nothing less than interesting. Remember how she failed the school's hearing test? Well, the school wanted me to take her to the county audiologist but they only had appointments during school hours which would have required me to take another day off work. Ugh. I only have so many days to spare and I'd much prefer to use those when one of the crumb snatchers is really sick! So, the pediatrician advised that I take her to a private practice. Yeah, no surprise there. Ka-ching! They saw "co-pay" written all over that one! So, my mom was generous enough to deliver Dasha to the appointment. The discovery... she has fluid behind her ear drums. To most kids, they'd be shrieking in pain. To Dasha, nothing. We've had this problem before. So, as Grant finishes up his antibiotics, Dasha will start a round of her own to take care of the fluid. Then, hmmmm, yip, we have to go back for a recheck. Ka-ching! Seriously! I'm convinced that by the end of the month, the co-pays will surpass the mortgage! Don't get me wrong. I'm grateful that I'm not paying completely out of pocket but this is getting old. Dasha's hearing was impacted slightly on one side by the fluid but she can certainly hear well enough to know what we're saying to her!

For Annie, well, there's not much to say there beyond, "She's Annie." She's still working on the potty training issue. She does beautifully at the sitter's house and even wore "real" panties today. However, when we get home, NOPE! In fact, when I went to change her Pull Up tonight, she peed right on my bed - again! What the heck! It's like she's a dog marking her territory! That's the fourth time she's peed on my bed. Do you know what a pain in the butt it is to strip a king sized bed and change the sheets?

I mean, look at her! This is what she deems appropriate table manners. Her butt never lands in the seat. And lately, both feet don't even touch the chair. The sitter swears to me that she sits at the table there. Ugh.

For me, well, there's just not too much to say. I know that I'm in a bad place when my dad tells me I need to get some rest. (This coming from a man who might not notice if one of my arms was missing). I've had less than five hours of sleep per night for the last couple of weeks and then in the other 21 hours, I've gone non-stop. Yes, I'm tired but if I stop, who will pick up the pieces when they start to fall? Trying to juggle work, side jobs, kids, homework, and chores - all of those things are necessary. It's not like I'm trying to play golf five days a week and could just drop an extra curricular activity. Nope. The minute laundry becomes and extra curricular activity, please let me know.

Yes, it all seems to be doom and gloom. That's not true. There has definitely been laughter and playfulness within the house and at school. In fact, the biggest laugh of all came from Annie this week. She's suddenly become "scared" of monsters and yells and carries on when she sees something she deems as scary. I thought I was being a super mom and grabbed the squirt bottle of water from my bathroom that I use to tame her mane in the mornings and told her that it was "monster spray" and would get rid of the scary things. It worked beautifully that night. However, when I went to fix her hair the next morning and used the same spray bottle, she started screaming at me and melting down (not what I enjoy at 6:15 a.m.). She said, "I not a scary monster! Don't use that on me!" Oh. Hmmm... Point taken. She went to the sitter's house with crazy hair and I added "spray bottle" to my grocery list. Like I said, there are definitely moments of fun but once the kids are in bed, it's like the clouds descend and the reality of my current life closes in on me. Bills, the future, the kids, Christmas, divorce, keeping up with the pace of things... all of those monsters start to haunt me and they don't seem to respond to the monster spray. (However, I think there are some people who resort to alcohol as their own personal monster spray and I can certainly understand why).

So, as I wrap up for the evening, I am waiting for a load of laundry including Grant's scout attire to finish up. Grant has to be at a scout clinic at 6:45 in the morning. Dasha has her respite day at 10:00. So, Annie and I will.... who knows.

Good night, all.

Doing the Macarena, Tango, and Cotton Eye Joe

Yeah, everyone has seen the quote. I know. Nothing original. But, I'm just making a point. I've done a jig. I've done the Macarena. I've even done a bit of Cotton Eye Joe followed with a Tango but the storm just won't seem to pass. It's late and I won't begin to go into too much detail but Monday was L O N G. I figured out why Dasha has acted so nutty lately and it can be directly linked to her lack of sleep and focus on playing her Nintendo through the night in order to "beat" the Tale of Desperaux game. Grant spent his lunch at the silent table today which was a first for him. Although, I think I was more shell shocked than he was. Annie peed and poo'd in the potty today for the sitter but came home and made puddles and piles in the floor like a puppy. I've gotten three surprise bills that caught me completely off guard. And, to top it off, the beautiful picture wall that I worked so hard to finish is now laying across the foyer in pieces. The stupid 3M picture hooks obviously don't like cold air and they all gave way. So, I now have broken glass and frames littering the entryway. Perfect-O! So, I've danced my heart out trying to wait the storm out but I need to sit the next dance out and catch my breath. No, I'm not giving up on dancing through this storm but I just need to let my feet rest because these darn tap shoes are wearing blisters on my feet and on my soul.

Good night, all.

Liability, Who's on First, and Extreme Home Makeovers

Saying that it's been, "One of those weeks," just doesn't even begin to cut it! It's been one of those weeks that would have made any sane person reevaluate their life and simply shake their head and then do a Google search for "psychiatric help." Me, on the other hand, came out relatively unscathed and just a little tired.

Every afternoon last week involved some sort of "out of the ordinary" planning. From having Grant's gangrene hand checked out to picking up Dasha's braces, it was just enough to put a ding in my my numb force field, though.

This week (and last week) at school, we're hosting the Boosterthon team. Yes, these guys come in and help our school raise an incredible amount of money but they're like Wiggles on steroids! I swear that they all have Red Bull IVs tucked into a vein somewhere! Anyway, my "kids" won a poster contest this week that I didn't know about until I was leaving school last Friday. So, I spent my Sunday night on the patio spray painting a big foam board so that my "students" could finish the poster. Bottom line, my "kids" won the contest and got to have time on Friday afternoon in a bounce house. OK. Let's look at this logistically. There's one of me. There are 21 of them. Hmmmm... 1 to 21 ratio of 8 year olds to adults. The odds were stacked against me to start with. I did my darnedest to lay out my expectations about rough housing and other such activities prior to leaving the classroom. (Did I also mention that I have way more boys than girls in my classroom)? When we finally left the classroom and headed to Romper Room, the kids all started eying me like they were all waiting for some undisclosed signal to surround me, tie me up, and have their own way in the bounce houses! I was wrong. They actually did a great job! Whew! However, the liability of being responsible for someone else's kid in one of those inflatable death traps was nothing short of nerve racking. I started the time trying walk between the two inflatables and monitor. I'd split the kids into four groups and had planned to rotate them very methodically. Ha! When will I ever learn? Eventually, all of the kids sort of figured out where they wanted to play and settled in. At that point, I stationed myself at the bottom of the huge slide and simply took pictures. I figured that I'd at least be able to have a picture to show their parents to prove that I truly was monitoring the situation! After our time was up, all 21 kids and I walked away without having any major injuries. (One student did knee himself in the mouth and cause one of the brackets of his braces to split his lip. He opted for "self-care" and continued to play)!

And, that was the drama that closed out my school week. However, I brought home my own assignments which are still sitting neatly in the back of the van. Between yearbook layouts, grant writing, and planning for next quarter, I'm still not ahead of the game.

OK. So, that was kind of long-winded just to give you an example of what a "normal" day looked like for me last week. I'm so thankful to have tomorrow off. Although, when I get my check at the end of the month and I'm missing a day's pay, I think the glory will wane.

While I don't have the extracurricular drama scheduled for this week like last week, the week started off with a birthday party today that was nothing short of... well, wowzers. The party was at a cute little "farm" in downtown Roswell. It was like an old house where each room had been turned into a themed playroom. Then, the outside was simply whimsical.  Twinkle lights, fairy wings, and tutus were everywhere! Though all of the other guests were 7ish, Dasha fit right in.

The main activity at the party was a spa. The girls had facials, manicures, and pedicures. I started off on Dasha duty and Grant took Annie. (This was my little cousin's party so family from AL was there. This meant that Grant was forced to go and visit with them. He was NOT thrilled with the girly-ness of the situation). Anyway, as I watched Dasha, I noticed that she wasn't listening to what the host was saying. She was simply waiting to see what the other girls were doing around her. I'll admit that these kinds of situations make me very nervous. I like to fade into the background in social situations like this and I just don't have any need to "stand out." Dasha, on the other hand, enjoys being in the spot light and will do nearly anything to get herself there. Many times, her attempts to gain the spotlight are nothing short of embarrassing in my book. However, others keep telling me that the things she does aren't that outlandish. I don't know. I feel so guilty admitting that I'm nervous that she's going to do something ridiculous and I hover over her to try to squelch anything out of the ordinary that she might say or do. So, I just stood over her. Am I waiting to catch her being "bad?" I don't think so. But, as I watched, I noticed that she was watching the girls around her more than the host. This has NEVER been the case before! If you ask her what she perceives that others think about her, she will look at you cluelessly and tell you that she didn't know other people even have thoughts about her. (So many times, I've asked her something like, "What do you think your school friends would think if they saw you eating like that?)" So, why was she watching the other kids? I was dumbfounded. When we got home, I asked her. She told me that she couldn't see the host (remember the failed eye test with the new glasses) and she couldn't hear the directions (remember that audiology appointment she has on Thursday). Really? How could this be?

So, I'm left with trying to figure out what to do. She has brand new glass AND just had another vision test. The doctor won't give her a stronger prescription right now. As for the hearing, who knows.

I just feel helpless with her. Some days, she seems to have it together. Other days, I feel lucky if I can treat her like a five year old. How can she memorize how to play a song on the piano and keep that in her memory for weeks but can't remember a simple addition fact or even her phone number? I understand the logistics of how this can happen. (I have a degree in educational neurobiology. Of course I know what the text books say). But, putting this into daily living experiences is maddening. As we got ready to go to the party this afternoon, I went to help Dasha with her hair and couldn't even get the brush through it. Her hair was hard as a rock on top. It was like she'd shellacked it. Had she put gel in it? Had she found my hairspray? What in the world? Questioning her is like being trapped in the "Who's on First" joke. You ask a question. She gives you an answer that doesn't answer your question. So, after a very long Q&A session, I found out that Dasha has been out of shampoo for over a week now. Crap. Her hat hair was actually nothing shy of an oil slick that had simply congealed. I should take complete responsibility. I know. But, why in the world couldn't she have told me that she was out of shampoo? How hard is that? Should I be bathing her every single night? I do help her get into the tub and get the water started but I let her do the scrubbing. Ugh. I don't know what to do.

Currently, she's upstairs reading. Remember those book reports that keep "sneaking" up on us? Yep. She had another one due last Friday that I was clueless about. It wasn't written in her agenda until Saturday. She knows enough to cover her tracks and go back and write missing assignments in her agenda after the fact. But, that's not even my biggest gripe. The teachers have yet to take any "points" away from her. She misses assignments weekly but there is absolutely NO consequence at school. Mean mom is the only one that's fussing about it! But, Grant has missed several points for having to go back to his locker for a forgotten item or for missing a homework assignment. I'm going to have to set up a conference with the teachers. I feel like I'm left with two choices. Choice one is to leave her in general education classes where she only picks up minimal understanding but is surrounded by mainstream peers. Choice two is to have her put into resource classes where she might simply be stuffed on a computer every day and not learn anything (we know this from prior experience) and be surrounded by other special needs students. To an outsider, the choice would be to obviously go with option one. However, option one leaves me constantly struggling to fill in the gaps, figure out the missing pieces, and try to convince her that she, too, has to follow the rules even if she doesn't receive any consequences. I'm pulling my hair out and the other two kids are suffering because of it, too. From 4:00 to 9:00 each night, I'm focused on Dasha and getting her assignments completed. Many nights, we have to complete things that she didn't finish in class, too! (Heck, she has a para pro! Where is this para pro when Dasha is staring into space and not doing her work)? I wish I had the resources to put her in a special school where they could teach her on her level (third gradeish) and fill in the gaps that are still missing from her time in the orphanage.

Please don't think that I don't love her. I do. I'm just stumped as to how to parent her. I don't know what's best for her and I feel completely lost with her right now. She frustrates my perfectionist tendencies to no end but has her own set of gifts that needs to be developed. How do I do that?

Then, there's Annie. I don't understand her, either! She is such an adventurer and doesn't have any need to fade into the background. She will run to the middle of a room and "tap it out" or hold her own ballet in the middle of an aisle in WalMart. She's full of life. You know, when I stumbled into this journey, there were many nights when I thought that having a two year old along for the journey would make things more complicated because I couldn't reason with her. I've changed my mind. Despite the fact that she has Eric's soul and completely reminds me of him in so many ways, she is full of life and keeps me going. She gives without expectation (unless you have food) and receives with the excitement that you only see in children. But, I still don't understand what motivates her. She's stubborn and will get what she wants no matter what anyone says! There is a definite reason that children are meant to have two parents. Two heads are better than one. Not a day passes when I don't worry that I'm squelching her spirit and putting limitations on her abilities that Eric would be better to direct since they're so similar. However, all I can say is that I'm doing the best I can. God has to know and see that and be making provisions for her. I will do whatever is necessary to mold her into the person she's meant to be but for now, the mold I'm holding simply has a big question mark across it.

While I'm on the subject of kids, I might as well go ahead and throw Grant into the discussion. Thank goodness, the mega antibiotics that he's been on for the last few days have helped his hand. The swelling is down considerably and he's beginning to regain movement in his thumb. Whew! The next time he has a scouting adventure, I'm going to bubble wrap him! And, I'm going to ask the scouts to have a refresher course in wound cleaning! Step one should be to clean the area! Step two should THEN be to apply Neosporin and a Band-Aid. Leaving out step one doesn't produce fantabulous results! I'm not going to go into sloppy emotional details about Grant tonight. There's just not enough time. Some days, I understand him. Other days, I'm clueless. My confusion with him, though, is simply due to the fact that I've never been a preteen male. (Yeah, I know. Big newsflash)!

So, tonight I find myself not understanding my children. I'm on a day-to-day basis with them. You know those desk calendars that they sell at Christmas time that have a page to tear off each day? I need one of those with parenting instructions for each day of the year. Had I had a calendar like that, October 7th should have said, "If you have a preteen male, do not text him lovey things - even if you just want to check on his life-threatening injury." Boy, having something like that sure would have saved me some drama on Friday! Yesterday's page would have probably said, "Do not assume that your 13 year old will express her toiletry needs to you. Give her a checklist to fill out each week." Maybe that would have saved me the helmet hair drama from this morning. And, hopefully, somewhere in that calendar, a page would have a pointer that says something like, "Do not remove your toddler's Pull Up on freshly washed sheets. The mere smell of clean linens will make her forcefully pee and soak the sheets." If anyone runs across a calendar like that, please let me know. Or, if any of you have Dr. James Dobson on speed-dial, I'd be more than happy to have his number. I think when he got a glimpse of the Randolph kids' profile, he might give up on publishing parenting strategies. Maybe I should just research what types of literature jail wardens read to know how to handle their inmates. That might be a better parallel. (If that didn't work, I could find a zoology book). Whew!

I'm headed to bed (after I change the sheets that Annie peed on and then sat on with diaper rash cream on her bare butt). I finally got my picture wall finished in the foyer and it feels good to mark a completed project off of my list. The only piece that I still haven't finished in the foyer is finding the correct light bulb to go into the Ikea sconce. Who knew that it took a weird bulb that I should have bought while I was there? I really don't want to go downtown to buy one light bulb. That's kind of like sending an alcoholic into a bar to get a glass of water. Ikea is definitely like kryptonite to my budget and going there for simply a light bulb would be a challenge. I'd have to leave my debit card in the car and take in exact change. Argh! Those darn Swedes! But, I am really pleased with all of the "home makeover" jobs I've done in the last few weeks and proud that I've done them all on such a budget. Who knew that a little Krylon over a table from Good Will could give you a completely new and unique piece of furniture? When I get everything finished, I guess a tour might be in order. Virtual field trip? So, for tonight, I am heading to bed. Tomorrow, I'd planned to take the kids to the apple orchard but the forecast is calling for rain and, honestly, I don't know how I'd manage to get Dasha around on the uneven terrain. I have orchard and pumpkin patch coupons from Groupon that both expire at the end of this month so I have to figure out the timing soon!

Anyway, good night, all!

Children as a Business, Marriage as a Contract, and Stupidity

Just a quick overview of today...
BLAH! I just wasted four hours of my life!

I'm convinced that the class I attended today was intended for folks without any common sense. I've tossed the idea of even posting anything around for the last hour. Am I simply putting others down to make myself feel better about sitting through a parenting class that I thought I was "above?" I really don't think so. Seriously! I think I was the only one in the room of over 100 without my butt crack hanging out (I don't think it was), a ring in an odd place (no comment, y'all), or that wasn't enjoying the class. The class should have been marketed as, "How to Do Divorce: Jerry Springer Style."

If you've never attended a course on how to parent through a divorce (state mandated, thank you very much) then you might not have a clue why I'm whining so much!

First of all, they packed over 100 people into a small courtroom. The lady sitting next to me was sitting in her chair and mine. For all I know, she might have been sitting in her other neighbor's chair, too. No. I'm not trying to be mean. I'm just telling you how darn cramped it was. And, in case you didn't know, I DON'T like to be touched by strangers or be in crowded places. My overlapping friend also had on some perfume that smelled similar to possum potion number nine.

While the speaker thought he was quite funny, his lame jokes just drug things out. He covered topics such as, "Don't Use Your Children as a Bargaining Tool, Don't Fight in Front of Your Kids, and even Don't Forget About Your Kids." Some of the attendees were asking questions about these topics which made it quite obvious that these topics were like headline news to them. My favorite question was from the man sitting across the room. He raised his hand and said (mumbled), "I'm tired of paying child support to four different women. It's getting old and I just can't afford it. I can't work because I have a disability." Um. I admit. My first thought was, "Well, darn mister. Obviously, you've got one body part that seems to be functioning quite well if you have twelve kids between four wives!" Seriously? And, I'm assuming he was getting rid of wifey poo number five if he was taking this class. I don't think anyone would pay for it and take it just for entertainment!

The other odd thing about the course was that most of the attendees were there with their spouses. I guess everyone was in varying stages of the divorce process. Maybe you get a buy one get one free deal if you go together. The room never got silent. At all times, there was bickering going on. The couple in front of me was arguing over whose friend ratted out their affair to the other. There was a serious undertone of hatred running rampant throughout the room. I've never been so relieved to know that everyone came through a security check as I was sitting there in that cramped court room.

The sad thing, never once was marriage mentioned as a sacred union or as anything more than a contractual obligation that could be dissolved with a bit of money and red tape. They never mentioned all of the increased risks that kids have when they have divorced parents. It was all about how to quickly dissolve your marriage and move onto another marriage with your kids in tow. At one point, they started referring to the kids as a business that you had to deal with despite your hatred for their other parent.

So, those were the facts of the day. The whole thing was asinine and almost irreverent to the institute of marriage. My emotions that went with the lecture throughout the four hour torture were much different. The tears started flowing within the first two minutes of this "therapist" beginning to talk about how much divorcing spouses hate each other and how that hate impacts their kids. Maybe everyone else in the room was able to look at the big picture but every time this guy said, "Kids," I imagined Annie, Grant, and Dasha. Not random kids. My kids. Our kids. Every time he said, "Spouse," I thought of Eric. Somehow, there's no hate with the thought. Sadness, yes. Acceptance of the situation, yes. But not someone that I'd want to poison as the couple behind me was discussing. I had no idea that you could put Clorox into someone's drink to "knock them off." Yeah, I knew you shouldn't go sipping the stuff like a cocktail but I'd never considered using it like that!

To me, it was all personal. The tears silently flowed (along with the snot) for the better part of the first hour. Of course, I didn't have a tissue with me and I was blocked into the corral and couldn't move out to get one. I just kept swiping my nose and face with my hand like I was three years old. When I left, I even had snot tread marks down my pants. Nice. I know you really needed that information.

Bottom line, I went. I sat. I got the certificate. That was the goal and it's now accomplished. However, I'm completely emotionally drained and still so stunned that folks don't have enough common sense to know what's good for their own kids. To top off my day at the circus, I picked the kids up and got everyone settled into homework only to find that Dasha had done more wrong than right today. When I started quizzing her about the teachers' emails, I noticed she had black marks all over her front teeth. Yep. She'd eaten another pencil. However, she didn't see the problem with it since it was "only a little one." I just couldn't engage. I took her pencils away and gave her crayons to finish her homework. I guess if she eats those, she'll at least have rainbow teeth instead of slate gray ones. I also ended up handing her over to Eric via video chart for some back-up. When she returned to the table to finsish her homework, she looked bewildered. I asked her what she was thinking and she said (and I quote), "I don't understand why everyone gets mad at me when I eat pencils. I have more pencils in my binder and it's not bad." Tomorrow morning, maybe I'll just serve her pencils for breakfast. I don't get it. What used to be once or twice a month drama has turned into everyday drama and I just don't have the mental capacities or patience to try to work it out logically with her. She simply doesn't understand logic!

This drama is all added to having to "milk" Grant's hand again, help him write the answers for his homework, and remember how to do 6th grade math.

Then, there's the sitter's frustration over trying to potty train Annie. Have I mentioned how stubborn Annie is? I guess Annie continues to go under the table at the sitter's house to poop. The moment Fatima sees her head under there, she takes her to the potty and waits for Annie to do... nothing. She puts the Pull Ups back on her and waits for her to head back to the table to take care of business. The sitter said that this went on all day long. The minute I put Annie into the car seat this afternoon to head home, she said, "I needa go home and poop in the potty." I brought her home and she went directly to her room and came back downstairs with the box of wipes and a diaper and asked me to change her diaper. Geez. Like I said, she may never potty train. She can just transition from Pull Ups to Depends. I don't really care right now.

So, this was my day and it's not even over yet.

I'm just looking forward to this long weekend. I'm not looking forward to having a furlough day and trying to figure out how to budget for that but I am looking forward to the extra day on Monday. I have tickets for an apple orchard and a pumpkin farm from Groupon. Maybe we'll do one of those things this weekend just to get out of the house. Or, maybe we'll just have nap time all weekend!

For now, I'm heading to find Dasha and make sure that she finished her homework and make sure that Grant's hand is milked again and wrapped up properly. Do you know how hard it is to wrap a child's hand with stretchy gauze so that areas A, B, and C are covered but areas D, E, and F are left open? I'm thinking about getting a cotton gardening glove and simply cutting holes in it in the correct spots and letting him wear that!

Good night, all!