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.