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!

Breaking Down

Today has been a day for the history books. Emotional doesn't even begin to touch the road I've stumbled down today.

Remember Grant's little injury? Well, when he got up this morning, it was wickedly swollen and red. He was upset that he had PE today and wouldn't be able to sit out since he didn't have a doctor's excuse. I assumed that he was simply whining because he didn't want to run laps. SO, I helped him finish getting dressed since he can't maneuver his arm through his shirt and I got the girls ready to go.

First, I had to drop Dasha off at my parents' house so they could take her to her tutoring gig.

Next, I had to drop Annie off at the sitter's house.

Finally, I made it to school myself. Grant grumbled the entire way into the building so I asked one of the office staff their opinion of his situation. As she looked at his hand, her eyes bugged out and she quickly said that I needed to take him to the doctor and asked if she should get me a substitute. Crap. I told her to find me a sub for the second half of the day and I'd just get him an appointment at the pediatrician's office. Then, I sent Grant on to catch the bus for the day.

I dwelled on what to do. The pediatricians' office doesn't do x-rays so I knew they'd send us somewhere else to have that done anyway so I just chose to go to the Children's Healthcare Urgent Center. The problem was that I now had to make sure that I had plans that were good enough for a sub to follow for the remainder of the day AND I had to make sure I had everything together for tomorrow since I'd already planned to be out on Thursday for that parenting class. To say the least, I was majorly frazzled.

Somehow, I managed to get it all together and left the building around 11:30. I picked Grant up at school and headed to the doctor. When we signed in at 12:10, there was a ginormous sign that noted the wait time was between 90 and 120 minutes. Perfect-o. I love being coughed on by other people's children and watching them puke on themselves. I insisted that Grant and I take seats in a remote corner and act as if we were criminals trying to hide out. He willingly agreed and there we sat. And sat. And sat. And sat. I kept looking at the clock and doing the math. I had to be in car line to pick Dasha up no later than 3:20 in order to get her to the other side of town to pick up her new braces.

Finally, they called us back and the triage nurse checked him out and then stuck us in a room with Yo Gabba Gabba blaring. That might be soothing for a 3 year old but it was nothing shy of irritating to me. I'm convinced that the person that invented that show was high on something (even it was spray paint) when they created that mess.

Finally, the doctor came in and looked at Grant's hand. He abruptly called for the nurse to move us to the trauma room. This is where my major undoing began. The minute that doctor said, "Trauma room," my mind did a major rewind to November of 2004 when the doctor at Scottish Rite said the same thing to us about Ansley. (Mind you, I hadn't even been in the urgent care facility since I was there with Ansley. That was bad enough to keep remembering them trying to give her a nebulizer treatment and declare that she might have asthma). Anyway, I know that I turned three shades of white when the word "trauma" came out of the doctor's mouth. The only thing that might have saved me was that the doctor had a very thick Indian accent and "trauma" sounded something more like "traaamaaa."

While I was focused on keeping myself upright, I neglected to realize that Grant was about to lose it, as well. He didn't have any idea about my struggle. All he knew was that the doctor was acting like something was very wrong and he was scared. My enormous 11 year old giant of a child actually reached out for my hand and hid behind me. I wish I was kidding. I was like a car perched on a ledge ready to fall off the edge into oblivion. The only thing that was tethering me to the ground was Grant. I was trying so hard to act "normal." Do you know how much energy that takes? Trying to keep your feet on the ground, your guts in your stomach and off of the floor, and your mind focused on a foreign doctor's instruction is just about too much!

So, I'll spare you the gruesome details of the procedure that followed. If I hadn't already been in numb mode, I would have been out cold. Poor Grant. He was laying there on a gurney with a nurse readied to hold him down if I failed on my job and the doctor hovering over him. It's one thing to have a sick infant who can't verbalize their needs or feelings but to have a very alert and very verbal kid laying there like that... Memories that I thought I'd packed away for good came flying at me from every direction. What ifs started swirling around me. The looks and smells of that cramped little room just added to the situation.

Finally, the doctor proclaimed that he was done with the procedure and that he'd emptied the abscess. Oh, did I mention the actual problem? His hand was immobile due to the infection that had set in. I thought the swelling was from a sprain or even a broken bone but, nope, infection was the culprit.

Then, there were x-rays to confirm that the stick which punctured his hand had been completely removed and that all "foreign objects" had been cleared. When Grant heard the possibility of there being more stick left in the wound, he plopped down in the chair and the tears started. In his mind, he was already doing the what ifs. What do you say? Telling him that it won't hurt anymore is a stupid lie. I ended up saying all I could, "We'll figure it all out."

When the doctor proclaimed Grant's hand to be stick-free, he moved on to the next plausible catastrophe. He said that he was worried that the tendon might be infected. If that was the case, we'd have to go to the children's hospital and have a hand surgeon look at it. Nice. Did he have to say that in front of Grant? I surely didn't want to hear it but...

So, we were finally dismissed with a prescription for some massive antibiotics and strict directions about what to do with the wound. We'll have it rechecked on Friday to see if the swelling and redness have subsided. If not, I guess we'll be at the hospital. Please, no. I truly don't know if I could make it through that journey with Grant.

Obviously, I'm skipping details but at this point tonight, I think my brain is purposely blanking out some of the sights and smells as a defense mechanism.

I ended up dropping Grant off at mom's house and leaving him there while I rushed to the middle school to pick Dasha up for her doctor's appointment. I admit that I hit a low that I haven't had in a very long time along the way. I cried like I haven't cried in weeks. Grant is my baby. He's been through so much. Damn it! He doesn't deserve this! He watched his baby sister die. He turned off the dead-lined monitor that she was hooked to. He endures lots of trials with Dasha. He's lost his dad. And, now, to watch him lie on a bed shaking in pain... It's too much. The boy deserves nothing shy of a major vacation. I know he can be a royal pain in the butt. However, the what ifs that took hold of me standing in the trauma bay of the urgent care center all started morphing into very scary monsters. Those monsters overshadowed all of the stupid things Grant does to his sisters (and his clean laundry).

By the time I'd gotten into car line to pick Dasha up, I was grateful that I had a few minutes to get myself together.

The remainder of the evening was much less traumatic. However, my big fear has now become wondering if Grant would even tell me if he was having any of the signs of a severe tendon infection in an attempt to keep himself out of the hospital. I keep asking him how his hand feels. I'm not trying to be a ninny but I think I need to hear him say that it feels "fine" in order to keep some of the what if monsters behind their respective doors.

So, I'm heading to bed to collapse. I'm hoping that the what if monsters will hear my fervent prayers and go away and allow sleep to capture me for at least a few hours. Tomorrow, I have to get up and deliver the kids to their respective places and then deliver my own butt to the Marietta courthouse to listen to the million and one ways that divorce can screw up a kid and the million and one ways to make it all better. Hopefully, I can divert my seething aggravation to having to waste both my sick days and my money on this course. Why does someone else's crap become my inconvenience and my job to clean up? As I've said a million times, I would have NEVER thought this would have been the journey that I'd be on.

Tomorrow is another day.

Good night, all.

Juggling While Running the Race

I just don't even know where to begin. I'm seriously weary. I feel like just when I'd gotten good at juggling sixteen balls, someone threw in numbers seventeen and eighteen just for fun. Now, I've got to decided if I should work myself into a dither trying to keep all eighteen balls in the air or just drop them all and walk away. Obviously, walking away isn't an option. And, truthfully, trying to pick up all eighteen balls after they land and roll away like the meatball on top of the spaghetti (if you don't remember that song from your preschool days, come to my house for a while) just sounds overwhelming.

For the last two weeks, organizing my thoughts and posting them here has been on my priority list. However, my children seem to have the knack for sabotaging that list every single weekend.

Here are the simple highlights from the last few weeks. I'll add details when my children all grow up and move out (maybe).

Two weeks ago...
My fall break was refreshing. I got a lot of things done to the house that I've been trying to do for weeks. Pinterest has become a dangerous place for me but also a great site to figure out how to do things for cheap and free! However, I made just enough of a mess during my "staycation" that it lingered throughout last week and is still haunting me tonight! I'm learning that if I don't invest at least an hour in domestic upkeep each day that things begin to mount up to critical proportions.

During the break, my birthday fell on that Friday. I made the final payment to pay the divorce lawyer that day. I can't even begin to open Pandora's Box on this whole subject right now. It's something I said I'd never do. But, I did. Once again, I have to frame everything on this unexpected journey knowing that I'm operating with integrity and in the best interest of those I'm now totally responsible for. I've found divorce lawyers to be nothing shy of man-hating, emotionless, fighters so, to say the least, they intimidate the crap out of me!

I must also mention that on the Friday before break, a random parent delivered an envelope to me in my classroom and gave me some special instructions for the envelope. Yes, I found it a bit strange but I did as I was told and realized why those directions had be given upon opening the envelope later that day. The gift in the envelope was anonymous (I sure haven't had too much luck with anonymous friends) but completely overwhelming. These days, it's gifts such as this one that remind me that God's promises are true even when those dark clouds seem to be surrounding me. I've tucked that special gift away for a very specific day. If that anonymous person happens to read my nutty thoughts, all I can say without sounding silly is, "Thank you."

Last week...
So, we head back to school. Within a couple of days, Dasha's teacher emails me with some issues. (Heck, this wasn't even the teacher of the class that she has a 53 in)! So, Dasha needs to be at school for tutoring this week by 7:30. Um. Huh? I have to be in my classroom by 7:20. Yeah. I've had to enlist my parents' help with that deal. It just so happens that Grant also has to be at school early to make up a math quiz since he has a C in math. Really? Like I said, they are tag teaming me in the crazy department. To top it off, the nurse from the middle school left me a message about looking for forms in Dasha's binder about her failing her eye test and her hearing test. Yeah. I've already done the partying with the opthomologists and specialists about her optic nerve issues. It aint gonna get any better than that, lady! She just got new glasses and those are the best suckers money can buy so just move her desk up in front of the board or put our name on the list for a seeing eye dog. I don't know what else to do! As for the hearing, she had tons of ear infections as a baby that didn't get treated so she has hearing damage. There's absolutely no where to document that on the one gazillion forms that they send home with the kids at the beginning of the year and I really wasn't in a spot to write some sort of cutesy "Get to Know You" book to send her teachers. That was the good thing about having her at school with me. Everyone knew who Dasha was and they knew what was going on. With that being said, I did at least email the nurse back with an abbreviated version of Dasha's history and attached a scanned copy of her last record from the optometrist and the pediatrician's visit from last week, too. Yeah, the pediatrician would (and I quote), "Like to see Dasha going to see the psychologist at least once a week during this very turbulent time." I started to reply, "Do you know what the word C O P A Y means?" No, I'm not going to let finances stand in the way of Dasha getting medical services that she needs but the therapist that she was seeing just wanted to "hang out" with her and then not tell me what was going on due to patient confidentially stuff. But, they sure thought a week at the adolescent psychiatric facility would serve her well. Hmm.....

Back to reality. Oh, wait. This IS my reality.

This weekend...
Friday night, I decided to take on the yard. We don't have a big yard. It's only about 1/8 of an acre but the HOA seems to target our yard so I don't let things get too far gone. I started with mowing the grass. That was pretty routine. I did have trouble starting the mower but when it finally fired, it was like some cartoon show and a huge gray smoke cloud eeked out of the engine. I kept waiting for a blazing fire to start but when it didn't, I quickly mowed the grass while watching for any flares or fireballs. Then, I got brave. The yard desperately needed edging. The edger we have looks like some sort of weapon. It has a huge metal blade on the bottom and I'm convinced it could slice your shin into thin slices just like they do meat in the deli. After quite a bit of wrestling with the beast (in the front yard, of course, so all of the neighbors could see), I got the death device started. Then, I realized that I didn't know how to use it. It had a trigger like a leaf blower but wheels like the mower. Hmmmm..... I ended up trying out several different positions with the awkward thing before figuring out how to settle the blade in between the grass and concrete. However, my aim was nothing shy of horrid so every time I got too close to the concrete, sparks spewed from the blade. At one point, a spark landed on top of my fabric tennis shoe and I was terrified that it would catch on fire. So, there I stood stomping one foot with the other. I just don't even want to know what the neighbors were thinking. I bet at least half of our street had congregated in the house next door to peek out of the windows yet be shielded from any flying debris. Finally, I did get the hang of it. It looks as if moles dug trenches throughout the front yard but, by golly, I dare the HOA to tell me that the sidewalk needs edging. I trenched the darn thing! I could fill the trench with water and call it a mote around the house! Ha! (Oh, while all of this was going on, the kids had been sequestered to the deck playing sand. This way, they were away from the debris field and hopefully, out of ear shot of the naughty things coming forth from my mouth. If Super Nanny had been here, I'd STILL be in the naughty chair)! When it came time to crank up the weed eater, I was so grateful that it was out of gas. I'm smart enough to know that it takes some weird ratio of oil and gas and, darn it, I didn't have any here and it was too late to run to the store! Bummer!

As silly as this sounds, six months ago, I would have walked away from the yard debacle in a torrent of tears. This week, there were no tears (unless you count those of the neighbors that were crying from laughing so hard). I call that moving in the right direction. Every day it looks a little different but I do recognize it.

Then, there are times like today when a simple trip to Home Depot sends me over the edge. I get so mad that I can't anticipate the ridiculous things that are going to set me off! I needed four nuts to sink into a piece of ply board in order to finish my beautiful bench. (Thanks, Pinterest). However, after scouring the aisles, I couldn't find what I needed. There was nothing hanging in the "nut section" that matched the description of what I needed. I couldn't find any employees to help me, either. Annie was standing in the bugging whining about wanting to get out and climb the ladder that someone had left in that aisle. Dasha was tripping over displays. And, Grant was walking around like a zombie. No, I'm serious. He was truly acting like a zombie. There I stood. All I wanted was a $2.00 baggie of nuts. Heck, I'd brought three major nuts into the store WITH me but I wasn't asking for miracles! I ended up plucking Annie from the bugging and darting for the door before the tears overtook me. Once again, the tears were not for Eric. Those are all gone. These tears were shed for simply wanting to feel some comfort in a moment of frustration and have a little bit of help with the kids. It can just be overwhelming. There are some moments that you just want someone's arms to run into and hear them lie and say, "It'll be ok."

I came home and collapsed on the sofa where Annie promptly climbed on top of me and brought me the remote. I cued up her Fresh Beat show and dozed through about four episodes. Yeah, she definitely maxed out her TV time for today but she can just add it to her list to take to her therapist one day!

The piece that I missed in all of this was Grant's bike spill. Saturday morning, he was to do a huge bike ride on the Silver Comet Trail with the scouts. Dad went, too. I'm not sure what happened but Grant ended up meeting up with gravity in a bad spot and went face first to the ground.

He bloodied his elbow, knees, and then took a stick to the soft, squishy skin between his thumb and pointer finger. Honestly, the stick gouge probably should have had a stitch or two. But, this morning, his whole freaking hand was swollen. Is it broken? Sprained? Going to need amputating? We all know that I'm crappy when it comes to diagnosing injuries. I went with my usual plan of action, self care. I guess if it's still as swollen and nasty tomorrow, I'll have to take him to the doctor. He's walking around holding his arm to the side so he doesn't bump his hand. I can't ever tell if he's being dramatic and trying to get my attention or just truly in pain. Ugh. I'm clueless as to how he's going to write tomorrow and manage his books but I guess he'll figure it out or the nurse will be calling me about being delinquent with him, too! (I'm wondering how many strikes I get with this lady before she reports me to some official).

Bottom line, yes, this is the abbreviated version of my life right now. I never know what silly thing is going to send me into a tailspin and, honestly, I never quite know how long it will take me to recover. I'm simply taking it day by day. I believe the kids are doing the same. Each morning, they draw straws to see who will get to play "Push Mom Over the Edge." I pity the person who plays tomorrow because I don't think I'll have too much of a fight to put up.

This week is crammed with various craziness that won't allow much rest, though. Tomorrow, we have a marathon faculty meeting. Tuesday, I have lots of other school paperwork to get done. Wednesday, Dasha has to meet with the orthopedist to get her new shoe inserts. Thursday, I get to go to a divorced parenting class to learn how to properly parent as a divorced mom. This is part of getting a legal divorce in GA. Hmmmm..... I wonder what they are going to tell me. I have nothing to offer but sarcasm about this. I'm missing a day of work plus having to pay to take the class plus having to juggle my kids' schedules around to make the timing work. Yeah. I don't remember ever signing up for this journey but I keep stepping in every conceivable pile of dog crap along the way! Like I said, I am not looking forward to having to give up one of my "sick" days to do this. My hope is, though, to be able to hand off the certificate from the class to the lawyer on Friday and then walk away. (I'm sure there's another pile of poo to drag my shoe through somewhere, though).

So, as you can see, I'm just weary. Oh, what I wouldn't do for a weekend off. A weekend just to do what I want to do and not be responsible for three kids. To sleep past 6:15 a.m. To pee without someone offering to help me. To have a snack or drink without someone asking to have some. To watch a TV show that doesn't have characters that burst into educational songs about sharing and caring. Or, to talk with someone on the phone without having three crumb snatchers all decided to pretend like they are on the Jerry Springer Show! Yes, I love them dearly but I need a break. They need a break.

OK, so before I end up heading down a road that I don't need to traverse tonight, I'm going to quit. I still have several loads of laundry to do and breakfasts and lunches to pack. Tomorrow is another day and I need to be ready to run the race.

Good night, all.

Blind, Deaf, and Polka Totted

I promise that I'm not hiding. If I was, I could guarantee you that you wouldn't be able to find me and I sure wouldn't be posting! It has been an excruciatingly long week. My sister and her little man have been here so we've been hanging out with them in the afternoons. That's great but I haven't gotten laundry done or any of those other dreadful routine chores that I hate to do anyway. To top it off, Annie has decided to take option B for sleep this week. Although I never got the instruction manual, option B seems to be NONE OF THE ABOVE! She's gotten up at least three times every night and just wants to cuddle and then go back to sleep. While she's zooming back to nighty night land, my brain gets stuck in the ON position and I'm awake for hours. Ugh. I'm so glad that tomorrow is Friday.

Despite my exhaustion, the drama has been pretty low on the "A Night in Jail Sounds Good" scale. I think the worst of things was the notice that Dasha had failed her vision and hearing screening at school and needed to be rechecked by a "professional." Um. Does anyone remember my trips to the eye specialists, the mega-dollar glasses, and questions about the costs associated with a seeing eye dog? She was at the eye doctor in July and the specialist in August. She just got a new pair of glasses last week, too! Really? Was the eye test chart written in Japanese? As for the hearing, she just had a physical last week and they checked her hearing. She's always had poor hearing due to all of the untreated ear infections she had as an infant but she can pass the tests if she pays attention. Crap. Do I call the school and explain all of the juicy details and give them my excuses for sending a "blind and deaf" child to school? Or, do I just take the form to the doctor's office and let them handle it for a cost of $35? Oh well. If that's as bad as it got this week, I guess I can live with it!

Grant has been on edge all week but has had the sense to stay under my radar for fear of being shot down! He's nervous about his bike ride on Saturday but tries to act like he is just worried about the other boys' actions. Whatever. He's terrified of falling off of that bike and eating a mouthful of Silver Comet dirt in front of the other kids. Remember, he didn't even know how to ride a bike at this time last year! This is all new to him! I'm sure he'll survive (and the other kids will too).

I did enjoy my sister being here. It was fun to get to play with her little guy and then hand him back to her when he got fussy! That must be a little like what grandparents feel like. Today, my sister decided that she would have my van detailed for my birthday. I don't even want to know what it cost! I'm convinced that all five of us could have lived in that van for at least a week on the pretzel crumbs, water bottles, and general crumbage under Annie's car seat. The poor soul that cleaned the van actually pressure washed the mats and then steam cleaned the seats and carpet. That van hasn't been that clean since I bought it five years ago! However, it was definitely a wonderful feeling to drive down the road and have to pull the visor down to protect my eyes from the sun's glare. Usually, the sun couldn't even get through the layer of grime on the windows so we had no need for sunglasses or visors! It was one of those gifts that was completely unexpected but was SO appreciated. Even Annie noticed the clean carpet and said, "Mama! Look! The carpet is not poka totted! It's clean!" I wanted to remind her that it wouldn't be polka dotted if she wouldn't shake her cup of milk in the mornings and let it rain milk! So, somewhere,  there's a car detailing worker going to sleep cursing my van and it's mysterious owner. (I'm sure my sister did NOT claim the van as her own and made sure that the worker knew that she'd never drive such a beast)! :)

Happy almost Friday!

Good night, all!

Crappy Wait Staff, Dancing Divas, and Going Commando (or not)

I promise, I'm doing the best I can. I'm pooped! I pulled out of the driveway at 6:20 this morning and didn't get home until 7:45. I can't even type without having to continually backspace and respell. So, here's another shake down of my day in pictures. Maybe I'll have enough energy and time to actually put some kind of wisdom onto this page soon.

Grant has been working toward a 50 mile bike ride for a scouting badge. After these endurance runs, he walks funny for a few days! :)

He (and my dad) made it 26 miles on the Silver Comet Trail. Whew! He didn't like this trail as much because of (and I quote), "All of those old ladies walking at the speed of backwards make it hard to ride! I'm afraid of knocking one of them down and breaking their hips!" Such wisdom for an 11 year old. My reply to him was simply, "Please don't knock them down. They are older and have much more insurance than we do!" (Think Fried Green Tomatoes)!

And then, there's the morning glory call from Annie! She stands on her stool and waits for her milk and breakfast. I didn't get it ready to go fast enough this morning so she went into pout mode. Hey, I know I'm deficient in the kitchen. This is why I'm not a cook OR a waitress! She did stiff me on the tip! See if she gets service with a smile tomorrow morning!

Annie discovered babies. Believe it or not, this terror is actually very gentle (or she was while she was being eyed by three adults). She LOVES her little cousin and was quite envious of his paci! (We've told her that we need to give her pacis to him since HE is a baby)! Nope. Didn't work.

So, we did the trial class at ballet / tap today. Annie was SO excited! She hung from the windowsill watching the older girls.

When it was her turn, she was a bit intimidated at first and didn't understand being in a group setting AND having to following instructions instead of give them. My blood pressure was rising as I noticed that I could see the cracks of all of the other little girls through their leotards meaning that they were NOT wearing diapers and (hopefully) potty trained. Since there were no Code Yellows (or browns) on the floor, I assume that I am correct. It was Wizard of Oz day at dance so the girls all dressed up like Dorothy, danced over the rainbow (with the disco ball on), and marched around the yellow brick road. It was cute. Now, I just have to decide if I really want to do this every week. Yes, she'd enjoy it but is it really worth the money at this age? Decisions, decisions.

She liked the ballet shoes she borrowed but the tap shoes were the big deal. What two year old wouldn't love shoes that amplify every stomp they make? She acted like a professional tap dancer and kept jumping around. By this part of the lesson, she'd warmed up to the teacher and tried to commandeer her as her own personal dance slave. It worked momentarily until the teacher realized she'd been had! Anyway, she enjoyed it and talked about it for the rest of the night!

There's the daily wrap up. I'm heading to put a load of underwear in the wash so there's no drama tomorrow morning about having to go commando because of my inadequacies as a maid. Geez. I purposed that everyone simply turn their undies inside out or turn the front to the back but Grant was not amused and Dasha didn't get it. AND, of course, Annie could care less. She's more interested in what character is on her panties than what she's put in them or if they're clean! (Anyone have a carpet cleaner)? So, I'm going to bed to collapse. Hopefully, I'll find the time and energy to update my "soul status" before Christmas!

Good night, all.

P.S. - Dasha is still here and intact. She's had an incredible amount of homework (classwork sent home) to finish each night so she's been stuck at the table or at grandma's throughout a good bit of the weekly drama. What am I supposed to do? If I overrule the teacher and tell her to quit and leave it, she goes to school proclaiming in a bratty way that, "My mom said that I don't have to do this!" But, if I let her muddle through it (she didn't do it in class when she was supposed to and sure didn't ask for help), it means that I get to endure a three or four hour homework marathon complete with tears and tantrums (from me).

The Weekend Review - Picture Book Style

Five minutes into our trip and Annie is already looking for an escape.

Get familiar with this photo. It's the only one that they all smiled in so it'll probably be our Christmas card photo since this won't happen again - EVER!

Gave up on the backpack the "leash" was attached to and then Annie decided to hold her own leash. Kind of defeated the purpose but she thought was in charge of someone. (We didn't tell her that it was HER)!

She was mesmerized with the scuba cleaners until one of them waved to her.

This is how the remainder of the trip was spent. Ow. Thirty five pounds of toddler gets heavy! Who cares what Annie thinks! Next time, I'm taking the darn stroller in!

Grant receiving an award at scouts that certifies him to play with fire. Hmmm... Who thought up this award? That's kind of like giving a boy permission to destroy.

You wouldn't know that he'd just himself a little temper tantrum, now, would you? Preteens are like Jekyll and Hyde!

And, this certificate allows him to use an axe, knife, and other sharp objects. Once again, who thought these things up? It HAD to be a man! No mother would ever ok these sorts of rewards!

I got a chuckle out of this one. Every now and then, you see a glimmer of Grant's pride shine through in a positive way. He was so proud of his accomplishments.

So, my internet has been on the fritz so I didn't get anything else posted and I'm done for the night. I took a new vitamin / herb supplement last night about 10:00 only to realize at 2:00 that the bottle clearly said that one of the side effects could be insomnia. Ya think? So, I think I finally drifted off to bed around 3:30 only to have the alarm go off at 5:15. Blah. So, after a night of having to play nice and be social at the scout banquet, I'm toast! Playing nice is really hard work! I'd like to think that I'd get to spend some time posting stuff here tomorrow night but Annie is having her first "ballet" class tomorrow night so I'm sure that will throw everything into a tailspin. I'm losing track of the days of the week simply trying to keep up with everyone's activities! Geez.

So, for tonight, I'll say, "Goodnight." I am heading to bed as a proud mama after watching Grant (trying not to remember his silly temper tantrum which made me wonder if he was really just a 2 year old stuck in an 18 year old's body). Lunches are packed. Clothes are laid out. Laundry is spilling out of the laundry area and down the stairs. Annie left banana bread crumbs all over the counter and kitchen floor but I'm convinced they'll be much easier to sweep up after they lay there all night and get stale (or a caravan of ants comes to have a midnight buffet). BUT, by golly, I'm going to sleep! No vitamins tonight and no insomnia. Just sleep.

Good night, all.

M u s t h a v e s l e e......zzzzzzzzzz

No. Not "Must have sleeze." That's not even how you spell it! That kind of sleeze is sleAze! Geez. I'm over here about to drop with exhaustion and I see where your mind is...

Anyway, I'm still alive. I'm just exhausted after a week of intense elbow grease around the house. However, I must say that I'm quite proud of what I've gotten accomplished. The downstairs (minus the powder room with dark green walls infused with dust bunnies) has been revamped, re-curtained, re-decorated, and basically is now all mine. It looks like I want it to. (Oh, minus the hand-me-down couch with the nice blue and yellow country checks. Gag. But, hey, they were clean and free when my parents upgraded)! I'll post pictures tomorrow. I've spent less than $75 cash for everything so that diva on HGTV who claims she can Design on a Dime doesn't have anything on me!

Beyond that, things have been pretty quite. I did watch another birthday pass by. There wasn't much fanfare this year but that was ok. I had a pretty serious case of the "mind storms" on my big day so quiet was a good thing. We also "celebrated" the one year mark since my dad's stroke. It's hard to believe that whole ordeal was only a year ago. Heck, I just can't believe how much has happened in the last year. With every Christmas card I write, I talk about what "season" of my life it is. Well, I'd like to tell you that the "season" for the last year has been Hell but there have been some very good things that have come out of those dark clouds. I've learned a LOT.

Anyway, I have quite a blog entry going on my private site and I think by tomorrow I'll be ready to pull it here to the billboard of my life. As I said, I've dealt with some pretty heavy feelings this week and I try not to spew those recklessly (think projectile vomiting). It's amazing how much I've changed in 5 months. Wow.

So, as for tomorrow, we're headed to the aquarium with Dasha's special needs group. This time last week, my plan had been to stash Annie in the stroller and hope that Dasha wouldn't need me to carry her out. She's really having a hard time but she throws a royal tantrum when we talk about stretching her legs. Her physical therapist even went so far as to tell her that if she continued to ignore the needs of her legs that she'd end up having to have another surgery. Dasha says she doesn't remember the first one so I'm not sure if it even registered with her. I'm lost with how to handle her. (This loss doesn't even begin to cover her attempt to steal M&Ms from Publix this week or the discovery of her love letters to Grant's teachers - yes, she'd already delivered a few without us knowing). Anyway, back to tomorrow. When Annie saw me put the stroller in the back of the van this afternoon in preparation for tomorrow, she went nuts! She sat down in the drive way and wailed, "I not ride in stroller. I walk! I hold Gant's hand!" Blah. So, without further ado, I dug through the newly organized boxes in the garage and found just what I was looking for - a leash. Yep. I found one at TJ Maxx several months ago for less than $5 and I got it just for an occasion like this. Oh crap! I guess I should clarify! When I say "leash," I mean one of those things that is designed to tether a child to a parent. Not a real dog leash. Although, I might need those for Grant and Dasha. Anyway, I'm surprised that I'm really going to use that thing! I've always been SO judgmental of parents who "treat their kids like dogs." That was all before Annie came along. I figure that I can endure her wails throughout the aquarium tomorrow about wanting to walk and then trying to juggle Annie and Dasha with Grant getting completely frazzled and embarrassed OR I can simply leash the girl up! We'll see how it goes. For all I know, she might just unsnap the dumb thing and take off. If you hear that a small child disappeared at the aquarium and showed up in the sea otter enclosure, you don't even need to think twice. I'm sure it will be Annie. (Now, if you hear about a child ending up as shark bait, that might be one of the big kids or me).

I'm heading to bed to collapse. I was waiting up for Grant to get home from the Monster Truck race but I guess he and dad are being really wild and crazy and staying out past 10:00! Oh well. He'll just be a major pain in the butt to drag out of bed in the morning (especially with his 26 mile bike ride this morning - he may be walking funny too)!

So, tomorrow, I'll try to revisit my emotional spewage and repost here so you'll have a bigger picture of what's going on in my cyclonic head. I can tell you that the clouds are beginning to clear although fog frequently sets in. (Anyone else hearing strains of Bob Marley singing, "I can see clearly now the rain has gone. I can see all obstacles in my way. Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind.
It's gonna be a bright, bright, sun shiny day)? For tonight, though, the only thing I "see" is Mr. Sandman sandblasting my eyeballs shut!

For now,
Good night, all.

Fabric Houses, RTV Compound, and the Spin Cycle

Welcome to Tuesday! I thought I'd be proactive this morning and get all of my errands done before lunch time. That way, I wouldn't have any excuse to bolt from the house when it was time to clean the garage. So, I left the big kids asleep and took the little monkey with me. I enjoy time alone with Annie. Although her constant talking can cause my ears to bleed, I can just never anticipate what's going to spill out of her mouth!

My first stop was WalMart. I needed some thread to finish sewing a dress. Of course, WalMart didn't have anything even close to the color I needed. Crap. That leaves me with driving toward the mall to Hobby Lobby or Joann's. I hadn't anticipated taking Annie into either one of those stores. Oh well. I didn't really have a choice in the matter. I sorted through my coupon envelope and realized I had a 40% off coupon at Hobby Lobby so I headed there. While trying to find the right color of thread, Annie spontaneously started playing house in the fabric section. She walked in between each rack of fabric and named off what room it was. She said the area between the two racks of baby fabrics was for her cousin Anderson. I asked her where my room was and she quickly pointed away from the fabric section down toward the seasonal area and said, "You can just go over there." Nice. I'll remember that when she wants to crash in my bed tomorrow! Anyway, she chose her "room" and quickly laid down on the bottom section of the rack and said, "Night, night. I need a get some rest so I'm not fussy." I left her there and finished looking for my thread. Don't panic. I could see her and she could see me. But, as I guessed, her "nap" didn't last too long. She popped up and said, "Good morning. I so glad to see you!" (That's what Fatima tells her when I drop her off each morning). So, my quick thread run turned into about 30 minutes of playing house in the fabric section. At first, I was antsy and ready to get out of that place (I'm sure that feeling is still related to my van flooding in the parking lot) but I quickly realized that I'll never be able to recapture the moments of playing house with her between the bolts of fabric. So, I joined her. We got weird looks from a few customers but most of the patrons in that section were older ladies who recognized the moment for what it was and ask Annie if they could look in her room or where the kitchen was. Annie had declared the area with the novelty fabrics which had some with coffee mugs and others with cherries as the kitchen. Duh!

Wanna know the crappy part of the whole story? When I finally convinced Annie to leave her house, I'd picked up a coloring book (yeah, you got me, I bribed her out of the store with a coloring book - like you've never had to do that to avoid an all out melee) and I completely forgot to get my thread. I put it down at some point and just never picked it back up again. I started to turn around and go back but I decided that I'd just roll that task over to tomorrow.

When I got home, the big kids were both out back playing in the sand. Honestly! Sand, crayons, and Legos are the only toys in this house that transcend all age groups.

I put Annie down for a nap and conked out, too. Playing house was just too intense for me (coupled with not going to bed until after 2:00 a.m. the last two nights).

However, there was no escaping the garage after nap time. It's been haunting me for weeks now and I'd like to think that I just wasn't emotionally ready to dig through everything that's been piled out there but I think the bigger excuse was that the job was just too big and I didn't want to start it! So, with the girls stationed in the drive way around a bucket of sand and Grant standing by looking like I'd ask him to go to a tea party, we started moving boxes out of the garage. Heck. It wasn't as bad as I'd anticipated. Most of the boxes that had to be opened and examined were ones that were packed two years ago in anticipation of moving to Lubbock. They were shipped to a storage building in Lubbock and then when things went south last October, they were brought back to Georgia. Like I said, the majority of the boxes were full of books. We have enough books to start our own library. It would be pretty heavy on military fiction and non-fiction, parenting books, grad school books that I never tried to sell back (need to try to find a place to do that), and enough children's books to fill up a school's library. Nothing sentimental other than a few titles that were nothing more than ironic which dealt with marriage or family. After putting all of Grant's camping gear in one area, the books in another, and mounding up the Christmas decorations which need a new box, there were only a few boxes left. One box simply said, "Ansley, Kids Pictures, Kids Stuff." I was wearing down physically (this was nearly 4 hours into the job) and I just didn't think I could stomach it so I stashed it to the side. I'll open that one another day. The other "box" that was haunting me was my cedar hope chest filled with my wedding stuff. I opened the lid just to "smell the cedar" but the memories came seeping out and just about unraveled me. I picked up one old letter from the top of the chest and scanned through it. The last phrases that were written on the letter were just simply too ironic. (I'm using that word instead of saying that the words were hurtful because at the time they were written, they were precious). I swear there are some times when I think there's something inside of me that wants me to crawl into a hole and have a pity party. Why in the world did I even open up the chest? If that wasn't stupid enough, why would I pick up a letter? Dumb, dumb, dumb. Maybe it's just emotions. Who knows. I managed to close the chest up like Ghostbusters trapping a ghost in their little metal box and finish up the job.

Or, I thought I finished it up. As I swept out the few remaining areas of floor space, I swept a package of RTV compound out from under a shelf. Yep. That was the breaking point. Not the books, not the pictures, the RTV compound. (If you don't know what RTV is, it's something like silicone that you use to "glue" junk together - especially cars). The RTV didn't remind me specifically of Eric. It reminded me of the security of having someone on hand to help take care of things when they break or blow up. You just never know what a comfort that is until it's gone. He'd used the RTV to patch a crack in my oil pan. If that happened today, I'd either have to ask Dad to help fix it or go pay mega bucks to have a "professional" do it. These are the kind of grenades that blow up in your face that you didn't see coming. There's absolutely no sentimental value in that stupid package of RTV (now in the garbage) but it just represents a comfort and security that I sorely miss.

After the garage was cleaned and pictures of the crap I need to get rid of were taken for Craig's List, the kids and I grabbed a $5 pizza for dinner. If you're in the Towne Lake area, you need to try Pizza Pilot. You can get $5 pizzas for pick up and they are way better than Little Ceasars. Ugh.

I had one final project on my list for today. I've been looking at a blank wall in my dining room since repainting and trying to figure out what to do there. I saw a really neat picture of a room where some decorative person had hung these beautiful plates with fancy ribbon from a curtain rod. I finally figured out where to buy those beautiful plates and I quickly realized that they just weren't THAT beautiful! However, I didn't dismiss the idea from my mind completely. Then, when I was in Old Time Pottery on Sunday, I saw these neat metal stars. They were painted a horrid reddish-orange color but you can change just about anything with Krylon! So, I bought a few of the stars and repainted them. (Pretty sad that the spray paint cost more than the silly stars). Then, I disassembled the curtains in my bedroom and transplanted the rod into the dining room. This is what I ended up with. I must say that I like it. I put some of those silly little touch lights behind the stars and it just gives it a magical glow. You can't tell that from the picture, though. I'm still working on the bows for the stars. I may have to enlist help from a bow-making friend at school. I'm used to tying shoes and hair ribbons. NOT making picture perfect package bows. Anyway, it's a work in progress but it's something that I wanted to do and, by golly, I figured out a way to make it happen!

So, I'm heading to bed tonight knowing that tomorrow will be a very LONG day! I was stupid and made doctor's well-check appointments for BOTH girls for tomorrow morning. Both girls have to have shots. Dasha seems nearly immune to pain so the shot won't bother her but I have some definite questions I'd like to ask the doctor about this whole "transition to be a woman" crap (like should I be worried that Dasha's boobs are still VERY different sizes) and I'm not sure how to tactfully ask those questions with both girls there. Maybe I should write the questions down and have the doctor call me. Anyway, then, Dasha has an appointment to get her new braces tomorrow afternoon. The appointment itself is not dramatic. It's getting her to wear those braces that becomes the struggle. The braces (orthotics) for her shoes aren't that bad but the night splints / braces are the ones that she sneaks off in the middle of the night. Blah. Anyway, back to the well-check appointments. Why do they ask stupid questions on these questionnaires that force you to lie? For example, "Does your child use a pacifier?" If I say, "Yes," I'm setting myself up for a lecture. I know it's a bad habit. I know it'll only get harder to get rid of. I know it's screwing up her teeth and her speech. BUT, is the doctor willing to come put her to bed at night without it? That's what I thought! Another question says, "How much television does your child watch each day?" My answer should be, "It depends on mom's mental stability as to how much she watches!" I do love my pediatrician but sometimes, in their plight to make everyone do everything according to Academy of Pediatrics recommendations, they lose sight of real life!

Anyway, time for one more load of laundry and bed. I'm determined to actually fall asleep before 2:00 tonight! I've just had a hard time turning off the washing machine of thoughts in my head. Currently, I've got it set to spin cycle so I hope it won't get off balance and just stop mid-cycle. I NEED SLEEP before tomorrow's fun begins!

Good night, all!

Satan's Goats, Dead Man Walking, and Strength

Come here, little fellow. I won't hurt you. (The little goat literally butted her. He knew better)!

I'm hoping that this isn't foreshadowing.

Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb. NOT! These things were so food motivated that they'd knock you down!

"Again? Again? Mama, I wanna ride again. I ride a horsey to town!"

Isn't he cute? (About the time she said this, he started chewing on the string to her jacket).

Annie wasn't bothered by the goats that kept piling on her.

Dasha, on the other hand, thought it was a little overwhelming!

While the mini goats distracted her, the billy goat on the other side of the fence ate her hair. Oops.

Both girls agreed that they'd ask Santa for a horse like this. Um, NO!

These things were just weird. They were incredibly soft but looked like someone glued the wrong head to their body!

So, while Grant was off camping and wrangling younger scouts (ha-ha-ha, I knew payback would come one day), the girls and I headed off to the farm. We spent several hours there - most in the mini goat pen. If you didn't know, I HATE goats! I truly believe they are very closely related to Satan! They have weird rectangle pupils and nibble you with germ infested tongues. Uck! However, the girls both loved the miniatures and I felt like I could easily drop kick one of the little munchkins if they got too aggressive. (I seriously dislike goats. Goats and owls)!

Anyway, the girls had fun and I managed to get both girls to take a 2 1/2 hour nap afterwards and I was able to get the house on a path toward cleanliness. Despite my new job charts and ideas about organization, it's just hard to get it right during the week and it takes me all weekend to get things ready to go again on Monday. Blah.

Sunday morning, I admit that I just didn't roll out of bed in time to get everyone up and dressed for church. For some odd reason, Annie slept until 7:00 and then snuggled into my bed with me until nearly 8:30. That's never happened before. I'm terrified that she's getting sick or an alien has taken over her body. Anyway, upon accepting that I wasn't going to make it to church on time, I started trying to reschedule my day. I've been looking high and low for an area rug for the living room. With the new floors down, it's very cold and hard. (Duh, it's a floor). However, I was not prepared for what a rug costs! So, this morning, with both girls in tow, we went to Garden Ridge, Old Time Pottery, and two Big Lots in less than two hours. No luck. I came home and searched overstock.com and did find something reasonably close to what I want and what I can afford. It's sitting in the "cart" waiting for me to make a decision. Ugh. It's a freaking rug! It's not even handmade or one of a kind. It's a R U G! I just need something cushy on the floor so Annie will stop slipping and busting her butt and I will avoid the inevitable fall, as well.

Beyond that, today was quiet. I did manage to make a quick run to Joann's. I absolutely admit that I have a fabric addiction. I could wander around the store and dream up uses for every single piece that I find. Today, I only left with a total of 2 yards. I got two different Halloweenish fabrics to make Annie a skirt out of and a cute fish pattern to make her a dress to wear to the aquarium next weekend. We'll see if all of that actually happens!

So, as I'm wrapping things up for the night, I'm listening to Grant stomping around upstairs. He was none too happy that I insisted that he empty his camping gear and put it away TONIGHT upon arriving home! Last time, I ended up discovering some of his homemade MREs which had molded themselves together. I think it was cheese and summer sausage with grapes. Gross. I had to toss the containers. I was afraid to open them without a Hazmat suit. Anyway, he just came and flashed a ziplock bag at me and told me he was going to put it outside in the garbage can. I didn't ask him why he couldn't put it in the kitchen garbage but he eventually made it crystal clear why he didn't! He said the boys hadn't been able to "bury" their toilet paper at the camp site this weekend and they had to put it into a baggie. Are you kidding me? This is why I don't have any desire to camp with these nutzos! He then went on to tell me about a game called Dead Man Walking that they play that's sort of like (and I quote) "hide and seek on crack." He said that you wait until it's pitch dark and then the boys scatter about in the woods and try to find each other. Stupid me, I asked, "Don't you use your headlamp?" The look I got could have silenced and entire football stadium of fans. I was schooled on the basics of the game at that point. Basically, he and the other older scouts were able to stay hidden in the woods due to their "skills" and the other younger scouts all found each other. I started to ask Grant if he wanted to go play this game in the backyard knowing that I'd be the oldest and I could simply come back into the house and lock him out. What a stupid game! When I'm in charge of a bunch of kids, my ultimate goal is to NOT have them scatter into the darkness but, heck, what do I know? (He's also complaining that his ankle hurts from falling down an embankment in the dark while playing this game. Duh! If he broke it, he can get out his scout book and read up on how to make himself a splint)!

So, tomorrow, my day will consist of getting Dasha to two doctor's appointments and trying to finish up laundry and beginning the job of cleaning out the garage. I've given myself a very stern warning that the garage must be clean before Friday. (Don't worry, I didn't scare myself too bad, though). I bought several plastic tubs to stash items in that stir up emotions. I'll just put those to the side and deal with them as time allows. Now, I know myself well enough that the buckets I bought were pretty small. Me and my smart arse would try to say that everything out there brought back memories - including the caulk gun and the box of nails.

As for my own emotional state, I had quite a breakthrough yesterday as I headed out to rug hunt (trip #1) alone. Instead of pulling up a playlist, I just set my phone to "music" and "shuffle." Of course, the first several songs were complete lovey dovey mushy songs that I deleted from my playlists but not from my main library. I suddenly realized, though, that I was able to make it through the songs, and even sing along, without getting all weepy. The images and feelings that the songs used to conjure up no longer haunt me. It was like someone had deleted the album covers from the iTunes account. It did sting a bit that there really weren't any memories popping up -just nothingness- but, at the same time, I suppose it's a milestone of moving on. I guess I thought that it would take longer to flush 20 years of memories out. (Not to say that all of those flushed memories won't come surging back up from the sewer tomorrow along with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles)!

Anyway, as I continued to look back over the last five months and then the last year, the title for the book I'm working on finally came to me. Stumbling Into Strength. It's what I've done. I didn't go looking for strength. I had been content relying on the strength of others. However, I've had to "cowboy up" and look up. On more than one occasion, I've found myself hiding under rocks and trying to run backwards but as I continue on this path which is filled with ruts, pot holes, and booby traps (church giggles, again), I've found the ability to rely on an inner strength that I never really knew was there. Yeah, that strength has seen me through some pretty crappy chapters in my life but I'd never tried to nurture that strength or even acknowledge it. For now, in the words of Forest Gump, "That's all I have to say about that!"

I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.  Philippians 4:13

Good night, all.

69, Watching the Oars Float Downstream, and Evidence of Change

More rambling thoughts from today...

• "Mom, what is so funny about the number 69?" As I pulled up to the traffic light, I pounded out an SOS text to Eric to make sure he answered that one for Grant.
• Echocardiograms must lead to at least 50 cases of broken ribs every year. I understand the importance but, dang, I feel like I took a beating.
• Dasha has learned the art of making me feel like I'm stupid. Remember the book report drama from last week? Yeah. We're back in the same boat watching the oars float downstream. She has a test over a book tomorrow. I'd been asking her all week what "test" meant where it was written in her agenda. She was supposed to finish a chapter book to take a test on tomorrow. Has she finished? Nope. However, a small miracle must have just occured upstairs because she just alerted me to the fact that she'd finished a 200 page book in under 40 minutes. Hmmmm.... So, she's going to fail the test tomorrow and get assigned another book report. I keep waiting for some little evil character to pop out of the file cabinet singing, "Second verse, same as the first! I'm Henry the Eighth I am...." I've also felt a bit like Bill Murray waking up hearing "I've Got You Babe" in Groundhog Day. Crap.
• Then, Grant has a writing assignment due tomorrow. He's played the Eddie Haskel role all week when I've asked him about the assignment. He made it sound like he had it nailed. Then, he suddenly had a rubric which needed to be signed to be turned in with this award winning paper. I read it. It reminded me of the Aldi toilet paper. Grant is a very capable writer and I wasn't hoping for some prize winning piece. I was just looking for a coherent story with a plot I could follow and sentences I could read. I got neither. So, I told him that I'd sign the stupid rubric (I can't remember the exact words I used but I don't think they were PG) but I'd be emailing his teacher to let her know that I didn't approve of his writing but that I simply saw it. Now, he's stomping in his room. I keep waiting for chunks of the ceiling plaster to chip off on my head. Basically, he has a few more minutes to get his act together or he won't go camping this weekend. If you want the honest truth, here's how my speech to him would have sounded if I was completely truthful. "Grant, because I won't allow you to turn in crap, I'm holding you accountable for turning in reasonable work. If you don't do that, you can't go camping which means that I'm punishing myself, too!" Anyway, I'm SO done with homework.
• Oh, here's the funniest (scariest) thing of the entire day. Dasha was still coughing last night and this morning. So, I gave her cough medicine at 6:30 a.m. At 8:00, she went to see the nurse (knowing darn well that I'd already given her meds) who also gave her cough medicine. At 9:00, her reading teacher sends me an email telling me that Dasha seems to be sort of spacey and "out of it." Ya think? Duh! They are lucky she was still sitting up right! I'm pretty pissed about the whole situation but I know the nurse thought she was acting on Dasha's behalf and she doesn't know that Dasha would stand there and let her over dose her. Tomorrow morning, I do believe that I'll be passing out shot glasses filled with Nyquil to this entire house! Maybe it will make me numb to the drive to school and keep the kids quiet. (For those of you with DFACS on speed dial, I'm just kidding. I'd never give Annie a whole shot glass of Nyquil)!
• But, on this life journey I'm on which is filled with pot holes, booby traps (I get the church giggles every time I say that), and other monsters that pop of seeming nothingness, I'm holding it together. Despite a tense doctor's appointment and the homework drama, I made it through without completely losing control. I can definitely look back over the last six months and see the strength I've gained. A friend mentioned to me the other day how much I've changed. I guess I can't really "see" it since I'm right smack in the middle of the crap every day but when I steal a moment to get quiet and still, I can see the evidence of those changes and they aren't all bad. 

"What if trials of this life are your mercies in disguise?"
~Laura Story

I just wish someone had told me about the masqurade so I could have been better prepared!

Good night, all!

Snorting Smarties and Faceless G.I. Joes

Random thoughts for Thursday...

• I'm convinced that getting 3 children out of the house by 6:20 is impossible without making someone cry.
• Teaching as a profession has become more about butt kissing, teaching to a test, and making sure that everyone thinks that everything is just rosy. One of these days, that inevitable thing called REALITY is going to slap some of these folks across the face and they are going to wish that they'd seen the writing on the wall when their children were still malleable. As for now, I'm a nurse, waitress, statistician (one that needs to know how to skew data in many directions for many reasons), custodian, mama, teacher, and hopefully a miracle worker for a classroom full of students. It's no wonder the education system is such a train wreck. It's the darnedest thing! If teachers have to spend every moment trying to wade through red-tape and guess what the ever-changing rules are, they just can't TEACH!
• Grant's "know-it-all" attitude is bugging me. I told him that I'd pick him up in car line today because he had a music lesson. Nope. Dasha tried to tell him, too. I'd written everything down in HER agenda but he said it's too embarrassing for me to write it in his. Well, tomorrow, I'm thinking about using Sharpie to write it on his forehead. We'll see how embarrassing that is! I pulled up to pick them up and one of the SPED teachers was standing with a very distraught Dasha. Dasha just didn't understand why Grant wouldn't listen to her or even look at where I'd written the instructions in her agenda. Blah!

•  Waiting at my school for an extra 40 minutes with the girls while waiting for Grant to show up proved to be nothing short of exhausting.
• I know I'm naive but I can't figure out if Grant is being serious about kids smushing up Smarties during lunch and snorting them. I can definitely see it happening in my mind but I don't want to believe it and I sure don't want to think that Grant finds it amusing.
• How is it that I don't have enough time during the instructional day to cover all of the standards I need to cover but Grant doesn't do a blasted thing at school? Today, he had "free time" for math period, and "free read" time during reading. He played badminton during PE and didn't do anything in SS because the teacher was dealing with a rogue student. When are they actually going to learn something (other than how to snort Smarties)?

• After a drama-free music lesson, Grant decided to use fingernail polish remover on his G.I. Joes to remove the Sharpie "blood" he'd spattered on them over the last few years. He didn't realize that finger nail polish remover would also take the paint off of the Joes, as well. Duh! To top it off, he poured the entire bottle of remover into a good bowl. Can you imagine what my bathroom smells like right now? If I don't make it into work tomorrow morning, someone might want to check on me. The acetone smell might have done me in during the night! Ugh
• I have to admit that most days, I'm pretty proud of the emotional damage I can take without flinching too much. I don't think I'm really becoming callused but I think some of the deeper wounds are healing nicely and can withstand a bit more poking. After receiving a tax bill in the mail with several digits in it and a note about where to remit payment to, I probably would have crumbled a few months ago. I didn't even lose my cool tonight, though. I was happy to learn that this sort of bill is already accounted for in my mortgage but, who knew? I sure didn't! Whew! There were some other bullets that came whizzing past me today, too, but I was able to watch them and then move on. Now, I was absolutely aware of the fact that those bullets were zipping very close to me but I maintained complete control (and no one was injured)! :)
• I'm looking forward to my break next week and I've got quite a "to do" list but I do plan on doing some fun things with the kids, too. Grant has a camping trip this weekend so it'll just me and the girls. I'm not sure what kind of mischief we can get into but I'm sure we'll figure something out!

Good night, all.