Traditions and Elves

For my own sanity, this will be quick. I've had many emails and texts from folks checking in to see if I was still holding my own. Of course, my answer has been, "Things are fine. I'm doing alright." That's what I'm supposed to say. The truth of the situation looks a whole lot different.

Christmas is my favorite holiday of the year for so many reasons. But, this Season is also wrapped in layers of memories. Decorations, activities, traditions. They all are bubble wrapped in memories.

At this point in the game, I've managed to get the Christmas tree up (lights but no ornaments) and get the lights across the hedges. Neither of these tasks was easy - physically or emotionally. However, there are three kids residing in this house that take a great amount of comfort from "normal" right now so that's what I'm trying to give them. The tree, the lights, the promise of a trip to see the lights at Life College. It all just makes my stomach churn but brings them joy.

However, I'm also trying to do a few "different" things this year simply because it is different. We've never had an elf visit us at Christmas. I've heard about the elves that visit and cause untold damage to homes and then report back to Santa about the behavior of the kids. Well, I'm sure not about to purposefully let something into my house that is going to cause any more chaos. So, I hand picked an elf from the... where do elves come from? Maybe they come from the far corner of the Cabbage Patch. Who knows... Anyway, I chose an elf with a quiet demeanor that is not given to being overly mischievous. He and I have a deal. If he sits quietly and lets the kids hold him gently, then we'll give Santa a good report. If not, he knows that I'll leave him sitting where the cat can cuddle up with him and do whatever she likes with him.

Elliot the Elf arrived tonight since it's the first night of Advent. I'm doing my best to keep things centered around here and not let the real meaning of this Season get shoved to the wayside. Anyway, he'll meet the kids in the morning. Here's to new traditions...

I'll post more about my struggles with this holiday later. For now, I'm trying to psyche myself up for the next three weeks of school. I'm a huge proponent of teachers getting combat pay for the month of December. I think some parents decide to give their kids Pop Tarts and Mountain Dew every morning and then put their darlings on the bus headed directly toward me. When you enter an elementary classroom in the month of December, you can literally feel the air vibrating with the excitement oozing out of the kids. Yes, there are moments that you want to savor and make last forever when you get a glimpse of the excitement through the eyes of a child. However, there are many other moments when you want to just close your eyes, ball up into the fetal position, suck your thumb, and keep saying, "Find a happy place. Find a happy place. Find a happy place." The minute I did that, though, I'd find a child standing over me asking, "Can I go to the bathroom?" Whew!

So, the short answer to your emails would be that I'm struggling but it's an inner struggle that hurts in a way that no physical pain could ever cause. Wading through the holidays seems like walking through a mine field. In fact, I guess I sort of feel like a mine sweeper. Some of the mines I run over are duds and don't inflict any damage. However, others that I thought were duds blow up in my face and leave me with shrapnel sticking here and there and take quite a while to recover from. But, I'll press onward because I know that there's something bigger and better on this journey for me and the kids. I'm not sure what the timing looks like on that "bigger and better thing" but I know it's out there and it gives me reason to keep moving.

Philippians 3:13-16

Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. All of us who are mature should take such a view of things. And if on some point you think differently, that too God will make clear to you. Only let us live up to what we have already attained.

Good night, all.

So much to be thankful for... (Take 2)

OK. So, it's pretty obvious that You Tube and I aren't the best of friends. Navigating all of their legalities makes me nuts. Anyway, here's my tribute to today. I do have so many things to be thankful for.

(Hey, K.H., you'd better do wonderful on finals no matter what I post here)! :)

Failed Santa Attempt, Leaf Pile Demolition, and Potty Training Stand-off

An hour into the wait to see Santa and his reindeer, Annie decided that she'd rather play a game. She can unlock my phone, scroll through the apps to find what she wants, and launch her games. Disturbing doesn't even begin to cover her techie intuition. She can also open iTunes and find her videos. The girl needs her own devices but I'm just not ready to hand over an iTouch to a 2 year old. It's SO wrong on SO many levels.

We forfeited our spot in line and just went to sneak a peak of Santa and his reindeer. My butt was frozen and numb so hers had to be, too! However, I had to promise her that we'd visit him later so she could tell him to make her a pink bike and a drum with sticks.

Destroying Papa's leaf piles was much more entertaining.

Definitely nap time!

The girls analyzed and sorted acorns into different groups. The last sorting consisted of which acorns were pizza and which were smoothies.

The girls decided that the pile of leaves was their car and they went for a drive. (Papa and Grant gave up on raking a LONG time ago)!

She said she found the prize leaf! Her imagination borders on neurotic sometimes!

So, that was the excitement for day one of my Thanksgiving break beyond a trip to Target to buy Annie some real panties. She chose Dora and Littlest Pet Shop. I'm so over this potty training thing! I gave in and bought a bag of M&Ms, too, to bribe her with. However, when we got back to the van, she started screaming for the M&Ms. I told her that she had to tinkle in the potty first. The little crumb-snatcher looked me dead in the eye and said, "I don't have a potty here, Mama. We're in the car. Give me some now and I'll tinkle at home later." When I told her that she'd have to wait, she let out a blood curdling scream and started calling for Grandma. Hmmm.... She's not even three and knows that Grandma would've ripped that bag of M&Ms open in a heart beat and hand fed them to her to keep her from screaming like a wild animal. Me? Nope. I crawled into the driver's seat, turned up the radio, and pulled away from Target looking a lot more calm than I felt.

Here's to an uneventful Thanksgiving break.

Good night, all.

Life's Temptations

Here the facts are. I won't mix emotions and facts. It's a toxic mix this week and I don't want to have regrets.

1. She's eating weird things again. Last night, she licked dinner plates clean that had been sitting in the sink since Sunday night. This morning, it was random trash from the floor of the van. Tonight, it was another pencil. She's taking the mega-vitamins as the doctor ordered but it's not helping.

2. She's stealing again. I just found a pencil in her agenda that I knew didn't belong to her. She admitted to taking it from the teacher's desk while the teacher was in the hallway. When I asked her if she would have stolen something from the teacher's purse, she said, "I couldn't find her purse."

3. She has a new binder in her bag that I didn't buy her. She said that she ask her teacher for it because I wouldn't buy her a new one.

4. Her social studies test says across the bottom, "I love Mrs. Zomer." When I asked her how that got there, she said that she and another student were talking about who they would marry when they got in high school.

My sense of humor has been sapped dry. My best attempt at parenting tonight came when I served her a bowl of pencils for a bedtime snack. As soon as I did it, I felt miserable. How old am I? That's something one of my students would do! Frustration simply overwhelmed my senses. I simply don't know what to do with her. If she clearly shows that she's hiding something, doesn't that indicate that she knows that it is wrong? If she has the ability to discern right and wrong and understands that wrong choices hold consequences, why does she keep doing the same darn wrong things? Doctors don't offer many suggestions beyond removing things from her environment that might tempt her to make wrong choices. Um? Let's see. How in the world would I do that? Reality is filled with temptations. In fact, without temptations, how would we ever develop the ability to choose between right and wrong? Temptations are a daily part of life whether you're talking about eating an entire bag of Oreos or stealing a pencil. There comes a point of accountability when you have to assume responsibility for your actions - good or bad.

So, as we get closer to Thanksgiving, I will continue to be very thankful that Dasha has a stomach of steel that can tolerate staples, graphite, erasers, and petrified crumbs. I will also be very thankful that she has a pencil fetish and not a jewelry one. I will also continue to count the many blessing that come with having next week off! Whew!

Good night, all.

Googling at the Randolph Mental Facility

I know that there are some folks that believe that the majority of the antecedotal stories I post here are figments of my imagination. Come with me on a little trip (yeah, a four hour tour...) through my day and you'll see that no one in their right mind would make this stuff up!

Annie doesn't understand the idea of having a day off or of this "time change" thing. So, she woke me up this morning by standing next to my bed and saying, "Mama, mama. You sleeping?" The clock clearly read 5:23. I pulled her in bed with me and handed her my phone so she could watch a video. That lasted for about 20 minutes. (Dear Nick Jr., you need to make a feature length Fresh Beat Band episode, please, that lasts longer than 20 minutes). So, at 5:45, I crawled out of bed and started a load of laundry. By 7:00, Annie and I had eaten breakfast and she had drawn me a "map" of what she wanted to do for the day. She thinks that she is Dora and loves maps. I can't even think about taking her into a store without giving her an index card with some things for her to check off and a silly "map." 

We planned to MAKE play dough using a new recipe I found on Pinterest which used Jello. The only stores open at 7:00 a.m. are WalMart and Kroger so we opted for WalMart. We picked out grape, strawberry, orange, and blue explosion Jello and cream of tartar and headed back home.

Then, the real mess started.

At first, she didn't understand why the Jello boxes didn't have play dough in them. I guess she didn't understand that we had to cook it. (That was a very frustrating conversation). So, in the end, the dough was cooked and Annie went off to happily play with it.

By this time, Grant had crawled out from his lair. His list for today included cleaning his room and working on his science project. The room cleaning part of his list went as normal. There was lots of huffing, lots of procrastinating, and way too many things getting crammed into the closet and the hamper. But, he managed to finish and then we started the process of figuring out how to actually DO the science project that he'd dreamed up.

He wanted to test the bacteria levels in tea from different restaurants. Ok. That's a great idea. But, how in the world do you do that? Thanks to Google and You Tube, we found out that you have to use something called agar in a petri dish to grow the bacteria. Yeah. Let me just run to the cabinet and pull out some agar from my stock pile. Huh? Where do you even buy this stuff? Once again, back to Google we went. As usual, we've cut the time limits pretty close on this project so we didn't have time to order anything (let me clarify - I didn't want to PAY to have something express mailed). I started calling lots of really weird and shady places asking if they stocked agar. I even called the pediatrician's office. (They got quite a laugh out of that). On a last ditch effort, I called the school supply store about ten minutes down the road and they had one vial left of the stuff. Geez. So, we loaded up and went to get this weirdness - plus petri dishes.

It's a powdery mess that you have to mix with distilled water, boil it, let it cool, and then pour it into the petri dishes to solidify. Yeah. Once again, why couldn't my child just want to test how much liquid different brands of diapers hold?

So, I guess we'll just watch and see over the next few days which tea had the most bacteria in it. We're going to get two more batches of tea from each place to make sure that we have solid data. Don't we sound scientific?

And then, there was Dasha's report. I saw the instruction sheet last night and it is due tomorrow. Yeah, me! The topic of this report... Day of the Dead. It's an official holiday for some cultures. Believe me. I had to Google that too! For this report, you were supposed to pick a dead relative, pet, or other person and basically create a shrine for them. Now, you have to understand that my "Are You Kidding Me?" filter kicked in the minute I saw the information sheet. When I asked Dasha about it, she said, "I'll just do a box about Ansley." Oh boy. Grant went nuts. Grant is very guarded about his memories of Ansley and doesn't like Dasha to even talk about her. (Add this to the therapy list, yeah, yeah, yeah). So, who else could we do? She named off two other people that she's known of that have died and neither was a good fit for this project. (I tried to convince her to do it on Grant's guinea pig that kicked the bucket last year but she wanted to do it about a PERSON). Geez. Once again, I did a Google search for "dead famous people." Really. That's what I typed. My choices were either Michael Jackson or Steve Jobs. I persuaded Dasha to go with Mr. Jobs.

We Googled more about Jobs to complete the report. (Yeah, there was a written report, too. See? The guinea pig report would have been much easier and no one would have known if it was true or not - like the part about me putting the dead creature in a Rubbermaid box and putting it in the big freezer because the ground was too hard for me to dig a hole in)! Although, I guess I'll have to admit that Steve Jobs was a very different person. Dasha immediately zeroed in on the fact that he was adopted and didn't go to college. Oh well. Never mind the stuff about Apple and Pixar.

So, the project is now complete and ready for school. I wonder what other parents thought about this project? Couldn't they have simply said something like, do research on a deceased person and create a collage or media product to show their life? Nope. Much more creepy to do it this way.

So, in one day, I made play dough, created a warm cozy environment to grow tea bacteria, and created a shrine to Steve Jobs. And you people think I make this mess up! I haven't even gotten to the good stuff yet.

About 9:00, I was sitting at the desk working on school papers when I heard a dripping sound. I thought it was the cat doing something weird. (I didn't even bother to go check). But, suddenly the dripping turned into more of a pouring sound. I walked out of the office and into the kitchen to see a waterfall coming out of the air vent in the ceiling. There was a puddle on the floor that spanned most of the kitchen. My first thought was, "At least this isn't poo water like last week AND it's on the tile and not the wood floor." My second thought was a bit less positive. It was something like, "Oh, crap. The ceiling is going to fall in and then what am I going to do?"

My adreline kicked in and I started yelling for the big kids to bring me towels and garbage cans like I was some rock star surgeon in the ER. They are lucky I wasn't saying things like, "Stat! Stand back! I'm not gonna lose this one!" Anyway, we dried up the small lake and stood back and just watched the waterfall. At one point, Dasha looked at me with her face squished up and said, "What is going on?" I couldn't help myself at that point. I looked her back without a smile and said, "Well, maybe you should find an umbrella because we have ourselves a kitchen storm and it looks like it might just go on all night long!" She didn't laugh. I think part of her thought I was serious. She proceeded to go look out the window and tell me that it wasn't raining outside. Ugh.

I called my dad. He analyzed the situation. By the time he left, we'd come to no conclusions. The water was coming from the general vicinity of my bathroom. There's still no conclusion at this hour (2 hours later). However, the rain has stopped now and I'm just left with a floor full of wet towels and a garbage can full of water. Who knows when the rain will start again. Eric reminded me that we do have home owner's insurance for things like this. Oh, yeah. I kind of forgot about that. I'm terrified to know what the deductible is, though. Oh well. The joys of home ownership.

So, this is the sort of fun we have at the Randolph Mental Facility on a day "off." Jello dough, growing bacteria, honoring dead people, and having inside rain showers. In what other house could you do all of that in one day? No where that I know of unless you're wearing a straight jacket! And, heck, I don't even enforce that our guests wear straight jackets! Half of the time, someone is running around naked (not me).

This is where I find myself at 10:55 on Tuesday night. I'm really trying to stay focused and see this new turn of events as merely a distraction from the journey I'm on. But, I'm telling you, this distraction is like one of those darn gnats at the beach that you just want to zap.

Good night, all.

Sewage leaks and Lurking Monsters

OK. I'm still alive. I'm still amazed at the emails and messages that overflowed from my boxes to make sure I hadn't committed myself to some asylum or been locked up at the Sheriff's Office. It's nice to feel loved! :)

If I didn't completely turn the lights off, shut the elevator down, and loose all of my marbles today, it won't happen.

Here's a quick recap before I crash into bed.

1) 6:00 a.m. - I got up early to shower and try to make myself semi-presentable for the conference this afternoon. Thinking that I had somewhat accomplished that feat, I headed downstairs. However, when I stepped off of the bottom step this morning, I found myself standing in water. Someone (I'm thinking the only male in the house) stopped up the toilet last night but didn't bother to tell me and for some reason, the water had seeped out of the bathroom, into the foyer, and stunk up the entire downstairs. This was NOT a job for a towel. I can't quite remember the exact number of new expletives my children learned from me this morning. I absolutely have to get a rein on my tongue. I'm convinced that my temper is directly tied to my tongue. Whew. However, due to the minor flooding of sewage, breakfast became a second thought. I hustled the kids out of the door. By this time, I was crying (the expletives had ceased spilling forth), the kids were scared that I was really losing it, and it was stinking cold!

2) Did I mention that I was still wide awake at 3:30 this morning? Sleep just would not claim me. I even took a swig of NyQuil at 1:00 a.m. When I'm sleepy, nothing is right. So, about 6:45, I called my teammate and made a plea for her to call me a sub for a 1/2 day. I was on the edge of a real breakdown and I had poo water to clean up before it seeped underneath the flooring and caused even more damage.

3) 7:00 a.m. - Chick-fil-A drive through. I can get away with not feeding Annie breakfast. She eats at Fatima's every morning despite what I might feed her. However, Grant and Dasha aren't so keen on starving. So, I ordered their breakfasts and my diet lemonade and headed for school. Somehow, I got behind every single Cherokee County bus. I didn't get to school until 7:20 this morning. That's the latest I've gotten to school in years! I hate to be late!

4) 11:15 a.m. - I handed my class off to a lady name Mrs. D with an island accent and made a run for the van. The van has become my safe-house. I sat in the van and simply cried. No hysterics. Just crying. I'm not even sure what I was crying about. I finally collected my remaining senses and drove home. It took the next hour and a half to clean up the now congealed sewage from the floor. I mopped the floor about 3 times with new water every time just because I didn't even want to believe that poo germs were stuck in the wood. Ugh. My naked feet walk on that floor. Annie wallows around on that floor. Gross. Then, I decided to put the last coat of spray paint on my Goodwill find of an end table. I felt a moderate amount of success upon the completion of that job. However, stupid me left the table on the patio when I went back to school and it got rained (poured) on and warped. Yip. That would be my luck. If you're wondering, the table is still sitting on the patio. I didn't even bother to try bringing it in.

5) 2:00 - I finished up sewing a bag I'd started for Annie only to realize that I snipped the seams too close and cut through the sides of the bag. Okeedokee then.... I crossed that off of my "to do" list. My list didn't say anything about making a bag with a solid structure. Deconstructed is the new look for jeans. Maybe I'll start a trend in toddler bags, too.

6) 3:00 - Headed for the middle school. I knew I'd be a little bit early so I ended up parking in the church parking lot and crying some more. For real? Where are these tears coming from? You'd think I was PMSy or something. I was worried about what Eric would say. I was worried about having to sit in his general vicinity for more than two seconds. Could I hold it together? I was lucky enough that some old employees from Little River saw me along the way and I was able to chat with them when I arrived at the school and had to sit in the cold lobby where the potential for awkward moments was maximized.

7) The conference was just fine. We learned that Dasha had made a name for herself with other guy teachers and seems to have quite a few crushes. Nice. I'll add this to my list of concerns with her. It seems that one teacher had to threaten to "sign her agenda" if she didn't stop hugging on him. Ugh. There weren't any surprises beyond that, though. And, I have to admit that I wasn't really surprised. She just wants attention from males. She always has.

8) Left the middle school. Went to mom's house. Picked the three tornadoes up. Took them home and delivered them to Eric. He wanted to take them to eat. Ok. So, they left and I was lost. I know, I know. I say I want to get rid of them for a while and then I say that I want them back. The grass is always greener on the other side. So, I sat and ate a bowl of Cheerios while the power blinked off for a while. Then, I graded math tests, watched two episodes of Sister Wives, and finished off the Snickers from Halloween. Nice compliment to the Cheerios! I'm sure my blood sugar will be out of whack in the morning. But, my biggest monsters of the night showed up while I was curled up on the sofa with my math tests and the cat. For some reason, I thought the kids would be back around 6:15. Now, I can't trust that I heard that correctly because any direct verbal communication between us seems to get garbled somewhere between his mouth and my ears. But, I started wondering if maybe he would actually take the kids and leave. ??? I don't think he would but... So, those "what if monsters" danced in my head for over an hour. Should I text Grant? No. I don't want Eric to think I'm checking up on them. But, what if they're headed for the state line? I seriously never even fathomed that this would be a monster that would lurk in my mind. Trusting someone with your kids is a big deal especially when that trust has been so badly broken. Back when all of this first happened, I used to have these very vivid dreams that Eric and his friend would swoop in and take the kids and disappear forever. I still get teary eyed thinking of that vision of Annie screaming out for me. Maybe that's why I got so crazy tonight. That whole dream was just so persistent and so dang real. Night after night, I'd wake up crying and be left with nothing but the vision of Annie reaching out for me and me feeling helpless. Blah. I'd like to put a permanent lock on the box that contains that stupid dream.

Ok, ok, ok. We've already had this discussion before and I said I wasn't even going to post anything this week. However, I'm hoping that by purging my thoughts here, they won't follow me to bed tonight. I'm stinking exhausted. I need to leave the monsters behind on this screen and not under the covers with me.

So, I'm heading to bed knowing that the alarm will go off way too early in the morning. I'm also going to make sure that all toilets are flushed and all children are really tucked (glued) into their beds so I'm not greeted with another sewage leak in the morning. I'd threaten to put everyone back in diapers if this happens again but that would be way too expensive!

Good night, all.

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.