Monday, June 09, 2014
Monday, February 24, 2014
Phoebe
Remember last time when Jacob ruined our snow day by peeing on the bathroom rug?
Yeah, I may have been wrong with that. (And I did apologize.)
Turns out it really could've been cat pee. Who knew?
Not me, that's for sure.
Ten days later I was all like, "What's up with all this people pee in front of every toilet (four) in the house? Who did this? I am looking at ya'll boys (and man)? " And then I saw my cat exit one of those bathrooms and was all like, uh-oh.
So I googled and guess what? Cat pee that does not smell like cat pee means said cats kidneys are failing.
Shit.
But she didn't seem different.
She was still jumping onto the counters. And the beds. And racing Adam across the house. She didn't seem sick to me. Surely this was a fluke and maybe the litter box is too dirty or the kids have too many shoes/dirty clothes/toys blocking it. Yeah, that had to be it, because she sat right next to me on the chair arm while I was googling all this strange information.
That was Friday afternoon.
Saturday morning she was dead.
Overnight she got worse. She would jump up onto the bathroom counter but fall into the tub. She wouldn't try to get up. She slept in the bed with me and two of the kids but she didn't sleep much. She paced a lot and then she curled up with each of us for extended amounts of time. She always curls up with us, but then she gets down to go to her bed:
She never went to her bed that night.
(See how pitiful. She was not doing well)
The next morning she was stumbly. Derick said she probably had an ear infection and was taking her to the vet. He'd be back with antibiotics and she'd feel better he said. You stay home and take a bath and read your book and don't you worry about her.
But I knew.
He called me half hour later and said I had to come.
So the kids and I went.
Her body temperature was 96. I guess a cat's normal temp is 102. Who knew?
He gums were gray. They are supposed to be pink.
We cried. The vet left. We cried some more. We passed her around and gave her kisses and she snuggled us the best she could. She tried so hard to get up and be with Elizabeth who was in a ball in a corner. Of all the kids she tolerated Elizabeth the most.
The vet came back and said we could take her home but she wouldn't last much longer. Phoebe hated the carrier so I couldn't put her back in it again. I looked at her and could tell she was done. She needed peace. We needed peace. I couldn't continue to do that to my hysterical children. So we kissed her and hugged her and sat with her until the sedative took effect and then scared all the people in the waiting room as we attempted to get to our cars and make it home with an empty cage.
I had that cat for 19 years. I got her as a kitten at a pet store in a Virginia Beach mall for $30. I didn't go there shopping for a pet, but I saw her in a cage outside the store as I walked past and for whatever reason decided I needed her right then and there. They put her in a cardboard box of which she promptly escaped and attached her long sharp claws to my head and neck. I somehow made it through a Wendys drive thru and then home and released her into her new home. I unpacked my meal at the coffee table (where I always ate as a single yuppie) and she immediately raced over and stole the bacon from my sandwich. Then she came back for fries.
I named her Sara to begin with because that was my favorite name at the time. She was not a Sara. Three days later she was Phoebe Figalilly because I loved to watch The Nanny and the Professor when I was young.
She was good company the next two years as I lived alone. She greeted me at the door when I returned from work. She would fetch furry play mice and we'd play that game for hours. She loved to run and roll into the coupon cutting trash every Sunday morning. She loved to jitter at the birds outside the glass door. She would sit on the edge of the tub while I showered or bathed and she always slept on the extra pillow I kept beside my head.
I have been with her longer than anyone else in this house. Being a cat, she was not all up in my face like Ezra. She didn't love everyone she saw, she was not a dog. My dad would always tell everyone to stay away from her that she was a cranky old cat who didn't want to be messed with, not like his Mimi, his version of the-best-cat-ever, but he would end by saying, she does love Andria. Andria is the only one she'll deal with. And for a long time he was right. She eventually warmed up to Derick and would wait for him at the door with fake furry mice too until he brought Ezra home and broke her heart. She was always good to the boys in the sense that she never hurt them, but she didn't hang out with them much. I think Jacob's months-o-colic scared her and Adam was scared of her so she stayed away. When we brought Elizabeth home she was lying in the crib with her two hours later. I said she must have sensed there was another girl in the house.
She lived 19 years. I can't really ask for much else. She was my sweet baby. I miss her.
Phoebe Figallily
May 12 1995 - February 8, 2014
May 12 1995 - February 8, 2014
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
Snow Day
Really.
We are having a snow day in southeast Texas. Never mind that it isn't snowing, or even icing, but nevertheless, we are having a snow day.
I want to poke my eyes out with a rusty fork.
I got so excited yesterday when we got the calls. I thought they were crazy, but still…..NO WORK! NO SCHOOL! Yippee!!!
The little kids made a fort in the living room and slept away from me for the first time in weeks.
We were going to drink cider and watch Back to the Future (all three!) and not get dressed and love our life today.
Um. Not so much.
I don't know why I ever think we will EVER have just a nice relaxing day.
As is usual for our mornings, it was ugly.
The same yelling, the same fighting, the same fits. I don't even remember what it was all about, but eventually I sent Jacob upstairs and told him not to come down until his meds kicked in.
About an hour later I went up to retrieve him and saw his patch still in the package on his desk. (Shame on me for trusting) and Adam's dirty clothes piled on the bathroom rug covered in pee. Along with the tile floor and grout and the wall and sink cabinet surrounding the toilet.
Are you fricking kidding me?
Oh, he blamed it on the cat. Which would not be too unusual, we have an 18 year old cat, but um, it you've ever had a cat you know there is a distinctly different odor. I've dealt with cat pee before. Just last week even. This, most certainly, was NOT cat pee. As calmly as I could, I put the sopping wet clothes down the laundry chute and handed him the rug and told him to take it outside and hose it off. He lost his ever loving mind and let me know that was MY job.
Oh, hell no.
Sure anyone else would just throw that rubber backed rug into the washer but guess whose husband bought a washer that has a great big Mr. Yuk sticker on the lid explaining how you can't wash anything waterproof or else you'll ruin your washer. I mean, WHAT?
He wouldn't clean the rug. Or anything else for that matter. And I was informed it was a holiday so he didn't have to do anything and I should get my lazy ass downstairs and fix him something to eat because that was my job.
That's when I dragged his ass outside.
With the rug.
With instructions that he could come in when it was rinsed.
He spent 30 minutes beating on our front glass door. There's a crack now. I am waiting for it to completely collapse soon. Then what do we do? Invite the neighbors in?
I kept waiting for the police to show up. It was 35 degrees outside and raining. I probably should have let him in. I know he was sure I would let him in. I know my neighbors are probably still talking about me. But you know what? I told him to do something. I don't think I was being unreasonable in asking him to clean the mess HE made. I was NOT going to let a fit throwing toddler-like teenager believe I would back down and do it myself. This child IS going to learn that HE is responsible for his behaviors and actions. Thirty minutes later he finally sat down and shut up and I opened the door. He washed the rug. Sort of.
This is what we get. Always. It would have been easier to just throw the damn rug away. I could've cleaned the floor myself. (Adam actually cleaned the floor and wall and sink). I could've said absolutely nothing to him today and avoided all of this. In fact, I have done just that before because sometimes I just don't have the energy to deal with it, but he is almost 13 years old. This has GOT to stop because, HELLO ADULTHOOD COMING. Plus, I just don't know how much more I can take.
He had a psych appointment last week. My husband took him for the first time ever. He explained to her how we are reaching a breaking point and she prescribed yet another medication. That makes three now. So far I can't tell it's making any difference. I bought a bunch of essential oils for a ton of money that someone else swore worked so well they were able to quit the meds. I swear it made him worse. At least they smelled good. I have cut out dyes and gluten and artificial everything and still, here we are. We will never enjoy an evening or a weekend or a family vacation or even a rare snow day because this is what we get during the hours he is here.
I love him, but I don't like this.
I want a good snow day.
One day.
Edited to add……two hours later…..
He is up in his room and I hesitate before calling for him to come down to get his folded laundry to put away. I could just do it myself tomorrow, but I don't want to so I brace myself and ask him to come down. He waited a bit but finally came, I held out the stack of clothes and told him I wanted them put up and he answered, "Yes Ma'am" and took them up. Of course I haven't gone up to check that they aren't on the floor, but no fight. This is the conundrum with him……Before the meds = hell; After the meds= not always so bad. BUT…BUT….BUT…..I know if I'd woken him this morning, told him if he got through the day without fighting, raising his voice, or complaining we could go to Game Stop, then he would have been wonderful. I know, because I've done it before. Ugh.
At least we were then able to have cocoa and cookies for lunch. He declined.
We are having a snow day in southeast Texas. Never mind that it isn't snowing, or even icing, but nevertheless, we are having a snow day.
I want to poke my eyes out with a rusty fork.
I got so excited yesterday when we got the calls. I thought they were crazy, but still…..NO WORK! NO SCHOOL! Yippee!!!
The little kids made a fort in the living room and slept away from me for the first time in weeks.
We were going to drink cider and watch Back to the Future (all three!) and not get dressed and love our life today.
Um. Not so much.
I don't know why I ever think we will EVER have just a nice relaxing day.
As is usual for our mornings, it was ugly.
The same yelling, the same fighting, the same fits. I don't even remember what it was all about, but eventually I sent Jacob upstairs and told him not to come down until his meds kicked in.
About an hour later I went up to retrieve him and saw his patch still in the package on his desk. (Shame on me for trusting) and Adam's dirty clothes piled on the bathroom rug covered in pee. Along with the tile floor and grout and the wall and sink cabinet surrounding the toilet.
Are you fricking kidding me?
Oh, he blamed it on the cat. Which would not be too unusual, we have an 18 year old cat, but um, it you've ever had a cat you know there is a distinctly different odor. I've dealt with cat pee before. Just last week even. This, most certainly, was NOT cat pee. As calmly as I could, I put the sopping wet clothes down the laundry chute and handed him the rug and told him to take it outside and hose it off. He lost his ever loving mind and let me know that was MY job.
Oh, hell no.
Sure anyone else would just throw that rubber backed rug into the washer but guess whose husband bought a washer that has a great big Mr. Yuk sticker on the lid explaining how you can't wash anything waterproof or else you'll ruin your washer. I mean, WHAT?
He wouldn't clean the rug. Or anything else for that matter. And I was informed it was a holiday so he didn't have to do anything and I should get my lazy ass downstairs and fix him something to eat because that was my job.
That's when I dragged his ass outside.
With the rug.
With instructions that he could come in when it was rinsed.
He spent 30 minutes beating on our front glass door. There's a crack now. I am waiting for it to completely collapse soon. Then what do we do? Invite the neighbors in?
I kept waiting for the police to show up. It was 35 degrees outside and raining. I probably should have let him in. I know he was sure I would let him in. I know my neighbors are probably still talking about me. But you know what? I told him to do something. I don't think I was being unreasonable in asking him to clean the mess HE made. I was NOT going to let a fit throwing toddler-like teenager believe I would back down and do it myself. This child IS going to learn that HE is responsible for his behaviors and actions. Thirty minutes later he finally sat down and shut up and I opened the door. He washed the rug. Sort of.
This is what we get. Always. It would have been easier to just throw the damn rug away. I could've cleaned the floor myself. (Adam actually cleaned the floor and wall and sink). I could've said absolutely nothing to him today and avoided all of this. In fact, I have done just that before because sometimes I just don't have the energy to deal with it, but he is almost 13 years old. This has GOT to stop because, HELLO ADULTHOOD COMING. Plus, I just don't know how much more I can take.
He had a psych appointment last week. My husband took him for the first time ever. He explained to her how we are reaching a breaking point and she prescribed yet another medication. That makes three now. So far I can't tell it's making any difference. I bought a bunch of essential oils for a ton of money that someone else swore worked so well they were able to quit the meds. I swear it made him worse. At least they smelled good. I have cut out dyes and gluten and artificial everything and still, here we are. We will never enjoy an evening or a weekend or a family vacation or even a rare snow day because this is what we get during the hours he is here.
I love him, but I don't like this.
I want a good snow day.
One day.
Edited to add……two hours later…..
He is up in his room and I hesitate before calling for him to come down to get his folded laundry to put away. I could just do it myself tomorrow, but I don't want to so I brace myself and ask him to come down. He waited a bit but finally came, I held out the stack of clothes and told him I wanted them put up and he answered, "Yes Ma'am" and took them up. Of course I haven't gone up to check that they aren't on the floor, but no fight. This is the conundrum with him……Before the meds = hell; After the meds= not always so bad. BUT…BUT….BUT…..I know if I'd woken him this morning, told him if he got through the day without fighting, raising his voice, or complaining we could go to Game Stop, then he would have been wonderful. I know, because I've done it before. Ugh.
At least we were then able to have cocoa and cookies for lunch. He declined.
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
A Major Award
That's my girl!
Second highest average BAY-BEE!
That face is because she realized the boy with the highest average got a medal. A medal.
She came back to sit with me after it was over and this was our conversation:
Me: You got an award, aren't you proud of yourself?
Her: This is not an award. It's a piece of paper.
Me: No. You were recognized in front of the whole school for doing so well in school.
Her: I want a medal.
Me: Then you have to get highest average.
Her: Austin better watch out.
Does this make me a better mother? Because I think it redeems me. My kid. Who is raised by me. Who possesses my DNA. Got an award.
Ummhhhmmmm.........that's MY GIRL!
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Strange Days
My children bicker a lot. Over stupid stuff. Everywhere. Anywhere.
This afternoon we were in the car heading to yet another psychologist appointment when all three started screaming about something. I don't even listen anymore. I told them once to knock it off. It continued. I yelled at them to shut the hell up. Still continued. I sat and fumed for a bit and then I found a classical music station on the radio (91.7 for you locals). Within thirty seconds it was quiet. We rode the rest of the way in silence. Adam even opened the door for Elizabeth when we arrived.
Ooookkkaaayyy.
So we head home and it starts again so I instantly go back to the music. Silence.
We ate dinner. We cleaned up. I have the television on the classical music station and all three are playing Wii together with inside voices.
I feel like this has to be a fluke. Right?
I mean, I have heard that music soothes the savage beast, but really?
I guess I'll be adding this to our routine.
*please, oh please, don't be a fluke*
This afternoon we were in the car heading to yet another psychologist appointment when all three started screaming about something. I don't even listen anymore. I told them once to knock it off. It continued. I yelled at them to shut the hell up. Still continued. I sat and fumed for a bit and then I found a classical music station on the radio (91.7 for you locals). Within thirty seconds it was quiet. We rode the rest of the way in silence. Adam even opened the door for Elizabeth when we arrived.
Ooookkkaaayyy.
So we head home and it starts again so I instantly go back to the music. Silence.
We ate dinner. We cleaned up. I have the television on the classical music station and all three are playing Wii together with inside voices.
I feel like this has to be a fluke. Right?
I mean, I have heard that music soothes the savage beast, but really?
I guess I'll be adding this to our routine.
*please, oh please, don't be a fluke*
Monday, January 13, 2014
Resolutions
Every year I make a big list of the things I am going to do to make our lives better as the calendar changes. Sometimes I stick to them, sometimes I forget all about them until I look back and see, oh yeah....oops. I swore I wasn't going to make any in 2014, but I have this innate need to make lists and check off those lists, and work toward a goal. It really is very annoying.
I did lose about 8 pounds last year. I don't really know how I did it, except maybe the trip to Disney where we didn't purchase the dining plan and only ate one meal a day. Combined with all that walking, I lost 15 pounds in just that one week alone. Of course, they opened a Which Wich very close to me resulting in gaining some of it back, but I am now a size 8 again instead of almost a 12. I'll take it. I am 45 years old and approaching menopause. I doubt I'll ever wear my size 2s again. I hope to exercise at some point. Don't know when that will be since I HATE it, but one day. Maybe.
I did not blog every week last year, but I did double my blog posts so it's a start. I don't think I'll ever get back to the way it used to be (sunrise, sunset), but such is life. Hopefully I'll be able to document the big important things here because the baby books are collecting dust.
There will be pictures on our walls and stairway at some point in 2014. Ditto curtains.
The biggest thing I want to change this year are our mornings. Me, oh my. I want to smash my face into the granite every. single. morning. It is awful here. Don't ever come here before 9 am. Ever. Or maybe do come here. It will make you feel good about your life. Oy. I really don't know what to do for the hour-two hours we are waiting for Jacob's meds to kick in. I have tried ignoring him, I have tried starting earlier, I have tried starting later, I have tried prayer, I have tried separation, I have even tried alcohol on non-school days. Yes. It's that bad. I don't know what else to try yet, but we need the mornings to change. The morning sets the tone for the rest of our days and I think if we can get this under control we'd all be so much happier.
Anyway, my boss gave us all a book called Jesus Calling. Her intention was that we read it each morning and take that portion of The Word to sustain us while teaching our preschool children. It's a daily dated devotional book with scripture. With all that goes on here each morning, the last thing I have time for is reading. Shoot, some days I get all the way to school and realize I didn't put any makeup on, so reading? Gah. My boss, though, was very insistent that we at least give it a try. So I did. I mean, I've tried everything else in the morning. Why not? So the first day I sit my little two down for breakfast while the big one is upstairs claiming something is unfair and I quietly juggled one page of verse and thought. The three of us at the table in our own little world.
*lighbulb*
If I'm going to read it, why not read it out loud?
And that's what I am doing.
It hasn't miraculously fixed our mornings, but at least they have that message to take them through the day if they choose.
I'll let you know in 2015 how it worked.
Wish us luck.
I did lose about 8 pounds last year. I don't really know how I did it, except maybe the trip to Disney where we didn't purchase the dining plan and only ate one meal a day. Combined with all that walking, I lost 15 pounds in just that one week alone. Of course, they opened a Which Wich very close to me resulting in gaining some of it back, but I am now a size 8 again instead of almost a 12. I'll take it. I am 45 years old and approaching menopause. I doubt I'll ever wear my size 2s again. I hope to exercise at some point. Don't know when that will be since I HATE it, but one day. Maybe.
I did not blog every week last year, but I did double my blog posts so it's a start. I don't think I'll ever get back to the way it used to be (sunrise, sunset), but such is life. Hopefully I'll be able to document the big important things here because the baby books are collecting dust.
There will be pictures on our walls and stairway at some point in 2014. Ditto curtains.
The biggest thing I want to change this year are our mornings. Me, oh my. I want to smash my face into the granite every. single. morning. It is awful here. Don't ever come here before 9 am. Ever. Or maybe do come here. It will make you feel good about your life. Oy. I really don't know what to do for the hour-two hours we are waiting for Jacob's meds to kick in. I have tried ignoring him, I have tried starting earlier, I have tried starting later, I have tried prayer, I have tried separation, I have even tried alcohol on non-school days. Yes. It's that bad. I don't know what else to try yet, but we need the mornings to change. The morning sets the tone for the rest of our days and I think if we can get this under control we'd all be so much happier.
Anyway, my boss gave us all a book called Jesus Calling. Her intention was that we read it each morning and take that portion of The Word to sustain us while teaching our preschool children. It's a daily dated devotional book with scripture. With all that goes on here each morning, the last thing I have time for is reading. Shoot, some days I get all the way to school and realize I didn't put any makeup on, so reading? Gah. My boss, though, was very insistent that we at least give it a try. So I did. I mean, I've tried everything else in the morning. Why not? So the first day I sit my little two down for breakfast while the big one is upstairs claiming something is unfair and I quietly juggled one page of verse and thought. The three of us at the table in our own little world.
*lighbulb*
If I'm going to read it, why not read it out loud?
And that's what I am doing.
It hasn't miraculously fixed our mornings, but at least they have that message to take them through the day if they choose.
I'll let you know in 2015 how it worked.
Wish us luck.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Out With the Old....
My friend took beautiful pictures of the children for our Christmas cards. They were fantastic but, alas, I can no longer locate the jump drive they are on. Figures.
I have a goal for 2014 that I will finally find some semi-matching frames and hang some photos in this house. We have lived here five and a half years and have pretty much nothing on the walls. Oh, there are the two mismatching very, extremely, is-this-a-joke? pictures my husband bought one weekend when I was away. I mean, they are so butt ugly I actually explain to new visitors that I didn't do that and have no idea what he was thinking. One day I'll post them, but to be honest, I don't want to waste the battery power on my camera on them.
Anyway, Happy New Year and all that jazz.
Monday, November 25, 2013
We Are Not French
Ugh.
Have you seen the article swimming around Facebook about how French children don't have ADHD, because, you know, French people are better parents, yada, yada, yada.
I would link to it, but I still haven't figured out how to have two screens open on my almost year old Macbook. Manual? What's that? If you are confused, google it. You know, if you are even reading this rant.
Anyway....
Only- Facebook Friend, who I truly only know through Facebook, posted the article this morning along with a lot of other posts that let us know what a great mother she is now that she has a six month old and has truly mastered the art of parenting. Good for her. Such optimism. STFU. Please.
I wrote a pretty hastily put together reply that went something like this:
Until you walk in my shoes, don't judge.
I told her I agreed many children in the US are misdiagnosed and overmedicated without looking into other underlying causes of the behavior. As a teacher, I have filled out numerous forms from different doctors and stated my opinion in black sharpie about how I don't believe Brian, Jason, Adam, Peyton, Morgan, or Chris have anything other than a busy personality/loud voice/zest for life and have had said opinion not even matter when Brian, Jason, Adam, Peyton, Morgan, and Chris all came back the next week sleeping at their desks until the meds wore off mid-afternoon. I get that argument. What I don't get is how now ADHD is a fake illness that would mysteriously go away if I'd only stand up and actually be a good parent.
WTF?
I invite any of these people, writing any of these "articles" to come to my house any given day and see our non-ADHD.
As I typed to my Only-Facebook friend, I let her know that since I washoarding because at the end of the year there will be a shortage of them giving my child a break from the morning override pill and still waiting for the takes-2-hours-to-kick-in patch to, well, kick in, that I was watching my almost teenager attempt to run up the wall, fall back on his back, and then laugh maniacally until he got up and tried it again. When he wasn't doing that he was mumbling the MF words under his breath while also laughing maniacally slamming himself into the couch, oh, and then there was the moment I went out in the pouring rain and got us all a dozen doughnuts, went to the bathroom, came back and there were no more doughnuts. Oh yes. While the others slept and I was out of the room for one minute he ate a dozen doughnuts. He knows not to do that. In two hours, he wouldn't have done that. At that point, there is no impulse control. He wanted a dozen doughnuts, he ate a dozen doughnuts. As I was cleaning up that mess, he picked his lips until they bled and wiped the blood all over my favorite blanket. Ruined it. He also knows not to do that. Now he is sequestered in his room at my request screaming about what a horrible parent I am and how he can't wait for me to die. Ironic, no?
Please don't tell me my child has learned that this behavior is acceptable. Not only has it never, ever been, but he was punished for this particular behavior this morning. Go figure, I disciplined my child. I took away his DS and put him in his room. When he started destroying the things in his room and then kicking marks into the door, I put him outside. In the cold and rain. His therapist recommended this because unless he runs out onto the highway, he is probably less likely to hurt himself (or us) out there. He stood there kicking our glass door until he realized his 12 minutes wouldn't start until he stopped because that is the way it has always been.
You know no matter how you deal with your children anymore, it's wrong to someone.
My neighbors and my mother believe we should put on the kid gloves when dealing with Jacob because HIS BRAIN there is SOMETHING WRONG! OMG! Baby him! Love him! Ignore that! HE HAS THE ADD! He can't HHHEEELLLPPP it. I disagree. I figure the police won't care if he has THE ADD when they find him destroying some property somewhere just because he feels like it and his meds haven't started working or, which is what I am sure will happen when I am not there to enforce it, he will just not take it.
I detest giving my child medications. I worry each day that I am ruining his liver, his kidneys, shoot, maybe even his brain, but if you want to see what will happen if I don't, come here every morning between 6-7:30. You may want some medication yourself after that. If I didn't teach preschool I would probably take up drinking. Yes. That early.
Jacob's official diagnosis is severe ADHD. He has some Aspergers tendencies but they won't add that to his "stuff". He goes to school at 9 am and until I told the teachers he had "this", they didn't know. Of course, I listed it on all seven first-day papers, but like everyone else, the probably figured, Ah, bad parenting when they read it. One day he decided to peel his patch off and spit his pill onto the floor just to make me mad, even though, I wasn't mad because I didn't know anything about it until the emails started coming in. Those teachers thought he was under the influence of drugs. LOL. That's what happens when he ISN'T on drugs. Does this make them a bad teacher because they can't handle him? No. He has ADHD. For reals. What do you know.
Stupid articles saying that French parents are superior because they have routines, discipline more, and feed their kids better is very demeaning to American parents. Don't lump me into the American bad parent just because my child has ADHD. I am not a super parent, and I don't try to be. I don't have the time or energy for that, but I do the best I can with the hand I've been dealt. Someone, though, will read this article, hear about Jacob's ADHD, and naturally assume, well, I don't work hard enough and I am lazy with my kids because this author stated that I don't discipline, so therefore, she's a bad mother, so I and my kids will need to distance myself from them, because, that's a bad family right there. OR, and I already get so much of this, let me tell you what you should be doing to make it all better. If you just do THIS, then all of your problems would go away. I will help you to be a good mother, because, OMG, you aren't doing so hot.
I have a child with ADHD. It's more than just getting out of his chair during class or wiggling during criss-cross applesauce time. It is real. It is hard. It is sad. It is bad enough to deal with it without all of the judgemental "authors" out there trying to make us out to be the bad guys. I didn't give this to my child. I didn't make him this way. There is nothing I can do, that I haven't already tried, that is going to make it go away. Even the medicines quit working after a while and they don't completely get rid of some of the behaviors.
How hard is it just to accept others? French, American, Swahili, whatever. I say if the children are still alive at the end of the day, it's a good day. You've done your job. Good for you.
Have you seen the article swimming around Facebook about how French children don't have ADHD, because, you know, French people are better parents, yada, yada, yada.
I would link to it, but I still haven't figured out how to have two screens open on my almost year old Macbook. Manual? What's that? If you are confused, google it. You know, if you are even reading this rant.
Anyway....
Only- Facebook Friend, who I truly only know through Facebook, posted the article this morning along with a lot of other posts that let us know what a great mother she is now that she has a six month old and has truly mastered the art of parenting. Good for her. Such optimism. STFU. Please.
I wrote a pretty hastily put together reply that went something like this:
Until you walk in my shoes, don't judge.
I told her I agreed many children in the US are misdiagnosed and overmedicated without looking into other underlying causes of the behavior. As a teacher, I have filled out numerous forms from different doctors and stated my opinion in black sharpie about how I don't believe Brian, Jason, Adam, Peyton, Morgan, or Chris have anything other than a busy personality/loud voice/zest for life and have had said opinion not even matter when Brian, Jason, Adam, Peyton, Morgan, and Chris all came back the next week sleeping at their desks until the meds wore off mid-afternoon. I get that argument. What I don't get is how now ADHD is a fake illness that would mysteriously go away if I'd only stand up and actually be a good parent.
WTF?
I invite any of these people, writing any of these "articles" to come to my house any given day and see our non-ADHD.
As I typed to my Only-Facebook friend, I let her know that since I was
Please don't tell me my child has learned that this behavior is acceptable. Not only has it never, ever been, but he was punished for this particular behavior this morning. Go figure, I disciplined my child. I took away his DS and put him in his room. When he started destroying the things in his room and then kicking marks into the door, I put him outside. In the cold and rain. His therapist recommended this because unless he runs out onto the highway, he is probably less likely to hurt himself (or us) out there. He stood there kicking our glass door until he realized his 12 minutes wouldn't start until he stopped because that is the way it has always been.
You know no matter how you deal with your children anymore, it's wrong to someone.
My neighbors and my mother believe we should put on the kid gloves when dealing with Jacob because HIS BRAIN there is SOMETHING WRONG! OMG! Baby him! Love him! Ignore that! HE HAS THE ADD! He can't HHHEEELLLPPP it. I disagree. I figure the police won't care if he has THE ADD when they find him destroying some property somewhere just because he feels like it and his meds haven't started working or, which is what I am sure will happen when I am not there to enforce it, he will just not take it.
I detest giving my child medications. I worry each day that I am ruining his liver, his kidneys, shoot, maybe even his brain, but if you want to see what will happen if I don't, come here every morning between 6-7:30. You may want some medication yourself after that. If I didn't teach preschool I would probably take up drinking. Yes. That early.
Jacob's official diagnosis is severe ADHD. He has some Aspergers tendencies but they won't add that to his "stuff". He goes to school at 9 am and until I told the teachers he had "this", they didn't know. Of course, I listed it on all seven first-day papers, but like everyone else, the probably figured, Ah, bad parenting when they read it. One day he decided to peel his patch off and spit his pill onto the floor just to make me mad, even though, I wasn't mad because I didn't know anything about it until the emails started coming in. Those teachers thought he was under the influence of drugs. LOL. That's what happens when he ISN'T on drugs. Does this make them a bad teacher because they can't handle him? No. He has ADHD. For reals. What do you know.
Stupid articles saying that French parents are superior because they have routines, discipline more, and feed their kids better is very demeaning to American parents. Don't lump me into the American bad parent just because my child has ADHD. I am not a super parent, and I don't try to be. I don't have the time or energy for that, but I do the best I can with the hand I've been dealt. Someone, though, will read this article, hear about Jacob's ADHD, and naturally assume, well, I don't work hard enough and I am lazy with my kids because this author stated that I don't discipline, so therefore, she's a bad mother, so I and my kids will need to distance myself from them, because, that's a bad family right there. OR, and I already get so much of this, let me tell you what you should be doing to make it all better. If you just do THIS, then all of your problems would go away. I will help you to be a good mother, because, OMG, you aren't doing so hot.
I have a child with ADHD. It's more than just getting out of his chair during class or wiggling during criss-cross applesauce time. It is real. It is hard. It is sad. It is bad enough to deal with it without all of the judgemental "authors" out there trying to make us out to be the bad guys. I didn't give this to my child. I didn't make him this way. There is nothing I can do, that I haven't already tried, that is going to make it go away. Even the medicines quit working after a while and they don't completely get rid of some of the behaviors.
How hard is it just to accept others? French, American, Swahili, whatever. I say if the children are still alive at the end of the day, it's a good day. You've done your job. Good for you.
Monday, November 18, 2013
Pierced
So NaBloPoMo isn't happening for me. I had good intentions. Life just got in the way I guess. Anybody else feel like life is harder after the kids go to school? Silly me. I always figured it would get easier. I mean, they are gone most of the day. How could it get busier? Oh well. I will miss this one day.
Elizabeth got her ears pierced. In August. We went in April for her birthday and got to the door and she changed her mind. I really didn't think she'd do it this time, but she sure did.
Waiting.....waiting......waiting.......Amazing how many people need cheap jewelry at 10 am on a Tuesday morning.
This picture breaks my heart. I immediately wanted to call abort on the entire mission, but then she'd only have one ear done and the private school handbook has explicit instructions on that being a no-no. They did both ears separately because the other Claire's worker didn't show up. She didn't want to come back another day so I have to give her props for being brave. This face was as bad as it got. There were no tears. Whew.
Finally! I look awesome.
I have found out that his is sort of like the breastfeeding thing. People have opinions. They like to voice them. Elizabeth still shows off her big girl earrings and some people will loudly wonder why I would do that to her and then others are like, you should have done that when she was a baby. Formula, breastmilk, public school, private, pierced ears or no, it's always something isn't it? I am just going to say that what I am doing is the absolute right way. For us. Others don't get a say because they don't have the c-section scar.
This was a good day and a sweet memory with my beautiful girl. Wouldn't change a thing.
Saturday, November 02, 2013
NaBloPoMo
Can I write a post everyday throughout November?
Probably not, since, well, I already missed the first day.
But.....
WTH.
If nothing else, I have pictures.....
Michelangelo and Belle ready for trick-or-treat.
Seriously though. I HATE Halloween. I enjoy the costumes and the joy on the children's faces, but the whole begging for candy thing, I just can't get into. For starters, no one ever says "thank you". My kids go home if they don't say thank you. Teach your kid to say thank you. It won't hurt them. Don't tell your kid to reach into my bucket and take however much they want. If you want them to help themselves, buy your own bucket. This must have been the way the moms of the teenagers down the street were taught because four of them, with five o'clock shadow, showed up at our door carrying the requisite pillowcase and dressed just like they did when they exited the bus a few hours prior did just that to Jacob. I had to answer a phone call when the doorbell rang and thought I might be able to let Jacob hand the candy out just this once. Then I heard, "Whoa, dude, come check this out" and then Jacob turned around to me with an empty bucket. An empty bucket that just 20 seconds earlier held $30 worth of excellent, non-crappy candy.
WHAT?
Of course the hoodlums ran up the street hooting and hollering while the lady with the 18 month old zombie in the stroller just stood there laughing. When she held out what I am assuming was the zombie's bucket I had to tell her I had nothing for them, our Halloween was heading up the street. Then she stopped laughing.
Did you happen to see The Middle Wednesday night? When Frankie and Mike had to hide in their house with the lights off to avoid the doorbell? That was us the rest of the evening.
I hate Halloween.
It had rained all. day. long and I was sure it would be cancelled. In fact, I was practically giddy thinking I had a good excuse not to have to partake in the festivities. We could all sit around It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown eating out of our own personal very good candy bag and enjoy each other's company instead of begging for hand outs from people we see once a year. Then two hours before the rain stopped and the sun came out and I swear I saw a dove with an olive branch signaling the new beginning. Man, I was bummed.
So we did Halloween.
This was the only picture I got.
And I don't have any leftover Heath bars.
Boo.
Probably not, since, well, I already missed the first day.
But.....
WTH.
If nothing else, I have pictures.....
Michelangelo and Belle ready for trick-or-treat.
Seriously though. I HATE Halloween. I enjoy the costumes and the joy on the children's faces, but the whole begging for candy thing, I just can't get into. For starters, no one ever says "thank you". My kids go home if they don't say thank you. Teach your kid to say thank you. It won't hurt them. Don't tell your kid to reach into my bucket and take however much they want. If you want them to help themselves, buy your own bucket. This must have been the way the moms of the teenagers down the street were taught because four of them, with five o'clock shadow, showed up at our door carrying the requisite pillowcase and dressed just like they did when they exited the bus a few hours prior did just that to Jacob. I had to answer a phone call when the doorbell rang and thought I might be able to let Jacob hand the candy out just this once. Then I heard, "Whoa, dude, come check this out" and then Jacob turned around to me with an empty bucket. An empty bucket that just 20 seconds earlier held $30 worth of excellent, non-crappy candy.
WHAT?
Of course the hoodlums ran up the street hooting and hollering while the lady with the 18 month old zombie in the stroller just stood there laughing. When she held out what I am assuming was the zombie's bucket I had to tell her I had nothing for them, our Halloween was heading up the street. Then she stopped laughing.
Did you happen to see The Middle Wednesday night? When Frankie and Mike had to hide in their house with the lights off to avoid the doorbell? That was us the rest of the evening.
I hate Halloween.
It had rained all. day. long and I was sure it would be cancelled. In fact, I was practically giddy thinking I had a good excuse not to have to partake in the festivities. We could all sit around It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown eating out of our own personal very good candy bag and enjoy each other's company instead of begging for hand outs from people we see once a year. Then two hours before the rain stopped and the sun came out and I swear I saw a dove with an olive branch signaling the new beginning. Man, I was bummed.
So we did Halloween.
This was the only picture I got.
And I don't have any leftover Heath bars.
Boo.
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Still Good
As requested....
Middle school is going well for Jacob. We are at the end of the first quarter and so far, so good.
There have been no demerits. No detentions. No teacher phone calls.
I can't remember the last time that has happened. In fact, I don't think that has ever happened.
His grades are good. The friends are still calling. He is participating in after school activities.
My only complaint is that he keeps us waiting at pick-up because he is slowly sauntering out with three or four others and laughing and chatting and high-fiving as he gets in the car.
There's a dance next week. He might even go. With his friends. You know, if they decide it's cool to do that.
I see last year's teachers around the school and they have finally started speaking to me again and are constantly inquiring about Jacob. My gut instinct is to think they are doing it just so they can find out it went horrible awry and they can feel all smug and right about our last conference, but I have had to let that go. I just can't go on hating those women. I see them too often. I like to think maybe they just finally decided to care. In any case, I have forgiven them.
I mean, if it weren't for them Jacob would likely still be at that Christian school being the rich kids' whipping boy. If they hadn't handled things the way they did, I would never have questioned where he needed to be. It had to escalate to that point to make me see he had to leave.
I have always wondered why God would not answer our prayers regarding that situation.
Now I see he did.
Jacob is finally where he needs to be.
Middle school is going well for Jacob. We are at the end of the first quarter and so far, so good.
There have been no demerits. No detentions. No teacher phone calls.
I can't remember the last time that has happened. In fact, I don't think that has ever happened.
His grades are good. The friends are still calling. He is participating in after school activities.
My only complaint is that he keeps us waiting at pick-up because he is slowly sauntering out with three or four others and laughing and chatting and high-fiving as he gets in the car.
There's a dance next week. He might even go. With his friends. You know, if they decide it's cool to do that.
I see last year's teachers around the school and they have finally started speaking to me again and are constantly inquiring about Jacob. My gut instinct is to think they are doing it just so they can find out it went horrible awry and they can feel all smug and right about our last conference, but I have had to let that go. I just can't go on hating those women. I see them too often. I like to think maybe they just finally decided to care. In any case, I have forgiven them.
I mean, if it weren't for them Jacob would likely still be at that Christian school being the rich kids' whipping boy. If they hadn't handled things the way they did, I would never have questioned where he needed to be. It had to escalate to that point to make me see he had to leave.
I have always wondered why God would not answer our prayers regarding that situation.
Now I see he did.
Jacob is finally where he needs to be.
Saturday, October 12, 2013
Crazy
Dear Crazy French Lady,
I just wanted to let you know that my daughter's party invitation was somehow misplaced between your house and her backpack. We would really have loved to have attended, especially since it's all your child has been talking about for weeks. I hear it's to be a big shindig. The rest of the parents and children have been filling us in. They, of course, are also surprised to learn of our missing invitation. It renders them speechless.
I know the invitation must have been lost because surely you, as a teacher, would NEVER have excluded ONE child from your fancy party. I am sure, also, you realize that if you send the invitations to school you have to send one to everyone in the class, it's in the handbook after all. You did read it didn't you? Sounds like such a petty little rule, but it is Christian school. Don't we want to include everyone, show the love of Jesus? I mean, that IS the proper thing to do, isn't it?
Crazy French Lady, I don't really know what your deal is, but I have a very sad little girl on my hands today. If you don't want my daughter at your house, fine, just teach your own daughter to keep her mouth shut when you blatantly exclude others from the fun. As a teacher, you should already know the heartache this causes. As a parent, well, I guess you can see how it is come April when your invitation gets lost in the mail.
Sincerely,
The Crazy Lady Who Will Never Put Her Kids in French Class
I just wanted to let you know that my daughter's party invitation was somehow misplaced between your house and her backpack. We would really have loved to have attended, especially since it's all your child has been talking about for weeks. I hear it's to be a big shindig. The rest of the parents and children have been filling us in. They, of course, are also surprised to learn of our missing invitation. It renders them speechless.
I know the invitation must have been lost because surely you, as a teacher, would NEVER have excluded ONE child from your fancy party. I am sure, also, you realize that if you send the invitations to school you have to send one to everyone in the class, it's in the handbook after all. You did read it didn't you? Sounds like such a petty little rule, but it is Christian school. Don't we want to include everyone, show the love of Jesus? I mean, that IS the proper thing to do, isn't it?
Crazy French Lady, I don't really know what your deal is, but I have a very sad little girl on my hands today. If you don't want my daughter at your house, fine, just teach your own daughter to keep her mouth shut when you blatantly exclude others from the fun. As a teacher, you should already know the heartache this causes. As a parent, well, I guess you can see how it is come April when your invitation gets lost in the mail.
Sincerely,
The Crazy Lady Who Will Never Put Her Kids in French Class
Saturday, September 07, 2013
Good
So Jacob started seventh grade last week.
At the neighborhood school.
*No pictures at the school because, apparently, that is very uncool when you are in seventh grade.*
It is going well. He enjoys changing classes. He figured out his locker. He gets to go to art every day. He made a friend. He is failing math right now, but to be honest, I am still all about the friend.
Jacob is twelve years old and until now he has never had a friend.
Oh, we've had kids over for playdates and birthday parties and some of them were semi-sorta nice to him at times, but they weren't friends-friends. They came because their mamas brought them or there was a bouncy house in the yard but then forgot all about him come Monday morning.
Last night, a kid called and invited him over. Not his mama, the kid (although being the good mama I am, I did speak with the mama ;). So that is what we are doing today.
We went to open house a few nights ago and as soon as we walked in the door a child was yelling for Jacob to come over. And he did. As we processed through the classes, different kids would approach him to say "hey" or he'd just leave us altogether to sit with one. The teachers high-fived him. One gave him a hug. He took his siblings to the library and showed them the cool places to sit and the magazines you can read during lunch. You know, if you don't want to go to lunch and sit by yourself, but he doesn't have to do that because he sits with his friends at lunch.
It took all I had not to sob right there in front of them all.
This never happened at the Christian school. It hurts just to type that. Christian school should have been the more likely place for him to feel excepted don't you think? Very interesting turn of events.
It has only been two weeks, I know. This blissful period of newness will wane and things may not always be this rosy, it is junior high after all, but just knowing that now he fits in a little, has others to support him, and enjoys what he's doing makes me sleep so much better at night. You know, except when I'm awake kicking myself for not doing this sooner.
At the neighborhood school.
*No pictures at the school because, apparently, that is very uncool when you are in seventh grade.*
It is going well. He enjoys changing classes. He figured out his locker. He gets to go to art every day. He made a friend. He is failing math right now, but to be honest, I am still all about the friend.
Jacob is twelve years old and until now he has never had a friend.
Oh, we've had kids over for playdates and birthday parties and some of them were semi-sorta nice to him at times, but they weren't friends-friends. They came because their mamas brought them or there was a bouncy house in the yard but then forgot all about him come Monday morning.
Last night, a kid called and invited him over. Not his mama, the kid (although being the good mama I am, I did speak with the mama ;). So that is what we are doing today.
We went to open house a few nights ago and as soon as we walked in the door a child was yelling for Jacob to come over. And he did. As we processed through the classes, different kids would approach him to say "hey" or he'd just leave us altogether to sit with one. The teachers high-fived him. One gave him a hug. He took his siblings to the library and showed them the cool places to sit and the magazines you can read during lunch. You know, if you don't want to go to lunch and sit by yourself, but he doesn't have to do that because he sits with his friends at lunch.
It took all I had not to sob right there in front of them all.
This never happened at the Christian school. It hurts just to type that. Christian school should have been the more likely place for him to feel excepted don't you think? Very interesting turn of events.
It has only been two weeks, I know. This blissful period of newness will wane and things may not always be this rosy, it is junior high after all, but just knowing that now he fits in a little, has others to support him, and enjoys what he's doing makes me sleep so much better at night. You know, except when I'm awake kicking myself for not doing this sooner.
Saturday, August 17, 2013
Just a Peeve...
A few days ago Elizabeth and I stumbled upon an Orange Leaf. No, not an actual orange. leaf. But a new yogurt place. We needed to kill some time before picking Jacob up at day camp so I figured, what the heck?
So we go in and I stand at the counter. Because we eat at McDonalds and there is a counter. Where you order things. And it is good. I smile at the cashier. Because I am friendly and also I have no idea where the menus are located. She stands there. And stands there. And I think in my head that this must be one of those places with the secret menu that's been all over my home page and do I order the double animal? Was it this place? And then I see it! The menu on a big laminated sheet which seems strange, but whatever. I look over the tons and tons and tons of offerings and read it out loud to my child while the cashier just stands there. And stands there. After much deliberation I make our choices and give them to the cashier who, you know it, just stood there. And then she pointed. To the back of the room. At closer inspection, those had not been menus, but nutritonal information. Duh. So, hmmm? What is this? Big silver levers. Did we stumble into a backroom gambling facility? Then my extremely intelligent six year old ran back and said "This says wedding cake! I want wedding cake! Like Rapunzel. And Flynn Rider!" What? Wedding cake? Where the hell are we? Then my brain catches up and I am all like, OOOOOOHHH!
I had heard some tale of these new-fangled SELF-SERVE places but had never met up with one.
So now that I'd made an ass of myself in front of the rest of the store, we headed on back to get ourselves some froyo.
I got our cups myself. I got our spoons myself. I got our napkins myself. I pulled the levers myself. I sprinkled the toppings on myself. I placed the cups on the scale myself.
Then. The cashier pushed a button on the register and I then looked at the total MYSELF. Not once during the entire time I was in that store did she say one word to me UNTIL she figured out my change and wanted to know if I'd like to put it in the tip jar.
WHAT?
A tip? She expected me to give her A TIP? For what? Because she was so helpful pressing that button. I mean, I made my own dessert and served it to MYSELF and I could have easily pressed a button, I mean, I have pressed buttons before, but I guess the button-pushing was her job and she was just so good at it that I needed to PAY her for that SERVICE. Where was she when I had no idea what to order and where to go? Oh. Yeah. She was standing there.
Obviously, I told her no, I wanted my change and she looked at me like I'd just smeared shit in her hair.
Seriously? Now there are tip jars at self-serve joints.
*shaking my head*
Elizabeth loved that place. Too bad we won't be going back there.
So we go in and I stand at the counter. Because we eat at McDonalds and there is a counter. Where you order things. And it is good. I smile at the cashier. Because I am friendly and also I have no idea where the menus are located. She stands there. And stands there. And I think in my head that this must be one of those places with the secret menu that's been all over my home page and do I order the double animal? Was it this place? And then I see it! The menu on a big laminated sheet which seems strange, but whatever. I look over the tons and tons and tons of offerings and read it out loud to my child while the cashier just stands there. And stands there. After much deliberation I make our choices and give them to the cashier who, you know it, just stood there. And then she pointed. To the back of the room. At closer inspection, those had not been menus, but nutritonal information. Duh. So, hmmm? What is this? Big silver levers. Did we stumble into a backroom gambling facility? Then my extremely intelligent six year old ran back and said "This says wedding cake! I want wedding cake! Like Rapunzel. And Flynn Rider!" What? Wedding cake? Where the hell are we? Then my brain catches up and I am all like, OOOOOOHHH!
I had heard some tale of these new-fangled SELF-SERVE places but had never met up with one.
So now that I'd made an ass of myself in front of the rest of the store, we headed on back to get ourselves some froyo.
I got our cups myself. I got our spoons myself. I got our napkins myself. I pulled the levers myself. I sprinkled the toppings on myself. I placed the cups on the scale myself.
Then. The cashier pushed a button on the register and I then looked at the total MYSELF. Not once during the entire time I was in that store did she say one word to me UNTIL she figured out my change and wanted to know if I'd like to put it in the tip jar.
WHAT?
A tip? She expected me to give her A TIP? For what? Because she was so helpful pressing that button. I mean, I made my own dessert and served it to MYSELF and I could have easily pressed a button, I mean, I have pressed buttons before, but I guess the button-pushing was her job and she was just so good at it that I needed to PAY her for that SERVICE. Where was she when I had no idea what to order and where to go? Oh. Yeah. She was standing there.
Obviously, I told her no, I wanted my change and she looked at me like I'd just smeared shit in her hair.
Seriously? Now there are tip jars at self-serve joints.
*shaking my head*
Elizabeth loved that place. Too bad we won't be going back there.
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Pregnant Pause
No, I am not pregnant. Scared you huh?
Last week a friend told me she was pregnant.
I smiled and congratulated her and forgot everything else she said after that.
A few hours later I still could not shake the feeling from that announcement. I know it well, I feel it every time I hear someone is pregnant. Just the pregnancy. The baby's birth, nothing but happiness, but the pregnancy, not so much.
I got married when I was thirty years old. As soon as we returned from our trip I became consumed with starting a family. In my mind I was already old so who had time for all this getting-to-know-you business? I mean, that's why you cohabitate before marriage, am I right?
After a few (i.e 2) months, I freaked because, OLD!
My doctor's advice was to keep on trying and if I ever did get pregnant and had a miscarriage, she would treat me after the third one. Oooo-Kay.
So what can you do when your insurance covers no one else? You go home and keep trying.
And trying. And trying. And crying.
Unless you were extremely lucky the first time every time, you probably know that feeling of not finding that second line on that urine soaked stick.
Ugh. It was horrible. I was sure I would never have a child. Sure I had a nice home, a good husband, a fabulous dog, but I couldn't see how great it was because all I could see was what I didn't have.
At that time, most of my friends had either had their families or were adding to them. Each time someone became pregnant my stomach would ache and my ears would start ringing. I'd smile and congratulate my happy pal and cringe when they'd say, "oh, I am sure you'll be next", but it never, ever seemed like I was next.
We eventually moved to Texas. I found a new doctor who was much more proactive and, well, here we are. I am still thankful to God each and every day that we finally made it here. Shoot, we even got a bonus baby! How great is that?
But still. Every time someone else gets pregnant, I feel that ache. Fourteen years later. Why won't it go away?
This last time I thought, well maybe deep down I want that fourth child so I tried that on for a few days. I couldn't really get on board with it. There were too many things canceling out that scenario: I don't want to move. I don't want a new car. I don't want to quit my job. I don't want to be sliced open again. I realized then, we are truly complete here. We are not waiting on someone. I am happy where we are and I want to keep it that way.
So why then did I get that feeling yesterday when I found out my cousin's veryvery, very young daughter was pregnant?
Will this stop at menopause? Because if so, bring that on.
Last week a friend told me she was pregnant.
I smiled and congratulated her and forgot everything else she said after that.
A few hours later I still could not shake the feeling from that announcement. I know it well, I feel it every time I hear someone is pregnant. Just the pregnancy. The baby's birth, nothing but happiness, but the pregnancy, not so much.
I got married when I was thirty years old. As soon as we returned from our trip I became consumed with starting a family. In my mind I was already old so who had time for all this getting-to-know-you business? I mean, that's why you cohabitate before marriage, am I right?
After a few (i.e 2) months, I freaked because, OLD!
My doctor's advice was to keep on trying and if I ever did get pregnant and had a miscarriage, she would treat me after the third one. Oooo-Kay.
So what can you do when your insurance covers no one else? You go home and keep trying.
And trying. And trying. And crying.
Unless you were extremely lucky the first time every time, you probably know that feeling of not finding that second line on that urine soaked stick.
Ugh. It was horrible. I was sure I would never have a child. Sure I had a nice home, a good husband, a fabulous dog, but I couldn't see how great it was because all I could see was what I didn't have.
At that time, most of my friends had either had their families or were adding to them. Each time someone became pregnant my stomach would ache and my ears would start ringing. I'd smile and congratulate my happy pal and cringe when they'd say, "oh, I am sure you'll be next", but it never, ever seemed like I was next.
We eventually moved to Texas. I found a new doctor who was much more proactive and, well, here we are. I am still thankful to God each and every day that we finally made it here. Shoot, we even got a bonus baby! How great is that?
But still. Every time someone else gets pregnant, I feel that ache. Fourteen years later. Why won't it go away?
This last time I thought, well maybe deep down I want that fourth child so I tried that on for a few days. I couldn't really get on board with it. There were too many things canceling out that scenario: I don't want to move. I don't want a new car. I don't want to quit my job. I don't want to be sliced open again. I realized then, we are truly complete here. We are not waiting on someone. I am happy where we are and I want to keep it that way.
So why then did I get that feeling yesterday when I found out my cousin's very
Will this stop at menopause? Because if so, bring that on.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Summer
Five more weeks of summer.
So much for my weekly posting. What can I say? We've been busy.
We went to The Woodlands. Again. Fifth year in a row. It's become our summer place I guess.
We dogsat for an entire month. It was nice to have a dog in the house again.
Even if we had to make a few accommodations. We still have visitation rights. Buster used to be "owned" by some very strange people down the street. They kept him tied to a tree until Hurricane Ike blew through releasing him and he took refuge with my friend. Now he has two families and as you can see, he lives a good life. Lucky dog. He's no Ezra, but I miss him too.
Elizabeth's best friend moved last week. I almost feel like I've lost another child because she spent many hours/days/weeks here since finding out they would be leaving. Elizabeth is doing okay, but she spends lots of time wondering what Amelia is doing right that minute in Alpha-bama. I miss her too.
Elizabeth had a tooth pulled and some cavities filled.......
And so did Adam. And our dentist quit being a preferred provider yet I didn't find this out until AFTER the procedures. Will work for dental payments.
The kids who brush four times a day need work and Jacob, the one who NEVER brushes his teeth, had no cavities. Go figure.
The boys attended Lego camp which could easily have been named Lego Daycare because I can't tell that did anything other than play with buckets of mixed-up Legos which they do every single day at HOME for FREE but whatever. What did I expect? Thank you Gammy for paying for it after choking on your ice cream when you heard about our dental bills.
We've been to the lake twice and are going back next week. I spent a week at the state preschool conference amassing the hours needed to continue working there another year. I find it interesting that I need 24 hours of training to teach preschool and yet when I taught elementary school, nothing. I even called the school Jacob will be attending to see if they do any training over the summer and they can, but it is not required. What? So just know, if you have a preschooler, I have a masters degree and 96 hours training so bring him over. I am qualified.
Jacob added a new medication two days ago and so far, woo boy. It isn't proving to be the miracle drug they promised. Would be just my luck to have the one kid who got worse on it.
Now that I don't have the extra kid or the extra dog maybe I'll be able to post more. We'll see.
So much for my weekly posting. What can I say? We've been busy.
And so did Adam. And our dentist quit being a preferred provider yet I didn't find this out until AFTER the procedures. Will work for dental payments.
The kids who brush four times a day need work and Jacob, the one who NEVER brushes his teeth, had no cavities. Go figure.
We've been to the lake twice and are going back next week. I spent a week at the state preschool conference amassing the hours needed to continue working there another year. I find it interesting that I need 24 hours of training to teach preschool and yet when I taught elementary school, nothing. I even called the school Jacob will be attending to see if they do any training over the summer and they can, but it is not required. What? So just know, if you have a preschooler, I have a masters degree and 96 hours training so bring him over. I am qualified.
Jacob added a new medication two days ago and so far, woo boy. It isn't proving to be the miracle drug they promised. Would be just my luck to have the one kid who got worse on it.
Now that I don't have the extra kid or the extra dog maybe I'll be able to post more. We'll see.
Tuesday, June 04, 2013
Life is But a Dream
Before I had children, all I wanted was children. I didn't nearly appreciate enough the alone time, the ability to travel anywhere without snacks and a change of clothes, using the bathroom completely by myself. I could only see what I did not have. We moved to Texas during that hard time, in January when it was hard to pick up a teaching job. I had lots of free time then to imagine my future kid-filled life. I would wake up early and make big breakfasts. I would dress quite lovely and smile at my good fortune while vacuuming the carpet BEFORE sending the kids off for the bus with their very healthy, all natural lunch. I would stroll around the mall and shop in Ann Taylor and WEAR Ann Taylor while meeting with all the best friends I made at my Mom's group for lunch and laugh and laugh at our beautiful children exhibiting their best toddler behavior.
Um. No. It wasn't quite like that.
Um. No. It wasn't quite like that.
Ezra: Please save me from these people. They never leave. The kid doesn't wear pants. There is much crying. I didn't sign on for this.
My perfect life disappeared the exact moment my water broke at 11:59 pm on March 3, 2001. Funny thing about kids, they don't follow the plan.
I never once applied make-up before breakfast. Many days I didn't even dress. Shower? HAHAHAHA. Ann Taylor? Hard to remove the spit-up stains and so very uncomfortable when rocking a screaming baby for hours on end.
Mom's Group? Well, I did try.
The first one "disbanded" and then I saw them all at a McDonald's playground about a year later. The second one, the "Christian" one, also "disbanded" but weren't as smart about it. I still saw all the cars parked out front of the house down the street every Tuesday. The third one didn't disband, but no one would ever speak to me, and more than once I heard, "Don't play with Jacob". The fourth one I was told that my boy could not play with the Dora the Explorer house because, well, he was a boy and it was a girl toy, and the leader handed me my six month old Adam who I had to sit on the floor as I extricated my screaming Dora phase Jacob through the don't-let-the-door-hit-ya-on-the-way-out entrance. The fifth one was better, it was held in a church and you had to pay so I don't think they could kick me out. I made a few friends I still chat with on Facebook, but there are even more I do not click when they show up on my suggestions, those who would remind their children not to go near Jacob.
Those first few years, all I wanted was that Mom's Group. I was a stay home mom in a terrible neighborhood two thousand miles from family and I needed that support. I looked everywhere and I just never did find it.
Yesterday I went with a neighbor to her Mom's Group outing at a splash pad on the other side of the next town (Jana, I was in your neck of the woods!) I really did not want to go, but Elizabeth has become best friends with her daughter the past few weeks and they are moving at the end of the month so I kinda felt like I should. I got there about a half hour before her and instead of sitting in the hot car waiting I got my kids out of the car and hiked up to the park. I mean, it was a public park. Did you see Animal House when the very white kids go into the black bar? SCREECH. Yeah, had there been a soundtrack to that moment that would've happened. There were two benches. TWO. At that moment women started draping their towels over them or dumping their backpacks on the seats. REALLY? So I stood for a while until my back started hurting and then I moved over and sat in the grass, away from the splash pad because, well, the women started spreading out their lunches and shit all over the concrete. Um, excuse me, they'd say and sorta push me away. I'd say hello and get the smirky nod. I guess I didn't get the memo that the splash pad was their own personal playground and I so very obviously was intruding. About the time I was ready to leave my neighbor showed up with stroller in tow trying to find a place on the shaded concrete. I watched from my faraway perch and noticed no one was moving to let her in. No one was really talking to her. She got a lot of smirky nods. I wanted to yell at her that she was doing it all wrong, she didn't need those mean girls, and then it hit me. I didn't need them either. Never did. I could see a lot from my far away vantage. I saw a lot of really snotty women in their Ann Taylor clothes. I saw a lot of toddlers in their matching swim shirts and suits. I saw my own children laughing and playing and including all the others and BEHAVING. All that time all I wanted was Jacob to play "normally" so I wouldn't hear it. So the door wouldn't be held open for us. So the groups would stop disbanding. Yesterday as I watched all three of my kids play amongst others who paid them no mind at all I realized that my Mom's group dream was as silly as my June Cleaver aspirations. Why had I spent so much time seeking it? Gah. Hate the Mom's Group. It didn't matter if my child had autistic tendencies or was a future debutante out there. I didn't fit in. In my Target duds and six year old Crocs, I never would.
I still wonder sometimes if I should've waited before returning to work. Now I know it was the best thing for me. I fit in at work. I meet tons of Moms and most of them are very friendly and nice and some of us have become friends over time. In a strange way, I am the leader of this very different play group. When they are upset because they came in late, I remind them it is just preschool. When they let me know they had a bad morning, they yelled at their child, I tell them we had the same morning and they are relieved. When their child goes to time-out and they are mortified, I show them my child's report card, the one with the Us in conduct because he just won't stop talking. They feel better. Without even knowing it, I have created the group I craved all along. I have a degree in early childhood education and a masters degree in special education with, wait for it, emphasis on behavior disorders. The preschool mamas respect me because of that. They like me because I keep it real. My family and I, we are nothing if not real. No amount of Ann Taylor was going to cure me of that.
Twelve years in and I still have a lot to learn. I still find myself holding on to those dreams, wanting that Donna Reed life. I have learned that some of the frustrations I have with my children come from missing the expectation instead of embracing the reality. When I look at it from here, my reality isn't really all that bad, sure there are issues, everyone is going to have something, but I have three kids at one time I never thought I'd have, I live in a beautiful home in a fantastic neighborhood and I have a job I love that allows me to be with my children every minute they are not in school. I've made friends who help me remove the stains they see on my clothes, who love my children regardless of everything because they are a part of me.
And I did not need a Mom's Group to find that.
Saturday, June 01, 2013
The Orange Rhino Challenge
Have you seen this?
Go see, I'll wait.
Hmmmm.......
There is no way I'll ever run a marathon, but this, I will attempt.
I'll update you and let you know how it goes.
Let me know if you want to join me.
Go see, I'll wait.
Hmmmm.......
There is no way I'll ever run a marathon, but this, I will attempt.
I'll update you and let you know how it goes.
Let me know if you want to join me.
Friday, May 31, 2013
My Head Still Hurts.....
I have had a massive sinus headache for the past three days. I can barely lift my head and when I do, it's worse. I have spent a small fortune at CVS on all kinds or "proven remedies" that proved not to remedy anything at all. Today I found some sort of nasal spray that seems to have made a small dent. Hopefully it will begin to help because I am sure the drug store employees are tired of seeing me stumble about moaning in my pajamas.
Usually being piled up in bed for three days would have my house in complete shambles, BUT miraculously it is not. Believe it or not, Jacob has been taking care of it. Without even being asked.
All these meds have kind of made me a little dizzy and drunk like so I am hoping I am not imagining it, but the laundry is done and folded and the towels, at least, have been put away. The beds are made. The floors are swept and mopped. The trash has been taken out. The garbage cans put away. Dishwasher emptied AND refilled. The little kids have been cerealed and souped at the appropriate times and the evidence of such is no longer there. Toysmostly put away.
Can this be the same kid who refused to lift even ONE finger last week?
Did I die? Because at one point, I really was sure I was going to.
What is happening here?
Seriously, I just laid here (laid, lain, lay, lie? I was absent every time they taught that I think) and cried over it.
This. Is a big deal.
One of the traits of Aspergers is the lack of empathy. Oh, you feel bad? Whatever. I don't get that because it's not happening to me so let me go back to what I was doing and not really care.
But yesterday, he cared. He cared enough to feel bad for me and step up and do something about it completely on his own.
I am sure there is probably some motive behind it, I bet he'll ask for something in a couple days, but still, he helped out. When I really needed it. Without begging and cajoling and bribing. He just did it.
Of course, it isn't right, it's not done my way, the towels are hanging off the shelf and not tri-folded the way I like and the blankets are poking out from under the comforters, and he put the bathroom Scentsy cubes in a living room burner, but still. I have let it go. The dizzy drugs have helped with that.
I'll get better and he'll go back to being his usual self, but this one time, he stepped up. This makes me so hopeful that maybe he's turning a corner, maybe he's maturing, maybe we can work with this.
Usually being piled up in bed for three days would have my house in complete shambles, BUT miraculously it is not. Believe it or not, Jacob has been taking care of it. Without even being asked.
All these meds have kind of made me a little dizzy and drunk like so I am hoping I am not imagining it, but the laundry is done and folded and the towels, at least, have been put away. The beds are made. The floors are swept and mopped. The trash has been taken out. The garbage cans put away. Dishwasher emptied AND refilled. The little kids have been cerealed and souped at the appropriate times and the evidence of such is no longer there. Toys
Can this be the same kid who refused to lift even ONE finger last week?
Did I die? Because at one point, I really was sure I was going to.
What is happening here?
Seriously, I just laid here (laid, lain, lay, lie? I was absent every time they taught that I think) and cried over it.
This. Is a big deal.
One of the traits of Aspergers is the lack of empathy. Oh, you feel bad? Whatever. I don't get that because it's not happening to me so let me go back to what I was doing and not really care.
But yesterday, he cared. He cared enough to feel bad for me and step up and do something about it completely on his own.
I am sure there is probably some motive behind it, I bet he'll ask for something in a couple days, but still, he helped out. When I really needed it. Without begging and cajoling and bribing. He just did it.
Of course, it isn't right, it's not done my way, the towels are hanging off the shelf and not tri-folded the way I like and the blankets are poking out from under the comforters, and he put the bathroom Scentsy cubes in a living room burner, but still. I have let it go. The dizzy drugs have helped with that.
I'll get better and he'll go back to being his usual self, but this one time, he stepped up. This makes me so hopeful that maybe he's turning a corner, maybe he's maturing, maybe we can work with this.
Friday, May 24, 2013
My Head Hurts
Well...
First day of summer is upon us.
It is 12:30, half day in and already it begins.
Only took half a day.
I don't think I was being unreasonable when I let the children know that they had to complete their daily chores each day before the television went on, the Wii was played, or swimming was to be done. They have three chores each and need to make their beds, pick up their toys, and wipe the toilet and floor down of their piss that never, ever seems to make into the toilet.
Jacob has declared that he will doing none of it. His reasoning: If you want me to do these things, you have to do something for me.
Is he freaking kidding me?
Let's see. Seven years of private school tuition = $30,000
Six years of various medications = $2000
Five years of various therapy = $5,000
I can't even do the math on the clothing, food, and toys.
I know, I know, that means nothing to a kid, but COME ON.
The other kids got up did their jobs and went about their day.
Jacob is still screaming about how unfair his life is and what a horrible mother I am and how he is just a kid, Oh woe, oh woe is he. I mean, the cops are going to be called very shortly by said twelve year old because. O. M. G. Child labor laws and child abuse and neglect......oh my.
I don't know where his logic became skewed, but he has yelled down at me that if I want the dishwasher emptied, I will need to drive him to Game Stop and buy him a fifty dollar game.
Nevermind that he got his DS removed weeks ago for running his mouth in this fashion previously.
And for the record, Adam emptied the dishwasher and did all his other chores without nary a word. Three hours ago.
The art camp closed down.
I can't afford the behavior camps.
He absolutely refuses to do any type of sports camps.
My parents are too scared to take him for any length of time.
I think there's some law about dumping your kids off miles from home and making them walk back just to kill time and give you some peace.
So for the next 14 weeks, I guess I have to put up with it.
Neat little fact about switching schools.......that school gets out two weeks later so therefore goes back two weeks later. Oh joy! He gets two extra weeks of summer!
I can't wait to see what will happen next week when I introduce the television timer and the daily workbooks.
First day of summer is upon us.
It is 12:30, half day in and already it begins.
Only took half a day.
I don't think I was being unreasonable when I let the children know that they had to complete their daily chores each day before the television went on, the Wii was played, or swimming was to be done. They have three chores each and need to make their beds, pick up their toys, and wipe the toilet and floor down of their piss that never, ever seems to make into the toilet.
Jacob has declared that he will doing none of it. His reasoning: If you want me to do these things, you have to do something for me.
Is he freaking kidding me?
Let's see. Seven years of private school tuition = $30,000
Six years of various medications = $2000
Five years of various therapy = $5,000
I can't even do the math on the clothing, food, and toys.
I know, I know, that means nothing to a kid, but COME ON.
The other kids got up did their jobs and went about their day.
Jacob is still screaming about how unfair his life is and what a horrible mother I am and how he is just a kid, Oh woe, oh woe is he. I mean, the cops are going to be called very shortly by said twelve year old because. O. M. G. Child labor laws and child abuse and neglect......oh my.
I don't know where his logic became skewed, but he has yelled down at me that if I want the dishwasher emptied, I will need to drive him to Game Stop and buy him a fifty dollar game.
Nevermind that he got his DS removed weeks ago for running his mouth in this fashion previously.
And for the record, Adam emptied the dishwasher and did all his other chores without nary a word. Three hours ago.
The art camp closed down.
I can't afford the behavior camps.
He absolutely refuses to do any type of sports camps.
My parents are too scared to take him for any length of time.
I think there's some law about dumping your kids off miles from home and making them walk back just to kill time and give you some peace.
So for the next 14 weeks, I guess I have to put up with it.
Neat little fact about switching schools.......that school gets out two weeks later so therefore goes back two weeks later. Oh joy! He gets two extra weeks of summer!
I can't wait to see what will happen next week when I introduce the television timer and the daily workbooks.
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