I wandered all over campus yesterday and that basically made the infection go deeper into my lungs. Now, I'm taking prednisone and insulin and wishing I were dead. I took Genny to the park, so she could play and just kind of died. I took her to the doctor to check on her progress and everything is good. Her ears are clear. The good news is that with my soul bared to the local grad school, I now am done with essay writing and other sordid chores related to that. I do need to start pursuing the substitute credential, but I figure there's next week because this weekend, I'm going to pull a Rip Van Winkle and never leave my bed. (Oh, the plucking, I'll have to do!)

CG -- I haven't found you online because I'm too exhausted. I love you and I'm praying for you.

Night, night.

We are all sick and crabby. Last night, I finally hit a wall. I just sent the kids to bed early and I sat in my chair and enjoyed the peace and quiet, punctuated by my own coughs. I woke up this morning and wished I could deepthroat a long thin popsicle because my throat was so sore. I'm sure my husband would have preferred something else, but I was thinking pure ice.

I have to go out, despite the snowstorm and march all over campus to get crap printed out and delivered, so I can officially prostrate myself at the grad school door with application in hand. I wish I could sleep until next week. Makes me glad I have hiking boots -- which I am sure will make it a red neck ruby moment.

I have an appointment tomorrow for Genny, because there's no way her ears are clear, as she is crowned princess of house destruction. She is only like this when sick, so I am very much looking forward to the ick of sick ending, not only for her, but all of us. Russell has stayed home for the past two days, and this morning, I rather guiltily sent him to school with cough drops.

I am so freakin' tired.

I occasionally have a bad reaction to peanuts in things. I'm usually pretty careful to try to pick peanuts that are pretty fresh and I can deal with certain brands. Every so often someone uses some cheap-ass peanuts that have aged for a decade in a vat of alfatoxin-ridden mold in some Georgia farmer's silo and then they choose to feed them to me. Peanuts like that do very bad things to my stomach. My stomach was so distended and agonizing, that for two fucking days I couldn't get into my fat pants without wishing for a slow death. I was wearing big billowy dresses and sweats, in lieu of anything fitted. It's not just gas, I also am pretty sure that my intestinal lining actually swells. I ate two rounds of said peanuts before realizing that they were the culprit of my agony. The first round was by far the worst, however, the second round hit last night and was really awful.

I finally freed my body of the last vestiges of said toxic peanuts this morning, but that was after I stayed up until 230AM with more bloating and painful intestinal distention watching Outbreak and remembered that the reason they show it at 2 in the morning is because it sucks. Genny's sick and she was up and whiny at 7AM, while I attempted to pry my eyes open and function. It wasn't pretty. Now, that I am old and crotchety, I really really need my beauty sleep. I have sworn off further attempts at childbirth, thus, I feel that it is my right and privilege to sleep in until 8 or 9 because I am getting old and ugly, thus beauty sleep is getting to be a necessity.

Nonetheless, I am swearing off peanuts unless they've been heavily processed into peanutbutter, and even then, I think I'll just stick to almond or apple butter.

My lack of sleep contributed to a familial malaise today. Genny was all sick and whiny; Russell was talking back in rare form, such that he eventually got grounded for a week. He swears up and down that he took his meds, but I think he is full of shit. He was throwing thermonuclear meltdown tantrums. When you're dealing with that in public from a 9.5 year old, the temptation is to get a rope and tie and gag him. My thought was that if I got a holstein fleece fabric and used a horse trailer, I could put one of those horse blinds on his head, and tie him in there with a fake animal tail hanging out the back, and no one would know I was abusing my child. Mike was barely functional and kept being whiny and cranky and bitchy. And then we started looking at real estate while we were all in such a state. F-Ugly. Fugly, I tell ya.

The good news on the real estate front is that our credit is sufficient to get us an FHA loan and the loan amounts available are sufficient to keep us within 20 minutes of Mike's work. We'll start pursuing pre-qualification in May.

I have to put together the decoration tonight for the cubscouts blue and gold dinner tonight. I mistakenly said something to the den leader about,"Were we going to decorate our table?" at the Pinewood Derby and I was volunteered to do it in abstentia at the next meeting. My husband apparently forgot to mention that I didn't have to do it, but there's that whole peer pressure thing. Now, I have to go find the fucking fishbowl in the ice cold garage, with a two year old present, which is sort of like saying I'd like to drive 2 inch long wooden spikes beneath my nails because our garage is definitely NOT childproof. I have to make runs to town to get decorations together for the blue and gold/American Pride theme. Going shopping with a 2 year old with an ear infection, oddly enough does not appear on my list of top 10, much less top 500 things to do, especially when I have to take her to a party store. *sigh*

Could someone just shoot me now? It'd be faster.

I have asked for referrals to volunteer teach in some local special ed classrooms. I just emailed one and I will be calling the other two tomorrow. I'm very excited and nervous about this, but I think it's about time, too. I need the classroom exposure. I need to make sure that this is what I want to do.

After getting drummed out of my first teaching credential program, I guess that I just am feeling really gunshy. I know this is what I want to do and that I would be good at it, but I still feel really insecure about it. I think the classroom time would let me get comfortable with the whole thing and more confident. In dealing with kids, confidence in myself is going to be important, so I need to get back to it.

As I have been getting into my classes, I have been coming up against some things that really make me sad.

It makes me sad that they shuffle perfectly intelligent and capable English as a Second Language (ESL) kids into Special Ed classes. Special Ed classes are supposed to be for kids with learning disabilities or problems that make learning difficult or challenging for them. It would not be so bad, in my opinion, if they made ESL instruction part of Special Education and provided funding for ESL kids, but they don't. ESL kids end up in Special Ed when the teacher in their regular classroom doesn't know how to deal with them. Eventually, because there is a quantifiable discrepancy between the kid's ability and their test scores, they get shuffled off to Special Ed.

I would be able to do a good job of helping kids in that situation, but realistically, a Special Ed teacher can't focus a class for an ESL kid and an ADHD kid and have it be successful necessarily for both, unless it's an Spanish-speaking ADHD student. I think a native ADHD kid would be kind of freaked if I instructed partially in Spanish. (Spanish because 92% of ESL speakers in our state speak Spanish as a first language.)

No Child Left Behind does nothing to help teach ESL kids. I am not even sure about the funding they are going to offer to special ed programs. I know that around here, that 90% of the special ed budget is locally funded, anyhow, and most of that is designated for litigation. That seems stuipd, doesn't it? If they just gave the kids the services they needed, there would be no litigation. *sigh*

In other sad news, I think Genny has an ear infection, so I am taking her to the doctor's tomorrow. I am going to place a call to the ENT we saw because while there's been a 2 month break since the last ear infection, it's still scary. She's starting to get such a command of language, although Daddy read her "Shikn Boom Boom." Apparently, they couldn't find the more popular version, "Chicka, chicka, Boom Boom."

Insomnia is like sleeping with a lesbian who has a crush on you. My lesbian crawled into bed with me about 4AM. She left about a half hour before Genny came into to stick her cold squirmy body in bed with us. I shouldn't complain about Genny waking us up though, as I am anxious about the time she decides she doesn't need to come in to wake us up and wants to make herself breakfast. While the "lesbian" was in bed with me though, I figured out a ballpark estimate of our deductions and I think I can come up with around $4500 in deductions, plus our student loan interest and childcare deductions, which means it might not be so bad after all, although I am going to have to ask for copies of most of our utility bills for the past year, which may cost moolah. Taxes in the wee hours can be a good thing, however.

I have to write a future plans essay for a scholarship application. Writing a future plans essay seems to me to be much like being a beauty pageant contestant. I keep saying to myself,"Yes, Mr. Barker, my plans for the future include creating peace on earth and fellating 30 year old virgins." Then, I snicker to myself and get stuck rewriting an introductory paragraph to that essay a million times over. Of course, fellating 30 year old virgins would probably create peace on earth, which means I would be a redundant beauty pageant contestant. This starts me snickering all over again and totally distracts me from writing the essay, which is probably the point.

I came up with a skeleton plan for doing my homework yesterday, which is to my credit. I still have to watch a video that is still used as the icon of teaching parents about learning disabilities, and it totally sends me over the edge. The guy who does it infers that teachers are bad people who do bad things to LD kids in class, which I think is a completely inaccurate and scary message to send to parents, who might not know any better. I also think that many of the parents who might be seeing this video are going to pretty fragile because they just discovered that their beautiful child has something wrong and then they're going to see this video which makes it seem like teachers are exploiting their children when they aren't around. Big Ew. I do realize that some teachers do these things, but I think it's a lot less common than this video would have you believe.

Additionally, this week I started the Iditawalk. This past week, I missed a few days, so I am going to be walking longer this week to make up the time. I walked yesterday for 45 minutes and discovered that here in RedneckRubyville that everyone owns a dog.

These dogs typically bark rabidly at me while wagging their tails and following me the length of the fenceline of their property. I got nervous yesterday because I saw a big black dog without a fence ahead, but it appeared he was called in before I passed his driveway, thankfully. We aren't going to consider a dog until we get a deed to a house. I often think I would like a small dog, that was smart, but I haven't met any. Most small dogs are what I consider blender dogs -- annoying little pests that should be dropped in the blender and fed to my cat. I realize this may damage my credentials as a potential redneck, but I do like some big dogs, despite the drool factor typical to many breeds. I grew up with border collies, which are about the smartest, nicest dogs ever created, but border collies need a lot of room to run. But they don't gnash their teeth on tennis balls until the ball is heavy with dog spit, like retrievers do, rather they get the ball, lay it in front of you and bark at you to toss it again. They aren't into the ball, they are into the running to GET the ball. The ball is just a means to an end.

I also want to state for the record that I think that Elmo is ten times more annoying than Barney. The fact that my daughter is addicted to Elmo only amplifies my hatred of said furry red monster of Sesame Street fame because I have to listen to his hyena laughter when she tickles his tummy, and hear his horrible high pitched un-monsterish voice singing and baby talking on DVD. When my husband picked out the three DVD Christmas set, I thought we'd only have to deal with Elmo at Christmas. How wrong I have been. While I am not Catholic, I will confess that I have also taken several opportunities to wish my husband unpleasant mishaps at the hand of Elmo, most of which include his ears bleeding to Elmo Christmas jingles.

Back to my future plans...

I need to make dinner, write essays, and otherwise be doing homework. Note, that in that I didn't mention housework. I mopped the floor and have been insisting that it get swept, and I vacuumed. I've started laundry and will continue with said laundry until I'm dead.

I am so down. I can't find a house we can afford, where we'd like to live. On top of that, I'm not sure about living here. I just found out that four kids basically took trading cards from Russell's pocket -- stealing them, ripping them, and tossing them in the trash. In the face of four kids, I'm not sure what he was supposed to do, but I wrote a pretty ripshit email to his teacher. I hope she reads it before I call the school on Tuesday, after the holiday.

I have this assignment that I hate. I'm supposed to basically tell the teacher how I'd like her to set up the class, if it were independent study. I realize that I'm supposed to do stuff like this, but I hate self-evaluation and it makes me want to rip all my hair out and leave it in clumps on the floor even to work on this assignment. I don't mind setting up a class for someone else, but I definitely am not liking having to do it for myself.

I think Genny has ear infections again. I finally convinced Mike that we should take her in and then she was acting "better" and we thought better of it. Tonight, she's kind of being a crack baby -- flitting all over the house bent on destruction, so I think I'm taking her tomorrow, just to be safe.

I figured out our tax bill and it's not pretty. I'm contacting an accountant LaDawn uses because we only paid in about $8K in taxes and I show us owing upwards of $18K in total. It's astounding to me. I know we should get some writeoffs, but I don't know how to do them particularly well, I just know for a family that lives check to check, that seems like a phenomenal tax burden and as a result, I am back to my usual state of insomnia.

I'm way too tired for my body and my age. I should be young and bouncy again or at least well laid. I have stayed up way past my bed time the past couple nights doing homework and contract stuff and it's been rugged. Of course, I've slept restlessly because I am worrying and stressing. Today, I took a nap and was supposed to get up when Mike called and he called and I was so out of it, I begged off and crashed and burned.

I slept for a couple hours, but the only reason I got up was because I had to pee. Being that I was up anyhow, peeing, I decided to rip off the flannel nightgown and stumble into the shower. It was stupid, I realise in retrospect because the day has only fallen apart since into foggy-brained stumblings through email, more contract work and I swear all I want to do is make this one quilt block.

I was at Wal-mart, last night, at the fabric counter and I saw a sign for a quilt block contest that they are sponsoring for the "heart of America." The quilt blocks get turned into quilts for kids in the Children's Miracle Network, so it's a no lose thing. The woman at the counter showed me the only one someone had turned in and it was buttugly, so I am making my own. Of course, my idea requires being appliqued, which I don't know how to do, yet, so it ought to be interesting. I have to stitch CS's quilt and I think I've finally given up on being able to get the thing done all by hand, so I'm stitching it with the machine this weekend and she'll just have to forgive me. I just don't want her baby to be a toddler before she gets it...or a teenager, for that matter.

I think Mike is mad at me. I'm kind of mad at me, too.

Pauline called and needed money. We didn't have tons, but we had a little to help, so I paid two of her bills and basically I told her she needed to get into a smaller place she can afford and I sent in a low-income request to her utility company on her behalf, so they can reduce the cost of her bills. Mike let me do it, but he was not thrilled about it. I wish now, that I'd stood by my guns about sending the smaller amount. I love my friends, but I love my husband more. Her roommated got pulled over on parole with a DUI. I don't know why she'd have such a person living with her, other than desperation, but I am thinking about going down there and having one of those heart-to-hearts with her. She needs better friends.

I have a certain school psychologist in mind, when I say,"THAT CUNT!"

This is the same unmitigated condescending bitch that said,"Oh, so sorry, your son is just over the cutoffs, so we can't provide him services." This is the same patronizing pissant who I bypassed by going directly to the school district office when I got the test results from my second source because I knew if I had to deal with her, I'd beat her bloody with the test results.

I sat in my learning disabilities class and learned a boatload about how kids are evaluated. It then dawned on me that this bitch is the one who administered the IQ test to him and rated him at average, when in fact, I know he is NOT average, so that they could justify his so-so iffy grades. Of course, this was also in California, not our new state. This is the kid who beat the undefeated chess champion today in chess club. My son is now the undefeated chess champion. My son rates in the top 5% of the state in math skills. I am going to call the school and have him reevaluated and have the IQ test readministered by someone who has less in mind than the financial bottomline.

I am so angry right now. It's a good thing that that bitch is in another state, because otherwise, I'd be sorely tempted to track her down and have her removed from her position for complete ineptitude. If she'd been half the psychologist that she should be, she'd have suggested ADHD instead of insisting he was "above cutoffs." I curse her and her incapable scholastic evaluating kind. May their scantron sheets gang up on them and papercut their impersonal, unprofessional, inept bodies and haunt them like the nightmares they've inflicted on me and the parents before and after me.

Tomorrow is heating oil delivery day. I swear, I want to crank up the heat to 85 and let 'er rip. As long as I am toasty warm, I don't care what happens. Just bury me in a flannel electric blanket and I'll die a happy wench.

Lately, I need headstone because I'm buried in homework. It sucks big wang, too. I don't know what came over me, but I offered to make coursework web pages for both my professors. I guess I'm not slammed enough, what with essays and reading to do up the wazoo. To be fair, I just ripped what I did for one professor and changed the names and places to protect the innocent, but what a ridiculously stupid thing to do, huh?

We went househunting again this weekend and yeesh, the prices have jumped $10-40K around here on most everything. It was really disappointing. I feel like the only way we'll own a house is if we buy a manufactured house, which would blow. Russell said he was willing to move, but didn't want to move back to his previous school, which was a place we'd looked. Mike and I also discussed the possibility that if his company's stock bottoms out because we bomb the fuck out of Iraq (George Bush is a chest pounding buffoon), that we might have to sit it out another year to have time to gather that down payment, though we may be shy enough credit card debt to be able to get a 0% down credit rating at that point. Right now, we've got about $6000 in stock option money available. We'll just have to see what the latest in obscene medical and dental expenses comes to pass.

Other than that, Mike and I had a date on Saturday. We had dinner at a nice place, hung out and enjoyed the absence of children. I took him to see the Lord of the Rings moive and we did our grocery shopping with no whining and got everything we needed. The absence of children when one is alone with one's mate, is a guilty little pleasure. I always feel like I must be a rotten mom to be so happy not to have them right there, but then when I see them, I feel like I could eat them up. Mel and her new husband watched them for us because we helped them move on Friday and Saturday. After the moving, I took a lot of ibuprofen, but the walking funny was from the babysitting, as was the relaxed knowing smiles Mike and I had for each other all day Sunday.

I need to go study...no small surprise. I did the ebills, got the web pages dummied up, responded to my email, and contemplated my navel, so I can't sidestep this any more.

I had this great blog to post and my computer lost its pretty little head and Poof! it's gone.

And no, I did not send notification to microsoft that explorer puked, thanks for asking. Nosey little bastards. Like I'd actually let them know I had any of their software.

All I know lately is that grad school is hard. The homework is hard, but geez, even just getting a freaking student ID was a special trip. I had to actually *pay* for said ID. I started at the library where I discovered I had to have the ID to use the computer lab. I went to an entirely different building where a humorless woman young enough to be my child, had I chosen to reproduce at 18, took my picture and charged me. I returned to said computer lab with card where I was told I had to have the scan bar from the circulation desk on the other side of the library from whence I'd come. When I returned and wanted to print, I was told that in order to print, I had to pay for a stupid little copy card back at the freakin' circulation desk.

By the time I huffed my way up the hill to the education building, I was completely out of breath, exhausted, but I did have my printout with my one corrected sentence in it and the pure satisfaction that if I want to use the computer lab this semester, I don't have to go through all that shit again.

We are rather broke. I can't afford the $300 for a tank full of heating oil. We're so broke that we had to make two trips to the local hardware store to put kerosene in the heating oil tank to fuel the heater. Of course, lately, the night temperatures have been in the teens, so it's been cold as a witch's nipple here and we're running low on wood. I've been heading out of the house during the day, so I don't have to run the heater, so I can run it at night for the kids. We've been bundling the kids up in a lot of blankets at night and burning wood in the fireplace nearly constantly, especially at night. We had a bunch of big logs, so those have been skating us through this week. I've taken to running the oven on low heat during the day to add a little more heat when I'm here by myself because at least the electric bill is paid for! We've weatherstripped a bunch of windows and broken out lots of flannel. I just hate the oil tank because there is no dipstick and no way to tell just how much oil is in the damned thing, which sucks, so we don't know we're out until we're out. And right now, we're out, shy, 12 gallons of kerosene. (Kerosene is more refined heating oil.)

In good news, however, I should have a check from my contract work in a day or two, so things will get better. Yay! I may just buy us all electric blankets!