Genny was the last to catch pink eye from daycare. We thought we had evaded it because all the kids were clear, but this morning, she woke up and Daddy had to pry open her eye by hand and remove all the eye boogers. I called the pediatrician on call and asked for eye drops. She's good as gold about trying to lay there while you drop them in her eyes, but she's only 5, so I'm not sure how much I can expect.

We've pretty much had her stay in her bedroom to keep her from the rest of us. We set her up with the DVD player that we use in the car and she's watched Pooh movies and Mulan today. And she periodically comes out and talks to us and shows us stuff. When Daddy was working on the sink and talking about not having the right tools, Genny offered to go get him her plastic hammer with a very serious tone of voice. Daddy told her that it wasn't necessary as a hammer probably wasn't the right tool for this job, but thanked her very much.

Tonight, we barbecued hamburgers. We were going to have a big full blown barbecue with friends and Genny's illness ended that. We offered to try to keep her from folks, but said we totally understood if folks didn't want to come. Everyone begged off, of course. Disappointing that we had to call it off, but we ate outside on the picnic table this evening and it was lovely. I need to buy about 2.5 yards of vinyl table cloth fabric at Walmart, though, so I don't have to scrub down the picnic with a scrub brush and soap every time we use it.

I just made burgers, salad, and beans. Very yummy and summery. We ate some pickles that I made last summer which were delicious and crisp! I'm sooo growing cucumbers again this year!

The stupid rototiller is broken. What's wrong with it, is exactly what I told Mike was wrong with it -- that the gas was old and needed to be siphoned off and replaced. He ignored me, tried starting it anyway, and now it has something resembling semen in the gasline and won't work. He has to buy a carbeurator kit and fix it. Stupid men. I told him he needed to tell the guy who told him what was wrong with it that I had essentially told him so. The guy says he hates when his wife is right, but that it doesn't happen very often. Mike smiled sheepishly and told the guy, "It happens all the time at my house. She's almost always right." The guy said,"Geesh, that'd drive me crazy."

You can't be driven where you already are, I say.

Because the tiller is broke, the garden is not in and remains in pots outside the garage and back yard. I think the wild bunnies may have found my big potted basil planter because one of the new basil plants had half a leaf torn off it on the bottom. I think I'm going to get out the red pepper and make it an unpleasant place to eat for bunnies. My front flower bed is beautiful -- irises, evening primrosese (kind of like pink poppies), California poppies, thyme, and other assorted purple and blue flowers. I still have some weeding to do, but it's still looking pretty lovely and I enjoy sitting out on the porch in my rocking chair and watching the sun go down and eyeing over my flowers.

I guess it gives me more time to have a broken tiller because I'm going to have to hunt down horse poop for the garden. We need it badly. Apparently, there are places around here to get it for free. Woo!

Beyond the garden, the house is relatively clean. My hope is that I will not be running about like a chicken with my head cut off this week, so that I actually have home time. Tomorrow, I have to keep Genny home, so I think I'll just stick a sheet on the couch and let her sit out with me and watch TV or whatever. I was hoping to have time with her this week, and I guess tomorrow will be it.

I've done more laundry this weekend than I have drawer space for. I have no idea what I'm going to do with it all. I've got to get the winter stuff out of the drawers and boxed or hung in the closet. *sigh* It's been in the 70s and 80s for a couple weeks now, so time to swap out clothes. I've already got Genny's swapped somewhat. I'm working on Russell and myself.

I need a few more hours in the day. I tell ya.

This letter is addressed to Russell's teacher. She came to the meeting and read a prepared statement on behalf of herself and the other teachers that basically said all the stuff that had gone wrong this year was my fault. At any rate, the new school seemed much more proactive about providing for his needs, so fuck 'em.

Dear Russell's Teacher:

This is a personal response to your read statement in the IEP because frankly, I felt very disappointed, saddened and somewhat betrayed by it.


I have asked repeatedly for Russell to simply be shown the mechanics of just writing down the assignments and being cued to do so. Russell is the kind of person that if you show him how to fish, he'll figure out how to fish. He may need to be reminded how to fish again from time to time because of his ADHD, but generally, he's pretty smart, so it doesn't take much -- some kind of behavior contract might have been workable. We could have enrolled his other two teachers in participating in it and I would have been happy to provide any rewards/consequences. He seems to struggle with getting to his classes, getting settled, getting out his materials, etc.

Habits with him take time and cueing, but then he gets into the groove and he gets it down. He needed help in these areas and did not get it for the most part. For example, any more, I just have to mention that I can sit on the toilet in the bathroom while he showers if he needs to be reminded how to clean his body, and he comes out of the bathroom with his body appropriately washed. I know he can wash himself appropriately, but that he forgets and thinks it will slide. I don't let it slide and I send him back to wash his hair, get his armpits, or wash his face.


I sincerely felt that all three of his teachers missed a huge opportunity to make a big difference in his life, by not teaching him exactly how and when to write down his assignments and how to organize his time to do so, i.e., he never learned how to fish from his teachers. The resource teacher was not particularly good at it either, though, I'd asked for that, his solution was simply to check to see if Russell had his assignments. Russell was asked to write them down, which he did sporadically, but he struggled with that aspect of things, so he never learned that skill, either. And it was not something I could teach him because I wasn't there. I could give him suggestions, playact with him as to how to ask his teachers for what he needed, and so forth, but I could not be there to cue him, to encourage him, or remind him, nor did I have the interaction I needed with all three teachers to know what was going on.


I was trying to help with homenotes. Being that I was not at school to be able to show him how to write down his assignments and check back in 5 minutes to see if he'd done it for a week or so for each class, I was kind of stuck doing homenotes, which as you noted, was not an effective or empowering way to do things for Russell. I am disappointed that in addition to having to learn how to deal with a new school, a new environment, and new teachers, next year, that he will also have to learn how to organize himself through it. Fortunately, they seem very interested in teaching him those skills and empowering him to do them himself, so my hope he'll get the support he needs to figure it out. I was also disappointed that you didn't talk to me more directly to offer solutions to these issues earlier in the year when we could have a made a difference about it. I sincerely thought that you felt comfortable just telling me what you thought.


When you read that statement, I felt like you all blamed me for Russell's lack of success. I also felt that informing me of that two weeks before school lets out seemed like a blind swipe at me, rather than anything productive, nor did it offer many solutions to Russell's issues. Swimming during the year would be great -- only he hasn't had much time to do anything outside of school. He'll be swimming this summer at Wild Island and he's been going to yoga on a weekly basis for nearly three months and is making enormous strides, as he practices some pretty complex and difficult yoga moves at home and is stronger and more flexible than most folks I know. Yoga exercises only take 5-10 minutes a pop. He's learning yoga that Tai Chi is based on and is thrilled to be gaining martial arts knowledge.


Finally, I know I have made mistakes in this. I have not been clear how to reduce his work load and still have his academics count and I do not think we set that up to work well. I did not think that Mr. J passing him along was appropriate, but I don't think that we actually solved it, we just told him to stop it. It would have been nice to know that I could have signed off partially complete assignments with Mr. J, but he seemed reticent to work with me, too. I could secondguess myself, but I am not sure what would have worked with him, but I view it as a mistake, too. I probably shouldn't have put you in the middle of that one, but I had tried to talk to Mr. J with little success and I don't know a lot about how to make reduce assignments work for Russell, nor did I think that it was explained well.


Additionally, I am still learning how to do this stuff and certainly when it's my son, it is harder to be objective. I find when it's someone else's kid I always have the right answer and the appropriate response, but that with my kid that's a lot harder. I also feel that I cannot make much impact at school other than to be willing to work with my kids' teachers as best as I can. I felt sure you understood that I was willing to work with you, but apparently, you did not.

I'm sorry for that. I had tried hard to communicate that with you and thought that you felt you could tell me whatever was on your mind, particularly because you were using your personal email with me and were thus, not being monitored by the school. You had also put me in your confidence about some personal information regarding your job, i.e., the crap with the principal, and I'd thought we were friends enough for you to be forthright with me. I would have been happy to work with any solution you proposed because I was clearly out of good ideas and I was often ill enough not to be thinking that clearly about it. I was often just trying to stay afloat myself.


Mostly, I'm really sad for what Russell didn't get out of this year in school and for how much quality time we have missed with him as a result. Tonight, he spent an hour and a half working on his oral report for Social Studies. Then he ran through the park with his dad. You'd have thought he got to go to heaven. Then his dad just wrote an email signing him off from missing work. He's been working his tail off and achievement jumps like he showed on the WJ-R are evidence enough that he's learning and moving forward academically, so we don't care about his missing work at this point. I'd just like him to have some fun. I'm not telling him that, but that's how I feel.


I hope that that kind of documentable progress on his part, helps you get what you need to not get crap from the principal, and will help you with your national board work. Additionally, I hope we get to talk this through at some point.


This summer's goal for Russell: getting him in the habit of using deodorant on a consistent basis.

__

Today, Mike was gone all day, so I made breakfast, got it mostly cleaned up, and washed and sold 7 dozen eggs. The chickens must be shooting eggs out their butts, I tell ya because that was just the last three days.

I weeded a little, remembered nearly dead plants bought last week and then got the kids' hair cut. I met Mike in town, we went to Jimboy's tacos to eat, and then hit Home Depot, where we bought really spiffy lounge chairs and a buttload of plants. The kids had more fun playing with blankets, sweatshirts, and the like on the chairs, even long after Mike and I had abandoned them to get chores done.

Genny's exhausted into next week, so we're putting her to bed. I planted my basil in the big omigosh terra cotta planter out front and watched the sun slide behind the mountains.

I've got windburn on my cheeks from sitting so long out to watch the sunset.

Tomorrow is scrub the house day. Ain't we got fun!

Today, I didn't actually get to do anything for myself except stop at Starbucks on the way to taking Genny to dance.

I started the day by going to the 6th grade 60's musical revue. It was generally pretty cute, though the band concert part of it was awful. It made me appreciate the years of patience my parents had listening to me practice and dragging to every freakin' band recital I ever had. I also realized where half the songs I hum to myself in the course of the day come from -- early ventures into music.

Don't ask me about the humming to myself thing. I just do hum when I'm doing stuff, particularly stuff that I loathe, to make it easier to get through. I also just hum sometimes to hum. My favorite humming song is the "CanCan." Weird things you learned about Wendy and were definitely afraid to ask about.

Russell wanted a change of costume for the second show this afternoon, so I went home, got that, and dropped it off. I then drove to the one big town we're in between to have lunch with Mike. I stopped and picked up some meat for dinner. I stopped at home for 5 minutes to dump a big thing of baked beans, the meat, and some bbq sauce in a crock pot set on high. I then grabbed Genny's dance crap and picked her up at dance and drove to the other big town we live between. On the way to go to the bank, the traffic was so bad that I turned around and went to the least convenient bank. Then I called Mike and gave him instructions for making dinner and got home in time to eat it.

Then I wrote three pages of material for Russell IEP.

Tomorrow is Russell's IEP. It's not going to be fun or pretty. It's also not going to be over any time soon -- this year has shown all the stuff we did wrong. The teachers from the current school aren't going to like seeing what we did wrong nor admitting it, so that's going to be the ugly part. I'm going to have to find tact. That's what I'm praying for.

The tact to ask for what Russell needs without pissing anyone off too much.

Well, I fell asleep not far through the showing of episode 4, but Mike agreed that while character development is good, it isn't necessarily worth a whole movie or three, i.e., Episodes 1-3.

That household dispute settled, my irises bloomed today! Two of three buds are up and unfolded beautifully. I also saw that my newly planted evening primrose bloomed. I watered everything but the nectarines, but I am so getting on the husband to rototill things because Spring has skipped us by completely and we are already in summer at 80+ degrees. My tulips kind of sent up a couple shoots, decided it was too cold and then too hot, and then died back. I'm still watering them because there's always next year.

I'm getting my body back after surgery -- not quite as stiff, not limping so much, almost able to do a full fish pose without the stupid pillows in yoga, but the flexibility backwards is still really lacking in the ole joint-a-rooney. I think some of that is because it's still swollen quite a bit. I'm a little embarrassed to wear shorts in all this heat, but I figure the two recent scars on my knee give away my stiffness. (Betty, I said,"Stiffness.")

I want to get my plants in. I've been watering all of these lovely pots full of promising shoots of green, so now I'd like to get the danged things in the garden before it's way too danged late in the season to get squat. I've got tomatillos, I'm spoiling and whispering sweet nothings to until the hubbins tills the gardens. Why it takes two days to clean a spark plug you can replace for about a buck at the hardware store and my rototiller still doesn't work, I'll never know.

It's a mystery much like where toe jam comes from.

Some things are just best left unknown.

Friday, I had one of those stupid freak accidents. I was admiring my iris buds and talking to my daughter while backing up. I fell in a hole, I hadn't filled yet and started going down. My first thought was to curl up, but I realized I'd land on my tailbone on the cement sidewalk. Thus, I stretched, reaching for the front sand beyond the sidewalk, thinking I'd just roll across my shoulders and save myself -- as I realized too late -- oh, yeah, the stonewall. I ended up landing flat on my back on a one foot high stone wall.

And I heard something crack. It scared the blue bejeebers out of me, so I told Genny who I'd been talking to about my irises to get Daddy and get help. She was completely flipped out. I weakly hollered for Russell, trying not to hurt my back further because Genny was so worried she wasn't getting me help just kind of running back and forth a lot. After hearing me call weakly, Russell saw me and ran down the hall and got Mike out of the pot.

Mike and I sat outside while we figured out what we should do. I was afraid to move and my gosh, it hurt sooooo danged bad. We called Mel and Dan to come watch Genny -- with both their house and Mel's parents' house in shambles with moving they came to our house. We dropped Bear off at Charles' for the night on the way to the emergency room. I got x-rayed and after several hours and some serious painkillers and anti-nausea medication (I was kind of shocky) they said, I have a bad sprain and to just go home and take it easy.

Take it easy. Clearly, these people don't know me. Today, however, I did make up for yesterday, doing very little. I slept til noon. We had brunch and then went to see the star wars movie. Yesterday, I did laundry, cleaned, and cooked.

I liked the movie. It isn't my favorite of the SW movies. I've always had it bad for Episode 5 & 6. Call me a geek, but those ewoks are damned cute and the good guys win. This one is dark and all, and it sews up all the loose ends, but I felt like the storyline was kinda weak. I felt like there was little information added -- everything was expected.

Some of what makes Episode 5 really cool is the unexpected -- "Luke, I am your father." Some of what makes Episode 6 really cool is the deep love that Luke has for Vader and his abiding belief that his father and his father's love are in the black heavy breathing suit. Everyone, including the audience, thinks Vader is a big evil monster -- Luke is the only one who doesn't. It's very Christ-Ghandi-Dhali-lama -like and unexpected. Everything about this last movie, is rather ho-hum and expected.

Mike thinks that I'll have new perspective when I watch the first three, so our sojourn to the past begins. We will start rewatching the old ones and see how it works together.

I just think I'm a jaded old broad who's watched this stuff for 30 years and just thinks they oughta work harder for it. I'm watching the first movie of the bunch tonight -- to see if this one is bigger than my first impression.

I got my summer haircut. This haircut is the ultimate tease to lesbians -- it's butch short. It's a makes-you-wonder haircut. It isn't the mullet I got a few years ago that had a lesbian at the cricket payment center giving me the come hither look, but very butch, according to Mike. The only thing that sucked about it at all for me is that you really could see all my evil gray hair in the back. I got me my box o' youth, i.e., L'oreal, and I am going flaming redhead, baby.

Mike likes to play with my hair when it's longer, but it really gets on my nerves to have it so long. He also likes the butch look because it kind of feeds into his screwin' a lesbian fantasy. All men have it, Mel and I have decided. In my case, he gets the look and feel of a lesbian, but the hot and heavy lovemaking of a raging heterosexual.

I like it this short, particularly for swimming because you just can't fuck it up. Also, in the extreme heat that we have here in summer, it's nice to have short hair. It could be windier than heck, but my hair would look perfect. I don't have to protect it from getting wet or anything else. I can wear a hat and I won't have hat head.

By fall, it'll be a winter length I can live with for the colder months. Everyone always chastizes me for cutting it like this saying that it looks better longer, but I like this better, so "pbbbt!"

My husband just experienced his 29th birthday for the first time. He now sits teetering on the edge of 30.

Ah, those were the days! The lucky little poo!

I did a lot of stuff today and I'm so tired, but he enjoyed dinner and he enjoyed the presents and he enjoyed having dinner with friends.

He did not enjoy that his mom and brothers called him in the middle of his meal and that after three calls, the whole lasagna was cold. He did enjoy his lemon cake and vanilla ice cream.

He also enjoyed the coupons I gave him for various "favors." He redeemed one tonight. *winkawinka*

I had coupons redeemable for oral satisfaction, lovin', doesn't have to get out of bed for me, gets out of some onerous chore, blows off dishes, and requests for a nooner or quicky. He said several times how much he liked my coupons. I stole the idea from Mel.

He was so cute. He kind of snuck into the kitchen acting all cool, and then just handed me a coupon. I tore it in half and put it in the trash. He said,"I don't get to keep them?" I said,"No, of course not! They are redeemable once."

Tomorrow, the only thing I have to do for anyone is drive Russell to school, so he can finish his math homework in the morning because he helped me out so much tonight, prepping for Mike's party. I know it's the Star Wars movie, but I'm not keen on sitting in a crowded theater to see it. Mike's getting a screening through his job, so he'll fill me in on if I should wait or not.

--

We took Bear to his psychiatrist today and basically, she said that because I am so wiped out, dealing with all the stuff that's not working at school, that she thinks he needs to be in special ed classes. I asked her to write her recommendations and cc a copy to the school. She also said that we could increase the frequency of his meds. Halle-freakin- lu-YUH!

Putting Bear into special ed is disappointing to me. I know Bear was disappointed, too. I told him that I had tried very hard to keep his life as normal as possible up til now, but that I was at the breaking point. However, I also said that special ed would mean a lot less homework. He said,"As long as I get to do my math." So my work will be cut out for me at the IEP.

I basically said to Bear,"I know that you've been trying very hard and I know that you are very smart, but I can't spend the next 7 years making sure that you not only got your assignment, got it home from school, did it, printed it out, and then put it back into your folder and then actually turned it in. I want to have my own life a little." I was realizing, I haven't sewn or quilted or really done anything I really like in a long time. I've read a few times, but even that's not fun at the moment.

I admitted to Bear, the doctor, and Mike, that when the doctors decided at the surgery that they were going to keep me overnight, that I viewed it as a vacation. I was disappointed to have to come home. The psychiatrist, Mike, Russell, and I decided that that was kind of sad. I even admitted that I was actually looking forward to being in the hospital for the tonsillectomy. Mike said,"No wonder you've wanted all these little vacations!" Willingness to endure terrible pain and isolation to avoid going home can't be good.

I also said that because I want a life, I don't want to homeschool him. I said,"You know how much I like working with kids and even with you, but I really want to go back to school and do that for a living. It makes me so happy and I think I can help a lot of kids -- not just you. I want to help you, too, but I want to do more than that, too."

It makes me want to cry, just to think about it. It sure explains the depression, huh?

I talked about things with Sarah tonight. Next week, at the IEP, I am going to make a formal request that Bear be evaluated for expressive language processing and sequencing problems. He's having a terrible time sometimes, expressing himself verbally and in written form -- and for a guy that's such a good reader, you would expect that he'd be more capable. I think he needs a language therapist to help him. I also think that if we can more directly address his processing issues, that he'd do better overall. I also think that he'd benefit seriously from having a resource room to go to, in order to get his work done and not have to do all this damned homework every freaking night from the moment he walks in until he goes to bed. I want him to actually have a life. I'd like him to be able to go to chess club and group yoga because we have the time and he'd enjoy it.

Neither of us are going to last through this staying the same next year. If he failed school, it'd kill him and his brokenheart would kill me. He's got such high expectations for himself, that I don't think that kid would come out of it unscathed. I want him to feel successful and to try to keep things as normal as we can. I want him to be happy, well-adjusted, and smiley. I'd like him to be able to do extracurricular activities, and actually have the time to do them!

I'm also going to talk to his teachers tomorrow and ask them to please help him through the rest of the year and let them know that I'm going to give up on the mainstream thing and let him go resource room.

I feel so sad and inadequate. I also feel relieved, however. I think once I have a sense of what he's walking into at junior high school that the sadness and inadequacy may change. Right now, I'm feeling a great deal of trepidation about the whole thing. I also feel like I failed Russell by not having him do resource room this year. I know I didn't, but it's how I feel. On the other hand, it was a good test to not put him in resource room. We became clear how much he needs it and what exactly he needs to get from it.

I know that ultimately, whatever happens has to be what works for him and still gives him the education he wants and the future he wants.

As I told a friend,"I just don't want him living here when he's 30!" Lord knows he doesn't want that either.

I've been so harried lately.

Russell's struggling again with school assignments getting turned in and done and I'm just beside myself. I don't know how to get him to get them in. It's clear that if he doesn't wanna, it ain't gonna happen, but I know he wants to and simpy isn't. I don't know how to fix that. I've decided to ground him off electronics until things improve to keep the distractions down, but he's so lost! They had said he could be signed off on homework, but he's got so damned much of it, that it's hard to sign it all off!

I don't know what to do. We're going to talk with the psychiatrist tomorrow. I think meds might help, but some of that is Russell is lost in there. I also think that the IEP isn't working for him and we may have to make adjustments he isn't going to like in order to have school work for him.

__

Okay, on another totally unrelated note. Mike's birthday is tomorrow. I've gotten him a few things, but for fun, I asked him what he wants for his birthday. (I had to ask. What was I thinking?)

He told me he wants Thing fists. They make "kkkkk--sshshhh" noises. So do the feet. He said,"You know they make Thing condoms?" I said,"Oh, no!"

"Kkkkk-ssshhsshh! It's clobbering time!"

Nevertheless, I have sworn off ever having sex with him again. If he was the bionic man, that'd be different.

Today, I actually saw a movie based on a book, that I actually haven't read. Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy sucked, however. I feel like I have to read the book now, because my husband liked it so. I told him I thought it was very annoying to have to sit through such a lousy movie when my knee was aching so darned much. He did stop at the pharmacy and pick me up some percocet. I took one, went home and slept three hours.

I woke up feeling very guilty -- and said,"Why'd you let me sleep so long?" He said,"You were tired, so I let you sleep." And then the man had the gall to have dinner already started.

Geesh!

I think I'm being lined up for mercy sex, despite the sore knee.

Heh.

Today was Genny's birthday party and we had a lot of people and it was lots of fun for everyone.

Buy 20 squirt guns, fill a fish pond with water and about 20 plastic fish (hang plastic fish poles on the fence with a net), turn the sprinkler on, and it's instant party. Just add water -- it's easier than brownies from a mix, and while you may have to grease up children with sunblock, you don't have to grease the pan.

I'm too sunburned to say much more than that, but wow! Way fun!

The best part was hanging with Mel and Dan.

I'm hitting the hay nearly comatose with exhaustion.

Leann said accusingly,"You probably did too much today, didn't you?" I giggled and said,"Yes, I did, but my house is really clean!"

There's a moral in there somewhere, I'm sure. I'm just too tired to figure it out.

Today was really warm and beautiful. It almost resembled Spring. I even wondered idly, "Hey, I wonder how long the snow will stay on the mountains?"

True hubris, I'm sure.

It'll probably blizzard in a week and dump a foot of snow on the ground.

There's all this stuff happening -- Genny's birthday party, Mel & Dan moving/not moving to Utah, Donna moving to Utah without Mel and being heartbroken, Sarah going through her paces at work and against the department of education people, and Russell's discovery of responsibility for himself.

I did too much again -- I was feeling fabulous and then, I went and did laundry, tried to paint cupboards, and cleaned up the house.

I'm such an idiot.

I know it is probably hard to believe, but I'm getting a tonsillectomy because I have tonsils that are large enough to be named. I figure, what the hell? My boobs are named, so why not my tonsils? My tonsils are almost as big, so it only seems fair.

The belief is that it will end my years of bronchial infections and the vicious cycle of illness, where I get sick as shit, take prednisone and insulin, and then gain any weight I might have lost recently. It might also actually make my apnea better and then I'd like feel better and stuff and exercise more and then my ass would shrink. That's my theory anyhow.

The other option is that my ass would expand, blot out the sun, and then we all would die, making the whole ass size thing a moot point.

The best thing is that I managed to justify scheduling it when my mother in law is visiting. I won't be able to talk with her without enormous pain, so therefore, I won't have to contend with her other than in polite nods, unless she decides to schedule her visit here when I am actually available. Oh, Lord fucking forfend.

Hey, I've had a couple percocet because I walked around too damned much today without my crutches. I'm thinking I'm pretty funny when I take percocet. It is possible that I am just entertaining myself, but it is my blog, so I can do that.

I am brain dead.

I shouldn't be. I've been doing my yoga. I've been trying to do stuff in the house, but I'm really tired. I keep finding that no matter how much sleep I get, I still want to sleep my life away, lately. I know it's a function of putting energy into healing, but I wish I could get better at something other than lying about.

I wish the healing could be massively accelerated, so I could go wild and garden like a crazed fool, for example. Patience is just not my virtue.

I have watched more reruns than any human being has a right to. For example, I think I've seen every MacGyver episode ever produced three times over. I have also seen every X-Files episode, three times over.

I have seen way too many fashion police shows.

There's one called "How do I look?" Where some poor person's family and friends gang up on them and tell them they dress like shit. Then said family/friends goes through the poor fool's closet and throw out their clothes and then buy them three sets of three sets of clothes, with a new hair and make up look included. Then the besotten person picks one wardrobe and one look that they like of the bunch and then come out to everyone in their new get up.

The problem is that I think that the fundamental premise of the show is just plain mean and catty. It's not like the Queer Eye for the Straight Guy show, where a guy is trying to impress a girl or something. It's like being in high school and having people rag on ya for how you look. I saw one episode where the woman was downright hostile about having her clothes removed from her and her hair colored and cut. I guess, if a person is feeling that hostile, that maybe they should choose not to do the show on them. Yeesh!

One has the impression that the Queer Eye show is much more the idea of the guy involved and that he's willing to consider the change. The other one seems to inflict the change on someone else.

Change causes upset. I guess I don't understand the point of purposely upsetting someone, even if one's intentions are good, especially in the name of fashion. It screams the kind of cruel manipulation that many of us suffered -- where our mothers have dressed us and ignored our requests.

I sometimes catching myself doing that with Genny. I give her suggestions. I have her pick out a pair of pants that she'd like to wear and then I say, "Okay, go find a shirt that matches with that." This morning, she pouted at me about wearing overalls. It was just what I had pulled out of a basket because she asked me for help finding pants. She had selected a skort -- it was snowing outside, so I told her she probably wanted pants because it was really cold. She said she couldn't find them, so I found the overalls for her.

I don't want do to that to her. I want her to feel like she can pick out her own clothes. When we went to Childrens Place this weekend to exchange the way too big clothes that the MIL sent, I had her pick her colors and designs, which she did happily. When I was a kid, my mom never let me go shop with her and pick my clothes. And frankly, as much as I HATE doing it with my kids, I take them shopping with me and let them pick out what they like to wear themselves and I make suggestions to try to go along with those selections.

I don't know if I'm very good at it. My mother is such a control freak that the example I'm working from is poor, I guess.

I may just need to kill my television.

Well, the housecleaning never happened for Mother's Day, but I did get the pictures. I got picture frames that the kids made. I got Genny a sitting for pictures at Sears. She took a bunch of really cute pictures. If you'd like to see, please email me privately, and I'll send you the stuff to go look. baewe at yahoo dot com.

I also made the shadowbox from the San Francisco trip. I put it where I can see it while I'm in bed snoozing and recovering, and it joys me up. I put in seashells and rocks the children and I found, and pictures from the trip and a little slip of paper that says "San Francisco, 2005." I know I have some tickets from stuff we did, including a cable car transfer, but I can't find them, so when I do, I'll stick those in there.

I keep looking at it and sighing happily, which means I probably haven't been out much lately, but wow, it's so cool to see how it came together and how precious it is. The other thing that was really weird this week was that I was realizing that I had few pictures of the children in our bedroom, and that primarily they were out in the livingroom. Maybe it was because I have been sitting in my bedroom snoozing so much in recovery that I missed them and wanted to see them. I take for granted those pictures I have of them in the livingroom and my ability to get into the livingroom, perhaps, so this was to some degree to change that.

It made me so happy to see them. Also, with Russell's school pictures, I have a picture of him on my dresser and really wanted one of Genny, too, thus, the Sears portrait studio today. Now, I'm wanting to find another shadowbox to do the Florida trip because at some level I am more of a sentimental fool than I'd normally admit. I also love that we have had the vacations this past year.

I guess I'll have to do one from Vegas in September, too. We're already talking about going to Hoover Dam, swimming at the Hard Rock Hotel Pool, and walking on the strip, so we'll have cool pictures from that, too. I just have to work on Russell to get that kid to actually smile AND keep his eyes open. Okay, I have to do that with Genny, too.

--

I'm still struggling with the pain. I managed to go most of the day without meds. I think I overdid, though because I finally broke down and took a pill tonight. This after I couldn't stay awake through a Star Wars movie on TV -- completely unheard of -- and I snoozed for two hours.

I felt old and decrepid like an old woman snoozing in her wheelchair at the nursing home, not so much like a young one recovering from surgery.

They kept me overnight at the hospital -- because they were worried about the apnea and because my foot on the operated leg was gray and dusty looking. I got up a bazillion times in the night to pee, so by the morning, it was pink, though quite swollen with the rest of my leg.

I started to freak out when the anesthesiologist clearly didn't know a thing about sleep apnea when he said that they could just put me on oxygen and I'd be okay, Right?

I said, "No, I have apnea -- that means I stop breathing when I am unconscious, which means that just because the air is there doesn't mean I'm breathing it. " Then they said how they didn't know much about how to set up a cpap machine, but that they'd had an in-service, so they "thought" they could figure it out. I said,"An in-service is not enough to make you knowledgeable about something I have to have for my health and well-being. You need to call a respiratory therapist to set this and do it right." Fortunately, I knew what number it needed to be set at, but damn!

I've been in a lot of pain and I'm sleeping a lot. However, the pain does keep me up, which is why at 330AM I'm writing a post.

Mel and Sarah have been so supportive and wonderful. Ladawn called today and checked on me. Leann called and checked on me earlier in the week.

My mother-in-law is coming to visit mid-June. Mike and I had a heart-to-heart about that if he expected me to stay, that he'd have to step up and tell her to knock off the crap, when she tried it. He has agreed. I also said that if I feel like things are spiraling out of control, I will leave for Los Angeles, take the kids, and take Angelina and Pauline to Disneyland with my kids until his mom leaves to which he agreed.

I also plan to set time limits each day as to just how much time we will be spending with her. Somewhere in this, Russell has his 6th grade graduation, so we will have to invite her to visit for that. *blag*

I wrote Mike an email detailing what I want for Mother's day.

What I want for mother's day...

I'd like picture frames made by each child and I'd like Genny to have sat in pretty clothes at Walmart for nice pictures, so I can have a set of pictures like I got for Russell's school pix. I'd like the pictures on our photo cards from SF turned into prints. I'd like each child to select their favorite picture from that, so I can make the picture frame I bought in SF. I have craft supplies for the pictures -- you just need to purchase frames at Walmart. They can use paint, stickers, buttons, etc.

What I'd like from you is to be taken to the mall to return the stuff your mom sent and to get the phone cord you need for your cell phone, so that you can carry your phone with you all the time, so that I have a way to reach you in an emergency or so the school can contact you regarding Russell. I'd like to go to Sears and poke around to find clothes for each child and maybe a comfy something for me to wear.

Beyond that, I'd like you guys to finish cleaning up the house --

I'd like the livingroom thoroughly vacuumed (furniture pulled out, etc.)

I'd like the entire house dusted

I'd like the kitchen floor kept up on an ongoing basis

I'd like the shelves finished for the kitchen and installed and the baker's rack moved or removed.

I'd like the contact paper replaced in the kitchen

I'd like the bathroom floors swiffered

I love you,

Wendy

I am going to go back to bed now. The percocet should be kicking over soon.

Tomorrow is the big day.

I'm scared.

Mikey's coming with me to hang out with me while I freak out mightily.

My knee hurts so much I'm crying as I walk now. I'm actually a bit nauseous from the pain, if you can believe it.

The bruising is spreading and I'm sure after tomorrow that's going to look even worse. I get a pretty bandage for the thing. I have permission to wear a big ass tent dress. I've even been encouraged to do so. Heh.

I feel ugly and cranky and sick and whiny. Must be bed time.

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Today's good news?

Genny turned 5. She's so beautiful.

I am an evil woman.

I pretty much insisted that my husband bait and set mouse traps. We've got nesting mice in our bedroom and I'm done.

Last night, in my pain-ridden insomnia, they were making a hell of a lot of noise for small critters that can fit in the palm of my hand (should I actually want to touch one of the disease carrying vermin).

Tonight, they're trap bait.

Fuckers.

__

I'm really worn from the pain in my knee right now, so I'm just going to bitch about mice and go to bed.

Nighty-night. *wave*

I had this beautiful entry written about the trials and tribulations of being in a wheelchair because like, I finally got mine, and my computer ate it.

Basically, I've been finding out what a pain in the ass it is.

People see the extra space in handicapped parking spaces as a place to put shopping carts. Hell, even I have used them that way, only now that I am actually needing accoutrements to get around, I understand WHY they have extra space in handicapped parking spots -- it's just so you can get out of the freaking car with your wheelchair or crutches or cane or whatever. People who park in those spots have special needs and lots of equipment.

Suffice it to say, I will plan to walk the extra 100 feet and put the damned shopping cart where it belongs, even if the kids have to walk with me. I had somehow excused myself because I had a car full of kids and I will never use that excuse again.

Also, doors are wide enough for you to get a wheelchair through, however, the contractors don't take into consideration your hands and fingers that actually wheel you through. I've had my fingers clipped so much that I ought to be wearing protective gloves or something. In a few stores, I've had to ask people to actually just shove me through the damned door. It's humiliating. I can't imagine having to live like this. I would truly love some payback -- take a couple of contractors stuff them in a wheelchair and have them try to get around.

And bathrooms are the worst.

I swear even the ones that have handicapped insignia on the outside are LYING their butts off. You might be able to get a chair IN there, but getting it out is another matter. There is often no space for you AND the wheelchair. Or you get into the bathroom, but there's no way to turn around to shut the door short of getting out of the chair. Fortunately, I can do this, but what about folks who can't?

The other thing is that they put handicapped bathrooms all the way in the back, so you have to wheel your way through all those people getting in and out of the bathroom stalls in tight spaces and apologize the entire way -- just to go pee and then do the same thing coming out. The other thing is that because your hands aren't washed as you leave the stall, you're touching your wheelchair and crutches after using a public restroom BEFORE you can wash your hands. So not only do I wash my hands after using the public restroom, I also wash the stuff my hands touch because EW!

Yesterday, I put my crutches in the back of the wheelchair, so I could park outside the bathroom and then crutch into pee because wheeling in there is SOOOO not worth it.

The other thing is that there are a lot of places that claim to be accessible, but are accessible only within the confines of bare minimum law. Getting around the corners and through the maze that some places can be is very difficult. For example, I literally bounced off the walls with my knuckles getting around the corners of the hallway to the handicapped bathroom at a mall yesterday, trying to avoid hurting folks, when I took Genny to a birthday party.

For another example of this, try going through the clothing section of most stores in a wheelchair and see if you don't eat a lot of price tags. I tell ya. The other thing is that there are often stores that put stuff up on the walls and they don't leave you a stick to get stuff down, so you're sitting in your chair admiring some blouse on the wall that you can't get to. And retail ain't exactly known for having lots of friendly helpful employees.

And honestly, a lot of folks in wheelchairs aren't in them for a long time. There are a lot of people like me who are waiting for their surgery or are recovering from surgery and will be back to walking upright. They've stopped and told me that -- "Hey, I was like you a month ago -- I just started being able to walk last week on my own."

I swear, I could advocate easily for wheelchair bound individuals -- like in a heartbeat, baby.

---

And my knee?

Swollen up to epic proportions. I swear, my knee is going to have stretch marks from this. It's so big and awful. I haven't quite gotten to breaking blood vessels again, but I'm really close. I actually have a bit of a shadow on the top of it right now, so I think I'm getting there.

Yesterday, we had dinner at Silvia's and I didn't do tons, but what I did was more than I should. I felt so stupid. And last night I paid -- all night long.

But I did get to eat some awesome hamburgers from the bbq. Tom had bought some meat freshly ground at a butcher's and wanted hamburgers and someone to share them with. Silvia was going to make corn, but the corn delivery person didn't bring it (her nephew). So I sent Mike back to the house to get a big can of Bush's baked beans. We sauteed some onions, I ground up some mustard seeds and put in a bit of maple syrup -- the beans were awesome. Silvia sliced all kinds of goodies for the burgers -- avocados, onions, tomatoes, lettuce, etc. I brought some zucchini relish. And Tom brought the frozen french fries in a bag that you bake in the oven. I swear it was just a big comfort food meal and really lovely to spend the time with such dear friends.

My knee, however, was not thrilled that I took things back and forth to the table and that I helped cook in the kitchen with Silvia. It was unhappy that I chose to leave my crutches in the car to go up and down the stairs into and out of the house and wander around. It was not happy that I got up to check on Genny several times. Generally, it was very miserable and screeched very loudly for vicodan, often. I took my one vicodan at my appointed times, wished I'd taken two, and waited patiently for going to bed. When I got home, I took two and went to bed with a bag of ice perched on my knee.

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With the advent of spring, we have the invasion of the rodents. We have a mouse living in my closet and we have finally closed the door and put a glue trap in there, so he can't get out for water. Every night, we hear him shuffling about a little less. I've finally gotten stern with Mike and told him to put a little peanutbutter on a snap trap so we can trap it, kill it, and be done.

In the kitchen, Russell has just informed me that the glue trap has claimed yet another victim.

It must be spring by BLM land, huh?