Winter came back today and beat up spring. More snow on the mountains. Spring is supposed to make an amazing comeback and pants winter. In the meantime, my window is cold.
I'm really, really tired.
I've got 40 papers to correct, a CD to create, a form to create, a paper to write a draft of, and my allergies and asthma are kicking my ass.
On the plus side, today, I made headway on the CD, three loads of laundry, and dinner got cooked last night, so it's just reheatable tonight.
I was supposed to do an observation today, but LaDawn was sick, so I left her alone. I should have done it anyway, but I don't want her disease. Mike said he was queasy and I refused to smooch him. I have a root canal on Tuesday. I can't afford to be sick.
Amped and tired. I'm sooo weird.
Friday, March 26, 2004
Wednesday, March 24, 2004
I fell apart tonight in my families' class. She was lecturing about how self-esteem for families of special needs kids is an issue and she read us quotes from a friend of hers she'd interviewed that said that it was particularly validating when a professional recognized what a good mom she was. It hit me how little validation of that nature I've had.
I think the double punch was the further commentary about how this parent never felt like their day was done -- how she'd stayed up half the night with her sick child and hadn't gotten to writing letters to politicians voting on issues critical to the services the government might provide her son and how she felt like it was her responsibility to know IDEA inside and out and to be the ultimate advocate for her child.
That did it.
I had to leave for a half hour and bawl my eyes out. I sat and talked with the department secretary who knows a lot of the stuff I've been going through and she gave me hankies and we just talked. Afterwards, I went downstairs and stopped at the afterschool program where my reading tutee from last semester was and said,"Hi!" I then had 4 little girls 8-9 years old perform the school song because we're in the NCAA sweet 16. They did it to show me what they'd done to get on the local news channel. Then they wrote me a note telling me how it was at 525 on Channel 2. I hugged R. and went back to class.
Through class, I held onto that note and just remembered all the good I can do.
Somewhere in class, the professor talked about that having a kid with a disability is NOT a grieving process. A grieving process means that it ends and raising a child with a disability does not end. It's an ongoing process. She drew a picture of a spring. She said parents will spiral upwards and something will be said or done and they'll go back to the bottom of that spring again.
I thought about waiting for the professor and apologizing, but I decided I'd end up in tears again and I had to drive home, so I wrote her this email.
Sorry for having to leave for a bit.
I hit the bottom of that spring again tonight from
listening to the Tracy quotes. I am struck by how
little affirmation I have ever gotten from
professionals and in fact, how much deriding,
insulting, and implied crap I have gotten from not
only the schools, but my in-laws, while I have been
working my fool head off trying to figure out how to
help my son be the math professor or engineer that he
dreams about being.
Before medication, my son would have thermo-nuclear
meltdowns in public. When he was 3, I could pick him
up, put him in the car and drive away from prying
eyes. When he was 9, I had to pick up my 65 lb child
from the middle of the road, where he had thrown
himself in a tantrum. I asked him to sit on the car
bumper and I was physically, just getting him off the
road and pulling him to the bumper. Because he was
angry, he chose to stiffen his body and he ended up
splayed on the hood instead, screaming blood murder
that I'd picked him up off the road. People were
walking by looking at me as though I must be beating
my child, when I was just trying to get him safe and
calm. I finally got him to sit on the bumper and
after a 15 minute time out, he finally came clean and
informed me that he had lied and NOT taken his
medication. I had to ground him for a week because
that's the punishment for lying in our family, so he
screamed and cried more. I told him, he needed to
stop or I could not drive him home to get his
medication, which he obviously needed. He snuffled
all the way home and the entire way, all I could think
about was what a rotten parent I was. I couldn't get
the vision of him splayed on the hood out of my head
and how absolutely awful I felt and how awful he must
feel to be so out of control. I know in my head I am
not a bad parent, but I *felt* like a bad parent. And
how those pedestrians walking by looked at us will
stay with me forever.
Also, I often feel completely ineffective in my
advocacy for my son. I know I am getting better and
learning more all the time, but this is my son. My
beautiful brown-eyed angel boy being called "lazy"
and "unmotivated" just makes me sad. That means that
the school isn't recognizing the good things in him
and is not recognizing his condition, and
particularly, they are not noticing how bonebreakingly
hard he is working all the time, nor how hard we are
working with him, so he can live his dreams.
While the diagnosis of cerebral palsy will help some
of that, I am not always ready to deal with the pity I
see in people when I tell them he has cerebral palsy
and ADHD, any more than I was prepared to deal with
the school's complete ignorance about his ADHD before
his cerebral palsy diagnosis.
I would have stayed to talk, but after examining my
fragility level I realized I'd end up in tears again
and it took me a while to get calm the first time, so
I decided I'd write.
The neurology appointment for our first opinion is on
Monday. My root canal is Tuesday. In some ways, I
think the root canal will be a lot easier.
I think the double punch was the further commentary about how this parent never felt like their day was done -- how she'd stayed up half the night with her sick child and hadn't gotten to writing letters to politicians voting on issues critical to the services the government might provide her son and how she felt like it was her responsibility to know IDEA inside and out and to be the ultimate advocate for her child.
That did it.
I had to leave for a half hour and bawl my eyes out. I sat and talked with the department secretary who knows a lot of the stuff I've been going through and she gave me hankies and we just talked. Afterwards, I went downstairs and stopped at the afterschool program where my reading tutee from last semester was and said,"Hi!" I then had 4 little girls 8-9 years old perform the school song because we're in the NCAA sweet 16. They did it to show me what they'd done to get on the local news channel. Then they wrote me a note telling me how it was at 525 on Channel 2. I hugged R. and went back to class.
Through class, I held onto that note and just remembered all the good I can do.
Somewhere in class, the professor talked about that having a kid with a disability is NOT a grieving process. A grieving process means that it ends and raising a child with a disability does not end. It's an ongoing process. She drew a picture of a spring. She said parents will spiral upwards and something will be said or done and they'll go back to the bottom of that spring again.
I thought about waiting for the professor and apologizing, but I decided I'd end up in tears again and I had to drive home, so I wrote her this email.
Sorry for having to leave for a bit.
I hit the bottom of that spring again tonight from
listening to the Tracy quotes. I am struck by how
little affirmation I have ever gotten from
professionals and in fact, how much deriding,
insulting, and implied crap I have gotten from not
only the schools, but my in-laws, while I have been
working my fool head off trying to figure out how to
help my son be the math professor or engineer that he
dreams about being.
Before medication, my son would have thermo-nuclear
meltdowns in public. When he was 3, I could pick him
up, put him in the car and drive away from prying
eyes. When he was 9, I had to pick up my 65 lb child
from the middle of the road, where he had thrown
himself in a tantrum. I asked him to sit on the car
bumper and I was physically, just getting him off the
road and pulling him to the bumper. Because he was
angry, he chose to stiffen his body and he ended up
splayed on the hood instead, screaming blood murder
that I'd picked him up off the road. People were
walking by looking at me as though I must be beating
my child, when I was just trying to get him safe and
calm. I finally got him to sit on the bumper and
after a 15 minute time out, he finally came clean and
informed me that he had lied and NOT taken his
medication. I had to ground him for a week because
that's the punishment for lying in our family, so he
screamed and cried more. I told him, he needed to
stop or I could not drive him home to get his
medication, which he obviously needed. He snuffled
all the way home and the entire way, all I could think
about was what a rotten parent I was. I couldn't get
the vision of him splayed on the hood out of my head
and how absolutely awful I felt and how awful he must
feel to be so out of control. I know in my head I am
not a bad parent, but I *felt* like a bad parent. And
how those pedestrians walking by looked at us will
stay with me forever.
Also, I often feel completely ineffective in my
advocacy for my son. I know I am getting better and
learning more all the time, but this is my son. My
beautiful brown-eyed angel boy being called "lazy"
and "unmotivated" just makes me sad. That means that
the school isn't recognizing the good things in him
and is not recognizing his condition, and
particularly, they are not noticing how bonebreakingly
hard he is working all the time, nor how hard we are
working with him, so he can live his dreams.
While the diagnosis of cerebral palsy will help some
of that, I am not always ready to deal with the pity I
see in people when I tell them he has cerebral palsy
and ADHD, any more than I was prepared to deal with
the school's complete ignorance about his ADHD before
his cerebral palsy diagnosis.
I would have stayed to talk, but after examining my
fragility level I realized I'd end up in tears again
and it took me a while to get calm the first time, so
I decided I'd write.
The neurology appointment for our first opinion is on
Monday. My root canal is Tuesday. In some ways, I
think the root canal will be a lot easier.
Monday, March 22, 2004
I am getting really annoyed.
My MIL is really pushing. She keeps sending these syrupy emails to me that are inferences to demonstrate that she thinks I'm a great mom. They're those stupid email forward things that blather poetic that I think if they came from anyone else, I would tolerate them, skim them, and hit delete. However, being that they are from the woman who has made it clear in no uncertain terms that she thinks I suck, I'm made a little nauseous by them.
I guess I'm not won over easily by platitudes in light of behavior that has truly demonstrated that she doesn't actually hold me in any light other than the cold plastic glow of contempt. At this point, the feeling is mutual.
And email that reeks of hypocrisy is nothing short of insulting.
I know she's been trying to see if she can come "visit" sooner, however, I am done. In my fantasy, I am not here because I am certain that I'll have determined that I have other stuff to do in a different state that must be done the week she comes because the thought of having to deal with her in my home around my children makes me ill. The drag is that logisitically that is not possible without fucking up Mike because he'll be in the middle of his annual massive overtime gig, which means I'll be single parenting 16 hours a day, and even if he isn't, it'll be sticking him in the role of singleparenting which is not bad, but is hard and stressful on him. However, the thought of entertaining my mother-in-law, while being under her constant scrutiny with the security that she'll make commentary about how with her kids she did everything differently and the constant inference being what a rotten mother I am is truly an anti-thrill -- under the category of chewing glass, undergoing a root canal, and giving birth, simultaneously. The thought of doing that without Mike's support is unthinkable.
Yeah, come to my house, put my parenting under a microscope and tell me how you'd do things differently. Yup, we all saw how your parenting worked out. I guess one drug addict out of 4 isn't a bad average. Yeesh!
Mike is already writing the email that delineates what dates in the next several months will work and what dates won't work around his schedule. Of course, if he mentions that I'm considering leaving the state, he's getting a purple nurple.
I just don't want to deal with her shit. What cool about this time, is that my husband will stand up for me and we can always send her out of the house. He's also making it clear that she'll be staying in a hotel and has even offered to pay for it -- I told Mike,"Just say you'd be happy to pay for a hotel." Mike said,"I'd be 'happy' to pay for it?" I asked,"Okay, do you want your mom to stay here?" He basically did the "hell-no!" headshake and hurriedly typed how happy he would be to pay for her room.
I love my husband. I'm glad he loves me.
My MIL is really pushing. She keeps sending these syrupy emails to me that are inferences to demonstrate that she thinks I'm a great mom. They're those stupid email forward things that blather poetic that I think if they came from anyone else, I would tolerate them, skim them, and hit delete. However, being that they are from the woman who has made it clear in no uncertain terms that she thinks I suck, I'm made a little nauseous by them.
I guess I'm not won over easily by platitudes in light of behavior that has truly demonstrated that she doesn't actually hold me in any light other than the cold plastic glow of contempt. At this point, the feeling is mutual.
And email that reeks of hypocrisy is nothing short of insulting.
I know she's been trying to see if she can come "visit" sooner, however, I am done. In my fantasy, I am not here because I am certain that I'll have determined that I have other stuff to do in a different state that must be done the week she comes because the thought of having to deal with her in my home around my children makes me ill. The drag is that logisitically that is not possible without fucking up Mike because he'll be in the middle of his annual massive overtime gig, which means I'll be single parenting 16 hours a day, and even if he isn't, it'll be sticking him in the role of singleparenting which is not bad, but is hard and stressful on him. However, the thought of entertaining my mother-in-law, while being under her constant scrutiny with the security that she'll make commentary about how with her kids she did everything differently and the constant inference being what a rotten mother I am is truly an anti-thrill -- under the category of chewing glass, undergoing a root canal, and giving birth, simultaneously. The thought of doing that without Mike's support is unthinkable.
Yeah, come to my house, put my parenting under a microscope and tell me how you'd do things differently. Yup, we all saw how your parenting worked out. I guess one drug addict out of 4 isn't a bad average. Yeesh!
Mike is already writing the email that delineates what dates in the next several months will work and what dates won't work around his schedule. Of course, if he mentions that I'm considering leaving the state, he's getting a purple nurple.
I just don't want to deal with her shit. What cool about this time, is that my husband will stand up for me and we can always send her out of the house. He's also making it clear that she'll be staying in a hotel and has even offered to pay for it -- I told Mike,"Just say you'd be happy to pay for a hotel." Mike said,"I'd be 'happy' to pay for it?" I asked,"Okay, do you want your mom to stay here?" He basically did the "hell-no!" headshake and hurriedly typed how happy he would be to pay for her room.
I love my husband. I'm glad he loves me.
Saturday, March 20, 2004
So, I know the oven repair guy is coming today and we got told yesterday to expect him late because despite the fact that we had a "morning" appointment, we were number eight on a list of 18. So I'm thinking about dinner time, you know?
He called at 11 and said within about 45 minutes.
I've been a raving lunatic because I expected I had all leisurely danged day to clean the house, so he didn't report us to the health department and well, we don't.
Mike showered and then finished the mopping. I had Russell vacuum twice (poor kid!) and kept sending Genny outside to play so she wouldn't muck anything up.
Oh, and I'm sitting here half dressed (try not to imagine -- you'll make yourself ill) typing this, wondering if the noises I'm hearing in the kitchen are the guy or Mike finishing the floors.
(PLEASEOHPLEASELETITBEMIKE)
And dude -- I'm finding fleece for $2-4 a yard on sale at various places and making quick blankets for Genny's preschool. I've got to get to the other ones, but I think I'm going to end up waiting til May, as I'm up to my butt in papers this month and work and stuff like that.
Must. Flee. This. Place.
He called at 11 and said within about 45 minutes.
I've been a raving lunatic because I expected I had all leisurely danged day to clean the house, so he didn't report us to the health department and well, we don't.
Mike showered and then finished the mopping. I had Russell vacuum twice (poor kid!) and kept sending Genny outside to play so she wouldn't muck anything up.
Oh, and I'm sitting here half dressed (try not to imagine -- you'll make yourself ill) typing this, wondering if the noises I'm hearing in the kitchen are the guy or Mike finishing the floors.
(PLEASEOHPLEASELETITBEMIKE)
And dude -- I'm finding fleece for $2-4 a yard on sale at various places and making quick blankets for Genny's preschool. I've got to get to the other ones, but I think I'm going to end up waiting til May, as I'm up to my butt in papers this month and work and stuff like that.
Must. Flee. This. Place.
Friday, March 19, 2004
The Friday Five
If you ....
1. ...owned a restaurant, what kind of food would you serve?
I would probably serve homestyle meals for families. I would also probably have a pretty extensive selection of vegetarian selections because I'm a really good vegetarian cook. Though my family will eat such things, my husband would rather have his meat and potatoes. The only exception he makes to that is my vegetarian lasagna which is famous with friends in several states. I haven't had the time to do tofu balls, but I think I could win him on that, too.
I make really good meals. I have a good sense of smell, so I know rather intuitively the kinds of things to make each meal amazing. I swear I am not bragging. I have friends who come to my house to eat on a regular basis and rave on and on about the food.
My desserts, on the other hand, are pretty limited. I make a really yummy chocolate chip cookie and delish brownies. Beyond that I am the undisputed queen of the lemon cake and any kind of fresh fruit betty, torte, or pie. I think for desserts I would have my friend Mel and her sister come bake for me and we'd run the place together. Those two are amazing dessert chefs. *drool*
I would also, due to my deep and abiding love of the chile pepper have to have an extensive salsa bar.
2. ...owned a small store, what kind of merchandise would you sell?
I would run a thrift shop that helped the poor in my community. I would see people's throw away stuff and I'd probably even go so far as to sell stuff that would help someone refinish furniture pieces and I would specialize in retaining kids' clothes for all sizes. I might even run furniture refinishing classes to help folks do a good job of it.
3. ...wrote a book, what genre would it be?
I still want to write a book on the families of children with disabilities.
4. ...ran a school, what would you teach?
I would teach hands on science, and would find ways of including everything else in the same gasp. By teaching science that kids can touch, you can include literacy, math, and a lot of other stuff. You could teach chemical reactions by having kids bake! You could show the life cycle by having them grow a garden and figure out ways to keep the bunnies out.
5. ...recorded an album, what kind of music would be on it?
Irish folk music.
If you ....
1. ...owned a restaurant, what kind of food would you serve?
I would probably serve homestyle meals for families. I would also probably have a pretty extensive selection of vegetarian selections because I'm a really good vegetarian cook. Though my family will eat such things, my husband would rather have his meat and potatoes. The only exception he makes to that is my vegetarian lasagna which is famous with friends in several states. I haven't had the time to do tofu balls, but I think I could win him on that, too.
I make really good meals. I have a good sense of smell, so I know rather intuitively the kinds of things to make each meal amazing. I swear I am not bragging. I have friends who come to my house to eat on a regular basis and rave on and on about the food.
My desserts, on the other hand, are pretty limited. I make a really yummy chocolate chip cookie and delish brownies. Beyond that I am the undisputed queen of the lemon cake and any kind of fresh fruit betty, torte, or pie. I think for desserts I would have my friend Mel and her sister come bake for me and we'd run the place together. Those two are amazing dessert chefs. *drool*
I would also, due to my deep and abiding love of the chile pepper have to have an extensive salsa bar.
2. ...owned a small store, what kind of merchandise would you sell?
I would run a thrift shop that helped the poor in my community. I would see people's throw away stuff and I'd probably even go so far as to sell stuff that would help someone refinish furniture pieces and I would specialize in retaining kids' clothes for all sizes. I might even run furniture refinishing classes to help folks do a good job of it.
3. ...wrote a book, what genre would it be?
I still want to write a book on the families of children with disabilities.
4. ...ran a school, what would you teach?
I would teach hands on science, and would find ways of including everything else in the same gasp. By teaching science that kids can touch, you can include literacy, math, and a lot of other stuff. You could teach chemical reactions by having kids bake! You could show the life cycle by having them grow a garden and figure out ways to keep the bunnies out.
5. ...recorded an album, what kind of music would be on it?
Irish folk music.
Thursday, March 18, 2004
Russell had his MRI yesterday. I stayed in the room with him, holding onto his leg while he tried to remain very very still. They'd given him a sedative, so the techs were able to get really clear and perfect shots of him. I was really surprised at just how still he could be.
The magnet stuff creeped me out entirely. I wanted to flee the room because I could feel it all around me and it was a force of will to remain in the room. It was pretty icky.
However, I think something's going on with Bear's meds. Yesterday and today, he's had a lot of tics. I think we may have to reduce how much medication he takes, but I'm waiting on the neurologist to do so. I was concerned last night because he was really bad after the sedative and S. was here and we were both freaking out about him. About the time I had finally decided I might have to take him to the emergency room, he got a lot more normal. He was still absent-minded as hell, but at least not moving his head from side to side, blinking, and wiggling his arms all over the place, while he was ostensibly trying to just leave them by his side.
God, this stuff is scarier than hell.
I made Genny the dress. I ended up in 1230AM forgoing the whole pinafore over the top of shamrock fabric and just making a sash. I'll make the pinafore for the easter outfit. I was lazy and just put a hem of lace on because I didn't want to slip stitch anything at 1AM, oddly enough. Apparently, her daycare folks made a big stink and she was still twirling around the house when she came home. Next year, I'm just buying her the shirt.
I made the meatballs right. Two times running Mike has made them and they've been icky. The first time, he used ground turkey and there's something way revolting about turkey and spaghetti sauce. The second time, they just weren't right. I don't know what he did, but they were just off.
Tonight, I made them. They smell right and delicious and everything right.
The magnet stuff creeped me out entirely. I wanted to flee the room because I could feel it all around me and it was a force of will to remain in the room. It was pretty icky.
However, I think something's going on with Bear's meds. Yesterday and today, he's had a lot of tics. I think we may have to reduce how much medication he takes, but I'm waiting on the neurologist to do so. I was concerned last night because he was really bad after the sedative and S. was here and we were both freaking out about him. About the time I had finally decided I might have to take him to the emergency room, he got a lot more normal. He was still absent-minded as hell, but at least not moving his head from side to side, blinking, and wiggling his arms all over the place, while he was ostensibly trying to just leave them by his side.
God, this stuff is scarier than hell.
I made Genny the dress. I ended up in 1230AM forgoing the whole pinafore over the top of shamrock fabric and just making a sash. I'll make the pinafore for the easter outfit. I was lazy and just put a hem of lace on because I didn't want to slip stitch anything at 1AM, oddly enough. Apparently, her daycare folks made a big stink and she was still twirling around the house when she came home. Next year, I'm just buying her the shirt.
I made the meatballs right. Two times running Mike has made them and they've been icky. The first time, he used ground turkey and there's something way revolting about turkey and spaghetti sauce. The second time, they just weren't right. I don't know what he did, but they were just off.
Tonight, I made them. They smell right and delicious and everything right.
Tuesday, March 16, 2004
Well, you gotta watch for those toxic chemicals these days, I tell ya.
I'm writing my paper about my pretend child -- she's a 17 year old mentally retarded girl who is non-verbal, violent, and so far has not figured the social graces necessary to work well with others. The thing is -- I think if I had had a retarded child first, I wouldn't have the other two. I think that Russell takes a lot of work and effort and he's a smart capable kid in a lot of ways. I cannot imagine having to cope with a child with severe mental retardation and have to consider the possibility of a long-term care facility for my child.
In fact, I think it takes pure guts to have a second child after having a retarded child. I know I wouldn't have done it. And it's not that I'm being selfish, I just know that I wouldn't have a whole lot left over after dealing with a retarded child when I was a single mom. I barely had much left over after dealing with my constantly sick Bear boy as it was and is and I often feel guilty for the bare minimum attention Genny gets after I've done all the crap I have to do for Russell. I often find myself making up for it somehow.
My latest guilt trip involves making her a green dress for St. Patrick's Day. I'm making the middle dress with a green gingham under dress and a shamrock pinafore. The pinafore will be switched out to a matching butterfly and flowers in blue for Easter. Two bangs for my buck, baby!
The bunnies are frisky, the quail are nesting as cute as can be in little holes under branches of sage brush, and the new rooster has his phermone thing going on. This is of course the same rooster that attacked my ass on Saturday. I bent over and was collecting eggs and suddenly felt something weird and painful on my butt. Thinking it was my husband trying to playfully smack me with the rake or something I whirled to see this F**KING rooster start to fluff up his feathers and go to make another pass at me. I got the rake and chased his stupid fowl ass out of the hen house. I came out and looked at my husband and in utter disbelief uttered the phrase,"That stupid cock attacked my ass."
My husband, stupid man that he is, could not contain his smirk. He said,"I know how he feels." I glared at him and dusted off my butt and stomped inside, swearing to wreak all kinds of fowl havoc upon the rooster and inflict celibacy infinitum upon the husband.
Instead, I just made Mike collect the eggs because the rooster doesn't attack his ass and I attacked Mike, which worked well for all involved.
I'm writing my paper about my pretend child -- she's a 17 year old mentally retarded girl who is non-verbal, violent, and so far has not figured the social graces necessary to work well with others. The thing is -- I think if I had had a retarded child first, I wouldn't have the other two. I think that Russell takes a lot of work and effort and he's a smart capable kid in a lot of ways. I cannot imagine having to cope with a child with severe mental retardation and have to consider the possibility of a long-term care facility for my child.
In fact, I think it takes pure guts to have a second child after having a retarded child. I know I wouldn't have done it. And it's not that I'm being selfish, I just know that I wouldn't have a whole lot left over after dealing with a retarded child when I was a single mom. I barely had much left over after dealing with my constantly sick Bear boy as it was and is and I often feel guilty for the bare minimum attention Genny gets after I've done all the crap I have to do for Russell. I often find myself making up for it somehow.
My latest guilt trip involves making her a green dress for St. Patrick's Day. I'm making the middle dress with a green gingham under dress and a shamrock pinafore. The pinafore will be switched out to a matching butterfly and flowers in blue for Easter. Two bangs for my buck, baby!
The bunnies are frisky, the quail are nesting as cute as can be in little holes under branches of sage brush, and the new rooster has his phermone thing going on. This is of course the same rooster that attacked my ass on Saturday. I bent over and was collecting eggs and suddenly felt something weird and painful on my butt. Thinking it was my husband trying to playfully smack me with the rake or something I whirled to see this F**KING rooster start to fluff up his feathers and go to make another pass at me. I got the rake and chased his stupid fowl ass out of the hen house. I came out and looked at my husband and in utter disbelief uttered the phrase,"That stupid cock attacked my ass."
My husband, stupid man that he is, could not contain his smirk. He said,"I know how he feels." I glared at him and dusted off my butt and stomped inside, swearing to wreak all kinds of fowl havoc upon the rooster and inflict celibacy infinitum upon the husband.
Instead, I just made Mike collect the eggs because the rooster doesn't attack his ass and I attacked Mike, which worked well for all involved.
Friday, March 12, 2004
It must be spring.
I had this odd thought -- wow, there's grass in my flower bed and I don't want it there. Then I bent over and pulled some of it out. Then, I thought,"hey, I should go get a damned shovel and dig the big rooted in alfalfa out" -- hay seeded I'm sure, but then I had this other idea...I should buy bags of steer manure, turn the soil and buy seeds of pretty flowers to put in all the bare treated soil. Way sick. Way wrong. I've got papers to write, manuals to edit, and tons of calls to make. But the smell of freshly turned soil turns me into the addict I am -- a gardening fool.
Spring always does these weird things to me. Because then I was looking out back at the apple tree, the pear tree, and the two peach trees and I was thinking how I need to get fruit tree fertilizer and the pruners and get cracking. Then I had chainsaw dreams for the ugly locust trees in the front yard, one of which when fully leaved partially blocks my awesome view of valley below and the Sierras. Then I was looking at my front yard and thinking about what a blank slate it is. I imagined the tiered raised beds with a little lavendar and sedum, with poppies and echinacea popping out all over. Then I think I had one.
I had a xeriscape orgasm.
Damn, I need a life.
I had this odd thought -- wow, there's grass in my flower bed and I don't want it there. Then I bent over and pulled some of it out. Then, I thought,"hey, I should go get a damned shovel and dig the big rooted in alfalfa out" -- hay seeded I'm sure, but then I had this other idea...I should buy bags of steer manure, turn the soil and buy seeds of pretty flowers to put in all the bare treated soil. Way sick. Way wrong. I've got papers to write, manuals to edit, and tons of calls to make. But the smell of freshly turned soil turns me into the addict I am -- a gardening fool.
Spring always does these weird things to me. Because then I was looking out back at the apple tree, the pear tree, and the two peach trees and I was thinking how I need to get fruit tree fertilizer and the pruners and get cracking. Then I had chainsaw dreams for the ugly locust trees in the front yard, one of which when fully leaved partially blocks my awesome view of valley below and the Sierras. Then I was looking at my front yard and thinking about what a blank slate it is. I imagined the tiered raised beds with a little lavendar and sedum, with poppies and echinacea popping out all over. Then I think I had one.
I had a xeriscape orgasm.
Damn, I need a life.
Wednesday, March 10, 2004
I had a mid-term today and well, you know me. I studied my fool head off, but most particularly, I found a website of the publisher of the book that had a bunch of multiple choice, short-answer, and true-false questions for each chapter. Apparently, the professor found the same site because 75% of the questions on the test were from that website -- word for word.
Score!
And I hadn't read all the text.
BAD graduate student! BADDDDD!
Hee! Nonetheless, my 4-7 class was done by 450! You still needed to scrape the char off me and call me toast, however. I'm still doing that insane insomnia thing. Ambien, schmambien.
If I were someone else watching me, I'd say I needed to get laid. And I'd be right. Too much stress is bad. Too much sex is rarely bad, not to mention badly rare.
Where did I leave that hubbins?
Score!
And I hadn't read all the text.
BAD graduate student! BADDDDD!
Hee! Nonetheless, my 4-7 class was done by 450! You still needed to scrape the char off me and call me toast, however. I'm still doing that insane insomnia thing. Ambien, schmambien.
If I were someone else watching me, I'd say I needed to get laid. And I'd be right. Too much stress is bad. Too much sex is rarely bad, not to mention badly rare.
Where did I leave that hubbins?
Tuesday, March 09, 2004
Just call me the undisputed queen of the very long day.
I did an observation today of a child who has all the earmarks of a very ADHD child at my babygirl's old daycare. It made me sad. He absolutely was not able to stop fidgeting. All the other kids were attentive during reading time, but he was alternately playing with his tongue and then his fingers & tongue so much that he ended up drooling on himself and having to wipe his chin. Which while damned funny, also represents a problem in terms of how school will work out for him later.
During schoolwork time, he absolutely could not stay on task for any reason. While he did a much better job of coloring than the other kid, the other kid was done with all his schoolwork and playing in about 20 minutes. This kid was still at it after 45.
He seemed behaviorally okay, other than the obvious attention issues, while I was there. However, the caregiver informed me that he got into a knockdown drag out brawl with another kid after I left, which is precisely the reason I wanted to observe him, but I will just keep visiting and then come up with a plan with his caregiver. So far, whenever I've been there, he's been good as gold, so maybe we need to get past the "Hey, cool new person spending time here" phase and get right down to the "I'm comfortable with you around, so I'm going to knock the socks off another kid" phase.
I think he is a kid that would really benefit from a positive reward system. I've got to get my damned book from Am@zon, though, to start to discuss it with his caregiver.
His parents are very touchy about the whole thing
I did an observation today of a child who has all the earmarks of a very ADHD child at my babygirl's old daycare. It made me sad. He absolutely was not able to stop fidgeting. All the other kids were attentive during reading time, but he was alternately playing with his tongue and then his fingers & tongue so much that he ended up drooling on himself and having to wipe his chin. Which while damned funny, also represents a problem in terms of how school will work out for him later.
During schoolwork time, he absolutely could not stay on task for any reason. While he did a much better job of coloring than the other kid, the other kid was done with all his schoolwork and playing in about 20 minutes. This kid was still at it after 45.
He seemed behaviorally okay, other than the obvious attention issues, while I was there. However, the caregiver informed me that he got into a knockdown drag out brawl with another kid after I left, which is precisely the reason I wanted to observe him, but I will just keep visiting and then come up with a plan with his caregiver. So far, whenever I've been there, he's been good as gold, so maybe we need to get past the "Hey, cool new person spending time here" phase and get right down to the "I'm comfortable with you around, so I'm going to knock the socks off another kid" phase.
I think he is a kid that would really benefit from a positive reward system. I've got to get my damned book from Am@zon, though, to start to discuss it with his caregiver.
His parents are very touchy about the whole thing
Monday, March 08, 2004
Yesterday, was a really good day. I got a lot done and that kept me busy. I cooked a big dinner for the guys, so Russ would sleep well for his sleep study.
And then today arrived, and I just was feeling like a bad mommy again. And no, it doesn't make sense. I'm not a bad mommy and I know that, but sometimes, I just feel like a bad mommy and I just have to ride it out. I am struck by how I am experiencing this as a grieving process. Some days, I cry and some days I don't. Today, was a cry day.
I'm in the process of getting records from the hospital and from the special education preschool. I talked to the legal advocacy people and they're probably going to come to the IEP meeting, so I get the IEP written well. I was surprised as we talked about this stuff on the phone, just how clear I am about exactly what I think needs to happen for him. Then, I began to think about how little I've been listened to and the Bad Mommy feeling came back.
I told my class about it tonight and I thought I would cry, and while I came dangerously close, I took strength when they laughed when I said,"Hey, on the good news front, I will never have to fight for his IEP eligibility again." After the IEP has been put together, I will go to the regional center and will apply for Medicaid and SSI as protectionary measures -- just in case. He may be able to draw SSI into an account that he can access when he is 18, which will supplement the money we are saving for his college fund. I figure, if something happens and he needs that money, then it is all set up for him in advance. I told LaDawn, so she does the same thing for her kid.
The class tonight is the class for the instructor whose parents were in the car wreck. She brought matchbox cars and showed us what happened. I wish she hadn't. I was fighting the tears listening to how her elderly parents got out of the car after the first car sideswiped them. The second car that hit 10 minutes later is the one that hurt her dad, who has been in a coma since that moment. Her mother is a diabetic in a wheelchair, who relied on her husband for her care. Overall, it's very sad. The instructor's going to be going down there all the time, but I asked, "If you mother is dependent on your father for her care, are you going to see about a home healthcare aide while he's in the hospital?" She had already talked about if her father passed that her mother would come live with her, so I wasn't being totally tactless, though afterwards, I wish I'd just shut up about it. But I love this woman like she's family, so I'm worried. She's iconic in the amount of respect she has and she doesn't even have the title of professor to bandy about, as she's in the doctoral program, but people know her better than the chair. I just wish I could do more to be helpful.
On my own health front, my diabetes is not hideous, but it's not great either. I'm not testing sugars much at all, and I should be. I'm not exercising and I should be. I am losing weight because generally, I'm just not eating what I should be. I need to be doing all of my shoulds, however, because swollen ankles are pretty common for me and that's a bad thing. It's beautiful spring weather, so tomorrow after lunch, I'm going to walk. I figure something every so often is better than nothing ever and with the weather being so lovely, I need to do my part to increase my spring freckle population. Tomorrow, I promised Russell I'd get up with him and cook him breakfast, so we could hang together a little while. So I'll cook myself a little something, too.
One. Day. At. A. Time.
And then today arrived, and I just was feeling like a bad mommy again. And no, it doesn't make sense. I'm not a bad mommy and I know that, but sometimes, I just feel like a bad mommy and I just have to ride it out. I am struck by how I am experiencing this as a grieving process. Some days, I cry and some days I don't. Today, was a cry day.
I'm in the process of getting records from the hospital and from the special education preschool. I talked to the legal advocacy people and they're probably going to come to the IEP meeting, so I get the IEP written well. I was surprised as we talked about this stuff on the phone, just how clear I am about exactly what I think needs to happen for him. Then, I began to think about how little I've been listened to and the Bad Mommy feeling came back.
I told my class about it tonight and I thought I would cry, and while I came dangerously close, I took strength when they laughed when I said,"Hey, on the good news front, I will never have to fight for his IEP eligibility again." After the IEP has been put together, I will go to the regional center and will apply for Medicaid and SSI as protectionary measures -- just in case. He may be able to draw SSI into an account that he can access when he is 18, which will supplement the money we are saving for his college fund. I figure, if something happens and he needs that money, then it is all set up for him in advance. I told LaDawn, so she does the same thing for her kid.
The class tonight is the class for the instructor whose parents were in the car wreck. She brought matchbox cars and showed us what happened. I wish she hadn't. I was fighting the tears listening to how her elderly parents got out of the car after the first car sideswiped them. The second car that hit 10 minutes later is the one that hurt her dad, who has been in a coma since that moment. Her mother is a diabetic in a wheelchair, who relied on her husband for her care. Overall, it's very sad. The instructor's going to be going down there all the time, but I asked, "If you mother is dependent on your father for her care, are you going to see about a home healthcare aide while he's in the hospital?" She had already talked about if her father passed that her mother would come live with her, so I wasn't being totally tactless, though afterwards, I wish I'd just shut up about it. But I love this woman like she's family, so I'm worried. She's iconic in the amount of respect she has and she doesn't even have the title of professor to bandy about, as she's in the doctoral program, but people know her better than the chair. I just wish I could do more to be helpful.
On my own health front, my diabetes is not hideous, but it's not great either. I'm not testing sugars much at all, and I should be. I'm not exercising and I should be. I am losing weight because generally, I'm just not eating what I should be. I need to be doing all of my shoulds, however, because swollen ankles are pretty common for me and that's a bad thing. It's beautiful spring weather, so tomorrow after lunch, I'm going to walk. I figure something every so often is better than nothing ever and with the weather being so lovely, I need to do my part to increase my spring freckle population. Tomorrow, I promised Russell I'd get up with him and cook him breakfast, so we could hang together a little while. So I'll cook myself a little something, too.
One. Day. At. A. Time.
Friday, March 05, 2004
Friday Five
What was...
1. ...your first grade teacher's name?
Mrs. Fuller -- an honest to God battleaxe. She used to smack Georgy Porgy Puddin' and Pie's finger and Skipper McGoldrick, too. But if you'd known, Skipper, you'd have smacked him just for fun.
2. ...your favorite Saturday morning cartoon?
Gumby. Just shut up. I like Gumby. He was the bomb.
3. ...the name of your very first best friend?
Bill -- my brother. In elementary school, with 50% of the population suffering from some level of emotional or behavioral disorder, I didn't have many friends. I had four different schools from grade 6-9, so really I didn't have a best friend until high school and her name was An Ho. We invented our own language so we could talk about people without them knowing what we were saying. The only remaining word from that now lost language is "egnarts." Strange spelled backwards. Mentioning this word within a 10 block radius of either myself or An will result in an eruption of school girl laughter, I am under no obligation to explain.
4. ...your favorite breakfast cereal?
Grapenuts, loaded with sugar and milk and allowed to sit til slightly soft.
5. ...your favorite thing to do after school?
I am a book worm. What do you think? I read. When I finished reading, I read some more. I also climbed trees, hiked in the woods, skated, and cross-country skiied.
Still working on the Bear stuff. Didn't sleep much last night.
What'd the neurologist do to figure out cerebral palsy?
In order to reach his determination, the neurologist had him do some things. He had him close his eyes, put out his tongue and hold his arms in front of him with his fingers splayed. Most of us do that and our fingers stay relatively still. Russell's fingers were wiggling -- Pachtels/Bechtels I think they're called. He also said that his heel cords are really tight, something the PT said also, and asked if he walks on his toes, which he does. When he asked him to let his arms or legs go, there was a lot of tension in them and the doctor had a name for that also. His super thin body and lack of musculature and strength was another concern. Also, I think his history -- he had/has a hard time eating, he has always fallen a lot, he's always been uncoordinated, he has tremendous difficulty with fine motor tasks (I still help him button his dress shirts), and his odd gait were all also factors in this.
The PT wrote that she's worried about him in junior high because he's really easy to topple and all that jostling from class to class might make it easy to drop him. I worry about that one step further -- kids aren't nice and they might intentionally drop him.
I've been bawling all night. I should be counting my blessings -- he's not in a wheel chair, he doesn't have MR from this -- all in all it's pretty mild. I can't help reviewing every aspect of my pregnancy, his birth, etc., and wondering what I did to make this happen. That probably makes no sense at all, but it's where I am. I had some tactless boob send me the following:
I looked on the UCP website, and it said that perhaps 70% of CP cases aren't due to birth trauma, but start even before that...so it may not necessarily have anything to do with what happened at the hospital.
I emailed a friend through tears the following response:
This really sent me over the edge. Rational or not, in my hidden heart, it's all my fault, whether it is or not. I was trying to comfort myself with the fact that it was a really rough delivery and maybe trying too hard to put a brave face to how I was feeling because this hurts so deeply and profoundly. Every time I look at him, I want to throw myself at his feet and ask him to forgive me.
I've spent hours bawling over this. 70%? It really was my fault and I can never take back whatever stupid thing I did when I was pregnant that hurt him. I keep thinking maybe it was the bronchitis or some other thing I did that I just can't remember. I wanted to hope it was that nurse on top of me in surgery. I keep thinking about how I should have known to push his pediatrician or to just know that he wasn't like the other kids and it wasn't just ear infections. I had no basis of comparison or just didn't see it when I did.
I am so stupid and inept and he deserves so much more than this.
My bear did get a good night's sleep last night. His eye shadows weren't so deep this morning -- it's been a long time since I've seen that much light skin under his eyes. He has the sleep study on Sunday, so we'll probably go swimming to wear the kids out, so he sleeps well at the clinic.
They will call to schedule the MRI and the EEG is a week from Monday. I think those are more for his ADHD and to rule out other possibilities. It may also be possible to determine what part of his brain is affected.
What was...
1. ...your first grade teacher's name?
Mrs. Fuller -- an honest to God battleaxe. She used to smack Georgy Porgy Puddin' and Pie's finger and Skipper McGoldrick, too. But if you'd known, Skipper, you'd have smacked him just for fun.
2. ...your favorite Saturday morning cartoon?
Gumby. Just shut up. I like Gumby. He was the bomb.
3. ...the name of your very first best friend?
Bill -- my brother. In elementary school, with 50% of the population suffering from some level of emotional or behavioral disorder, I didn't have many friends. I had four different schools from grade 6-9, so really I didn't have a best friend until high school and her name was An Ho. We invented our own language so we could talk about people without them knowing what we were saying. The only remaining word from that now lost language is "egnarts." Strange spelled backwards. Mentioning this word within a 10 block radius of either myself or An will result in an eruption of school girl laughter, I am under no obligation to explain.
4. ...your favorite breakfast cereal?
Grapenuts, loaded with sugar and milk and allowed to sit til slightly soft.
5. ...your favorite thing to do after school?
I am a book worm. What do you think? I read. When I finished reading, I read some more. I also climbed trees, hiked in the woods, skated, and cross-country skiied.
Still working on the Bear stuff. Didn't sleep much last night.
What'd the neurologist do to figure out cerebral palsy?
In order to reach his determination, the neurologist had him do some things. He had him close his eyes, put out his tongue and hold his arms in front of him with his fingers splayed. Most of us do that and our fingers stay relatively still. Russell's fingers were wiggling -- Pachtels/Bechtels I think they're called. He also said that his heel cords are really tight, something the PT said also, and asked if he walks on his toes, which he does. When he asked him to let his arms or legs go, there was a lot of tension in them and the doctor had a name for that also. His super thin body and lack of musculature and strength was another concern. Also, I think his history -- he had/has a hard time eating, he has always fallen a lot, he's always been uncoordinated, he has tremendous difficulty with fine motor tasks (I still help him button his dress shirts), and his odd gait were all also factors in this.
The PT wrote that she's worried about him in junior high because he's really easy to topple and all that jostling from class to class might make it easy to drop him. I worry about that one step further -- kids aren't nice and they might intentionally drop him.
I've been bawling all night. I should be counting my blessings -- he's not in a wheel chair, he doesn't have MR from this -- all in all it's pretty mild. I can't help reviewing every aspect of my pregnancy, his birth, etc., and wondering what I did to make this happen. That probably makes no sense at all, but it's where I am. I had some tactless boob send me the following:
I looked on the UCP website, and it said that perhaps 70% of CP cases aren't due to birth trauma, but start even before that...so it may not necessarily have anything to do with what happened at the hospital.
I emailed a friend through tears the following response:
This really sent me over the edge. Rational or not, in my hidden heart, it's all my fault, whether it is or not. I was trying to comfort myself with the fact that it was a really rough delivery and maybe trying too hard to put a brave face to how I was feeling because this hurts so deeply and profoundly. Every time I look at him, I want to throw myself at his feet and ask him to forgive me.
I've spent hours bawling over this. 70%? It really was my fault and I can never take back whatever stupid thing I did when I was pregnant that hurt him. I keep thinking maybe it was the bronchitis or some other thing I did that I just can't remember. I wanted to hope it was that nurse on top of me in surgery. I keep thinking about how I should have known to push his pediatrician or to just know that he wasn't like the other kids and it wasn't just ear infections. I had no basis of comparison or just didn't see it when I did.
I am so stupid and inept and he deserves so much more than this.
My bear did get a good night's sleep last night. His eye shadows weren't so deep this morning -- it's been a long time since I've seen that much light skin under his eyes. He has the sleep study on Sunday, so we'll probably go swimming to wear the kids out, so he sleeps well at the clinic.
They will call to schedule the MRI and the EEG is a week from Monday. I think those are more for his ADHD and to rule out other possibilities. It may also be possible to determine what part of his brain is affected.
Thursday, March 04, 2004
Russell had his first neurology appointment today. I hadn't seriously considered cerebral palsy until Tuesday night when the physical therapist from the school called and said that she thought he might have a mild form of cerebral palsy. The neurologist confirmed that Russell has mild cerebral palsy. I called my friend, Robin, who attended his birth and as we talked about things, I am positive it was a birth trauma and that the hospital may have done things to cover it up. I am remembering more about the birth and I remember seeing the nurse/midwife get on the table and she was pushing on him so hard that I could feel it through the spinal block. She had to have been pushing on his shoulders and head because he was wedged up into my organs and he was breech. Then he spent 1-2 hours on a warming tray because he was blue. I don't know if I can realistically pursue anything after so much time has passed. I am not even sure that the RN in the birthing room with me (as my birthing parnter) is still alive to confirm this, but remembering it, is comforting, as I needed to know that I didn't do something that might have done this to him for my own peace of mind.
All that matters now is that I don't have to fight with the schools any more. He qualifies for special education automatically with CP, as it is considered brain trauma. We can get him physical therapy and help him. I am also sure I can request a lot more OT than he's currently getting.
Additionally, we are getting a sleep study done because there is a strong correlation between ADHD severity and sleep deprivation, which we definitely think is a contributing factor in Russell's case -- he wakes up a lot, has a hard time dropping off, he snores, and he's a mouth breather with a BIG overbite. We are also getting an MRI and and EEG done. At the end of the month, my hope is that he will be on less medication and getting more sleep.
Ultimately, the cerebral palsy diagnosis changes little other than I won't have to fight with the school to make him eligible for services any more. I let the school know already that we will be changing his eligibility to brain trauma. The special ed teacher smiled when I told him that I'll never have problems with eligibility again. Now, it's just a matter of negotiating necessary services for him. What the school can't and won't provide, we will do through insurance. I think because of his disability, I may be able to qualify him for help from the government, too, so that we don't have to tax our insurance overly.
I'm very sad and angry about the time that has elapsed. I'm angry about the pediatrician who blew me off when I asked about CP when Russell was 2.5. I am sad about the lost time, which could have made a huge difference in his life because with a lot of physical therapy, he could be a different boy physically. However, it does make a lot of things in the past clearer.
As always, however, I love him fiercely. Both Mike and I were sure after doing a lot of online reading yesterday, that he has cerebral palsy, so the doctor's diagnosis wasn't a complete shock, though I was trying hard not to cry in front of Russell. I just didn't want him to think something was wrong -- I'm just relieved.
I'm going to go have a good cry, I think. And a nap.
All that matters now is that I don't have to fight with the schools any more. He qualifies for special education automatically with CP, as it is considered brain trauma. We can get him physical therapy and help him. I am also sure I can request a lot more OT than he's currently getting.
Additionally, we are getting a sleep study done because there is a strong correlation between ADHD severity and sleep deprivation, which we definitely think is a contributing factor in Russell's case -- he wakes up a lot, has a hard time dropping off, he snores, and he's a mouth breather with a BIG overbite. We are also getting an MRI and and EEG done. At the end of the month, my hope is that he will be on less medication and getting more sleep.
Ultimately, the cerebral palsy diagnosis changes little other than I won't have to fight with the school to make him eligible for services any more. I let the school know already that we will be changing his eligibility to brain trauma. The special ed teacher smiled when I told him that I'll never have problems with eligibility again. Now, it's just a matter of negotiating necessary services for him. What the school can't and won't provide, we will do through insurance. I think because of his disability, I may be able to qualify him for help from the government, too, so that we don't have to tax our insurance overly.
I'm very sad and angry about the time that has elapsed. I'm angry about the pediatrician who blew me off when I asked about CP when Russell was 2.5. I am sad about the lost time, which could have made a huge difference in his life because with a lot of physical therapy, he could be a different boy physically. However, it does make a lot of things in the past clearer.
As always, however, I love him fiercely. Both Mike and I were sure after doing a lot of online reading yesterday, that he has cerebral palsy, so the doctor's diagnosis wasn't a complete shock, though I was trying hard not to cry in front of Russell. I just didn't want him to think something was wrong -- I'm just relieved.
I'm going to go have a good cry, I think. And a nap.
Wednesday, March 03, 2004
Russell has always had an odd gait, trouble with fine motor control, speech problems, and coordination issues. He's also always had low muscle tone.
When he was 2.5, his special education preschool program suggested he might have Cerebral Palsy. I took him to the pediatrician; the pediatrician dismissed this. Of course, a few years later, when the school suggested that he might have ADHD, the pediatrician dismissed that, too. Because I was on an HMO, and I needed the pediatrician's referral, I couldn't just go to a neurologist, I had to have his referral. Because his office was the most reputable pediatrician's office around, I couldn't just change to another doctor in the practice because there was a good chance they'd turn me down. Not to mention, that because I was always out of sick and vacation time caring for a constantly ill child, I didn't have that much time to pursue this and I was usually just trying to contend with the latest ear infection or illness, while holding a full-time job and single momming.
When the psychiatrist suggested we should take him to a neurologist because of his gait and some tics, she had mentioned Tourette's Syndrome and Cerebral Palsy. Then several other people mentioned things about his gait.
Last night, a physical therapist from Russell's school had conducted an evaluation. When asked her opinion, she said that she thought he has mild cerebral palsy. She also said that her testing put him at about a 5 or 6 year old level of balance/coordination. I was stunned. I guess I shouldn't have been, but I was.
I started looking up everything I could find on cerebral palsy on the net. Mike did, too. At lunch, we quietly compared notes. We both think he has it, too, and always has. He has the things I mentioned above, he also had a hell of time and still does sometimes with eating and often choked or couldn't eat normally.
Tomorrow, he sees the neurologist. It doesn't change how sad and worried we both are about him and the urgency with which we want testing to commence. It doesn't change the years he could have been getting the therapy which would make him nearly normal and the IEP he would have been guaranteed.
But it could change his future, and that's what I am hanging onto tenaciously.
When he was 2.5, his special education preschool program suggested he might have Cerebral Palsy. I took him to the pediatrician; the pediatrician dismissed this. Of course, a few years later, when the school suggested that he might have ADHD, the pediatrician dismissed that, too. Because I was on an HMO, and I needed the pediatrician's referral, I couldn't just go to a neurologist, I had to have his referral. Because his office was the most reputable pediatrician's office around, I couldn't just change to another doctor in the practice because there was a good chance they'd turn me down. Not to mention, that because I was always out of sick and vacation time caring for a constantly ill child, I didn't have that much time to pursue this and I was usually just trying to contend with the latest ear infection or illness, while holding a full-time job and single momming.
When the psychiatrist suggested we should take him to a neurologist because of his gait and some tics, she had mentioned Tourette's Syndrome and Cerebral Palsy. Then several other people mentioned things about his gait.
Last night, a physical therapist from Russell's school had conducted an evaluation. When asked her opinion, she said that she thought he has mild cerebral palsy. She also said that her testing put him at about a 5 or 6 year old level of balance/coordination. I was stunned. I guess I shouldn't have been, but I was.
I started looking up everything I could find on cerebral palsy on the net. Mike did, too. At lunch, we quietly compared notes. We both think he has it, too, and always has. He has the things I mentioned above, he also had a hell of time and still does sometimes with eating and often choked or couldn't eat normally.
Tomorrow, he sees the neurologist. It doesn't change how sad and worried we both are about him and the urgency with which we want testing to commence. It doesn't change the years he could have been getting the therapy which would make him nearly normal and the IEP he would have been guaranteed.
But it could change his future, and that's what I am hanging onto tenaciously.
Sunday, February 29, 2004
On my kid's email list, someone's daughter experienced menarche -- her first period. While some women were extending congratulations to her through her mom I wasn't sure if I should offer congratulations or condolences.
Hey, welcome to the next 25 years of ruined underwear, horrible cramps, mood swings, and risk of pregnancy.
Whee! You're becoming a woman!
Enjoy your bleed. Have a nice day!
I've been working all day. Some of it is because one of my instructors' parents had a horrible car wreck. Her dad hasn't ever come out of the coma and neurosurgery has made no difference in his condition, which is just plain sad. I emailed a lot of people and it's just been a long afternoon around that and organizing a mess into something sensible for another prof. I still haven't started looking at the advisement manuals the Chair gave me.
Let's not even review the Laundry Mound (LM) that has started taking over the spare space in the garage and I think might have eaten some small rodents in its path. I will let you know if I find pellets in the dryer lint filter. We could reconstruct the skeletons and see what lives in my garage with LM and get a sense of what kind of rodentia preferences LM has. I wonder if LM will restrain children. Oh, the possibilities!
Last night, Mike and I had a date. We rented a video (Secondhand Lions), a pizza (BBQ chicken, red onions and sundried tomatoes) and watched it at my office at the uni. We really liked the video, so we'll probably buy the DVD for home. Afterwards, we went to a casino and I won $14 at the roulette table. I was up about $50 at one time, but if I'm playing on their money, I play until the husband gives me the "I wanna go home because I'm tired" nod. I played and then I got the nod, and while I had had several nods, this was a persistent nod which coincided with my bursting bladder, so he cashed in for me, while I raced to the nearest potty. I like dating my best friend. It reminds me why he *is* my best friend.
I reduced LM by running the dryer before we hit the sheets and the laundry facilities have been going full blast all day long. The really cool thing is that the house is clean to boot.
Definitely, a better semester at home.
Hey, welcome to the next 25 years of ruined underwear, horrible cramps, mood swings, and risk of pregnancy.
Whee! You're becoming a woman!
Enjoy your bleed. Have a nice day!
I've been working all day. Some of it is because one of my instructors' parents had a horrible car wreck. Her dad hasn't ever come out of the coma and neurosurgery has made no difference in his condition, which is just plain sad. I emailed a lot of people and it's just been a long afternoon around that and organizing a mess into something sensible for another prof. I still haven't started looking at the advisement manuals the Chair gave me.
Let's not even review the Laundry Mound (LM) that has started taking over the spare space in the garage and I think might have eaten some small rodents in its path. I will let you know if I find pellets in the dryer lint filter. We could reconstruct the skeletons and see what lives in my garage with LM and get a sense of what kind of rodentia preferences LM has. I wonder if LM will restrain children. Oh, the possibilities!
Last night, Mike and I had a date. We rented a video (Secondhand Lions), a pizza (BBQ chicken, red onions and sundried tomatoes) and watched it at my office at the uni. We really liked the video, so we'll probably buy the DVD for home. Afterwards, we went to a casino and I won $14 at the roulette table. I was up about $50 at one time, but if I'm playing on their money, I play until the husband gives me the "I wanna go home because I'm tired" nod. I played and then I got the nod, and while I had had several nods, this was a persistent nod which coincided with my bursting bladder, so he cashed in for me, while I raced to the nearest potty. I like dating my best friend. It reminds me why he *is* my best friend.
I reduced LM by running the dryer before we hit the sheets and the laundry facilities have been going full blast all day long. The really cool thing is that the house is clean to boot.
Definitely, a better semester at home.
Saturday, February 28, 2004
I'm just really tired.
I worked my ass off on this stupid powerpoint presentation for my families class. I put sound in, I timed it, I had timed slides, I edited pauses out of the sound and it comes out at 7:57 and I have an 8 minute maximum. I get to class excited. And then it wouldn't work. I got home, told Mike, and he says,"I told you about that packaging thing a few days ago."
"Um, no you didn't."
"I was sure I did."
"Um, NO, you didn't."
Nonetheless, it now works, but I presented two minutes over. Fucking technology. At least I have a portfolio piece now.
Microsoft bastards.
The same day, I had the second IEP meeting in which the principal tried to tell me that I couldn't bring people to the meeting. Fortunately, my advocate informed her that by federal law I could bring whoever I wanted. The principal's jaw snapped shut and that was that. (I mean, was she going to tell me I couldn't have the advocate there, for Pete's sake?)
The IEP as it's written blows donuts, so we'll be working on the specifics between now and the BIG IEP meeting in May to clean it up.
One thing I found disturbing is that on some of the achievement testing, Bear scored off the charts. If that's the case, then why with all the work he is putting in is he only pulling B's and C's? I guess that means he meets the criterion for discrepancy. Either that or his teacher meets the criterion for "crappy." I think there's discrepancy, however, it's still bothersome to me.
I did research on the "who can come to the IEP meeting" for my other class. We are comparing and contrasting the difference between the IEP and the 504. I get to do the families aspect, so I called people and found out who can, by law, come to the IEP meeting. So far, I've only found information on the State law, but I'll be looking up IDEA on a legal site to find out what the stuff is there. I've heard a couple of catch phrases bandied about, so I'll be looking for those.
I've been informed that I am a geek. I've read way too much science fiction, I know too much computer crap, and apparently, and most importantly, I bite the heads off chickens. (Okay, okay, not really. I pet my chickens and tell them they're pretty. I collect their eggs and I promise them a rooster some day.)
I personally think I qualify as a nerd. I think anyone who spends the kinds of hours I do working on homework to pull down that A qualifies as a nerd and Mike and Sarah are just jealous. Hah! I think Mike is more of the geek. I especially like the definition for geek of: " n. previously a 4 letter word, now a 6 figure salary."
As a grad student, in that context, I'm definitely a nerd.
Today, however, just call me "Goddess of the Laundry."
I worked my ass off on this stupid powerpoint presentation for my families class. I put sound in, I timed it, I had timed slides, I edited pauses out of the sound and it comes out at 7:57 and I have an 8 minute maximum. I get to class excited. And then it wouldn't work. I got home, told Mike, and he says,"I told you about that packaging thing a few days ago."
"Um, no you didn't."
"I was sure I did."
"Um, NO, you didn't."
Nonetheless, it now works, but I presented two minutes over. Fucking technology. At least I have a portfolio piece now.
Microsoft bastards.
The same day, I had the second IEP meeting in which the principal tried to tell me that I couldn't bring people to the meeting. Fortunately, my advocate informed her that by federal law I could bring whoever I wanted. The principal's jaw snapped shut and that was that. (I mean, was she going to tell me I couldn't have the advocate there, for Pete's sake?)
The IEP as it's written blows donuts, so we'll be working on the specifics between now and the BIG IEP meeting in May to clean it up.
One thing I found disturbing is that on some of the achievement testing, Bear scored off the charts. If that's the case, then why with all the work he is putting in is he only pulling B's and C's? I guess that means he meets the criterion for discrepancy. Either that or his teacher meets the criterion for "crappy." I think there's discrepancy, however, it's still bothersome to me.
I did research on the "who can come to the IEP meeting" for my other class. We are comparing and contrasting the difference between the IEP and the 504. I get to do the families aspect, so I called people and found out who can, by law, come to the IEP meeting. So far, I've only found information on the State law, but I'll be looking up IDEA on a legal site to find out what the stuff is there. I've heard a couple of catch phrases bandied about, so I'll be looking for those.
I've been informed that I am a geek. I've read way too much science fiction, I know too much computer crap, and apparently, and most importantly, I bite the heads off chickens. (Okay, okay, not really. I pet my chickens and tell them they're pretty. I collect their eggs and I promise them a rooster some day.)
I personally think I qualify as a nerd. I think anyone who spends the kinds of hours I do working on homework to pull down that A qualifies as a nerd and Mike and Sarah are just jealous. Hah! I think Mike is more of the geek. I especially like the definition for geek of: " n. previously a 4 letter word, now a 6 figure salary."
As a grad student, in that context, I'm definitely a nerd.
Today, however, just call me "Goddess of the Laundry."
Monday, February 16, 2004
Mike took me to the town he proposed to me for Valentine's day. We got a room and hung out.
We were both struck by the quiet. No children = a great deal of quiet
We watched Star Trek, uninterrupted. We ate uninterrupted. We shopped uninterrupted. We screwed uninterrupted. By far the most luxurious thing we did, however, was to go to a bookstore and browse for books. We browsed and bought and read together. And the drive to and from -- 3 hours each way, we got to talk with each other. We got to think out loud with each other. We discovered that we are still best friends.
I miss him so much. I know it's weird, but to sleep in the same house and have lunch together, doesn't always mean we get that much time together. Often, we're working so hard to keep the house going and the kids managed that our conversations are half-conscious stringings of words in the wee hours of the morning in that tween time of wakefulness and rapid eye movement, where conversations stop when one of us starts snoring.
I got to clarify a few things and thank him and he did some of the same.
It's not very romantic to go out on Valentine's day, but rather expected. However, this was one of the most romantic and serene times I've spent with Mike in a long time.
We were both struck by the quiet. No children = a great deal of quiet
We watched Star Trek, uninterrupted. We ate uninterrupted. We shopped uninterrupted. We screwed uninterrupted. By far the most luxurious thing we did, however, was to go to a bookstore and browse for books. We browsed and bought and read together. And the drive to and from -- 3 hours each way, we got to talk with each other. We got to think out loud with each other. We discovered that we are still best friends.
I miss him so much. I know it's weird, but to sleep in the same house and have lunch together, doesn't always mean we get that much time together. Often, we're working so hard to keep the house going and the kids managed that our conversations are half-conscious stringings of words in the wee hours of the morning in that tween time of wakefulness and rapid eye movement, where conversations stop when one of us starts snoring.
I got to clarify a few things and thank him and he did some of the same.
It's not very romantic to go out on Valentine's day, but rather expected. However, this was one of the most romantic and serene times I've spent with Mike in a long time.
Wednesday, February 11, 2004
I must be in grad school because I'm tired.
On the good news front, I am learning to organize my time and set boundaries.
One of the professors that I had last semester for literacy is pushing -- like being an overbearing conniving butt -- to get me to take on tutoring at a school that would be an hour away from home. Um, too damned far for $9/hour. I sent him the following snippet via email and bcc'ed my advisor to cover my copious butt.
Additionally, I love working with kids and obviously, I love teaching. However, I am not really able to add extra time (to tutor) to my schedule this semester beyond my GA-ship and specifically, I am only taking 2 classes because of that. My son is struggling, as I indicated, and his needs and the needs of my family come first. I may have time in the summer, as well as time next fall, but I am in the middle of a strenuous IEP process for my son to get him the supports he needs to be successful in school. I am also taking him to a pediatric neurologist because he is having symptoms that indicate that the medication he is taking may be having an adverse affect on him or may be bringing out some level of pre-existing condition such as Cerebral Palsy or Tourette's. Nonetheless, this is a stressful time for me and my family as we struggle to find what is best for my son; a lot of my time outside of work and school is being used to work with and for him.
He's still pushing. Nuisance.
What's worse is that I have been taking the ticket on that guilt train. I love to teach and I wish I was doing that rightthisminute, but if I don't get all this other stuff done, I'm going to end up stuffed in the nearest loony bin. I'll be the one drooling in the corner while I make my lips buzz and start and stop the buzz with my finger for the pure joy of listening to the temporary cessation of the raspberriness. I may even end up with my son in their writing program this summer. He needs as much help as he can get and they have a "writing camp" that I know he'd benefit from.
Of course, if I do that, I better find him a chess camp.
Oh, and MY WORD, martial arts are expensive. We went to this place in the big town (30 minutes away) and checked out this place we'd heard about. Russell seemed really interested, but wowsers, they wanted $99/month with a $200 deposit and a year contract. The money alone was daunting, but then the class times were a complete conflict with my school and family schedule and would have meant spending even more money for the whole family to eat out. If we lived in town, I might have considered it, but we don't. It'd be tons of time away from home -- driving, eating, etc. Mike and I discussed it late into the night and we both said,"Not right now." The problem is that I will be in school in the fall and I have to complete specific requirements to get my licensure and I don't have tons of control over some of those class times, but I still need to take them. I don't want to have to start and then stop this stupid thing if they are going to hold a $200 deposit over my head.
I can get swim lessons for $27/month. I could arrange to do it on my nights off from school and then while he swam, I could work out. Because the scheduling works out nearly perfectly, I am calling tomorrow to see about setting that up for the Bear.
Yep, I think we're doing that much cheaper thing.
On the good news front, I am learning to organize my time and set boundaries.
One of the professors that I had last semester for literacy is pushing -- like being an overbearing conniving butt -- to get me to take on tutoring at a school that would be an hour away from home. Um, too damned far for $9/hour. I sent him the following snippet via email and bcc'ed my advisor to cover my copious butt.
Additionally, I love working with kids and obviously, I love teaching. However, I am not really able to add extra time (to tutor) to my schedule this semester beyond my GA-ship and specifically, I am only taking 2 classes because of that. My son is struggling, as I indicated, and his needs and the needs of my family come first. I may have time in the summer, as well as time next fall, but I am in the middle of a strenuous IEP process for my son to get him the supports he needs to be successful in school. I am also taking him to a pediatric neurologist because he is having symptoms that indicate that the medication he is taking may be having an adverse affect on him or may be bringing out some level of pre-existing condition such as Cerebral Palsy or Tourette's. Nonetheless, this is a stressful time for me and my family as we struggle to find what is best for my son; a lot of my time outside of work and school is being used to work with and for him.
He's still pushing. Nuisance.
What's worse is that I have been taking the ticket on that guilt train. I love to teach and I wish I was doing that rightthisminute, but if I don't get all this other stuff done, I'm going to end up stuffed in the nearest loony bin. I'll be the one drooling in the corner while I make my lips buzz and start and stop the buzz with my finger for the pure joy of listening to the temporary cessation of the raspberriness. I may even end up with my son in their writing program this summer. He needs as much help as he can get and they have a "writing camp" that I know he'd benefit from.
Of course, if I do that, I better find him a chess camp.
Oh, and MY WORD, martial arts are expensive. We went to this place in the big town (30 minutes away) and checked out this place we'd heard about. Russell seemed really interested, but wowsers, they wanted $99/month with a $200 deposit and a year contract. The money alone was daunting, but then the class times were a complete conflict with my school and family schedule and would have meant spending even more money for the whole family to eat out. If we lived in town, I might have considered it, but we don't. It'd be tons of time away from home -- driving, eating, etc. Mike and I discussed it late into the night and we both said,"Not right now." The problem is that I will be in school in the fall and I have to complete specific requirements to get my licensure and I don't have tons of control over some of those class times, but I still need to take them. I don't want to have to start and then stop this stupid thing if they are going to hold a $200 deposit over my head.
I can get swim lessons for $27/month. I could arrange to do it on my nights off from school and then while he swam, I could work out. Because the scheduling works out nearly perfectly, I am calling tomorrow to see about setting that up for the Bear.
Yep, I think we're doing that much cheaper thing.
Thursday, February 05, 2004
I had the IEP meeting yesterday. There were 13 people there -- me, husband, a parent-to-parent advocate, two close friends, a district rep, the spec. ed teacher, the counselor, the reg. ed teacher, the principal, the clinical aide, the speech pathologist and the occupational therapist. Who says schools don't use intimidation to scare parents off?
However, in answer to that, my advocate said it was really good that I ran the meeting. The school district person had tried to run it, but I figure it is my kid and I called the meeting, so I had the right to run the agenda, which I had spent the past two weeks writing up, editing, and researching. I made copies of several strategy/methodology things for the regular ed teacher.
We agreed that he is going to be given less homework, and that his IEP needs a lot of work. They agreed to do all of the assessment testing I asked for -- even sensory integration. I was stunned.
Miracles really can happen.
However, in answer to that, my advocate said it was really good that I ran the meeting. The school district person had tried to run it, but I figure it is my kid and I called the meeting, so I had the right to run the agenda, which I had spent the past two weeks writing up, editing, and researching. I made copies of several strategy/methodology things for the regular ed teacher.
We agreed that he is going to be given less homework, and that his IEP needs a lot of work. They agreed to do all of the assessment testing I asked for -- even sensory integration. I was stunned.
Miracles really can happen.
Thursday, January 29, 2004
Well, after screaming and screaming on the phone at the school district office, suddenly, the school is bending over backwards to be particularly nice to me, including giving me the IEP meeting I requested in writing, rather than the stupid "interdisciplinary meeting" that the counselor was pushing for. No, we are rewriting his IEP goals and I'm not going to be nice. I'm going to be demanding and you WILL comply.
I've got a call in for an appointment with the principal to let her know how much this particular teacher sucks rocks. I also am going to let her know how this man violated FERPA and left the school open to a law suit. I'm going to let her know how ignorant he's been regarding my son's disability and just how completely angry, frustrated, and irate I am.
On Wednesday, I've got friends, classmates and an advocate from a local parent-to-parent group coming to Russell's IEP meeting. Russell is going to sit this one out. He asked me,"Oh, because you're going to kick some ass, Mom?" Somewhat abashed I said,"Yes. I believe it's called a bloodbath, Russell."
"What's a bloodbath, Mom?"
"It's where there's lots of blood, guts, and violence. "
"Are you going to yell a lot?"
"No, but they are NOT going to like me, I'm pretty sure."
I also want him to sit it out because a lot of it does not concern him, but rather his teachers and their techniques, or rather, lack of technique. I reviewed the goals with him. I will be reviewing them with the advocate and then, after we have rewritten the IEP, I will NOT sign it until after I have taken it home and reviewed it and had my Special Ed advisor review it as well as the LEGAL advocacy person I've been talking to.
I have promised Russell that he will come in for the next meeting and he was ok with that.
I feel like the Power Rangers:"It's morphin' time!"
Hi, my name is Redneck Ruby, and my shitkickers are shined and pointy for all the ass they are about to kick.
I've got a call in for an appointment with the principal to let her know how much this particular teacher sucks rocks. I also am going to let her know how this man violated FERPA and left the school open to a law suit. I'm going to let her know how ignorant he's been regarding my son's disability and just how completely angry, frustrated, and irate I am.
On Wednesday, I've got friends, classmates and an advocate from a local parent-to-parent group coming to Russell's IEP meeting. Russell is going to sit this one out. He asked me,"Oh, because you're going to kick some ass, Mom?" Somewhat abashed I said,"Yes. I believe it's called a bloodbath, Russell."
"What's a bloodbath, Mom?"
"It's where there's lots of blood, guts, and violence. "
"Are you going to yell a lot?"
"No, but they are NOT going to like me, I'm pretty sure."
I also want him to sit it out because a lot of it does not concern him, but rather his teachers and their techniques, or rather, lack of technique. I reviewed the goals with him. I will be reviewing them with the advocate and then, after we have rewritten the IEP, I will NOT sign it until after I have taken it home and reviewed it and had my Special Ed advisor review it as well as the LEGAL advocacy person I've been talking to.
I have promised Russell that he will come in for the next meeting and he was ok with that.
I feel like the Power Rangers:"It's morphin' time!"
Hi, my name is Redneck Ruby, and my shitkickers are shined and pointy for all the ass they are about to kick.
Monday, January 26, 2004
January 26, 2004
Dear Russell's Unsympathetic Pain in the Ass Teacher,
Russell is on doses of medication far beyond pharmaceutical recommendations, so per his doctor's instructions, we were trying a new medication with him last week. Two days last week, you saw him on that medication and obviously, it is not going to work for school. We had tried the new medication out with good success over the holiday weekend, but he does not require the same level of focus at home that he does at school and he actually seemed okay here, even for things like cleaning and organizing his room, which is usually a pretty difficult task for him.
Russell said that he informed you that he was trying a new medication, thus, we are somewhat surprised by your claim that he was missing medications three days last week. We had also communicated to the clinical aide that you should be informed that he was trying new medication. Apparently, you did not get that message.
On Friday, we had been scrambling to change him back to his original medication based on the feedback we got through Russell that you had asked if he had taken his medication because he was fidgety, when he was on the new medication. Mike and I miscommunicated, thus, he did not get his afternoon dose of medication for which we both apologize.
We realize his behavior can be frustrating, when his medication is not working, especially because he has only been diagnosed with ADHD for the past two years. Unfortunately, however, he is experiencing some adverse side effects from the extremely high doses of medications that he is on. Due to his medication levels, he has only gained about 5 lbs in the past two years, and has only gotten 3/4" taller, which are huge steps downward in his growth rate. Per his psychiatrist's suggestion that he might have Tourette's Syndrome or Cerebral Palsy that is amplified by the stimulant medications he takes, we have scheduled an appointment with a pediatric neurologist at the beginning of March. We have also changed his weekend medication to the medication that was not working for him in class last week, so that he has some break from the very high medication levels, as we are willing to contend with some of the wall climbing in exchange for the pharmaceutical reprieve that his body gets.
High doses of stimulant medication can cause permanent brain damage and we are working very hard to attempt to get him on a medication regimen that will get him to less dangerously high medication levels and still let him be functional in both his academic and home settings. Russell is very much between a rock and a hard place pharmaceutically and we are trying to find a system that will work without overtaxing his system, and yet, give him as close to a normal kid's existence as possible.
There may come a time during this semester that the medication he is on stops working and we'll be back at this place again, experimenting with a new medication and attempting to get the dosing metered correctly. We do as much of this over breaks and weekends as possible, however, we would appreciate your feedback, both positive and negative during those times.
We appreciate your patience. Please feel free to call us at home at xxx-xxxx, if you would like to discuss this further.
Sincerely,
Michael and Wendy Schreiber
cc: The Principal
Dear Russell's Unsympathetic Pain in the Ass Teacher,
Russell is on doses of medication far beyond pharmaceutical recommendations, so per his doctor's instructions, we were trying a new medication with him last week. Two days last week, you saw him on that medication and obviously, it is not going to work for school. We had tried the new medication out with good success over the holiday weekend, but he does not require the same level of focus at home that he does at school and he actually seemed okay here, even for things like cleaning and organizing his room, which is usually a pretty difficult task for him.
Russell said that he informed you that he was trying a new medication, thus, we are somewhat surprised by your claim that he was missing medications three days last week. We had also communicated to the clinical aide that you should be informed that he was trying new medication. Apparently, you did not get that message.
On Friday, we had been scrambling to change him back to his original medication based on the feedback we got through Russell that you had asked if he had taken his medication because he was fidgety, when he was on the new medication. Mike and I miscommunicated, thus, he did not get his afternoon dose of medication for which we both apologize.
We realize his behavior can be frustrating, when his medication is not working, especially because he has only been diagnosed with ADHD for the past two years. Unfortunately, however, he is experiencing some adverse side effects from the extremely high doses of medications that he is on. Due to his medication levels, he has only gained about 5 lbs in the past two years, and has only gotten 3/4" taller, which are huge steps downward in his growth rate. Per his psychiatrist's suggestion that he might have Tourette's Syndrome or Cerebral Palsy that is amplified by the stimulant medications he takes, we have scheduled an appointment with a pediatric neurologist at the beginning of March. We have also changed his weekend medication to the medication that was not working for him in class last week, so that he has some break from the very high medication levels, as we are willing to contend with some of the wall climbing in exchange for the pharmaceutical reprieve that his body gets.
High doses of stimulant medication can cause permanent brain damage and we are working very hard to attempt to get him on a medication regimen that will get him to less dangerously high medication levels and still let him be functional in both his academic and home settings. Russell is very much between a rock and a hard place pharmaceutically and we are trying to find a system that will work without overtaxing his system, and yet, give him as close to a normal kid's existence as possible.
There may come a time during this semester that the medication he is on stops working and we'll be back at this place again, experimenting with a new medication and attempting to get the dosing metered correctly. We do as much of this over breaks and weekends as possible, however, we would appreciate your feedback, both positive and negative during those times.
We appreciate your patience. Please feel free to call us at home at xxx-xxxx, if you would like to discuss this further.
Sincerely,
Michael and Wendy Schreiber
cc: The Principal
Thursday, January 22, 2004
I am on a baby blanket sewing binge. Everyone I know is having a baby, while butt poor. I am a complete sucker, I realize. My friend, LaDawn, said I should start selling these on Ebay at $20 a pop. I think that's steep myself, but probably would be the only way I'd make any money off them.
I made cuddle blankets for both kids, a baby blanket for everyone who's asked for them and I've got 3 more cuddle blankets in the wings.
I also started class this week, so I'll probably get back to the rest of them in May.
Heh.
A number of my friends want me to get the gastric bypass surgery and get it quick. I'm just praying on it. I go to the gym tomorrow.
I made cuddle blankets for both kids, a baby blanket for everyone who's asked for them and I've got 3 more cuddle blankets in the wings.
I also started class this week, so I'll probably get back to the rest of them in May.
Heh.
A number of my friends want me to get the gastric bypass surgery and get it quick. I'm just praying on it. I go to the gym tomorrow.
I had my first class tonight. It's the "families" class -- a required licensure class that anyone in special ed has to take.
I know I shouldn't be surprised, but I still can't get past just how many people are stupid enough to say "parents don't care." My immediate response is:"Don't generalize because *I* do."
Then the bile begins to rise and I basically drive home while ranting at the windshield about all the things I'd like to tell teachers and future teachers who say that kind of stuff.
Things like:
Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is to get a child eligible for special education services?
Do you have any idea how much background knowledge is often omitted from the conversation teachers have with parents?
Do you have any idea how thrilled I was that I got a degree with a teaching emphasis, which meant when I walked into an IEP meeting the "professionals" could not jargon me into the ground? (Take a guess how unsettled they were!)
Do you know how damned angry I get about being categorized as "uncaring" when it comes to my kids?
Do you have any idea how much time, money, effort, and doctor visits I expend energy and resources on, in addition to your homework assignments (often just stupid time-consuming worksheets with little educational value)?
Walk a mile it these size 12's and you'll have the same sore feet, broken heart, and disgruntled adversarial attitude I have about teachers and educational professionals who think it's all my fault that my son has severe ADHD and the problems associated with that. I'm sick to death of educational professionals telling me all the things I'm doing wrong with my kid, including his teacher who vaguely says that my son "needs to learn responsibility." He does his homework sometimes for hours a night, often struggling with the logistical inconvenience of typing all of his assignments, even labeling graphics for those stupid science projects that you just pull from a boring science workbook. (Dude, you live next to a wildlife reserve, how about discussing the biosystem in a community context!)
I'm sick of the gay teacher who has obvious disdain for women. Dude, I was in the Queen's court throughout college. Don't go there, sister. Don't try out your good ole southern boys' club on me and expect I won't kick your ass for it. I wouldn't put up with that shit from a straight man and I sure as hell am not putting up with that nonsense from you either.
Nonetheless, tonight, I remembered as I threatened to crack my windshield as I railed away why I am getting a master's in special education; it's so I can save the world one kid at a time.
____
And on an entirely separate note....
What is the deal with Atkin's? I long ago gave up on diets because diets do not address the underlying issue of making a fundamental life change. However, Atkin's is everywhere.
It seems like Atkins is free license to eat foods high in fat, especially, saturated fat, which Atkins refers to as "natural." The idea is that if you deprive your body of the carbohydrates it needs that it will turn to burning fat in lieu of carbs. Um, yeah, right, whatEver. You know, I feel the need to eat a big fat sausage drizzled in butter and served with a side dish of avocados dipped in mayonaise, so my body will burn fat.
Yeah, that's the ticket!
If a person deprives their body of foods it needs, they will simpy be setting themselves up for the kiss of failure.
Then they can then feel bad about themselves and console themselves over a carton of Ben & Jerry's. That way they get all their fat, dairy products (calcium), AND carbohydrates in one giant pity party.
High-fat foods do things like clog arteries and do not easily convert to sugar. Exercise burns fat. Fat ingested, basically becomes fat on one's ass. Period.
If I eat a diet low in saturated fats, exercise regularly, and eat a lot of vegetables and complex carbohydrates, oddly enough the pounds just fall off my ass. Because simple sugars are compact, it's easy to eat too many of them and the body sees all that sugar coming down the pike and simply stores the extra as saddlebags on one's buttochs.
The current Atkin's advocacy that is being perpetuated by Subway and other chains seems like it might be a diabetic's dream, however, it's not. I'm not only trying to figure out how to avoid all that fat, but I'm trying to figure out how to get enough carbs without having to resort to eating things that are poor choices like chips and simple sugars or becoming hypoglycemic.
Saturated fats play kissy face with extra sugar in a diabetic's system and make tri-glycerides, which is why diabetes is so closely linked to heart disease.
I swear if I have one more stupid person suggest I eat Atkin's I'm going to slather them in lard and stuff a pork sausage or 10 up their nose.
I don't eat perfectly, but what I eat, keeps my sugars and cholesterol levels normal. I have started exercising again, which means the whole thing is coming together again and I'm going to keep at it, until my doctor says I'm at a good weight or until I've failed so utterly at it, that I have no choice but to consider gastric bypass surgery to extend my life.
Atkins was a stupid fad diet in the 70's determined by many health professionals to be a poor health choice then. Nothing has changed much since then, except that Americans are getting fatter. A high fat diet isn't going to help that trend, in my opinion.
When I eat a lot of veggies and complex carbs and keep the fat low and the protein moderate and I'm well. I don't eat white rice, pasta, or breads -- whole grains all the way, baby. Any diet that advocates red meats is suspect. Much like my mother who has high cholesterol, but insists that she only buys lean cuts of beef, Atkins seems like fodder for that river in egypt: Denial.
If I'm going to live in denial, I'm going to tell myself things like "well, it may have some carbs, but damnit, it's got a low glycemic index."
I keep thinking of Eule Gibbons. He ate super healthy food and then died young of a heart attack.
I plan to eat the best I can and actually live my life. Depriving myself of everything I enjoy is a rotten way to live. Making small changes like ground turkey in lieu of hamburger and whole grains instead of enriched ones just seems to be a better choice for me.
I know I shouldn't be surprised, but I still can't get past just how many people are stupid enough to say "parents don't care." My immediate response is:"Don't generalize because *I* do."
Then the bile begins to rise and I basically drive home while ranting at the windshield about all the things I'd like to tell teachers and future teachers who say that kind of stuff.
Things like:
Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is to get a child eligible for special education services?
Do you have any idea how much background knowledge is often omitted from the conversation teachers have with parents?
Do you have any idea how thrilled I was that I got a degree with a teaching emphasis, which meant when I walked into an IEP meeting the "professionals" could not jargon me into the ground? (Take a guess how unsettled they were!)
Do you know how damned angry I get about being categorized as "uncaring" when it comes to my kids?
Do you have any idea how much time, money, effort, and doctor visits I expend energy and resources on, in addition to your homework assignments (often just stupid time-consuming worksheets with little educational value)?
Walk a mile it these size 12's and you'll have the same sore feet, broken heart, and disgruntled adversarial attitude I have about teachers and educational professionals who think it's all my fault that my son has severe ADHD and the problems associated with that. I'm sick to death of educational professionals telling me all the things I'm doing wrong with my kid, including his teacher who vaguely says that my son "needs to learn responsibility." He does his homework sometimes for hours a night, often struggling with the logistical inconvenience of typing all of his assignments, even labeling graphics for those stupid science projects that you just pull from a boring science workbook. (Dude, you live next to a wildlife reserve, how about discussing the biosystem in a community context!)
I'm sick of the gay teacher who has obvious disdain for women. Dude, I was in the Queen's court throughout college. Don't go there, sister. Don't try out your good ole southern boys' club on me and expect I won't kick your ass for it. I wouldn't put up with that shit from a straight man and I sure as hell am not putting up with that nonsense from you either.
Nonetheless, tonight, I remembered as I threatened to crack my windshield as I railed away why I am getting a master's in special education; it's so I can save the world one kid at a time.
____
And on an entirely separate note....
What is the deal with Atkin's? I long ago gave up on diets because diets do not address the underlying issue of making a fundamental life change. However, Atkin's is everywhere.
It seems like Atkins is free license to eat foods high in fat, especially, saturated fat, which Atkins refers to as "natural." The idea is that if you deprive your body of the carbohydrates it needs that it will turn to burning fat in lieu of carbs. Um, yeah, right, whatEver. You know, I feel the need to eat a big fat sausage drizzled in butter and served with a side dish of avocados dipped in mayonaise, so my body will burn fat.
Yeah, that's the ticket!
If a person deprives their body of foods it needs, they will simpy be setting themselves up for the kiss of failure.
Then they can then feel bad about themselves and console themselves over a carton of Ben & Jerry's. That way they get all their fat, dairy products (calcium), AND carbohydrates in one giant pity party.
High-fat foods do things like clog arteries and do not easily convert to sugar. Exercise burns fat. Fat ingested, basically becomes fat on one's ass. Period.
If I eat a diet low in saturated fats, exercise regularly, and eat a lot of vegetables and complex carbohydrates, oddly enough the pounds just fall off my ass. Because simple sugars are compact, it's easy to eat too many of them and the body sees all that sugar coming down the pike and simply stores the extra as saddlebags on one's buttochs.
The current Atkin's advocacy that is being perpetuated by Subway and other chains seems like it might be a diabetic's dream, however, it's not. I'm not only trying to figure out how to avoid all that fat, but I'm trying to figure out how to get enough carbs without having to resort to eating things that are poor choices like chips and simple sugars or becoming hypoglycemic.
Saturated fats play kissy face with extra sugar in a diabetic's system and make tri-glycerides, which is why diabetes is so closely linked to heart disease.
I swear if I have one more stupid person suggest I eat Atkin's I'm going to slather them in lard and stuff a pork sausage or 10 up their nose.
I don't eat perfectly, but what I eat, keeps my sugars and cholesterol levels normal. I have started exercising again, which means the whole thing is coming together again and I'm going to keep at it, until my doctor says I'm at a good weight or until I've failed so utterly at it, that I have no choice but to consider gastric bypass surgery to extend my life.
Atkins was a stupid fad diet in the 70's determined by many health professionals to be a poor health choice then. Nothing has changed much since then, except that Americans are getting fatter. A high fat diet isn't going to help that trend, in my opinion.
When I eat a lot of veggies and complex carbs and keep the fat low and the protein moderate and I'm well. I don't eat white rice, pasta, or breads -- whole grains all the way, baby. Any diet that advocates red meats is suspect. Much like my mother who has high cholesterol, but insists that she only buys lean cuts of beef, Atkins seems like fodder for that river in egypt: Denial.
If I'm going to live in denial, I'm going to tell myself things like "well, it may have some carbs, but damnit, it's got a low glycemic index."
I keep thinking of Eule Gibbons. He ate super healthy food and then died young of a heart attack.
I plan to eat the best I can and actually live my life. Depriving myself of everything I enjoy is a rotten way to live. Making small changes like ground turkey in lieu of hamburger and whole grains instead of enriched ones just seems to be a better choice for me.
Thursday, January 15, 2004
I'm tired.
The way I know this is that my hands are sore. Don't ask me how that makes sense, but if you'd been doing nothing but working at your job, and sewing, typing, laundry, and egg washing, your hands would be sore and you'd be tired, too.
I've been making egg money. I love making egg money. I just enjoy caring for the chickens -- food, water, egg collecting. I enjoy the "bocking" they do when they see me and when I toss segments of mandarins around the coop. I am currently in the hole on my egg making adventure, but the chickens are starting to lay more because the weather's warmer. They are also laying more because they are getting food and water on a regular and ongoing basis. I also talk to them and tell them they're good girls to lay so many eggs. I think that helps the most.
I wish it was spring and I could go buy apple trees and plant them on the hill. Lately, it feels like spring, but it's a January Thaw, which means that the snow and blow of winter will soon return. The ice will reform on the lake and twittering birds will be deterred, as will fruit tree buds, but while I wait for the wrens, swallows, and orioles to migrate to my acre and for the soft smell of the blossoms on the peach, pear, and apple trees, I have the soft clucking of my hens and the gentle tapping of eggs in my collecting basket as I make the rounds of the chicken coop. And that's enough to get by on.
The way I know this is that my hands are sore. Don't ask me how that makes sense, but if you'd been doing nothing but working at your job, and sewing, typing, laundry, and egg washing, your hands would be sore and you'd be tired, too.
I've been making egg money. I love making egg money. I just enjoy caring for the chickens -- food, water, egg collecting. I enjoy the "bocking" they do when they see me and when I toss segments of mandarins around the coop. I am currently in the hole on my egg making adventure, but the chickens are starting to lay more because the weather's warmer. They are also laying more because they are getting food and water on a regular and ongoing basis. I also talk to them and tell them they're good girls to lay so many eggs. I think that helps the most.
I wish it was spring and I could go buy apple trees and plant them on the hill. Lately, it feels like spring, but it's a January Thaw, which means that the snow and blow of winter will soon return. The ice will reform on the lake and twittering birds will be deterred, as will fruit tree buds, but while I wait for the wrens, swallows, and orioles to migrate to my acre and for the soft smell of the blossoms on the peach, pear, and apple trees, I have the soft clucking of my hens and the gentle tapping of eggs in my collecting basket as I make the rounds of the chicken coop. And that's enough to get by on.
Monday, January 12, 2004
It's some obscene hour of the night and the coyotes are howling and yipping at the chickens and the poor cat out in the shed. I'm sure it's coyote-ese for "damn, that smells like dinner" and "Wow, how can I get a nibble of that?"
I'm just depressed. I can't stop being mad at my husband. He wants sex and I would like sex, but I don't like the idea of every time I get a massage, a pat on the butt, or any kind of touch that it's a come-on. That's how I feel, though. He shaves, makes the bed, and never is it just for the sake of being shaven (which I like) or for having the bed neat (which I also like), but it's for the express purpose of getting some.
He thinks he's being all generous inviting me into the shower to "help him out" but all that does is leave me swinging in the wind and as much fun as that sounds like, it's not my idea of a great time. It double sucks that it does not occur to him that he could join me in my shower and do something like that for me. In fact, it has never occurred to him, ever.
And that's the thing. What I might like or need or be interested in, simply does not occur to him.
What's worse, is that tonight we got into this conversation about Jennifer Garner and it ended with,"Well, she's not exactly my type, but I'd do her." To which I snorted,"But you'd do anyone." He agreed.
Stupid man.
Then somehow sensing his stupidity, he said he wouldn't do just anyone because he was married. It was more that the institution was there, not that he loved his wife, which is what I'd really rather have heard at that point. I know I should just shut up about it because let's face it, he's a man and he backpedals badly. Well, and there's the whole thing that I am pissed off at him for saying he'd support me in grad school but that he dragged his heels and was a butthead about the whole thing.
I'm scared about the new semester. I'm scared about it becoming the total fiasco it was last semester.
I'm stressed out because Russell isn't doing well. I just dropped his medication dose because he is on so much friggin' medication that even if he's fucking up at school, which he is, I can't justify it in any form any more.
We took the chickens off his responsibility list because he's been underfeeding and underwatering them and they aren't producing eggs, and we've shown and show him, and told him and told him, and it's not getting through. All he has to do is work on school and care for the cat, which he was also doing badly. I told him I'd find a better home for the cat, but I love her so much that I can't bring myself to do it, so I'm just checking on her when I'm out feeding chickens and making sure that her litter's changed and that she's got food and water, and that he actually let her out.
Mike's stopped snoring, which means I'm keeping him up. He knows I'm sad and upset, and he knows I'm writing about it, but he has to work tomorrow, so I need to go lay awake in bed a couple more hours next to him. Nothing good comes out of fretting about things at this hour, but I am out of Ambien and Benadryl, so I'm frittering away the wee hours in flannel.
I'm just depressed. I can't stop being mad at my husband. He wants sex and I would like sex, but I don't like the idea of every time I get a massage, a pat on the butt, or any kind of touch that it's a come-on. That's how I feel, though. He shaves, makes the bed, and never is it just for the sake of being shaven (which I like) or for having the bed neat (which I also like), but it's for the express purpose of getting some.
He thinks he's being all generous inviting me into the shower to "help him out" but all that does is leave me swinging in the wind and as much fun as that sounds like, it's not my idea of a great time. It double sucks that it does not occur to him that he could join me in my shower and do something like that for me. In fact, it has never occurred to him, ever.
And that's the thing. What I might like or need or be interested in, simply does not occur to him.
What's worse, is that tonight we got into this conversation about Jennifer Garner and it ended with,"Well, she's not exactly my type, but I'd do her." To which I snorted,"But you'd do anyone." He agreed.
Stupid man.
Then somehow sensing his stupidity, he said he wouldn't do just anyone because he was married. It was more that the institution was there, not that he loved his wife, which is what I'd really rather have heard at that point. I know I should just shut up about it because let's face it, he's a man and he backpedals badly. Well, and there's the whole thing that I am pissed off at him for saying he'd support me in grad school but that he dragged his heels and was a butthead about the whole thing.
I'm scared about the new semester. I'm scared about it becoming the total fiasco it was last semester.
I'm stressed out because Russell isn't doing well. I just dropped his medication dose because he is on so much friggin' medication that even if he's fucking up at school, which he is, I can't justify it in any form any more.
We took the chickens off his responsibility list because he's been underfeeding and underwatering them and they aren't producing eggs, and we've shown and show him, and told him and told him, and it's not getting through. All he has to do is work on school and care for the cat, which he was also doing badly. I told him I'd find a better home for the cat, but I love her so much that I can't bring myself to do it, so I'm just checking on her when I'm out feeding chickens and making sure that her litter's changed and that she's got food and water, and that he actually let her out.
Mike's stopped snoring, which means I'm keeping him up. He knows I'm sad and upset, and he knows I'm writing about it, but he has to work tomorrow, so I need to go lay awake in bed a couple more hours next to him. Nothing good comes out of fretting about things at this hour, but I am out of Ambien and Benadryl, so I'm frittering away the wee hours in flannel.
Sunday, January 04, 2004
Last night, in the tiny hours of morning, Mike and I were talking about some aspects of my past. They were the kind of things I haven't withheld, but that you don't necessarily tell the man you're dating.
I used to have these times in my life when I was very very promiscuous. Those were the times that were loneliest at the end of my 2 year stint as a professional slut. I didn't have many friends other than those I knew from work, but men who I could have sex with were easy to find. I was pretty and knew a lot about how to pleasure a man physically, but more importantly, I knew a lot about how to manage their psyche.
I was telling Mike about some of the transition, after I'd quit the business and gotten a real job as a delivery driver in the Bay Area. I'd had the job a month and my parents snatched me back east because they wanted to save me. Only, I didn't need saving of the physical variety. I needed saving of the spiritual variety. I couldn't get to my church easily without a car and the Catholic church, while similar to the Episcopal church, wasn't my church, and they weren't helping, as they were sure I was manic depressive, versus just plain depressed.
I joined a volleyball group at the YMCA, where I met a guy named Bill. Bill saved my life. At some point, when my parents finally harrassed me into trying lithium for a few months, Bill said,"Look, you need to get off this stuff. You aren't you on this shit. And all the things your parents are saying about you just aren't true." He started running down the list and showing me how wrong they were. And I fought back. I went off the lithium with his support and I realized he was right and that he knew and loved me better than anyone, including me. After a couple years, my college degree, and a couple of boyfriends, I found a better therapist who switched me onto wellbutrin, knowing that I had ADHD, but because of the diagnostic labels was not able to give me that diagnosis. I stayed on that stuff for 1.5 years and then just stopped taking it (under his direction). I had figured out how to grow up.
I still struggle with the viewpoint that things that aren't fucked will be soon -- I think of it as my Eeyore attitude. But I know who I am now and God and I are on loving and speaking terms. And I really am married to my best friend, but I've dated a bunch of dear friends on the way here.
Bill, if I never said thanks, I should have. Your love and knowledge of me saved my spirit and my life. Thanks for teaching me about pure love!
I used to have these times in my life when I was very very promiscuous. Those were the times that were loneliest at the end of my 2 year stint as a professional slut. I didn't have many friends other than those I knew from work, but men who I could have sex with were easy to find. I was pretty and knew a lot about how to pleasure a man physically, but more importantly, I knew a lot about how to manage their psyche.
I was telling Mike about some of the transition, after I'd quit the business and gotten a real job as a delivery driver in the Bay Area. I'd had the job a month and my parents snatched me back east because they wanted to save me. Only, I didn't need saving of the physical variety. I needed saving of the spiritual variety. I couldn't get to my church easily without a car and the Catholic church, while similar to the Episcopal church, wasn't my church, and they weren't helping, as they were sure I was manic depressive, versus just plain depressed.
I joined a volleyball group at the YMCA, where I met a guy named Bill. Bill saved my life. At some point, when my parents finally harrassed me into trying lithium for a few months, Bill said,"Look, you need to get off this stuff. You aren't you on this shit. And all the things your parents are saying about you just aren't true." He started running down the list and showing me how wrong they were. And I fought back. I went off the lithium with his support and I realized he was right and that he knew and loved me better than anyone, including me. After a couple years, my college degree, and a couple of boyfriends, I found a better therapist who switched me onto wellbutrin, knowing that I had ADHD, but because of the diagnostic labels was not able to give me that diagnosis. I stayed on that stuff for 1.5 years and then just stopped taking it (under his direction). I had figured out how to grow up.
I still struggle with the viewpoint that things that aren't fucked will be soon -- I think of it as my Eeyore attitude. But I know who I am now and God and I are on loving and speaking terms. And I really am married to my best friend, but I've dated a bunch of dear friends on the way here.
Bill, if I never said thanks, I should have. Your love and knowledge of me saved my spirit and my life. Thanks for teaching me about pure love!
Saturday, January 03, 2004
It's day 4 in Winter Wonderland and it's the first day it hasn't snowed. There's blue sky as far as the eye can see, but it's colder than a witch's tit. (I would know, I have those.)
The icicles on the eaves are not melting. The snow is bright and shiny.
Mel and Dan are going to come tonight and play games with us. We didn't know they were coming til this morning. Mel was going to call, but she forgot. Now, I have to clean the house like a banshee on crack.
Ever seen a fat woman move fast? There's a lot of sweat involved. That's all I know.
The icicles on the eaves are not melting. The snow is bright and shiny.
Mel and Dan are going to come tonight and play games with us. We didn't know they were coming til this morning. Mel was going to call, but she forgot. Now, I have to clean the house like a banshee on crack.
Ever seen a fat woman move fast? There's a lot of sweat involved. That's all I know.
Friday, January 02, 2004
You know it's time for your kids to go back to school when you....
- think you might have played monopoly for a total of 8 hours today and the Christmas tree is still up in the livingroom and the ornaments didn't make it anywhere but off the couch
- didn't shower until 430 this afternoon, which was about an hour before your husband was coming home from work
- didn't give the kids lunch, but gave them a snack of coffee cake and milk
- can't remember all the shit you're supposed to do, but know the rules to Candyland by heart
- have seen Elmo's Christmas 47 times and still think Elmo's the most annoying little red piece of fuzzy ever
- realize your own room is thrashed and has remained thrashed for at least 3 weeks running
- go hunting for duct tape, when the kids ask for tape because you think you'd like to restrict their movement a little
- have a headache and are just too damned lazy to walk down the hall and find the bottle of ibuprofen
- swear if you hear the kids bouncing about the house excitedly telling you about the various details of the current state of snow flurries outside that you'll stuff one of them in a snow bank
- are looking forward to taking your classes and working
Thursday, January 01, 2004
I must have been uber-naughty this year.
For Christmas, Santa gave me bronchitis. As a result, I think Santa is a vicious elfen asshole who should be strung up by his jingle bells. If he'd kept to the usual coal, I'd have been annoyed, but I would have taken my lumps. (Yes, of course, Virginia, the pun was intended.)
I didn't send anyone but my mother and brother Christmas cards. If you were wonderful and sent me a Christmas card and are cursing my name that I didn't send you one, just know that I was coughing green chunks out of my chest and thinking of you. I spent the eve of Christmas Eve sleeping in the recliner in the livingroom because when I laid down in bed, my chest whistled. My doctor said that my chest sounded "like an orchestra." Thus, I didn't listen to Handel's "Messiah" this year because I was doing my own version
I have gifts I didn't ship yet to people. I haven't even mentioned them because I'm still tired and if I say anything, then I have to mail the damned things, so I am simply just shutting up about it. Those of you who were supposed to get stuff, you'll be seeing something for St. Patrick's day.
We're buried in snow. It's been a blizzard here all day. Several of the main highways are closed or have chain requirements. We had one and a half foot drifts in the driveway and driving conditions could be described as "mentally disturbed" because you'd have to be to drive in this slop.
I think Mother Nature and Santa Claus are having a dirty little affair.
For Christmas, Santa gave me bronchitis. As a result, I think Santa is a vicious elfen asshole who should be strung up by his jingle bells. If he'd kept to the usual coal, I'd have been annoyed, but I would have taken my lumps. (Yes, of course, Virginia, the pun was intended.)
I didn't send anyone but my mother and brother Christmas cards. If you were wonderful and sent me a Christmas card and are cursing my name that I didn't send you one, just know that I was coughing green chunks out of my chest and thinking of you. I spent the eve of Christmas Eve sleeping in the recliner in the livingroom because when I laid down in bed, my chest whistled. My doctor said that my chest sounded "like an orchestra." Thus, I didn't listen to Handel's "Messiah" this year because I was doing my own version
I have gifts I didn't ship yet to people. I haven't even mentioned them because I'm still tired and if I say anything, then I have to mail the damned things, so I am simply just shutting up about it. Those of you who were supposed to get stuff, you'll be seeing something for St. Patrick's day.
We're buried in snow. It's been a blizzard here all day. Several of the main highways are closed or have chain requirements. We had one and a half foot drifts in the driveway and driving conditions could be described as "mentally disturbed" because you'd have to be to drive in this slop.
I think Mother Nature and Santa Claus are having a dirty little affair.
Wednesday, December 17, 2003
I know. You're saying to yourself, "Oh, so you think you'll just come back here after ignoring us for months on end and stick in a blog." Yes, I think I will.
Grad school has been really hard on me, my family, and my marriage. I'm going to take what I absolutely have to take next semester, in order to keep my agreements and then, I'm going to work out, have fun with my children, and date my husband. Then, I am going to take off a couple years and spend it with my kids while they are still young enough to think I'm cool. Genny has mised me so much sometimes and she's just absolutely wiggly about seeing me whenever I have a long day.
Honestly, I just can't take it any more. I can't take the yearning I feel when I'm apart from the kids when I know I could be with them. There's also the fact that my husband does not seem to be able to help out a lot. In fact, the more stressed out I get, the more he seems to purposely step back and stop pitching in. I've screamed, ripped garments, torn my hair out, and nagged...A LOT...and it has made little impact. I'm going to have a friend come in next semester to help clean, so there will be less of that.
Mike's making enough money for me to become a stay-at-home mom and the guilt factor is killing me, not to mention the abject lack of self-care, exercise, etc., that grad school seems to imply. I'm at the point to where I am considering the gastric bypass surgery because I don't want to die from this stupid disease of diabetes and I'm not able to do what I need to do on a consistent basis over time to take care of myself. And to even think that surgery is the answer, is probably only demonstrative of my desperation. I just never seem to have time. I spend so much of my day engaged in someone else's needs -- whether it's the family budget, the kids' doctor's appointments, the medication pick up for the kids, the grocery shopping, cooking meals, cleaning house, or whatever -- that I do not find myself meeting my needs.
If I don't start meeting my needs, I'm going to have my legs cut off and be stuck in a wheelchair at my daughter's high school graduation. Maybe that's why this semester has been so horrible -- because I've been coming face-to-face with my needs and actually identifying them, and I've been feeling the pain of not having my needs met, too. I haven't worn a size this big for 6 years. I'm having to buy new clothes, so that I have SOMETHING to wear. All my pretty professional clothes are 2-3 sizes too small. That's just plain disheartening, you know?
Tomorrow, I'm going to come home early from work and relieve Mike from Sick Genny Duty. Genny had a fever of 102.8, so she can't really go to daycare and I've got to work, so Mike and I are splitting the duty.
So, there's a little teaser for ya.
Did you miss me? I sure missed you. Writing helps my sanity and I haven't been close to sane lately.
Grad school has been really hard on me, my family, and my marriage. I'm going to take what I absolutely have to take next semester, in order to keep my agreements and then, I'm going to work out, have fun with my children, and date my husband. Then, I am going to take off a couple years and spend it with my kids while they are still young enough to think I'm cool. Genny has mised me so much sometimes and she's just absolutely wiggly about seeing me whenever I have a long day.
Honestly, I just can't take it any more. I can't take the yearning I feel when I'm apart from the kids when I know I could be with them. There's also the fact that my husband does not seem to be able to help out a lot. In fact, the more stressed out I get, the more he seems to purposely step back and stop pitching in. I've screamed, ripped garments, torn my hair out, and nagged...A LOT...and it has made little impact. I'm going to have a friend come in next semester to help clean, so there will be less of that.
Mike's making enough money for me to become a stay-at-home mom and the guilt factor is killing me, not to mention the abject lack of self-care, exercise, etc., that grad school seems to imply. I'm at the point to where I am considering the gastric bypass surgery because I don't want to die from this stupid disease of diabetes and I'm not able to do what I need to do on a consistent basis over time to take care of myself. And to even think that surgery is the answer, is probably only demonstrative of my desperation. I just never seem to have time. I spend so much of my day engaged in someone else's needs -- whether it's the family budget, the kids' doctor's appointments, the medication pick up for the kids, the grocery shopping, cooking meals, cleaning house, or whatever -- that I do not find myself meeting my needs.
If I don't start meeting my needs, I'm going to have my legs cut off and be stuck in a wheelchair at my daughter's high school graduation. Maybe that's why this semester has been so horrible -- because I've been coming face-to-face with my needs and actually identifying them, and I've been feeling the pain of not having my needs met, too. I haven't worn a size this big for 6 years. I'm having to buy new clothes, so that I have SOMETHING to wear. All my pretty professional clothes are 2-3 sizes too small. That's just plain disheartening, you know?
Tomorrow, I'm going to come home early from work and relieve Mike from Sick Genny Duty. Genny had a fever of 102.8, so she can't really go to daycare and I've got to work, so Mike and I are splitting the duty.
So, there's a little teaser for ya.
Did you miss me? I sure missed you. Writing helps my sanity and I haven't been close to sane lately.
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