I am way lucky.
I have a really wonderful husband who loves me and treats me like a queen. He doesn't hurt me or my kids. He's a good guy. He puts up with my mood swings. When it was determined that having kids was too much risk, he got a vasectomy -- no questions asked.
When I turn him down for sex, he doesn't give me a hard time about it and we make up for it later. He doesn't sleep around on me.He chases me around the house, hugging and kissing on me for hours, as some kind of prolonged foreplay. He helps me out when I feel lousy and pitches in on everything.
He's a truly wonderful father. Where I lose my patience, he bends over, hugs and kisses them and he'll play games with them when I'm busy cooking or doing laundry.
And in case anyone is interested -- he has a really nice younger brother -- he's really cute, too -- just went into the Navy, so he's got a uniform. :)
I'm lucky I have such a good life. I sure paid my dues to get here, but I am way lucky.
Friday, June 11, 2004
Thursday, June 10, 2004
My period got better, but geesh, labor was about as awful. I just hope that next month isn't going to be that "fun." If so, I'm going to talk to Mike about how he'd feel about my sex change operation. Okay, maybe I'm not that willing to forego multiple orgasms, but you think weird things when it hurts that badly.
I wrote out a grant proposal and got the whole thing out the door and then the secretary, God Bless Her, called me to say that I'd changed the name of the addressee. I'm a stupidhead. No harm, no foul, as I'm able to print out the corrected version and she'll slip it into our application.
I'm learning. This is my first real one. I'm so excited and expectant. I tell ya.
I'm also lassoing friends into this. I think a benefit concert at Christmas that benefits Toys for Tots is a good cause and I'm going to pester everyone I know with two cents to rub together to do this with me. I'm like that.
I've got to finish the garden, get caught up on my sewing, and do laundry. However, laundry is currently an interesting proposition because the dryer broke. I'm hanging everything on the line until Monday when the part should be here. Suffice it to say, I'm learning the joys of fabric softener because towels straight out of the washer with no fabric softener are rough, which I don't like. It's not like I'm too delicate for myself, but I just like my towels to feel soft and mushy not rough and papery and I like my little fabric softener sheets.
You've gotta take joy from the little things!
I don't know if it's the transit of Venus or what, but doesn't it seem like a lot of bad things have been happening to a lot of good people? I don't want to recount the list of bad stuff around me, but it's been really hard to watch friends suffering. I've got a long prayer list is what it amounts to. I'm just hanging in there asking God to hold everyone in the light.
I know someone who's getting a divorce, someone whose kids have been "legally" kidnapped, someone who's been unemployed a long time, and a lot of people with icky medical issues. It's hard not to worry, you know?
I have so much of my own stuff, it's been difficult to pull my head out of the sand long enough to take care of me and then take care of everyone else. I usually take care of everyone else first and then about the time I'm ready to pass out from low sugars, I remember I should eat and take care of me.
Not good.
I haven't got a handle on how to fix this yet. I guess I'll be working on that.
I wrote out a grant proposal and got the whole thing out the door and then the secretary, God Bless Her, called me to say that I'd changed the name of the addressee. I'm a stupidhead. No harm, no foul, as I'm able to print out the corrected version and she'll slip it into our application.
I'm learning. This is my first real one. I'm so excited and expectant. I tell ya.
I'm also lassoing friends into this. I think a benefit concert at Christmas that benefits Toys for Tots is a good cause and I'm going to pester everyone I know with two cents to rub together to do this with me. I'm like that.
I've got to finish the garden, get caught up on my sewing, and do laundry. However, laundry is currently an interesting proposition because the dryer broke. I'm hanging everything on the line until Monday when the part should be here. Suffice it to say, I'm learning the joys of fabric softener because towels straight out of the washer with no fabric softener are rough, which I don't like. It's not like I'm too delicate for myself, but I just like my towels to feel soft and mushy not rough and papery and I like my little fabric softener sheets.
You've gotta take joy from the little things!
I don't know if it's the transit of Venus or what, but doesn't it seem like a lot of bad things have been happening to a lot of good people? I don't want to recount the list of bad stuff around me, but it's been really hard to watch friends suffering. I've got a long prayer list is what it amounts to. I'm just hanging in there asking God to hold everyone in the light.
I know someone who's getting a divorce, someone whose kids have been "legally" kidnapped, someone who's been unemployed a long time, and a lot of people with icky medical issues. It's hard not to worry, you know?
I have so much of my own stuff, it's been difficult to pull my head out of the sand long enough to take care of me and then take care of everyone else. I usually take care of everyone else first and then about the time I'm ready to pass out from low sugars, I remember I should eat and take care of me.
Not good.
I haven't got a handle on how to fix this yet. I guess I'll be working on that.
Sunday, June 06, 2004
So tired. I have had a crappy week physically.
I had a metal box drop from the rafters of the garage and nail my big toe. The big cut and blister got infected, so I've been gimping about and taking antibiotics.
Then, yesterday, I got the period from hell.
When I was a teenager, I used to have debilitating periods. I'd spend the first day in a haze. If I had the luxury of being home, I'd just snooze on the couch.
Yesterday, I spent the entired day off my feet. Last night, I had to keep going to the bathroom because I felt uncomfortable and the cramps woke me up. I passed a huge clot this morning and I was so stunned by how big it was, I called the ob/gyn. She said, if this is a period, it'll get better. I want to just curl up in a ball and die.
The laundry needs to be done and the kitchen floor is crunchy -- I definitely don't feel like the timing of my death would be helpful at this time.
And you know? There is not enough ibuprofen on the whole fucking planet for a period that's this lousy.
I feel like that nauseating crampy crap you get when you're in the labor you get JUST before you realize you really need to get to the hospital, only you can't time the contractions -- it's an omnipresent thing without the benefit of knowing at the end of it you get a pretty baby to hold, kiss, and nurse. At the end of this, I get a whole 30 days before I do it again. Oh. bloody.fucking.joy.
My mom, apparently lacking the ability to find the right thing to say, told me she had 3 debilitating days a month until she was 60. The immediate reflex came up to say,"Shut the fuck up!" But I bit my tongue until it bled instead.
I can't do 20 years of this shit. My hope is that it's my body's way of saying that suppressing my periods with the use of the hormonal IUD means that there's a lot of old baggage in the old uterus and that this time we're just going to have a particularly thorough cleaning. Next month, I'm taking evening primrose oil and going for that short period thing again. Barring a hysterectomy, it's the best I can hope for.
I had a metal box drop from the rafters of the garage and nail my big toe. The big cut and blister got infected, so I've been gimping about and taking antibiotics.
Then, yesterday, I got the period from hell.
When I was a teenager, I used to have debilitating periods. I'd spend the first day in a haze. If I had the luxury of being home, I'd just snooze on the couch.
Yesterday, I spent the entired day off my feet. Last night, I had to keep going to the bathroom because I felt uncomfortable and the cramps woke me up. I passed a huge clot this morning and I was so stunned by how big it was, I called the ob/gyn. She said, if this is a period, it'll get better. I want to just curl up in a ball and die.
The laundry needs to be done and the kitchen floor is crunchy -- I definitely don't feel like the timing of my death would be helpful at this time.
And you know? There is not enough ibuprofen on the whole fucking planet for a period that's this lousy.
I feel like that nauseating crampy crap you get when you're in the labor you get JUST before you realize you really need to get to the hospital, only you can't time the contractions -- it's an omnipresent thing without the benefit of knowing at the end of it you get a pretty baby to hold, kiss, and nurse. At the end of this, I get a whole 30 days before I do it again. Oh. bloody.fucking.joy.
My mom, apparently lacking the ability to find the right thing to say, told me she had 3 debilitating days a month until she was 60. The immediate reflex came up to say,"Shut the fuck up!" But I bit my tongue until it bled instead.
I can't do 20 years of this shit. My hope is that it's my body's way of saying that suppressing my periods with the use of the hormonal IUD means that there's a lot of old baggage in the old uterus and that this time we're just going to have a particularly thorough cleaning. Next month, I'm taking evening primrose oil and going for that short period thing again. Barring a hysterectomy, it's the best I can hope for.
Monday, May 31, 2004
Yesterday, we had friends over and the women folk cooked in the kitchen and brought out drinks while the men worked on the chicken coop remodel. With nearly 50 chickens, we need a bigger coop than the one that the 22 chickens are in, so we're converting the metal three-sided shed to a four-sided shed with a door that the chickens can spread out in. Right now, we've got everyone mushed together and the only way they're not beating the crap out of each other is that the big girls go out and take dirt baths during the day, while the babies, who we just raised and who just got their feathers, linger in the coop, too chicken to go outside with the big girls.
I've got the half dozen babies in the livingroom and I'm training Tweetie to let me pick him up and pet him without him screeching his little chicken alarm system while I do it. He usually gets a good whiff of me and gets warm in my hands and falls to sleep while I pet him with my pinkie. I guess I make a good momma chicken.
Once we get the girls transferred to their new digs, we're keeping out about a half dozen badly defeathered birds and dosing them up on antibiotics because they look like shit and we don't know why. Most of the birds look okay, but about 5-6 look like shit, so we're going to separate them and let them heal and regrow their feathers. We don't know if they're sick or not, but a couple have really bright red chicken butts, so we think they may be sick.
Tomorrow, I also start putting in my garden. Mike tilled the garden for me today, so tomorrow I slather up in spf45, put on my straw hat, and jeans, and garden. That's how skin cancer candidates garden at 5000 ft. It makes me feel old and decrepid, I tell ya.
Wait! I am old and decrepid -- too late.
I've got the half dozen babies in the livingroom and I'm training Tweetie to let me pick him up and pet him without him screeching his little chicken alarm system while I do it. He usually gets a good whiff of me and gets warm in my hands and falls to sleep while I pet him with my pinkie. I guess I make a good momma chicken.
Once we get the girls transferred to their new digs, we're keeping out about a half dozen badly defeathered birds and dosing them up on antibiotics because they look like shit and we don't know why. Most of the birds look okay, but about 5-6 look like shit, so we're going to separate them and let them heal and regrow their feathers. We don't know if they're sick or not, but a couple have really bright red chicken butts, so we think they may be sick.
Tomorrow, I also start putting in my garden. Mike tilled the garden for me today, so tomorrow I slather up in spf45, put on my straw hat, and jeans, and garden. That's how skin cancer candidates garden at 5000 ft. It makes me feel old and decrepid, I tell ya.
Wait! I am old and decrepid -- too late.
Thursday, May 27, 2004
I am sleeping better these days -- almost too much. I don't know if that's because my asthma is better and my thyroid is still kicking my ass or what. I called my doctor yesterday and asked if I could get a thyroid test sooner than three weeks out because I'm still feeling pretty lousy -- and that was after two weeks of feeling terrific. It sucks when at 4PM, you're just ready to take a nap. I've had about 5 weeks of medication, so it wasn't too unreasonable or anything. He said sure, so this morning, I got up at the asscrack of dawn (anything before 7AM is the buttcrack of Eos in my world) and drove to the lab to get blood drawn. I played solitaire for about 45 minutes before I finally got seen.
My mom is reminding me why I am doing the right thing with my asthma -- she got a chest x-ray and it was so bad that she actually has pockets of trapped air in her lungs because the passage ways are so swollen. She's JUST now getting on inhaled steroids -- which I've been begging her to do for years. She and my dad visited my brother and apparently, my brother told her "people DIE" from asthma and suggested she was well on her way. Especially, last year, she coughed so hard she broke the cartilage between her ribs and had a miserable summer. I've been telling her for YEARS. If I had been there, I would have simply driven there, picked her up and driven her to Hanover -- which is the nearest good hospital in the area.
God, I hope when I'm old, I don't do stupid stubborn things like refuse to go to the doctor when I clearly need to go. What's worse is that when they are in Florida in the winter, she has no doctor there to see. Find one, dammit.
I told her yesterday that I was worried she was going to be one of those little old ladies in the supermarket, carrying her oxygen tank in tow and that I didn't want that for her. She admitted that she doesn't either.
I guess on the plus side, it's good she finally did something, but it KILLS me that it took that stubborn broad that long.
I'm getting used to the rhythm of being a stay-at-home mom with Genny and so is she. She was brutally difficult for a week or so, and now, she's not. She tells me when she's going outside. She lets me know where she's playing. We get to read together, draw together, play computer together, and sometimes, we watch Sesame Street together, though I usually take my shower and dress for at least half of it and do dishes in the kitchen, if at all possible. I don't mind the Count, Big Bird, Grover, or Oscar, though Oscar's wormy friend is on my "feed the birds" list. However, the sound of Elmo's voice simply makes me want to rip all my hair out in clumps, after which I dream of shoving my tufted fist down his red furry throat to shut his ass up.
He's just not cute, has NEVER been cute, and will never cease to get on my everliving nerves. Of course, because I loathe Elmo, Genny adores him. What's worse is that she also likes Barney. She'll probably like rap, too.
I saw a Weird Al video last night that showed Barney getting killed and I could simply not restrain my enthusiasm for his demise. On the BBS boards, there used to be a die.barney.die newsgroup. I'm sure it was not started by adolescent boys/men, but rather by annoyed and frustrated mothers of toddlers.
Die. Annoying Stupid Toddler Creature. Die.
My mom is reminding me why I am doing the right thing with my asthma -- she got a chest x-ray and it was so bad that she actually has pockets of trapped air in her lungs because the passage ways are so swollen. She's JUST now getting on inhaled steroids -- which I've been begging her to do for years. She and my dad visited my brother and apparently, my brother told her "people DIE" from asthma and suggested she was well on her way. Especially, last year, she coughed so hard she broke the cartilage between her ribs and had a miserable summer. I've been telling her for YEARS. If I had been there, I would have simply driven there, picked her up and driven her to Hanover -- which is the nearest good hospital in the area.
God, I hope when I'm old, I don't do stupid stubborn things like refuse to go to the doctor when I clearly need to go. What's worse is that when they are in Florida in the winter, she has no doctor there to see. Find one, dammit.
I told her yesterday that I was worried she was going to be one of those little old ladies in the supermarket, carrying her oxygen tank in tow and that I didn't want that for her. She admitted that she doesn't either.
I guess on the plus side, it's good she finally did something, but it KILLS me that it took that stubborn broad that long.
I'm getting used to the rhythm of being a stay-at-home mom with Genny and so is she. She was brutally difficult for a week or so, and now, she's not. She tells me when she's going outside. She lets me know where she's playing. We get to read together, draw together, play computer together, and sometimes, we watch Sesame Street together, though I usually take my shower and dress for at least half of it and do dishes in the kitchen, if at all possible. I don't mind the Count, Big Bird, Grover, or Oscar, though Oscar's wormy friend is on my "feed the birds" list. However, the sound of Elmo's voice simply makes me want to rip all my hair out in clumps, after which I dream of shoving my tufted fist down his red furry throat to shut his ass up.
He's just not cute, has NEVER been cute, and will never cease to get on my everliving nerves. Of course, because I loathe Elmo, Genny adores him. What's worse is that she also likes Barney. She'll probably like rap, too.
I saw a Weird Al video last night that showed Barney getting killed and I could simply not restrain my enthusiasm for his demise. On the BBS boards, there used to be a die.barney.die newsgroup. I'm sure it was not started by adolescent boys/men, but rather by annoyed and frustrated mothers of toddlers.
Die. Annoying Stupid Toddler Creature. Die.
Thursday, May 20, 2004
I'm back to not sleeping again. I hate to take Ambien because Genny's not sleeping either and I cannot unglue myself from the bed after I've taken an Ambien no matter how much Mike cusses at me at 2AM.
I think it's because I'm still sorting over the IEP meeting from Tuesday in my head.
I told my kids' group:
It was a 2 hour IEP meeting -- a marathon of IEP-ness. Part of it was that there was a lot of material to cover -- lots of test results to report on and lots of implications to consider. Part of it was hashing out all the details, so that we met his needs, documented what they were doing or going to do, etc., which I am still not clear we did as well as we could have. The occupational therapist didn't have all the stuff she needed from Mike and I, so she had less time than she would have liked to review things, so her stuff was lacking. I want to call her and talk to her a little bit and get her private views.
I am not sure if I'm totally happy with the results. I need some time to process everything and then I will probably have more to say about it. For now, I will say that it was generally positive, that it resembled teamwork, and the principal, who is normally an idiotic b___h, was strangely silent with the District Representative and my advocate from the law center present. *evil grin*
I brought homemade (to die for) triple chocolate chip cookies with me, napkins, cups, and milk because I knew it would be long. There were about 15 people there beyond Mike, me and the advocate.
I need to sleep on it, as they say. I need to then sit down and explain the finished product to Russell and get his feedback on it. Then I need to rethink it based on that feedback.
For now, I will say tentatively that it went pretty well.
Okay, I still haven't gotten the actual document back. I realized they didn't do the FBA I requested either. Grrf.
Well, my wrist is hurting, so I'm going to bed.
I think it's because I'm still sorting over the IEP meeting from Tuesday in my head.
I told my kids' group:
It was a 2 hour IEP meeting -- a marathon of IEP-ness. Part of it was that there was a lot of material to cover -- lots of test results to report on and lots of implications to consider. Part of it was hashing out all the details, so that we met his needs, documented what they were doing or going to do, etc., which I am still not clear we did as well as we could have. The occupational therapist didn't have all the stuff she needed from Mike and I, so she had less time than she would have liked to review things, so her stuff was lacking. I want to call her and talk to her a little bit and get her private views.
I am not sure if I'm totally happy with the results. I need some time to process everything and then I will probably have more to say about it. For now, I will say that it was generally positive, that it resembled teamwork, and the principal, who is normally an idiotic b___h, was strangely silent with the District Representative and my advocate from the law center present. *evil grin*
I brought homemade (to die for) triple chocolate chip cookies with me, napkins, cups, and milk because I knew it would be long. There were about 15 people there beyond Mike, me and the advocate.
I need to sleep on it, as they say. I need to then sit down and explain the finished product to Russell and get his feedback on it. Then I need to rethink it based on that feedback.
For now, I will say tentatively that it went pretty well.
Okay, I still haven't gotten the actual document back. I realized they didn't do the FBA I requested either. Grrf.
Well, my wrist is hurting, so I'm going to bed.
Wednesday, May 12, 2004
I haven't hardly been doing anything -- and now, I'm getting a cold. It's coming on so fast that I am surprised. I'm way overdue for being royally ill, since the grodie gorilla chest bronchitis at Christmas. I'm due for my spring cold, so I guess it's here.
Joy.
I'm feeling very eeyore-esque about the whole thing.
And today is Wednesday and I'm Wednesday's child.
A cold just feels like icing on the cake of health disaster that my life's been lately.
At least I'm mostly over my first period since Genny was born, which oddly enough I thought would be perfectly awful, and with a few evening primrose pills and some advil was totally tolerable. The painful boobs I could have done without, but wow, how weird it was to have my own hormones!
Hey, I gotta take my good stuff where I can.
Today, God, please help me discover my health.
Amen.
Joy.
I'm feeling very eeyore-esque about the whole thing.
And today is Wednesday and I'm Wednesday's child.
A cold just feels like icing on the cake of health disaster that my life's been lately.
At least I'm mostly over my first period since Genny was born, which oddly enough I thought would be perfectly awful, and with a few evening primrose pills and some advil was totally tolerable. The painful boobs I could have done without, but wow, how weird it was to have my own hormones!
Hey, I gotta take my good stuff where I can.
Today, God, please help me discover my health.
Amen.
Tuesday, May 11, 2004
Okay, on my wrist, I actually bent it so far back with weight that the ligament plicked a tiny spicule of bone off the end of the ulna of my right wrist. I am not in a cast, but a wrist restraint, but unable to do any handwriting that extends beyond feebly signing my name.
Thus, I have two incompletes -- the death knell of my grad assistantship, unfortunately.
Still tired from hypothyroidism, asthma and life in general.
Thus, I have two incompletes -- the death knell of my grad assistantship, unfortunately.
Still tired from hypothyroidism, asthma and life in general.
Monday, May 03, 2004
Thursday, April 29, 2004
Anyone who tells you it's not that bad should be immediately held suspect or at gunpoint. I'm not sure which.
They did the deed today. In three months, I go back for my quarterly pap smear.
Next time, the doctor said that she's going to put me under general anesthesia because my cervix points the wrong way and I feel too much. It hurt like a mofo. Better than having a hysterectomy, I'm guessing, however.
1500 mg of vicodan later, I'm not feeling much except really damned tired and sore inside. Sore like someone scraped my insides up bad.
Good news? Yes, there is some. The virus that causes this is not a high risk virus for cancer.
I get biopsy results on Monday that might explain the severe dysplasia pap smear. Or not. Tired and nauseous, so I'm going to bed again.
They did the deed today. In three months, I go back for my quarterly pap smear.
Next time, the doctor said that she's going to put me under general anesthesia because my cervix points the wrong way and I feel too much. It hurt like a mofo. Better than having a hysterectomy, I'm guessing, however.
1500 mg of vicodan later, I'm not feeling much except really damned tired and sore inside. Sore like someone scraped my insides up bad.
Good news? Yes, there is some. The virus that causes this is not a high risk virus for cancer.
I get biopsy results on Monday that might explain the severe dysplasia pap smear. Or not. Tired and nauseous, so I'm going to bed again.
Wednesday, April 28, 2004
So, I'm getting my cervix hacked off tomorrow (Leep procedure) and I'm looking around on the Good Vibrations site for condoms once I've healed. Curiosity killed me, so I hit a button to see their "specials." I am thinking "what could be special after 10,000 years," but sex is a multi-billion dollar business these days. And I came across (pun intended dammit) a special kit that reminded me of a TV show from a few weeks ago.
I was watching the Osbournes. I'm blaming that fact on something related to the fact that I couldn't find the clicker and that I hadn't started taking synthroid yet, so I was too lazy to get off my big fat ass and go change it. And I saw this guy being kind of giggly and talking about taking off his clothes and having two other guys making fun of him and his ability to get it up through the bathroom door. I'm trying to talk to Mike, read a magazine, and watching this with periodic attention. After a while, I figured out that this guy was taking a mold of his penis. Good Vibrations has a silicon version, by the way.
I thought to myself, "Only a man would have thought of that." Only a man would want his special part to be immortalized as statuary. "Hey, Henry, is that there a penis sitting on the ground by that lawn gnome?"
So zoom forward to today's condom hunt until Mike gets the birthcontrol snip. My synthroid's working. I've got libido and three days has been a long time to not see my husband naked, dammit.
Then I'm looking at that kit and thinking of Mike. And doggone it, if I didn't think, "I need to get me one of those things for Mike." Then I started having a quasi-porn moment of imagining trying to make the mold. Good Vibrations is so kind as to give you two molds, so you can screw up one.
Then reality hits.
What would really happen instead of this quasi porn moment with my husband is that we'd be in the bathroom, after we were sure the kids went to bed, giggling and feeling each other up and sure as shootin' a kid would knock and need something. So then we'd be hustling to get some clothes on and stick our head out the door to see if we could resolve it without actually leaving the bathroom. Then the bathrobe tie would get caught on the container of penis mold goo and dump it on the floor.
Mike would cuss. I would die of embarrassment and think of some way to shoo the half-asleep child away and we'd be trying to scrape all this crap off the floor and by the time we got it all cleaned up the mood would be shot, we'd be tired, pissed off, and grumpy. And we'd fall asleep.
So then I was thinking, "Who needs birth control? We've got kids!"
That should be a freakin' bumper sticker.
I was watching the Osbournes. I'm blaming that fact on something related to the fact that I couldn't find the clicker and that I hadn't started taking synthroid yet, so I was too lazy to get off my big fat ass and go change it. And I saw this guy being kind of giggly and talking about taking off his clothes and having two other guys making fun of him and his ability to get it up through the bathroom door. I'm trying to talk to Mike, read a magazine, and watching this with periodic attention. After a while, I figured out that this guy was taking a mold of his penis. Good Vibrations has a silicon version, by the way.
I thought to myself, "Only a man would have thought of that." Only a man would want his special part to be immortalized as statuary. "Hey, Henry, is that there a penis sitting on the ground by that lawn gnome?"
So zoom forward to today's condom hunt until Mike gets the birthcontrol snip. My synthroid's working. I've got libido and three days has been a long time to not see my husband naked, dammit.
Then I'm looking at that kit and thinking of Mike. And doggone it, if I didn't think, "I need to get me one of those things for Mike." Then I started having a quasi-porn moment of imagining trying to make the mold. Good Vibrations is so kind as to give you two molds, so you can screw up one.
Then reality hits.
What would really happen instead of this quasi porn moment with my husband is that we'd be in the bathroom, after we were sure the kids went to bed, giggling and feeling each other up and sure as shootin' a kid would knock and need something. So then we'd be hustling to get some clothes on and stick our head out the door to see if we could resolve it without actually leaving the bathroom. Then the bathrobe tie would get caught on the container of penis mold goo and dump it on the floor.
Mike would cuss. I would die of embarrassment and think of some way to shoo the half-asleep child away and we'd be trying to scrape all this crap off the floor and by the time we got it all cleaned up the mood would be shot, we'd be tired, pissed off, and grumpy. And we'd fall asleep.
So then I was thinking, "Who needs birth control? We've got kids!"
That should be a freakin' bumper sticker.
Tuesday, April 27, 2004
The synthroid is doing wonders. I'm dropping weight like a stone and I feel pretty good. I think I could probably use a little more, but for now, it's going pretty well.
The only problem I've run into is that I seem to be having low sugar problems. I may have to cut back on my diabetes meds, but I don't have time to deal with it right now with the end of the semester and the surgery in two days. Once things have calmed down, I'll start doing a food/sugar journal for my doctor.
Mike and Bear left Monday morning for the field trip on the coast of California. I pulled out my knapsack to go to class last night and discovered their lunches, so of course, I spent last night fretting about it.
My friend, S, is worrying me. She's working, but still broke. Her phone's been cut off and she thinks she's going to lose her car to the repoman. I'm seriously thinking about getting her a cricket phone and paying for it for a few months, just so she can have a phone.
I'm so freaking codependent. My thought is if I have money, I like to help other people with it. S was worrying about paying us back and I basically told her, that if she felt like she had pay it back somehow, that she should donate to the local food closet when she got into a position to do so, but that in the meantime, she should take care of getting her feet under her because her paying us back was not a make or break point to our relationship with her.
We have the bonus coming up soon, so we're looking forward to having that money around. I think we're going to buy us a rototiller, Jeb. I got me some proper-TEE to rototill because the front yard is one big gigantic weed fest. In the desert, it doesn't make sense to have a well, so that you can water big front lawn, so that the bunnies and deer have something to eat, so we need to till it under and start the landscaping project.
Things to look forward to, huh?
The only problem I've run into is that I seem to be having low sugar problems. I may have to cut back on my diabetes meds, but I don't have time to deal with it right now with the end of the semester and the surgery in two days. Once things have calmed down, I'll start doing a food/sugar journal for my doctor.
Mike and Bear left Monday morning for the field trip on the coast of California. I pulled out my knapsack to go to class last night and discovered their lunches, so of course, I spent last night fretting about it.
My friend, S, is worrying me. She's working, but still broke. Her phone's been cut off and she thinks she's going to lose her car to the repoman. I'm seriously thinking about getting her a cricket phone and paying for it for a few months, just so she can have a phone.
I'm so freaking codependent. My thought is if I have money, I like to help other people with it. S was worrying about paying us back and I basically told her, that if she felt like she had pay it back somehow, that she should donate to the local food closet when she got into a position to do so, but that in the meantime, she should take care of getting her feet under her because her paying us back was not a make or break point to our relationship with her.
We have the bonus coming up soon, so we're looking forward to having that money around. I think we're going to buy us a rototiller, Jeb. I got me some proper-TEE to rototill because the front yard is one big gigantic weed fest. In the desert, it doesn't make sense to have a well, so that you can water big front lawn, so that the bunnies and deer have something to eat, so we need to till it under and start the landscaping project.
Things to look forward to, huh?
Sunday, April 25, 2004
I'm having trouble getting motivated to finish up school. I know that the best thing is to just stop, and I want to stop. However, the guilt of not finishing when I can do a few things is about killing me.
And I still have the procedure hanging over me.
Tomorrow, Mike and Russell leave and I'm not spending the whole damned day doing their laundry. I really do have papers to write, but explaining that to my snoring partner...well, never you mind.
And I still have the procedure hanging over me.
Tomorrow, Mike and Russell leave and I'm not spending the whole damned day doing their laundry. I really do have papers to write, but explaining that to my snoring partner...well, never you mind.
Tuesday, April 20, 2004
Officially, it's not cancer, and the stuff on the outside is mild displasia, but because of the initial reading of severe displasia, the doctor still wants to do the loop procedure to remove some of my cervix because that means that the severe stuff may be in the cervical canal, which is kind of scary to me because I'm wondering how far up it goes?
What to do, what to do.
I know, thank my mind for sharing!
I'm very relieved, but I will still be going in every three months for a pap smear, and I may have to have this procedure repeated over the next year a few times -- big fun. I'm getting the IUD out next Thursday. Mike and I will be condom shopping.
Heh.
The procedure will be done next Thursday, April 29th. I'm planning on snoozing through the afternoon afterwards and the doctor has ordered a tranquilizer just for the occasion.
On a side note, I've been just diagnosed by my regular doctor with hypothyroidism today.
In light of all this body stuff, I'm thinking that God is trying to get my attention, so I'm going to see how I feel on the thyroid medication, but I am probably going to take next 6-12 months off from grad school. Both my doctors are really worried about me and I trust them. And I'm worried, too.
Many of the folks in my kids group said that you thought if I took a year off, I'd never go back, but as an undergrad, I often took a quarter off, when I got tired and went back in when I was ready in a quarter or two. It's my education and I'm paying for it, so I guess I want to be in my best form mentally, physically, and spiritually. It would suck to do a half-hearted job, when I know what I am capable of. I also have a never quit thing within me. Bad.
Hey, it makes me the workaholic I am today. ;p
Speaking of which, I am tired and I'm stressed. Stress can make the cervical stuff worse. I'd like to see if after this procedure, I can have a clear year with no displasia. I'd like to give the thyroid meds time to work and see if I can get my weight down. With weight loss, a number of my health issues get better -- especially the diabetes and the asthma. I may also just take off next fall and go back in the spring, but I feel like I need to take some time to take care of my body and get myself well.
What to do, what to do.
I know, thank my mind for sharing!
I'm very relieved, but I will still be going in every three months for a pap smear, and I may have to have this procedure repeated over the next year a few times -- big fun. I'm getting the IUD out next Thursday. Mike and I will be condom shopping.
Heh.
The procedure will be done next Thursday, April 29th. I'm planning on snoozing through the afternoon afterwards and the doctor has ordered a tranquilizer just for the occasion.
On a side note, I've been just diagnosed by my regular doctor with hypothyroidism today.
In light of all this body stuff, I'm thinking that God is trying to get my attention, so I'm going to see how I feel on the thyroid medication, but I am probably going to take next 6-12 months off from grad school. Both my doctors are really worried about me and I trust them. And I'm worried, too.
Many of the folks in my kids group said that you thought if I took a year off, I'd never go back, but as an undergrad, I often took a quarter off, when I got tired and went back in when I was ready in a quarter or two. It's my education and I'm paying for it, so I guess I want to be in my best form mentally, physically, and spiritually. It would suck to do a half-hearted job, when I know what I am capable of. I also have a never quit thing within me. Bad.
Hey, it makes me the workaholic I am today. ;p
Speaking of which, I am tired and I'm stressed. Stress can make the cervical stuff worse. I'd like to see if after this procedure, I can have a clear year with no displasia. I'd like to give the thyroid meds time to work and see if I can get my weight down. With weight loss, a number of my health issues get better -- especially the diabetes and the asthma. I may also just take off next fall and go back in the spring, but I feel like I need to take some time to take care of my body and get myself well.
Monday, April 19, 2004
Well, the news is kind of good news/bad news...
They did use the Bethesda scale and I met the criterion for severe displasia (cuz I asked). What results they got back does mean possible cancer, though she does not think I am cancerous from what little she could see. She said that the transitional area is not "cancerous looking." However, the biopsy will tell.
Also, there's not much out around in the cervix which indicates severe displasia, but I have an IUD and it's very possible that it's all up in the canal, which is a cause for concern. She took biopsies and cultures from everywhere. We won't know for sure what's going on until the biopsy results come back (I'll hear Thursday AM), which will also tell us whether this is a high-risk viral strain or a low-risk viral strain for cancer.
Either way, it's more waiting, unfortunately.
The doctor is pretty sure she'll need to do the loop procedure and remove part of my cervix. Because of the procedure mechanics, she is going to have to remove the IUD. Because it's possible I may have to have this done a few more times, it will have to stay removed.
Mike and I have already set the appointment for the vasectomy consultation-- as I can't have more kids after this is done and Mike and I definitely do not want any more children, unless we adopt.
I even posed the question -- What if something happens and we divorce and you find the woman of your dreams and she wants kids? He said,"She can adopt. I *have* two kids. Otherwise, she can find someone else."
MY HERO!
Additionally,with my diabetes and other health concerns -- I can't handle hormones at all, nor take the physical risk that pregnancy poses and Mike doesn't want me to.
I told Mike he can't tell his family until afterwards because his mother will shit herself. She nearly had a cow when we had mentioned it before right after having Genny. She may hear about the cancer scare stuff, but we're not discussing fallout with her by any means.
I'm going to bed now because I'm cramping and uncomfortable, despite 800 mg of ibuprofen.
They did use the Bethesda scale and I met the criterion for severe displasia (cuz I asked). What results they got back does mean possible cancer, though she does not think I am cancerous from what little she could see. She said that the transitional area is not "cancerous looking." However, the biopsy will tell.
Also, there's not much out around in the cervix which indicates severe displasia, but I have an IUD and it's very possible that it's all up in the canal, which is a cause for concern. She took biopsies and cultures from everywhere. We won't know for sure what's going on until the biopsy results come back (I'll hear Thursday AM), which will also tell us whether this is a high-risk viral strain or a low-risk viral strain for cancer.
Either way, it's more waiting, unfortunately.
The doctor is pretty sure she'll need to do the loop procedure and remove part of my cervix. Because of the procedure mechanics, she is going to have to remove the IUD. Because it's possible I may have to have this done a few more times, it will have to stay removed.
Mike and I have already set the appointment for the vasectomy consultation-- as I can't have more kids after this is done and Mike and I definitely do not want any more children, unless we adopt.
I even posed the question -- What if something happens and we divorce and you find the woman of your dreams and she wants kids? He said,"She can adopt. I *have* two kids. Otherwise, she can find someone else."
MY HERO!
Additionally,with my diabetes and other health concerns -- I can't handle hormones at all, nor take the physical risk that pregnancy poses and Mike doesn't want me to.
I told Mike he can't tell his family until afterwards because his mother will shit herself. She nearly had a cow when we had mentioned it before right after having Genny. She may hear about the cancer scare stuff, but we're not discussing fallout with her by any means.
I'm going to bed now because I'm cramping and uncomfortable, despite 800 mg of ibuprofen.
Saturday, April 17, 2004
Well, we've had our ~ April 15th snow. It was just enough to stick and now it's raining and washing away the telltale signs -- white, sticky, cold -- you know. I'm going to have to wait a month for the circa May 15th snow, but admittedly this is comforting -- patterns that don't change much.
Thankfully, the peach tree has already set fruit, so it may yet yield fruit. There are the two *ahem* trees which have been flowering. They are called the *ahem* trees because we've never actually seen fruit on them, so we aren't sure what they are. The apple tree has only flowered a little, so I'm hoping we'll still get fruit.
If I only get stuff from the peach three, then I'll make a lot of peach jam and canned peaches and of course, PEPPERS!
I'm awfully glad it's raining. I hadn't gotten out to water everything and now I don't have to.
Honestly, I'd missed the snow on the foothills and now, it's back. Usually, I'm plain sick of winter, but winter ended mostly back in February, so I've had time to miss it.
Thankfully, the peach tree has already set fruit, so it may yet yield fruit. There are the two *ahem* trees which have been flowering. They are called the *ahem* trees because we've never actually seen fruit on them, so we aren't sure what they are. The apple tree has only flowered a little, so I'm hoping we'll still get fruit.
If I only get stuff from the peach three, then I'll make a lot of peach jam and canned peaches and of course, PEPPERS!
I'm awfully glad it's raining. I hadn't gotten out to water everything and now I don't have to.
Honestly, I'd missed the snow on the foothills and now, it's back. Usually, I'm plain sick of winter, but winter ended mostly back in February, so I've had time to miss it.
Friday, April 16, 2004
Everyone tells me that whatever this cervical dyplasia stuff comes to that I'll probably have a really uncomfortable office visit. However, most folks aren't talking about a lot of dysplasia, they're talking a little. I've heard the gamut from hysterectomy to partial cervical removal to uncomfortable biopsy resolved in one day.
My mother's vote is for a hysterectomy, so I don't have to endure menopause. Personally, I'm all for some level of permanent birth control at my age, however, I was thinking Mike could get it. Radical abdomenal surgery just doesn't rank up there on my list of things I'd ever wish for unless I had gotten pretty damned desperate. I am contemplating taking a year off from grad school, so I can drop weight and not have to have the gastric bypass, so a hysterectomy seems like a less than desirable option just to avoid hormones. Unlike my mother, I know a few herbs to use. Additionally, if I was more bitchy than usual at home, my family would likely not notice a distinct change or if they got annoyed with me, I'd get told.
Russell's actually really good about saying in a super tactful and nice way,"What the hell is up with you, Mom?" Mike is less tactful, but loving about the same thing. Genny just razes the house. It's her little way of saying,"And you thought you were evil?"
I'm getting an incomplete in one class. I may have to take one in the other class and blow off mini-term to get caught up.
Oddly enough, I thought I would be upset and I'm not. I'm relieved that I can just take the time and figure this out. The other thing I wondered about is if this problem might be contributing to my continuing lack of sexual interest, since I had Genny.
My biggest worry is probably insane to someone who has medical knowledge, but I was wondering if the cootie cells would travel up the IUD into my uterus. Then I got insanely nervous and realized I should just stop with that line of thought immediately, because basically, I can worry about this incessantly to little avail until Monday.
Well, hell, I'm wildly worrying anyhow, but it's nice to just try to fake myself out into some relative sanity. As my husband says,"You not worry? " Then he guffaws for a few minutes and then just starts looking at me and snickering helplessly.
Bastard.
My mother's vote is for a hysterectomy, so I don't have to endure menopause. Personally, I'm all for some level of permanent birth control at my age, however, I was thinking Mike could get it. Radical abdomenal surgery just doesn't rank up there on my list of things I'd ever wish for unless I had gotten pretty damned desperate. I am contemplating taking a year off from grad school, so I can drop weight and not have to have the gastric bypass, so a hysterectomy seems like a less than desirable option just to avoid hormones. Unlike my mother, I know a few herbs to use. Additionally, if I was more bitchy than usual at home, my family would likely not notice a distinct change or if they got annoyed with me, I'd get told.
Russell's actually really good about saying in a super tactful and nice way,"What the hell is up with you, Mom?" Mike is less tactful, but loving about the same thing. Genny just razes the house. It's her little way of saying,"And you thought you were evil?"
I'm getting an incomplete in one class. I may have to take one in the other class and blow off mini-term to get caught up.
Oddly enough, I thought I would be upset and I'm not. I'm relieved that I can just take the time and figure this out. The other thing I wondered about is if this problem might be contributing to my continuing lack of sexual interest, since I had Genny.
My biggest worry is probably insane to someone who has medical knowledge, but I was wondering if the cootie cells would travel up the IUD into my uterus. Then I got insanely nervous and realized I should just stop with that line of thought immediately, because basically, I can worry about this incessantly to little avail until Monday.
Well, hell, I'm wildly worrying anyhow, but it's nice to just try to fake myself out into some relative sanity. As my husband says,"You not worry? " Then he guffaws for a few minutes and then just starts looking at me and snickering helplessly.
Bastard.
Wednesday, April 14, 2004
Up until we moved nearly 3 years ago, I had dutifully gotten my annual pap smear. In all that time -- 17 years -- I have never had anything but normal pap smears.
This year, I finally remembered to schedule myself and go get seen. I got a letter in the mail, which is how they report results telling me that I have dysplasia -- abnormal cells on the cervix, usually chalked up to a few stray genital warts. Then I looked at the enclosed pamphlet and realized, that this was potentially dangerous, as they described in intricate detail the levels you go through before cancer.
I called frantically requesting my colposcopy. I finally got a doctor to explain to me that I have severe dysplasia -- a severe precancer condition. I started to cry.
I go in on Monday to get the colposcopy -- scared half to death and already behind on a lot of schoolwork.
This year, I finally remembered to schedule myself and go get seen. I got a letter in the mail, which is how they report results telling me that I have dysplasia -- abnormal cells on the cervix, usually chalked up to a few stray genital warts. Then I looked at the enclosed pamphlet and realized, that this was potentially dangerous, as they described in intricate detail the levels you go through before cancer.
I called frantically requesting my colposcopy. I finally got a doctor to explain to me that I have severe dysplasia -- a severe precancer condition. I started to cry.
I go in on Monday to get the colposcopy -- scared half to death and already behind on a lot of schoolwork.
Friday, April 02, 2004
My MIL informed us that she is sending Mike's brother out to visit -- the week before finals! I like the guy, but can't say I'm thrilled he's coming out so close to finals. As usual, we weren't asked. He's just arriving. Top that off with that Russell comes home the next day to say that his field trip is during the middle of Uncle's stay, and it got more special. Then I did something remarkably stupid -- I communicated directly with Mike's mother about it. I don't know what possessed me to do something that patently stupid, but I did it. Then, Mike's brother apparently sent her all the emails I sent him privately, the fuckhead.
Unfortunately, then she sent this martyred saint email ,"I thought you'd enjoy visiting with him too but if it is a hassel we can forfeit the ticket. " It is a hassle, but that's not what I said to you. :) There's a reason you didn't get that email. There's a reason I didn't discuss it with you. I DIDN'T WANT YOU TO PULL THE MARTYR CARD. Yeesh. I need a shower.
So then I had to write an explanatory email because I'm so fucking done with this crap.
Mike and I discussed this email and why I should or should not send it to you. Mike said you did not need to know all this stuff. I said that not telling you what was going on has been a source of frustration and anger to me over the years and is exactly why you do not always understand where I am coming from and why you make erroneous assumptions about my intentions.
What I would enjoy or not enjoy the week before finals is not the issue. I have finals and I will be studying and writing papers for them because I will not let the time that my family has sacrificed away from me for the past semester be for a "B." I am simply trying to make sure that my children and my husband, who will have time to spend with Mark, are able to. Certainly, he's not here to visit his sister-in-law, but rather his brother. My presence or the lack thereof, should not be a make or break point to his visit, and my husband and children are looking forward to having him visit. I am a grad student, therefore, I have no social life. My friends all miss me and bitch at me for not calling. Mark can bitch if he wants, but he'll have to take a number behind my husband, my children, my mother, my grandmother, LaDawn, Mel, Dan, Donna, Pauline, and others. June 5, I will be booking all available time to friends and family who would like to attend a bitchfest, wherein they may complain incessantly for as long as there is alcohol, about what a rotten so and so I am while I'm in school.
Unfortunately, your original message lacked specificity, and in order to schedule everyone, so we can make it work, we needed to clarify things, so that our family could plan accordingly. When Russell came home with the date of his field trip, a field trip that he really needs a parent to go with him on, I felt it was appropriate to inform you and M. and to let you know the limits of what we are able to do and what our time constraints are. Russell has waited all year for this trip, and while he said he'd ditch it to see his uncle, I think that would be unfortunate for him and unnecessary, so I was trying to get information about M.'s plans, so I could figure out what I could do to make it work out for everyone. Because I did not know M.'s schedule, I let you know about my night classes, which as it turns out, will not be a problem at all. In fact, picking him up at the airport will be no problem. For taking him to the airport at the buttcrack of dawn with a three year old in tow, I expect him to send me a physically fit personal masseuse (a gay eunuch - according to Mike will be acceptable) wearing nothing but a thong, a smile, and a bottle of warmed massage oil to arrive one hour after my last final ends. Or he may buy me an enormous caffe latte at starbucks.
Additionally, I am personally sensitive to communications from you, and, if you notice, I did not send that email to you. Unfortunately, K. did email it to you. Mike says that I should learn to ignore any inferences because that's what he does. I'm not as adept at it as he is, clearly. Perhaps I saw inferences where there were none, but I am also under an enormous amount of stress between now and the end of the semester with a paper or two due each week until Mid-May, so my interpretive skills may not be at their best because I am exhausted and stressed out. Unfortunately, I am the one most skilled at juggling schedules and keeping track of that stuff in our household, so while I should have had Mike handle the email, I was trying to be helpful to him because he's slammed at work. He's been made big engineer hunkybutt on a new project, so he's busy, too. Because he's the big engineer hunkybutt, he has to let them know if he won't be there with enough notice that they don't freak. They don't refer to him as hunkybutt, but I do, and it's my email, so big engineer hunkybutt it is.
If M. chooses to ditch the trip, that's his choice. Yes, M. is showing up at a difficult time for me personally. However, as far as I am concerned, you suggested a plan that will work for everyone and will serve to impact me little. If I have to work, I can simply drive up to the university office to work. I have no class the week of Russell's spring break, so I am hoping to get ahead a little bit then, so that I have time to spend. I'm caught up on my reading and assignments, so that extra week should serve me well, but it will also depend on the workload from the professors I work for, which I have no way to plan for.
As a friend's band says, "Show up or throw up, we don't care. We're going to party all night long."
The party is on whether he shows or not.
So she writes back that
The fact is it deeply hurts me not to have a better relationship with you and I think I how it must make Mike feel, caught in the middle. All I can say is I'm sorry and I will try harder.
Well, could you try harder by being real and not sending me all the crap email? Yuck.
Could you have tried harder a few years ago before all the shit hit the fan and splattered wildly all over our lives? With two kids there's enough of that to clean up, trust me.
Could you have tried harder to make my son feel welcome? Things like remembering his birthday would help.
And Mike doesn't feel in the middle. He feels protective of me. He feels protective of his kids. He feels protective of himself.
I just feel sick.
Unfortunately, then she sent this martyred saint email ,"I thought you'd enjoy visiting with him too but if it is a hassel we can forfeit the ticket. " It is a hassle, but that's not what I said to you. :) There's a reason you didn't get that email. There's a reason I didn't discuss it with you. I DIDN'T WANT YOU TO PULL THE MARTYR CARD. Yeesh. I need a shower.
So then I had to write an explanatory email because I'm so fucking done with this crap.
Mike and I discussed this email and why I should or should not send it to you. Mike said you did not need to know all this stuff. I said that not telling you what was going on has been a source of frustration and anger to me over the years and is exactly why you do not always understand where I am coming from and why you make erroneous assumptions about my intentions.
What I would enjoy or not enjoy the week before finals is not the issue. I have finals and I will be studying and writing papers for them because I will not let the time that my family has sacrificed away from me for the past semester be for a "B." I am simply trying to make sure that my children and my husband, who will have time to spend with Mark, are able to. Certainly, he's not here to visit his sister-in-law, but rather his brother. My presence or the lack thereof, should not be a make or break point to his visit, and my husband and children are looking forward to having him visit. I am a grad student, therefore, I have no social life. My friends all miss me and bitch at me for not calling. Mark can bitch if he wants, but he'll have to take a number behind my husband, my children, my mother, my grandmother, LaDawn, Mel, Dan, Donna, Pauline, and others. June 5, I will be booking all available time to friends and family who would like to attend a bitchfest, wherein they may complain incessantly for as long as there is alcohol, about what a rotten so and so I am while I'm in school.
Unfortunately, your original message lacked specificity, and in order to schedule everyone, so we can make it work, we needed to clarify things, so that our family could plan accordingly. When Russell came home with the date of his field trip, a field trip that he really needs a parent to go with him on, I felt it was appropriate to inform you and M. and to let you know the limits of what we are able to do and what our time constraints are. Russell has waited all year for this trip, and while he said he'd ditch it to see his uncle, I think that would be unfortunate for him and unnecessary, so I was trying to get information about M.'s plans, so I could figure out what I could do to make it work out for everyone. Because I did not know M.'s schedule, I let you know about my night classes, which as it turns out, will not be a problem at all. In fact, picking him up at the airport will be no problem. For taking him to the airport at the buttcrack of dawn with a three year old in tow, I expect him to send me a physically fit personal masseuse (a gay eunuch - according to Mike will be acceptable) wearing nothing but a thong, a smile, and a bottle of warmed massage oil to arrive one hour after my last final ends. Or he may buy me an enormous caffe latte at starbucks.
Additionally, I am personally sensitive to communications from you, and, if you notice, I did not send that email to you. Unfortunately, K. did email it to you. Mike says that I should learn to ignore any inferences because that's what he does. I'm not as adept at it as he is, clearly. Perhaps I saw inferences where there were none, but I am also under an enormous amount of stress between now and the end of the semester with a paper or two due each week until Mid-May, so my interpretive skills may not be at their best because I am exhausted and stressed out. Unfortunately, I am the one most skilled at juggling schedules and keeping track of that stuff in our household, so while I should have had Mike handle the email, I was trying to be helpful to him because he's slammed at work. He's been made big engineer hunkybutt on a new project, so he's busy, too. Because he's the big engineer hunkybutt, he has to let them know if he won't be there with enough notice that they don't freak. They don't refer to him as hunkybutt, but I do, and it's my email, so big engineer hunkybutt it is.
If M. chooses to ditch the trip, that's his choice. Yes, M. is showing up at a difficult time for me personally. However, as far as I am concerned, you suggested a plan that will work for everyone and will serve to impact me little. If I have to work, I can simply drive up to the university office to work. I have no class the week of Russell's spring break, so I am hoping to get ahead a little bit then, so that I have time to spend. I'm caught up on my reading and assignments, so that extra week should serve me well, but it will also depend on the workload from the professors I work for, which I have no way to plan for.
As a friend's band says, "Show up or throw up, we don't care. We're going to party all night long."
The party is on whether he shows or not.
So she writes back that
The fact is it deeply hurts me not to have a better relationship with you and I think I how it must make Mike feel, caught in the middle. All I can say is I'm sorry and I will try harder.
Well, could you try harder by being real and not sending me all the crap email? Yuck.
Could you have tried harder a few years ago before all the shit hit the fan and splattered wildly all over our lives? With two kids there's enough of that to clean up, trust me.
Could you have tried harder to make my son feel welcome? Things like remembering his birthday would help.
And Mike doesn't feel in the middle. He feels protective of me. He feels protective of his kids. He feels protective of himself.
I just feel sick.
Thursday, April 01, 2004
I've been buried in crap to do and that is not actually slowing down much, other than I will be working on more of it again, shortly.
I'm thinking about taking next year off to exercise. While I'm losing weight, I don't have time to exercise and that's what makes the difference for me -- exercise. I am just not clear I want to have gastric bypass surgery either. It would be such a difficult surgery, despite some of the obvious benefits later.
Right now, I 've got to go correct the papers that have been patiently waiting on me.
I'm thinking about taking next year off to exercise. While I'm losing weight, I don't have time to exercise and that's what makes the difference for me -- exercise. I am just not clear I want to have gastric bypass surgery either. It would be such a difficult surgery, despite some of the obvious benefits later.
Right now, I 've got to go correct the papers that have been patiently waiting on me.
Friday, March 26, 2004
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.
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.
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
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