I buy a large bottle/box of Dreft when we welcome a new kiddo. As it nears the end, I start introducing a few of the baby’s items into our regular laundry to test for allergies or irritation. We’ve never had any problems, so I don’t buy another round of baby detergent until the next kiddo.

But there will be no more kiddos this time. I am washing the very last load of sweet smelling laundry. And most of these clothes are being shipped off to another wee one about to make an entrance into this world.

My youngest son is sitting in his bouncy, giggling at his sister, and trying to swat at her hair as she teases him with it. He had his first real meal of food this morning without that pesky tongue action getting in the way. He no longer needs me 24/7 as he grows more aware of his surroundings and is able to entertain himself with toy chewing and foot gnawing and hair pulling.

On the bright side, my diaper changing days are numbered as well. And that ain’t so bad.

One of the books I’ve been reading is about ADHD. I picked it up on a suggestion from the librarian after helping me track down my list of reads. She said a lot of people grab this book as well when trying to nail down a ‘fix’ for certain behavioral problems.

My gawd. I have yet to find one quirk of his that isn’t discussed in this book. Not only discussed, but I’m getting information on the reasons behind the behavior, and most importantly – ways that other parents have won the battles. Maybe that’s why I like this book so much – it was created with the help of real people dealing with real shit. Real experts. Not some fucking genuine imitation.

Not saying that I trust myself to diagnose my son as ADHD, cancel all evaluations, and use this book as my bible forever and ever – but it is giving me ideas to use now. Something to do NOW to keep from going insane while waiting 6 months for the testing and gawd knows how long for some actual help on what to do.

Something needs to be done NOW. He’s driving me crazy NOW. He’s like a cyclone – gaining in speed every week. I’m worn the hell out dealing with him. I’m starting to lose my temper dealing with him. I don’t have the energy to deal with him. I’m terrified to leave the house and deal with him in public.

No matter what’s going on, I know that he can’t help it. I know he’s not a bad little guy. He’s actually very sweet. He’s very caring and lovable. He’s incredibly bright and extremely happy.

Extremely. Extreme. That’s him. That’s my boy. I know there are other things going on, some communication gaps that prevent him from fully understanding what the hell I’m saying most of the time, but I’m more hopeful now than I was. Maybe if we can learn how to settle his ass down, we can learn how to help him connect those dots.

Some of the methods in the book are already helping. Mostly it’s just watching his cues and reacting first to diffuse them. I’ve been sending him on an errand up the steps during dinner now. Cruel? Hardly. That boy has not finished his dinner in over a year – because it’s boring. Now? I wait until I see him start to vibrate in that chair, and send him on an ‘errand’ to run some of that shit off. Then he sits down and can finish his food. Ok, maybe not the best way to win the war, but fuck it – it gets the job done.

Works for me.

[Book is: The ADHD Parenting Handbook - Practical Advice for Parents From Parents.]

I’ve been pretty lax about the house lately. Summer’s here, and I’ve been spending too much time out and about and goofing off. I’ve cleaned, just haven’t deep cleaned. I can feel the filth laughing at me. Mocking me. Taunting me.

I threw myself back into my routine this morning. Today was the living room. I cleaned the ceiling fans, the vents, the corners, dusted, and polished – and then my fucking vacuum bites the dust. Not good when you use it twice a day.

I washed walls by standing on the furniture, lost my footing, lost my foot in the depths of the couch, and took a plunge onto the floor – with my foot still lodged in the cushions. Think I fucking up my elbow. And my wrist. Gawd my wrist. It was hurting a few weeks ago, got better, and brainy Ang uses it to land on. Not smart.

I took down the blinds and washed them, then placed them around the living room to dry. Landlord comes by with some flowers for me. Must plant today or they die. Great. She tells me that my new oven will be ready soon, so I panic about getting the old one cleaned. I may be a cleaning goddess, but I fucking hate to scrub that oven. It’s a nightmare. Correction: it WAS a nightmare.

Took me all fucking day and most of the evening to finish up the blinds, plant those flowers, and scrub the oven. Even managed to bathe the little ones sometime in the middle after they decided to give themselves dirt baths outside. Then I fixed a decent meal and my dearest husband ran me a hot bath.

Now it’s 11pm, and I’m dog ass tired. Tomorrow I tackle the bedrooms and the laundry room. Gonna be a long ass week thanks to my slovenly ways. I will not be pig-girl ever again. That’s for damn sure.

Prize goes to Nancy.
Incredibly fitting, since she’s the one that made this blog possible.

There was a bit of good that came out of the sleepover.

When the kids were outside playing football, that kid that MB1 got into a fight with awhile back came walking by. He came over and asked if he could play with them, and I said sure.

I watched him for a bit, and called MB2 over. I told him to go ask this kid if he wanted to stay over as well, and the kid’s face lit up. MB2 & TheBestKidI’veEverMet both walked him home to grab his stuff. He was a joy that night. He really was. Polite. Helpful. Respectful. I watched those boys who were trying to beat the shit out of each other a couple of months ago pal around like best friends.

I’m glad it’s turned out this way. Taught my ass a lesson as well about what good can come from being man enough to say sorry.

I have almost 5000 comments. Damn.

I can hit it today if my little friend peddling that go-go juice for peckers stops by.

My house is still a disaster, but the emotional trauma caused by those hellions is starting to fade. I’ll survive. MB2 had a great birthday, and that’s all that really matters anyway. MB3’s birthday is about a week or so away, but he’s still too young for a sleepover. Thank gawd for that.

Wee one is starting to put different sounds together. Very vocal child. Someone needs to tell MD that children always say daaaaaadaaaaadaaaaadaaaaaaa first, and that it doesn’t mean a damn thing. I know it sounds cute, and I know it melts your heart, but he has no clue he’s actually calling to you – so get over it. He’ll say mama for real real soon though. I just know it. He better anyway, with all these practice sessions I’ve been giving him.

MG has her third birthday coming up in August. Still aways away, but I’d like to think of some fun gifts for her. Maybe have her brothers build her a dollhouse. Maybe take some time and put together a dress up trunk for her – gawd how she loves dress up. I need more ideas.

Damn, the day is slipping away, and I have a house to scrub. Better get my ass moving.

I don’t think we’ll be having one of these massive sleepovers again for a very long time. Holy shit.

They were supposed to be here at 4pm. RudeMom dropped her kid off at 2pm. Fine. No problem. She may be in need of a fucking manners manual, but her kid is alright.

LouderThanAMotherFuckerKid#1 got here at 3pm. LTAMFK#2 delighted us with his presence 5 minutes later. TheMostWhiniestKidInTheWholeGawdDamnWorld got here at 3:30pm. I had a fucking headache before the party even started. I gave up trying to be the nice guy early on, and let the dragon come out to play with these pubescent pricks.

Got n’thing to eat? – Well, since you’ve only been here for 15 minutes, it’s nowhere near dinner time, and in this house we don’t graze like cattle – I guess you’re just going to have to get your head out of my refrigerator and wait like everyone else.

Shutup you idiotic moron – Hi there. We’re going to play a little game called watch-your-damn-mouth-or-we’re-going-to-call-your-parents. We don’t talk to people like that in my house – especially not to little kids. You wanna play Bully, I’ll show you Bully.

Why can’t we play night tag? This is so lame. What a crock. – We can’t play outside anymore because you were obviously raised in a home devoid of manners. You holler and yell and carry on like a wild beast, and my neighbors don’t care to hear it. You will go inside – right now – or I will get on the phone to have your parents come get your ass. Inside. Now. [snarl]

I’ve fucking had it with these three friends of MB2. They are no longer welcome at my house. Period. Fucking hellion brats. Running here and running there. Screaming and hollering as they tore through my flowers, ran through the neighbor guy’s yard, and just basically making me wish I had a weapon in the house. When MD got home from work, I gave him 10 minutes to get cleaned up. Told him we were doing the cake and ice cream now, and then he was taking their asses to the park.

I had to take my ass up the steps three times to get those kids off of the video games. I finally walked over and yanked the cables out of the tv, and pointed down the steps. Guess the look on my face told them how close they were to seeing a real live lunatic, and they pouted their asses down to celebrate with us.

Whiny kid wanted white cake – we had chocolate. He wanted Neapolitan ice cream – we had vanilla. He wanted a Dr Pepper – he got fucking fruit punch. He wanted to suck the icing off of the candles – he about got my fist down his throat.

MD kissed my cheek as I began clearing the table, and announced that it was park time. My hands were shaking as I closed the door behind them. 15 minutes later, the guilt hits. I had watched him walk over with all 12 kids, and I felt bad for sending him to deal with that shit alone. I grabbed the wee one, and headed over to help out.

He was trying to get them to play basketball or football or tag or something, but those three pukes just wanted to sit around and whine that they couldn’t go back and play video games. I saw him walk over and smile and whisper something real low and gravel-y, and they hurried over to join a team. Heh

I left with the three little ones, and he stayed another 2 hours. Trying to wear their asses out. We grilled 20 hamburgers and 6 packs of hot dogs. Ask me what we got to eat. Go ahead – ask me. We got one fucking hot dog. Why you ask? Because I was stupid and let them fix their own plates, that’s why. Those little nasty bastards decided that they would each take 4 hamburgers and 3 hot dogs. Should have been enough for everyone who wanted burgers to have two each – since some only wanted hot dogs. But fuck no – two wasn’t enough for two of these sonofabitches. They needed 4 each. FOUR…. FOUR. I ate my hot dog and wondered how old they’d each be when their first heart attack came a-looking for them. I was hoping 12. Is that awful? I don’t give a flying fuck if it is.

I eventually told them to stay upstairs, and that I had better not hear a peep out of them. I was a crazed loon by then, and the rest of the night was peaceful. Those three left at 8am, and the 4 good kids stayed until noon. We had pancakes, watched the parade, and had a pleasant game of football in the beautiful weather. I like those other kids. I made sure to thank their parents as well. Made damn sure they knew what a fine ass job they were doing of raising their children, and how much it was appreciated. I didn’t say a word to the other parents. Asked the kids if they had all their stuff, and shoo-ed ‘em right the fuck out the door.

Never again. Never again. My nerves just can’t hack it.

Some pics in the gallery. I am now off to sit on the porch and let the chilly fall-like weather undo my fruit loop state of mind.

MB2’s friend party is today. He’s having 7 friends over for the night. No, I don’t know why we do this shit to ourselves. I like 4 of these kids. The other 3 will require extreme discipline on my part to keep from snarling when they enter the room. They are loud, obnoxious, and obviously don’t have any set rules at home to follow. I want to puff up and play mean nasty bitch, but I won’t.

Why won’t my children just let me pick their friends?

MB4 has been attending school/camp without incident. Teacher still needs help with him, and still thinks the testing is a good idea, but she says he’s doing much better than he did the first week. Same at home as well. He has calmed down tremendously. Starting to wonder if we’re not dealing with ADHD as well. Would make sense.

But even though I’m thrilled to actually have him sit down long enough to have a conversation with me, he still isn’t getting the conversation. We start talking about school and he interrupts by asking if monkeys have blood. And although he’s not as hyper, I still dread taking him anywhere in public.

Had to run errands this week. Lots of errands. We are standing in line behind Pat. You know Pat. We all know Pat. MB4 doesn’t understand Pats.

Mom, is that a boy or a grrrrl?

[Holy shit] WOW! Look at these umbrellas MB4! Aren’t they cool?

I saaaaaaaaid, is that a boy or a grrrrl?

[FUCK] Hey, I forgot shampoo. Gotta have shampoo. Let’s go get some shampoo.

YOU’RE NOT ANSWERING ME!! I saaaaaaid….

[Sweet Jesus] It’s a girl MB4. A girl. Now stop talking about people, it’s not nice.

Well, she should wear a house (name tag) that says grrrl on it.

My apologies Pat.

Ran out to grab a few things for MB2’s party(s) today. Was waiting in line when a guy came in and asked the checkout gal if they sold coolers. She looked right at him, blinked, and looked back at the person writing a check.

The guy asked again – a cooler, ya know, an ice cooler? She said no without looking up. He said thanks and was about to walk out the door when I said yes, they have coolers – middle section of the store with all the 4th of July stuff. He thanked me, shot her an eat shit look, went back and grabbed a cooler.

Why is it so fucking hard for some people to give a shit?

My second born son is 12 today. Hard to believe when I can remember his entrance into this world so clearly. He was my little sweetheart, and has grown into an extremely loving and honest young man. I’m proud to be his mother.

Wee one is nursing less and less. He’s starting to paw at food, and is trying really hard to get his tongue out of the way to eat whatever we offer. This means that my hormone levels are slowly getting back to normal as well. It’ll still be 6 months or so until he’s actually weaned and my system gets totally back to normal, but the journey has started.

My family has seen signs of this. The dragon has been sleeping for awhile, and she’s popped out to say hello the past week or two. I seem to have a better handle on it now than I ever did before, but we’ll see what happens when that hormonal leash is broken and there’s nothing to hold it back.

As much as I hate being a quick tempered prick, I’ll admit that I do miss that part of me that goes away when my body plays host or food source for a kiddo.

I miss feeling alive. Electrified. I miss the ability to chew and swallow another human whole. I feel like my senses are covered in plastic right now. Like my emotions are wrapped them with bumper car padding. I hate it. Being part neurotic bitch is what makes me me.

But in an attempt to not wish wee one’s life away, I will stop with the drivel and get back to enjoying these last few months before he starts walking and talking and stops needing me as much. Matter of fact, I think I’ll go be June Fucking Cleaver for awhile and take the little ones to the park.

My babies are home. The fighting and bitching is pretty intense, but we’ll survive. Well, maybe.

But I’m pretty proud of those boys. Their counselor said my boys were his favorite, and he’d like to request MB1 as his CIT (counselor-in-training) next year, if we allowed him to attend again.

MB1 was given the Biggest Heart award for helping the counselors and keeping the peace with the other campers.

MB2 was given the Key award for ‘being the key that made this week successful’. His counselor said he’d like to have MB2 as his CIT the year after MB1.

And Moody Nephew was given the funny bone award for making everyone laugh.

Mighty proud mama right now.

Since I’ve been peed on today, I get to have brownies for breakfast.

Got the boys off to school this morning, and hopped in the tub while the little ones were still sleeping. MG appears in the doorway, strips, and hops in my bathwater.

We talk about what we’ll do today as I wash her hair. Maybe we’ll play dress up, or go for a walk in the rain. Maybe grab an ice cream cone tonight when the boys are all home. Maybe …

Mom, I peed.

So then during our second bath…

The older boys come home tomorrow. I’m glad. Everyone else is too. I know that will all change in a span of 5 seconds, but it’s nice to know that I’m not the only one who craves the chaos around here.

MB4 is doing ok I guess. His teacher seems to think it’s more a true case of ADHD with a touch of something else added in. While I agree, I hope she isn’t treating him like a problem student when he’s really just a sweet little kid with an extreme case of ants in his pants and some communication/social issues. He loved the idea of going to school, and now he hates it. He said she’s scary.

I wish he would talk to me more about it. All I get from him is what he had for lunch. That’s about all he says. I ask what he did at camp that day, and he tells me what he ate. I ask about the fun stuff, and he blinks at me. Then he asks if we’re done talking so he can go ride his bike. For all I know, he’s just riding the fucking bus all day long with a quick break for grub. I’m going in to talk to her a bit tomorrow.

MG is so lonely without her brothers during the day. I need to check into some activities around here for her. She’s a social little creature who needs to be around people. I just don’t cut it. I try, but she’s the type that needs other kids to play with. So unlike me. She loves people. I wish everyone else would just evaporate. Perhaps I should check her hospital bands.

I’m heading to sleep now. I can’t wake up worth a shit these days. That alarm went off for 45 minutes this morning before I finally heard it. Didn’t hear it at all yesterday. I don’t like this getting old shit.

Tonight Scattered T-Storms 64? 60 %
Fri Jun 18 T-Storms 71?/58? 80 %
Sat Jun 19 Mostly Cloudy 71?/54? 20 %
Sun Jun 20 Scattered T-Storms 74?/63? 50 %
Mon Jun 21 Partly Cloudy 81?/65? 20 %
Tue Jun 22 Scattered T-Storms 83?/64? 40 %
Wed Jun 23 Isolated T-Storms 85?/69? 30 %
Thu Jun 24 Scattered T-Storms 84?/63? 40 %
Fri Jun 25 Scattered T-Storms 83?/63? 40 %
Sat Jun 26 Mostly Sunny 84?/65? 10 %

This weather makes perfect sense now that I think about it.

I bought fucking pool passes this year.

If your child hasn’t even hit their third birthday yet – please don’t bitch about how they’ll never potty train. If you can’t wrap your adult mind around the fact that every child will eventually use the toilet when they’re ready, then you should have bought a kitten instead. They train real easy.

If your child is rowdy and playful and full of energy – please don’t medicate them and proclaim how wonderful it is to have normalcy again. Your child will never be normal living with you. Kids are wild. They’re supposed to be that way. Adventurous and alive. Curious and ever-learning. Some children need that extra help to focus on schoolwork and such – your child doesn’t. Jumping on the bed does not warrant a prescription for medicine, and your doctor should be spanked.

If you married your spouse in a jail house ceremony while they were serving time for possession and petty theft – please don’t whine and cry when they graduate to new levels of crime and drug abuse. Wake the fuck up, grow the fuck up, and make the best of the rest of your life.

If you have an aspirin – please give it to me. I have a headache.

Last night I got into bed. It wasn’t hot enough for the air conditioning, so I sat up and opened the window behind me. Was still a tad warm, so I leaned over and turned on the fan. That created a nice breeze, and I reached down to adjust the blankets around me. Was feeling a bit parched, so I turned around and grabbed my glass of water from the dresser.

I did all of this while my son lay next to me on the bed. Nursing.

You think if I braided these wasted bits of woman flesh, threw ‘em over my head, and tucked ‘em down the back of my shirt – anyone would notice?

Spent yesterday wiping out my computer.

Spending today filling it back up with shit.

BTW —
Without Nancy, the Queen Geek, I’d be sitting here bawling instead of installing.

Thanks dear.

My babies are gone at camp, and I don’t like it. I hope they’re having the time of their life, but I don’t like it. I know they’re making memories that will last a lifetime, but I still don’t like it. Hopefully they are bonding as brothers and as friends, but mama still misses their little fighting asses around the house.

MB3 & MB4 are about to get on the bus, and then it’ll just be me and the two little ones. MG will mope around all day looking for her brothers, and Wee one will want to be carried everywhere like a little emperor looking for something to grab at and gnarl on.

Yeah, grab at. He’s old enough now to start pawing at things within his reach. Old enough to juuust about replace his giggles with belly laughs. He still hasn’t popped through any teeth, but he’s close. He’s also starting to reach for people, and will soon figure out that cute little guys who hold their arms out and smile will always get picked up.

Storms every day. I don’t mind as long as they’d leave my power and cable lines alone. Made MD stop the other day and grab a pic of a storm headed our way. So damn amazing to watch. It’s in the gallery, along with a couple of pics of the boys when we dropped them off at camp.

Now it’s time for me to go give MB4 his daily pep talk about bosses and rules and keeping his clothes on. He’s still not thrilled about going, but at least he’s getting on the bus.

Geezus. I’m headed to bed soon so this day will fucking end.

Woke up this morning, and saw a few ants coming in through the window in the kitchen. I sprinkled some pepper around the sill, and squished the bastards that were trapped. Really works by the way, and you don’t have to worry about your little ones or your animals getting into it.

5 minutes later, MB2 called from his friend’s house and wanted picked up. Fine. Just as soon as I dump some caffeine in my body please. Go to grab a soda – the box is empty. I fucking hate it when I do that. Dammit – now I must actually venture out in public, which requires a bra and shoes and some sort of quick magic on the medusa locks. MD throws on a tshirt and his flipflops and heads out to save the day.

Do I use this time wisely? Do I use this second chance to make myself presentable? Hell no. I piss away 20 minutes reading emails and zoning out on the couch while my mind tries to function without dr pepper. Knock at the door snaps me out of my daze. It’s the mom of MB3’s friend coming to pick him up. I love answering the door looking like a fucking hobo with my national geographic boobs flobbing out all over hell and back and my raccoon eyes from yesterday’s makeup. I bet that kid never spends the night again.

Then the little ones remember that today is pool day, yet it doesn’t open until 1pm. They morph into Dino and begin hopping all over me demanding to go to the pool. My brain is still fuzzy and not running on all cylinders from lack of caffeine, and I suggest a walk when MD gets home.

How jolly that he walked in the door two seconds later. How wonderful that the whole walking bullshit hadn’t had time to evaporate from their brains yet. How fucking smart of me to not clean myself while I had the chance. How cruel of me to do a 5 second make-over and scare the beegeeezus out of the neighborhood to fulfill the walk obligation. How incredibly stupid of me to suggest it in the first place. How lucky we were that it was already hell hot outside.

Got home, kids crashed, and I began washing clothes. We finished packing bags for camp tomorrow, and drug out the sleeping bags to check zippers. Then we picked up the house and fixed lunch.

Spent a few hours at the pool, and came home to gasp for breath in the air conditioning. Noticed a storm rolling in at record speed, and headed outside to secure the bikes and shit in the yard.

Storm starts to hammer us. Tornado warnings. Storm warnings. Flood warnings. Wind warnings. Holy shit was it windy. They keep saying to watch out for 80mph winds, but we ignored it. They weren’t kidding. We started watching trees bending and breaking. We opened the kitchen window to have a peek at the backyard damage, and fucking peppered sprayed our eyes with my homemade ant treatment. That shit burns. It really really burns.

Decided to watch a movie to pass the time, and the power went out. Neither MD, nor the children have ever had their power out for very long. They didn’t handle it so well. I was chewed on by MB4 for breaking the lights and the tv. I was chewed on by MG for breaking her vcr. I was bombarded with cries of boredom from everyone. I began having convulsions over the loss of my internet and phone. Note to self: buy a regular phone that doesn’t require electricity.

Finally ordered everyone to bed so they’d stop fucking bugging me. I sat in the dark with the window open and let it wash over me. Let it calm me. The air dropped almost 30 degrees and I changed into some comfy sweats and put on my fuzzy socks. I sat by the window and watched the rain fall. Felt the wet cool breeze blow in. Listened to the rain and shook my head at the foolish cars trying to keep their cars on the road in hurricane strength winds. I thought about absolutely nothing except how thankful I was to be warm and dry.

The storm slowly passed, and the bucket truck idled on the street for an hour while the poor guy worked on giving me back my computer. I grew tired of watching him, and curled up on the couch with my fleece blanket. I was almost asleep when every fucking electrical gizmo in the house came on. I flew around shutting off lights and alarms and tvs and radios, and promised my pitiful addiction one post before I retreated back to my warm blankie.

So here’s my post. Now I’m off to let the rain lull me back to sleep. I am so glad this day is over.

It’s weird how I can look back now and see shit that I never saw before.

Well, I tried. Even drove to the school and tried to get him to go inside with me just to talk to the teacher. No dice. Ever seen a 53lb kid crawl inside a cup holder to get away from you? Come on over.

We tried all night to find out why. He would just get more and more pissed at us for asking. Said his teacher is scary, and he’s done. We tried helping him to explain – did you get in trouble? did she put you in time out? was she mean to you? did she yell at you? no no no no no no no no nonoooooooooooonooooooo

She’s just scary and he’s not going back. Ever.

I’m not dragging him in there kicking and screaming – not for camp at least. School might be a different story. But there will be no fun activities here today. No snacks. No chocolate milk. No friends over. He’s going to be bored shitless in an attempt to try and make camp look more appealing.

Wish I could go to camp.

I’m done with camp now.

Why? What happened?

I said I’m done with camp.

Did something happen today? I thought you liked it?

I did like it. But now I’m done. I’m not going back.

Now what the fuck do I do?

MB4’s first day of camp didn’t go so well. Things got switched around, and he ended up in another class with a teacher who had no clue that anything was going on with him.

Said she thought he was a neat little guy, but she definitely knew something was ‘up’. She was relieved that we already were already ‘in the process’. Guess some parents aren’t so keen on a teacher pointing out issues in their children.

He cried for an hour about wanting to go home. An aid finally took him for a walk and got him to calm down. She said lots of kids cry and want to go home, but it more the manner in which he said it. I know what she means, but it’s hard to describe. I SAID I want to go home. I said that. But you’re not listening to me. I said I want to go home and you’re not listening to me. I am asking you nicely to let me go home. It’s just … weird. The way he uses his vocabulary and the way he structures sentences is just weird.

She said he seemed oblivious to his surroundings at times, then would suddenly turn to the kid next to him and ask him if he was coming to his house to play. He would get up and investigate something that caught his eye, and she spent the day redirecting him back to the group or his chair. He was given chocolate milk at lunch, grabbed it, and ran screaming back to her jumping up and down to show her his wonderful ‘fortune’. She kept trying to reassure me that he was a very neat child. There’s a special code in that statement, I just know it. It’s that ‘I like you as a friend’ and ‘he has a great personality’ type of shit.

She still thinks she can handle him though, and she wants him to continue on full days. Said that even if it gets to be too much, she will at least make sure she has enough time with him to do a proper evaluation so we can get to the bottom of what it is. I sent the papers to her this morning, so she can familiarize herself with the things to watch for. If he gets really hard to manage for her (don’t always have aids), then we’ll try half days. We’ll see. At least the school part of the evaluation is getting done.

Yesterday seemed to go better. According to him anyway. I have never seen him so alive and so happy. I sent a note on to her with the eval papers asking if things had gotten any better. I went over certain things with him last night and this morning to try and make it easier on her. He was so proud that he peed without getting naked and showed me how he can stand in a line and raise his hand. Ahhhh, the little things.

So, like she said – we’re going hour by hour and day by day. I still need valium, but it’s getting easier.

I’m dog ass tired, my fucking wrist is killing me, and I’m so happy to be back online I could piss myself.

Server moves, MB4 starting school camp, and a bus that comes at the asscrack of dawn are things consuming my life of late. The bus. Damn. That bus will be here in 7.5 hours to mark a new day. I must be up, dressed, and transformed into a cattle prod to get the demons out on time. Meaning I must open my eyes 6 hours from now. I really should call it a night. Especially since my ass thought I could handle only 4 hours of sleep last night. Whatthefuckever old woman. Face cracking yawns haunted my day. I spent my time dreaming about my pillow and how soft it was. How cool the fan is blowing on my face.

oh screw this

How the fuck are ya?

I should be in bed since I got up at 5am this morning. Instead, I’m sitting here screwing around with pics. Last of May photos are up. Mostly fun in the sun.

I need some rolos. Dammit.

No walk. I was attacked by two little people who demanded sidewalk chalk. We’re too poor to pay attention this week thanks to shitty hours and camp and rent and that pesky little nuisance called food – but I ran my ass to get chalk all the same.

Then we sat down in the grass and drew pictures and wrote our names and our numbers and our letters. We drew stars on MG’s jeans and tiny bikes on MB4’s shorts. I ended up with a pink ass by parking it in the wrong spot. Nothing like a baboon butt to brighten your day. Especially when your kids about piss themselves laughing over it.

You know what? I’m not a good mom. I appreciate all the support – I really do. But I am not that wonderful mother who can handle this. I’m not strong. I have been dealing with his quirks since he was about 2 years old and they first showed themselves. I didn’t know what they were then, I don’t know what they are now. I may never know. But regardless of what it’s called – I still deal with it non-stop every fucking day. Only now, I’m faced with the possibility that it may never stop. Before, I was able to get reassurance in the fact that it wouldn’t last forever. That someday, he would finally get it. Finally understand when I explain something to him, and not blink at me and ask for milk. What in the fuck am I going to do if this never stops?

I am tired of this shit. Tired of talking in code to my son all day as not to set him off. Tired of yelling at the other kids for setting him off. Tired of structuring everything in our lives so as not to mess with his head. Of watching him work himself up over a simple conversation to the point where he is drowning in a sea of nonsense.

I am not a patient person. I am a holy terror when it comes to having things my way. I can’t have him my way. He doesn’t understand my way. He doesn’t give a shit about my way. He has no clue that my way even exists.

I am grouchy and shitty and confused and totally fucking pissed off at the world right now over this shit. I don’t know why it’s affecting me like this – it’s not even about me. But it is. Cause I’m the one that is expected to be his moderator. His translator. His bridge. The one who always smooths shit over. His protector. I’m the one who has to decipher what the fuck he’s trying to say over and over a million times a day.

And it has nothing to do with autism or the evaluation today, that’s what most people don’t get. I don’t give a shit if the ‘experts’ tell me he’s a giraffe. He’s still MB4 to me. But that’s the problem. I know MB4. I know what I’ve been dealing with for years now. I want to know what the fuck to do about it. I want to know how to stop it. There has to be a way for me to help him.

And the awful part? I want to help him because he’s my son and I love him and don’t want him to have anything less than a perfect life. BUT, I also need to help him for me. Purely selfish reasons I can’t believe I’m about to admit. I’m not sure how much more I can take. There. I said it. Bash away. Doesn’t mean I don’t love my son and won’t do whatever it takes to help him in life. Doesn’t mean I won’t be there for him and his needs, whatever they are, for as long as it takes. But I hate it. I hate every fucking ounce of it. I’m so incredibly pissed off right now that my hands are shaking.

A good friend suggest I take a walk. Think I might do that.

Waiting for the school counselor to call me back. Going to ask her opinion on what I should do about camp and school. It was their screening that placed him drastically below acceptable levels in language and concepts, although he tested above normal in other areas. And she was the one who agreed with me about him not being ready yet – because she actually saw…..no, that’s not right – she felt it.

Because that’s just it. It’s not something that you can pinpoint exactly. I can cite examples all day long, but unless you actually witness his behavior – in the particular setting in which it occurred, it might not seem all that ‘off’. But when I try to retell it, I take it out of context without meaning to. It’s like trying to describe those gorgeous skies below – words couldn’t do it. Not completely anyway. You just have to see it for yourself.

I know that I will eventually figure out what causes him to skip off every so often. Whether I can actually help him to stop doing it, I don’t know. He seems to have made progress with a few things, then again, there are certain issues that he seems to understand no better than he did when he was 3 years old. It’s those issues that I’m worried about.

So maybe the counselor can help me figure out what to do. Not sure what the options are. Not sure what she would recommend, but I’ll listen to her. If she thinks he should try camp and tackle it day by day or hour by hour, then that’s what we’ll do. Maybe he should attend a pre-k school in the fall instead of kindergarten. Where he can learn basic social skills in a more un-structured environment. It’s the structure that is going to give him problems. He carries on to the beat of his own drum, and you just can’t do that in school.

Damn. That could have gone better. That gal might need an eval herself. WTF?

She asked two questions: Is he socially withdrawn? Does he make eye contact?

No and Yes.

Then we’re not dealing with autism, perhaps you could have your pediatrician help you determine what’s really going on and he’ll help refer you to the more appropriate channels.

Uhhh… huh? That’s it?

For now, yes. He doesn’t exhibit what we consider classic markers. Now we do have a wonderful developmental…..

But that’s it? I’ve waited a month for you to ask me two questions? I never said he was severely autistic and withdrawn and anti-social. I said he has issues that will prevent him from functioning in school and I need help figuring out what they are and how to get him help to deal with them.

That’s not really my department, but what are these issues? Perhaps I can point your pediatrician in the right direction.

Ok, last week he sat next to a woman at the baseball game and helped himself to her popcorn. She thought it was funny – I didn’t. Shouldn’t he know, at 5 years old, that it’s just not appropriate to do that? I could understand if it was my 2 year old, but a five year old?? I explained to him that it was rude, and I got blinked at. That’s my classic marker that he had no idea what the hell I was talking about. He wasn’t eating it because he’s a horrid brat, he was eating it because it was there. Because he didn’t know that he shouldn’t. Isn’t that odd?

Why does he spend hours, and I mean hours, asking the same question over and over? Sometimes asking it of people who actually have no power over the decision in the first place? Same with topics, once he gets ’stuck’, that’s all she wrote. He has to carry on about it until it’s run its course. Nothing can stop him.

Why must he use the restroom naked? No matter how many times we explain? Why doesn’t he read books or like being read to? Why must he take those books instead, and create a path throughout my house, becoming hostile with anyone who touches them? Why doesn’t he enjoy playing with his cars? Why is it more fun for him to align them perfectly in his case? Why does he constantly interrupt me? Why can’t he grasp that there are other needs more important that his own at times? Why does he have trouble spelling his name, yet can recite our entire family’s birthdays – in order?

Why does he seem overly affectionate towards people to the point of embarassment? Why doesn’t he ‘get’ that it’s inappropriate to hug and kiss on friends and tell them how much he loves them and missed them? Why does he assume that every guest in our home is there soley for him? Why doesn’t he grasp the concept of adult versus child?

Why do I get my ass chewed when I don’t serve him oatmeal the minute he rolls out of bed in the morning? Why won’t he eat it if I screw up and give him the wrong spoon? Why can’t he allow his little sister to play with the pots and pans in the cabinets? Why must he put them back exactly as they were and shut the cabinet door? Why can’t the drawers be open just a crack without alerting his radar, causing him to get up and close them?

Why doesn’t he act like other 5 year olds? I’ve had three already, I know how they’re supposed to act. He’s going to have trouble in school, and I don’t understand why no one except the teachers give a shit about this. My pediatrician doesn’t believe there is anything wrong either, so maybe you two experts can walk in my shoes for a week and then try to tell me he’s perfectly normal.

She began asking me questions then. About our address, phone number, etc. Guess she’s sending off the ‘getting started’ packet. Said in her opinion, he might need evaluated for a few of these issues.

No shit sherlock.

MB4’s phone evaluation is tomorrow morning at 6:30am. I made it that early so the kids would still be in bed and I could give it my full attention.

I know this initial screening will be mostly a basic Q&A, but I’m still nervous as hell all the same. He is supposed to start school camp next Monday, and I’ve been blocking it out of my mind pretending that everyone will just forget about it and he won’t have to go. I don’t have to send him, but the teachers think he might be ok once he gets there. Stupid humans.

No matter what I do. No matter how many times I work with him or explain to him or plead with him to do things a certain way – the very next instance, we are back to square one all over again.

What are they going to do when he winks at a classmate to show affection? Are they going to know that it’s just his way of saying hi or thank you or you’re my friend? And what about when that classmate doesn’t wink back? What then? What happens when he becomes enraged and inconsolable because that classmate didn’t laugh at him? Are they going to understand what that means? What it means to him? What will they do when that starts the ’skipping’ in his brain and he starts rambling off down to makes-no-fucking-sense-ville?

He didn’t laugh at me. He doesn’t like me. If he liked me, he would laugh at me. He never laughs at me. He hates me. If he didn’t hate me, he would laugh at me. And if he laughed at me, he would be my friend. And then he could come to my house and laugh at me while I played Mario because my friend loves Mario. And then we could have a snack and hey – you hate me because you haven’t given me a snack! Don’t you have any snacks here? I always get a snack when I eat all of my oatmeal.

And then when he turns to the classmate and spends the next 3 hours demanding to know why the classmate won’t let him have a snack – how many minds will fucking snap in half?

And why am I getting a chuckle over the thought of someone else trying to make heads or tails out of what the hell he’s saying?

Because it’s already driven me insane. That’s why.

Still alive. Merely enjoying the fantastic displays Mother Nature whipped up for us this past week. If the sky is indicative of her state of mind, then she just might be a moodier bitch than I am.