These meds are still kicking my ass. I am zonked every night by 10:30. Upside of that, is that the little ones are also on a much better sleep cycle. As in, they are all up in my ass at 6am, and tired as hell by 8pm. Has also meant a nap I could set my watch to for the both of them at 1pm every day.

So, here I sit while they sleep. I could be cleaning without interruption. I could be exercising. I could be scrubbing the mud off the porch. Planting flowers. Taking a bath – alone. Folding laundry. Picking my nose. Scratching my ass. Talking to myself. Singing off key into a hairbrush, pretending to be Constantine.

Instead, I’m watching the telephone, listening to my guts churn.

CALL ME FUCKERS!

Nothing yet on the house, and I’m starting to get pissy about it. Assholes.

MB4’s appt this morning was uneventful. There was no reason to even have him there with me. What a fucking waste of time. I could have filled out those papers by mail. He now has an appt to see a psychologist there in about 6 weeks, but I doubt we head back there. Assholes.

Instead, I hopped on the phone (yeah – ME!! on the phone!!), and started calling every name I could get my hands on until I finally stumbled across a guy who works with autistic kids. He mentioned the Great Plains Lab, which I’m familiar with as my sister was working with a doc there for a time until they moved, and he told me to call and make an appt with their clinic. I left a message, so we’ll see what happens. This is the route I wanted to go in the first damn place. We’ll see what happens.

Rest in peace Terri.

Had MB4’s school meeting today. Such a casual environment. I’m still so new at this, that I’m not sure if it went well or not, but it sounded like they are ready to get down to business with him.

He now has three 20 minute speech sessions a week to work on pragmatics. She said she’ll contact his pvt speech gal for me and give the recommendation that he have an hour a week there as well. That sound about right?

He is now considered a part of their modified special ed program. Mainstream as much as possible, pulled back when needed for extra attention or special exceptions or whatever, especially things like standardized tests, etc. They kept reminding me that this IEP is a flexible document that will grow as his needs grow. I got the feeling that they are preparing me for the real struggles of next year and beyond, when it won’t be so easy to make allowances for him. I understand that.

The speech gal told me to call her anytime if we have a issues at home that could be worked on as well. That made me feel better, and I explained the trouble we were having with him and MG. She said to let her think about that one, and she’d think about some ways to tackle it both there and here at home.

Like I said, I have no idea if this group snowed me or not, but I finally feel like something is being done – so I’m happy. It’s still all so damn confusing. His appt with the new psych doc is tomorrow morning. We’ll see how happy I am after that one.

Still feel like there’s something else I should be doing about the spectrum side. I feel like I’m neglecting that part of it. Like I should be running him here and there to have him tested for this and that. But we just don’t have those resources available around here, and the waiting list in KC is long – as in, don’t even bother long.

Oh well, one step at a time. And no, no word on the house yet. I have no idea how these things work when dealing with a bank’s repo, but I’m no longer nervous about the phone ringing. I just want her to tell me it’s a no and get it over with.

Maybe we’ll just stay here in this crackerjack box. Less stressful that way.

Knocked out the grocery store early this morning so I could get home and wait by the phone. There’s a special kid who works there that follows me around whenever he sees me. We chitchat as I shop, he points out bargains and sales, and will literally remove items from my cart to replace them with a better deal. He will accompany me all the way to the checkout, where he will bag my groceries as if they were made of glass, and cart them out to the van – all while giggling and playing with the little ones. A manager saw him following me today and gently tried to send him elsewhere. Told the guy that I didn’t mind at all. That kid saved my ass $24 last week. He can follow me all he wants.

Got home and was hauling in an armload of bags and 3 gallons of milk when some smartass at the stop sign hollered at me to buy a cow. I asked if his wife was for sale. I stopped the prick from smirking, but I’ve made a mental note to keep the door locked today.

Won’t find out anything until at least tomorrow. Since the seller is a lending institution, and not an individual, it’s not as simple I guess. I just want to know either way so I can move the fuck on. My nerves are shot.

MB4’s school evaluation is finally done, and I meet with them tomorrow. Had they waited two more weeks, we could have combined it with a party to celebrate the fucking year that’s gone by waiting for them to do this shit in the first place.

Offer was sent over last night. We should hear back today or tomorrow.

My head is spinning.

One should not enter into the home buying process without first getting a basic understanding of how this shit works – especially if said person suffers from anxiety. Geezus.

Ok, so since we don’t live in Angie’s dreamworld, the sellers weren’t able to pick up the sound waves from the verbal version of the offer, so today has been a mess of putting it on paper. Factor in that it was a repossession, we are dealing with a bank, they have more addendums than I have issues, there are things that VA probably won’t pass that need stipulations set for, we need to fork out bare ass minimum at closing so we can buy frivolous things like carpet and hazmat suits – this all comes together in a cute little game called try not to piss the bank off by not giving them their asking amount because it needs so much fucking work while at the same time asking them to cough up a portion of closing costs and them sneaking in the VA repair list to top it all off.

The lender tried to explain this all to me. The realtor tried. My mom (who is still a real estate broker and sold houses for many many years) tried. And my darling husband (who sold for many years in Florida) tried. I still don’t get it.

I want to give them what they want and be the fuck done with it. I don’t want to lose this house. I will be extremely pissed off if I lose this house because no one else seems to think it’s worth the asking price. Oh, it is, they say – but not in its current condition. Am I the only one that understands that for our price range, this is the biggest house we’re going to find? That our choices will be a relatively small ‘done’ house, or a big fixer-upper? I want the fixer-upper, and I don’t give two shits how long it takes me to do it. I’ll buy one door knob at a time if I have to.

Now, true, we are only offering them 6k less than asking price, but we are tacking on a few grand for closing and repairs. Will that piss them off? Oh my gawd, I cannot handle this shit. I will not survive this shit. Fuck it, it’s 70 degrees outside, this Klonopin seems to be working because if I forget about the house I am in a FANfuckingTASTIC mood, and I am headed …. gasp……. outside(Angie!! outside!!) to get the border ready for flowers again.

Because I have a feeling we’re going to be in this house awhile.

If I could get some positive thoughts, I’d sure appreciate it*. We made an offer today on a house – The House – and although I’m trying not to get my hopes up, I think I just might chain myself to the tree in the front yard if they turn it down.

I really want this house. I know I know. We just started looking. I know I know. It needs an enormous amount of work. I know I know. The basement is only partially finished. I know I know. They are asking a wee bit too much for its present condition. I know I know I know I know.

But it’s the house I see when I close my eyes at night and dream about growing old. Will we find another one like it? Maybe. Maybe not. Am I willing to take that chance? My stomach churns thinking about it. It’s so big. So big and …… big.

But it’s ugly. Ugly as ass. To say that the kitchen is dated would be kind. Sunflowers from the 70’s, and you’ve got the color scheme. But oh so big.

Big dining room. Fenced in yard. Covered patio. Huge shed. Huge two car garage. Big living room. Three bathrooms. Three bedrooms upstairs and gawd knows how many downstairs. Two already done, with another 3 possible – no shit. The basement is that fucking big. Plus a huge ass laundry room with a chute. A CHUTE!! Pinch me. Windows are brand new, as are the doors. Central air is new. Roof is great. Basement is dry. Furnace is new.

But, the carpets suck – where there is carpet. Needs paint and closet doors. Needs a truck load of sand carted away from the back yard where they filled in an above ground pool. Has a few wood issues on the outside of the house – but just in a few spots. Most of the house is brick. Basement needs a lot of love. All of the bathrooms needs redone. The kitchen is hideous, but workable.

I need this house. I need it**. I’ll take any and all mojo you can spare. Please. Please.

*And if we get it and it turns out to be a money pit, I promise not to bitch.
**Reserving the right to recycle this ‘need’ on another house next week if this one doesn’t work out.

We talked about the house, and have decided to forge ahead in search of more. It was listed at the high end of what we’re willing to spend, and that house wasn’t worth eating hot dogs for. I’m glad our expectations for a home are so similar – sure makes it easier.

OMhell. Just got home from a very long day. Doc appt went well. He is ready to tackle the anxiety now, which he said sounds like it stems from crowds and people and such (duh) – so I am to now add Zoloft to the mix, and to take the Klonopin on a regular basis. He said we’ll also set goals as we go to extend my comfort zone so I don’t have to be on this extra shit for any longer than I have to. Which is good. I can’t remember to take one pill, and now I’m adding more? Yeah.

Those houses. iiyiiyii. First one was better than I expected. Has plenty of room for us – except for eating. No dining room at all. There’s a section for a table in the kitchen, but I don’t have a regular table. We’ve got the mac daddy, and I just don’t see it fitting there. Damn shame, because there was not only one bathroom – there were 3. Three glorious pissers for me to clean. Perfect space in the (finished) basement for the boys to have bedrooms and their own tv area. Not to mention their own bathroom (geezus). The w/d are downstairs, but I can deal with that. Has a huge cedar closet downstairs as well. Bedrooms upstairs are on the smaller side, but not terribly so. Closets are plenty big enough. Has new windows throughout, new carpet, kitchen and living room (which is a bit on the wee side as well) and one bathroom are redone totally – the rest of the house would need some work eventually, but it’s ok for now. Two car attached garage. Lot is fenced except for one small section and it’s almost 2 acres. Covered patio out back finishes the tour. All in all – I like it. I think there asking a bit too much for it, but I can see so much potential in it. We look again on Saturday, so we’ll see what MD thinks.

The other house was a fucking dump. Basement was not finished, and there was an unrecognizable substance growing on the walls down there. Ick. Counters were falling apart, carpet was full of waves or some shit – your foot dipped and bobbed as you walked. Fireplace was falling in on itself. Bright orange and bright blue ruled the roost. I don’t think so.

I’m off to slip on some sweats and find those fucking thin mints while my brain hollers assfat assfat (sung to the tune backpack backpack). Now that I have that damn song stuck in yer head, my work here is done.

Just realized that the house I’m looking at today – the one I like – has only one bathroom. Yeah, that’ll work. Guess I could build that outhouse I’m always threatening the boys with.

Feeling really overwhelmed lately. Soccer is gearing up. Summer break is just around the corner alfuckingready. Baseball will come a-calling soon. The House Hunt. The Perfect Pill Hunt. MB4’s …… issues.

We’re so fucking cramped in this house that it’s very hard not to don the beer goggles and take one of the beasts on the list as our own. We aren’t exactly cramped though, it’s our stuff. Our stuff is bursting at the seams, begging for more shelf space and cabinets and closets and storage. I spend my time scurrying it from one corner to the next, thinking that might make me feel better. Like I actually managed to make some headway with the Stuff. I’ve tried weeding through it, but it’s not things we want to get rid of. Like the rest of my living room set. Or my bedroom set. Or our photo albums downstairs in the same box they were moved in almost two years ago. Two years. Have we really been in this house almost two years? Does time really get away from you like that? I guess it does. Remind me to stop blinking.

I went ahead and made an appointment to see two of the houses tomorrow. One is decent, but a tad overpriced. Listing said 1.5 acres and 5-10 acres right below that. I guess we’ll find out what flavor of crack the realtor was smoking tomorrow. It’s actually on the same street we live on now, just at the end – in a quiet part of town. Me likes that a lot. Still a block from the park and the pool. Can’t beat that shit.

The other one is a hole. Ok, not a hole. Well, not an entire hole. Like an asshole. Maybe just a side dish of ass. Small dish. It’s mostly cosmetic. Realtor we’re using is an old friend of mom’s, and she said these people don’t have a lot going for them upstairs, and she wasn’t talking about the house. I guess a coat of paint and a new window pane would do wonders for the outside, because the inside isn’t all that bad. And it’s cheap. As in, less than we pay now. It’s the worst looking house on the street. Ain’t that a good thing in some fucked up way? The other houses all comp out 15-25 to even 40K higher than this one. It needs some love, but I’m not sure I can handle living in it until we love on it. Guess I’ll find out how horrifying the inside is tomorrow before I go smacking anyone for even suggesting I consider it.

If they both suck ass, we trudge on. At least I’ll get an idea of what’s out there for this price range.

Doc tomorrow too. He needs to listen to me about this anxiety shit. I’m so tired of living this way. I have phone calls to make on MB4’s behalf, and I just can’t do it. MD is supposed to make them tomorrow for me, but what good am I as a mother if I can’t use the fucking phone? MB4 has already had enough people fail him the past year, I don’t want to make the list as well.

He’s doing so much better, btw. Well, in terms of the initial areas of holy shit what’s wrong with this kid-edness. He now regularly uses excuse me when interrupting, and he tries very hard to wait until the person stops talking. He goes down the list with me of what other people consider bothersome behavior when the older boys have friends over – and he follows the list. He has actually started using some of the steps/rules/techniques we read about in the Incredible 5 Point Scale – and has been trying to teach them to everyone else. He really tries every day to dominate his OCD instead of letting it dominate him. Not saying he is successful, but he tries. He has an intake on the 31st with another psychologist, and hopefully this process will evolve quickly into an appt with the psychiatrist and finally start him on the meds to help battle the OCD. My poor kiddo has waited long enough.

I am at a loss on how to tackle our latest challenge though – MG. She’s 3, and so full of life and spirit and crazy songs and silly dances and she just drives him batshit. She will sing a song wrong and fall to the floor giggling, and he will immediately accuse her of lying and piss on her fun and royally flip the hell out until she agrees to sing it the right way. Nothing else will work. I’ve kept them apart for over 2 hours once, and the minute he saw her – he started in again. Stop lying MG, we don’t sing it that way. Your words are wrong. You sang it wrong. Do you know how to sing it MG? Do you want to be wrong? Why are you lying? Do you care how to sing it right? Will you sing it right? Sing it right, MG. Sing it right right now.

And I just want to cry or scream or tape his mouth up until his non stop mantra comes to an end. I feel guilty for saying that, but damn. It goes on for hours, depending on MG’s mood. And I hate that my 3yo daughter has to curb her beautiful little girl sillyness just because he has to have everything just so. But then again, I have to have everything just so, so how can I bitch? More guilt. Will she grow up to resent him? I worry that she will.

I don’t know how to explain that she’s not lying. I know I’m supposed to break the issue down to the root element, and work from there, but this is difficult. He associates any non-truth as a lie. I’m at a complete loss on how to illustrate the difference between a true lie, and a pretend funny. Maybe I’ve answered my own question. I’ll try that tomorrow.

As well, he can’t grasp her level of maturity. He views her simply as not as smart as he is. He doesn’t understand yet that her aging will bring experience and wisdom – he thinks you get smart by eating eggs and pizza cheese. The tangibles he’s attached to the abstract areas of his life both fascinate and sadden me. His mind is truly a wonder as you realize all he has to overcome and adapt to just to be every day, yet at the same time, how sad and alone and shitty he must feel before making those self-adjustments to try to …… assimilate.

Enough ramble. Long day tomorrow. And if I sit here one second longer, thin mints are going to fall into my mouth and crash land in my ass.

Can’t remember if I took my pill or not last night. That’s pathetic. I need to work out a better method of reminding myself. Currently, I follow the list in my planner – except I forget to look at it lately. Me, forgetting to look at my lists. The world is surely coming to an end.

I simply cannot stay out of Target. I hope to get my own parking spot soon. At that point, I’ll probably also need my own blow job booth to pay for my purchases. Wonder if they can squeeze it in between the pizza and pretzel joints?

I have a sheet of all the houses for sale here in this hick town. Let’s just say I could write them all on my hand. This could take awhile. We could knuckle down and up our range, but I don’t really want to spend the next 30 years eating stone soup. Please oh please let the selection improve in the spring.

It’s amazing to me how many people think they are entitled to their job. And not only their job, but sick days and vacation days and time off and benefits in general. People who get downright pissy when they try to call in and their bosses get downright pissy, when 99% of the time the boss is only pissy because they call in so fucking much. Stop whining and work. Or quit and watch HR fill your shoes with someone who will work within 20 minutes. Either way, keep this woe-is-me pity party shit to yourself from now on or I’m going to get brutally honest and make you cry.

Not tired today. Nope. Today I want to smash and smash and smash.

I feel like this medication has destroyed the part of me that was alive. I’m merely existing right now, and if this is par for the course – I don’t see the course lasting all that long. I hate feeling like this. Sleepy all the time. Groggy and fuzzy when I’m not sleepy. The heaviness is going to suffocate me.

I don’t feel any benefit from it yet either. Am I calmer? Well hell yeah, those that rarely get up off the floor or the couch usually don’t make vicious cracks at people. That would require way too much effort. I simply don’t have effort to spare these days. I don’t do anything lately. I don’t clean, I don’t cook, I don’t play, I don’t make sure appts are made, I don’t do a fucking thing.

I understand that this shit might go away. I get that. I understand I have to give it time to work. I get that too. But I will not stay this way forever if these side effects don’t go away within a reasonable time frame. I’d rather be crazy than half-alive.

Holding in my hands a pre-approval for a home loan. We don’t have a house picked out yet, but we wanted to get the process started. I know this is only the first step of many, but I’m thrilled to death. Our first house.

On a side note, UTIs suck the big one.

Can someone shoot me a gmail invite?
I deleted my accounts while in a pissy mood, and now I need one.
I know, I’m a dumbass, but send me one anyway please.

angie |@| moodymama |.| com

Thank you berry berry much….

If your daughter was the one who just called at 10:48pm to inform me that my girl scout cookies are sitting in her living room and that she knows my phone number because she just called it and what’s my name anyway and that half of my cookies are on the floor and half are over at her mother’s house on her floor and yeah um well goodbye…

You and I have some chit chatting to do when you bring them sumbitches over tomorrow.

Had I known I was having company, I would have taken a shower.

Or at least thrown on a bra….

MD’s birthday was yesterday. Was nice.
Got rid of the dogs yesterday. Very nice.
Got a little bit last night. Extremely nice.

MB4’s birthday is Sunday. He’s so damn hard to shop for. I hope he’s happy.
Saw the first robins of the year yesterday. That makes me very happy.
The temps are warmer and today I could smell spring. Makes me extremely happy.

Wee one has been very sick the past few days. He’s starting to feel better. Same with MG. MB4 is back to school and doing fine. My meds are still kicking my ass. The patch is still saving my ass from laying around doing nothing all day. Target is going to be the death of our budget. I could live there. I want a job there. I want to stay there all day and all night and just wander around and touch shit. I’m in the mood to fight, and by gawd someone had better help fulfill that need willingly or I’m going to have to bite the leg of the next person that walks by my house.

I wiped out the local pharmacy the other day when I needed to fill the antibiotics prescriptions for the three kiddos. They called just now to say that the other bottles are ready – then asked if I wanted her to run them by on her way home tonight.

Gotta love small town living.

I write our address, phone number, allergy information, and birthdate on the back of every prescription we hand in. I have my deposits slip already filled out before it’s my turn to pull up to the teller window. I double line the trash bags so the next person just has to lift out the bag and walk away. I make out checks before I get to the register, and as well, I write down my license number and birth date before handing them over. I recite my drive thru order in the exact manner that it needs to be entered into the register so the cashier doesn’t have to keep switching screens. I always take my cart back inside. I throw extra change into the toll booth basket for the next guy. I just spent 10 minutes on the phone with a wrong number trying to find them the right number.

I don’t expect everyone to be like me. I don’t expect everyone to go out of their way to make my life easier. I don’t expect a pat on the back or a thank you or even an acknowledgement of the effort on my part to make life easier for someone else. I don’t expect anything at all.

But I’d appreciate not being smirked at with that why bother bullshit.

Unless we’re talking about your parents’ attempt at raising children.

All three kiddos passed their test with flying colors – unfortunately, it was a rapid strep test. They also have a touch of bronchial goodness going on as well. Antibiotics and breathing treatments.

Now I must go prepare for the dogs. And to mark down a mood change.

I’ve been trying to get through to the kids’ ped for an hour now. Not a good sign.

I just unsubscribed from our freecycle group. I just can’t take one more GimmeShit post. This weekend alone, I saw requests for 3 laptops, 2 computers, a motorized scooter, and a living room set. The scooter lady has posted this demand 3 times now, and is getting more impatient every time. The living room set gal made it clear that it needed to be decent furniture, not a bunch of crap. I’ve made a connection with the local HeadStart gal through the group, and I’ll just take my goodies to her to use for their parent store. Fuck the rest of those nasty beggars.

The wee one just had one helluva coughing fit. Fantastic. Answer the phone you assholes.

I was hoping that this medicine would start to help with the social anxiety, but I’m not seeing that at all. I know it’s early, and I know that my starting dose is low as hell to make sure I don’t have any serious side effects, but I’ve put all my eggs in this basket, and I need it to fix me.

Yay, we have ring-age….

MB3 has a play tonight. He’s been praticing his heart out, and he’s nervous as hell. [Sure, I'll hold...figures...] I have to finish his costume today. [Appt at 11 today, finally...] I need MD to make it home in time for the play. I have a few kiddos that shouldn’t be going, and a 9yo that wants someone there snapping pictures of his acting debut.

The dogs will be here at 2pm. What a great day to become a doggiesitter.

There is a tiny triop in the tank today. Must have awakened his egg when I stirred the silt last week. I give him two days before he gets eaten by the bigger one. What a shitty life to lead.

Ok, time to tackle this house before life takes over and sends me somewhere else.

My dad is out of town working, and my mother is headed to a business convention next week. Guess who gets their babies? Yay me. Should make for a fun week. Especially with the weather taking a wet, shitty turn. I get to take them outside in the cold several times a day while somehow juggling my own little ones into the mix. Precisely the reason why our animals are crustaceans that only live for 6 weeks. I’m just not into spreading myself even thinner providing care for anything else.

MD’s younger sister qualified for the national championships today. Diving. I believe it was the NCAA or something or another. I don’t know much about it, but he’s thrilled to death. I wish I could pull some money out of my ass to send him to Illinois to watch her, but that’s life. He has an inspection this week anyway. Besides, it’s around his birthday, and that would just suck. For me anyway. And it’s all about me.

Past few days have been ok. Pretty evenly paced. I was told in a very gentle manner to take a Klonopin on Saturday, but I didn’t feel anything after taking it. Nothing at all.

MB4 is still sick. I’ll be taking him in tomorrow to get checked out. And now the wee one nodded off without so much as a holler. It’d be wonderful if he was finally learning how to get to sleep on his own, but I’m not that stupid. He has a cough all of a sudden, and his ass konked out because he’s about to be whammied by nasty germ bastards.

I made a bet with MD tonight that I will be back into my bikini by June 1st. I know it was a dumbass move, but my mouth wouldn’t shut up already and it just sort of popped out. Now I have to get my ass in gear. I have 10 pounds to knock off, and some curves to unjiggle.

Lawd, help me.

MB4 is still pretty sick. Temp isn’t real high, but it’s stubborn. Poor guy is not happy at all.

MG is following the wee one around, tending to his “ScratchHair”. I’m not exactly sure what this is, but I’m assuming it has something to do with that stiff sticky patch he gave himself awhile ago by playing with his juice cup. She’s hovering around him, picking at his head like a fucking monkey. It’s driving me crazy. -er

I have no drpepper in the house. This is serious business. I have orange, fruit punch, coke, vanilla coke, and sprite. I want a fucking drpepper. I’d like to know who skeeved off with one, as I know I counted enough to last me until MD got home with more. I will find out. I will make them pay.

Vonage? Packet8? Any others?

We’ve been debating this for a long time, but I have some concerns. Not really with the service itself, as it honestly can’t be any more unreliable than our fucked up doesn’t-work-in-the-rain-or-high-winds phone service anyway.

I’m curious as to how we would work it out to get the most bang for our buck.

Right now, we pay an extra $25 a month so that the big town 8 miles away isn’t long distance for us, since that’s the ‘real’ town where most of our activities and happenings take place. Add in the long distance that MD uses for his family in FL, and we pay around $70 a month – and that’s saying he only calls them once or twice.

But this hick town won’t be included in one of those home base ‘areas’ for a very long time. Packet8 gets close, but it would still be long distance for the kiddos’ friends. That’s no good. That tells me we’d have to keep a bare bones phone service anyway.

So wouldn’t it still be better to sign on anyway? Maybe $25 or so for a bare bones deal for a landline phone, and $30 or so for a VoIP? Would still be cheaper than what we have now. And that would include an additional virtual number for his family in FL so they could call whenever they wanted. I’m not really worried about the 911 service, as living in the sticks gives you a modified version of that anydamnway on a regular line.

Guess I made up my mind. Now to find out if Packet8 is decent – anyone? Vonage doesn’t get any closer than KC, and that won’t work. It’s Packet8 now, or wait until Vonage gets closer. Or are there any others out there that I’m not aware of?

And please feel free to bitch and moan or rave and fawn over VoIPs in general.

Tankie Tankie

Had my one week follow up today. Doc switched me to DepakoteER, and I now take it at night. Told him this shit was making me really grouchy, and my family was about to throw me out. I also have a few Klonosomethings to take when I feel like kicking someone in the throat. Modern medicine is good.

MB4 woke up moaning this morning. That’s a helluva good sign that he’s not going to have a good day. Then he leaned over and puked on the carpet. That’s a helluva good sign that I’m going to have a downright shitty day. I was going to cancel my appt, but he started to feel better, and mom said we’d handle it.

So we went. And he did fine for awhile. Some lady sat down in between him and the trash can and he politely told her no less than 52 thousand times that she was blocking the can, so she moved. Then I had my appt and mom handled it. Then we got settled in the van to head home and he handled it – for about 5 minutes. Then I handled it by chucking the car mat in the trash at QT. I wasn’t about to smell that shit all the way home.

I just want to crawl into bed and sleep until these side effects wear off.

I made sure to eat something today, so I don’t feel icky – but that stitch in my side is still there. Since my appointment is tomorrow, and it’s not an unbearable pain, I’m going to wait. Honestly feels more like a runner’s cramp than anything. Except I haven’t been on a run since my boobs were perky.

I feel run down. Lazy. I haven’t cleaned anything all week. I’m tired as hell by 10pm, and I have to force myself to get up at 6am – that’s not me at all. I have an open mind, and I do want this to work, but I am starting to wonder about this pill.

I got rid of the asskissing legless pacman looking fucker, but then I missed him and his pink butted friend, so I put them back. If my sentences seem discombobulated, it’s safe to assume that I’ve once again become mesmerized by cartoon asscrack.

Today was pretty fucking horrible. I started feeling like hell before lunch, and it slowly got worse as the day went on. I was shake-y and flushed and headache-y and there was a pain in my side and I just wanted to bawl away the yuckies. A good friend helped me realize it might be a low blood sugar issue, so I downed some juice and immediately started to feel better. I’ll eat with the pills from now on, just in case. If nothing else, to put food in my gut for the day. The pounds saved from skipping a meal or two ain’t worth feeling like total ass over. I think.

MD broke his hand today at work. Well, we’re pretty sure he did. He’s got an appointment at 7am to have it checked out. Looks nasty. I bet it hurts. He’s worried I’m going to kick it or smash it or hit it with a broom. I once kicked his broken leg when I got pissed. He howled and hopped around holding his cast. I’m still ashamed of that. I’m still well aware that my mind has taken note of his left hand as a source of great pain- and leverage. I think that makes me very fucked up in the head. I think I don’t care. [smooch]

MB4 and MG fought today over a pretend cake. She said it was real, he had a fucking cow over it. No matter what I said or did or pleaded or threatened or conned or bribed – nothing worked until he burst into tears and these horrible sobs ripped through his body and his little sister’s face crumbled and she said “pretend, the cake is pretend“. I worry about her young mind and if it’s being stunted by her older brother who insists on taking the fun out of anything even remotely resembling play.

But I’m much too tired to worry about that tonight.

We’re on our second tank of sea-monsters. I wish I could say we’re growing another batch because their cute factor is through the roof, but it’s not. We just have 3 more packets of eggs to blow through before MB2 will agree to switch over to sea-monkeys. I wouldn’t try triops if I were you. The box looks cool and all – but just don’t. Ugly little creatures creep me out. We only have one left out the ….. litter ….. , as I assume he feasted on the rest of ‘em. I’m counting down the days until your demise, you scary ass bastard.

My mood is better today, aside from the whole death wish for the crustacean thing I have going on. Of course, that’s all going to change if the phone rings one more fucking time today.

I have to stop writing now and go remove these smilies from my posting area. My eyes keep drifting over to the guy smooching on the big pink ass, and I lose my train of thought.

MG: Look MB4, I’m wearing underwear like you!
MB4: No you’re not, you have purple Dora and mine are white.
MM: MB4, she meant that she is wearing underwear too.
MG: I’m not two, I’m phree.
MB4: Stop lying MG, you’re three.
MG: THAT’S WHAT I SAID!! PHREEEE!!
MM: Knock it off. It’s over. Let’s read this book.
MB4: And your underwear are not like mine.
MM: MB4, her underwear are not like yours but she is wearing underwear also.
MB4: But not like mine.
MM: No, not like yours.
MB4: Say it MG – say you’re not wearing underwear like mine.
MG: But I am. I am wearing underwear like you.
Mb4: NO.YOU’RE.NOT!! You are wearing purple Dora underwear. I don’t wear purple underwear or Dora underwear. I only wear white underwear and I only wear underwear for boys and you wear underwear for girls and you are only 3 and not very smart and I am 5 and I can read and I eat brain food and you just don’t know.
MG: BLAHBLEHBLAHBLEH!!
MM: Oh my sweet geezus. That’s it. No story. I’m out of here. You two don’t talk to each other for the rest of your lives.
MB4/MG: [wail bitch moan cry]
MM: Ok, but no more fighting about underwear. Mommy’s marbles can’t hack it.
MB4/MG: Ok. We promise.
MB4: MG, just look at my underwear. Is it purple? No. You are not like me.
MM: I’m outta here.
MB4/MG: [wail bitch moan cry]

_____________________

MM: Your kids want a bed time story.
MD: My kids? El mood-o change-o?
MM: Sí.
MD: Words of wisdom?
MM: Don’t mention the fucking underwear.
MD: ……………….

How in the hell did it become the 7th of March already? That means I have two birthdays hot on my ass, I have no clue what to buy.

Yesterday wasn’t a good day. Started out good, but quickly turned to shit. No real reason why, but that’s the point of this handy dandy mood tracker, eh? MD suggests a chalkboard to keep track during the day. That quip about earned him a shoe upside his head. He’s lucky I adore him.

I don’t want to rush the mojo or anything, but I’d like these pills to get to work on this detached shit I’m feeling. It bothers me to feel that way toward my family. My children. My life. I can’t even call it a depression – it’s much too …… cold to carry that label. It’s a feeling that will hang around until it turns into a gentle push to get the fuck out. To get the fuck away. From everything. I know what happens after that. I need these pills to work their magic before then.

I’m nervous that I feel like this already, but I’m thankful that I am able to recognize it and acknowledge it and discuss it with MD. Never did that before. Letting it simmer inside made it stronger, and locking him out made us weaker. I won’t let that happen again.

Enough boohoo’ing. It was still a great weekend. I tried to put on a happy face and I even forced myself to spend the gorgeous 70 degree day at the busier than fuck park for the kiddos. Then we flew kites, entertained the neighborhood walkers with our chalk art, and then MD took them all to the soccer field to play catch and hit golf balls while I sat at home chatting with an old friend and tried to fetch my runaway marbles.

And now I must escape the living room before I try to punch little bill in the face.

This is what happens when you haven’t scaled the nursing back as much as you thought and you suddenly stop breastfeeding. Ouchie mama.

But other than the worst engorgement pain in the history of swollen mammary glands, I’m feeling fine. I haven’t felt anything – side effect or otherwise. I know it will take awhile for them to do their job, but given how very stressed I was about taking that first pill Friday night, it’s been a pleasant surprise to feel exactly like I did Friday afternoon.

Now if I could only ease wee one’s suffering about losing his bo-bos. He’s extremely distraught – a helluva lot more than I expected. It’s been a joyous couple of nights.

Ain’t it just the purdiest thing you’ve ever seen? I try my damndest to avoid Walmart much like one would a bad case of the clap, but good golly, I love me some Target.

I may not ever dance in the snow naked, but it took everything I had not to lay down and make happy air angels on the floor at Target today.

I hope these meds work real quick like. I’ve grown quite fond of the wee one, and it would make me sad for a second to have to sell him for some spending cash.

Still not sure how I’m supposed to feel. Relieved, yeah. Glad to have a name for it I guess. A definite explanation, much like with MB4’s diagnosis. I did learn a lot as well. Mainly how far from baseline my idea of norm is. Not just my behavioral norm, but my take on things in general. How I understand things to be. The way I assume everyone else sees them as well.

Doctor said we will deal with the social phobia/anxiety later after things get evened out with the bipolar medication. He’s hoping it’ll go away once I start flying right. Walking right rather. My wings are getting clipped. No more flying for me. Play time is over. Is it pathetic to feel mournful about it – just a tad bit? Sad to see this part of me packed up and kicked out?

We talked a lot about the past 20 years of my life. He explained things I hadn’t considered before – like those decisions that I’ve made that always evoke a nice eye-bulging moment in others. Pissing away a full ride scholarship to join the Army on a dare. Meeting MD and marrying him 10 weeks later at the ripe ole age of 18. Did I mention he had just turned 18 two weeks prior to this marriage? I thought not. On and on. It would appear that I don’t possess the best judgment when I am feeling oh so smart and powerful.

I asked him what were the deciding factors to use the stronger diagnosis of Classic, when I hadn’t considered myself one of those people – the kind that dance naked in the snow and shit, and he gave me such a kind look. Same face I use on MB4 when I realize just how naive his communication barriers make him sometimes. That look told me that I was a snow dancer.

The doctor explained that I am manic with a bit of depression, rather than depressed with a bit of mania. I know that’s very simplistic, but I got it then. And he’s right, if I’m honest. The downs never last. I don’t even consider most of them downs – more like stops. The other shit rarely stops when I’m not pregnant.

As we went through the time line, we discussed the acceleration that started to take place after I had my children. The pregnancies may have hit the bipolar pause button for 9 months, but it also seemed to add more intensity to it once the pregnancy was over. It’s come back faster each time – and stronger. He also pointed to the destruction it’s caused. I almost lost everything I cared about once, and I don’t want to walk that road again.

Today I help the wee one say goodbye to nursing. This medication isn’t safe to use while breastfeeding, and I need to get started on it while my head is still clear enough to want to. He’s almost there anyway, and I can’t say that I won’t mind getting my body back – but I’ll still miss it.

And unfortunately, putting an end to my nursing days will do more than bring on the transitional blues. It’s pretty much like kicking the dragon in the head and telling it to come at me. I hope to gawd this medication works.

Doctor was fantastic. Put me right at ease, and asked all the right questions. Classic bipolar. Trial run of Depakote because he thinks Lithium might be too harsh on my kidneys, given my past history of severe hard-to-kill kidney infections. Said it might also help suppress my migraines. I go back next week to check in, then two weeks after that, then a month – on and on. I have charts and shit to fill out to track moods. YadaYadaYada. If all goes well, I stay on it. If not, we give the Lithium a go and monitor my kidneys closely.

Not feeling very chatty right now. I’m fine – it’s not like I didn’t expect to hear this. I just need to digest some of the connections that were made today that I didn’t see before.

Few new pics in the gallery. I just suck at taking pics lately. Too much doom and gloom outside. I need color and warmth and a fucking sunbeam or two thrown our way.

Smileys are back, but I’m in the process of finding ones better suited for …… well, for me. Cuz it’s all about me.

Oh, and I have cramps. Thought I’d share.

That’s the title of MB4’s masterpiece, and I love it. All of it. The title, the picture. I just love it.

So far, MD isn’t headed out of town. Could change any day, but I’m hoping they find a way to fix those cars without sending him. He was even off this past weekend, and we enjoyed every drop of it.

I found out today that my insurance company smokes crack. Seems this doctor I’m lined up to see is on the provider list. So, my appointment is still on for Thursday, MD is still here in town to watch the kiddos, and if I hurry back home that day – I just might get an afternoon delight before the bus pulls up.

MB4’s intake with the new doc is Friday. Power packed week, eh? I wasn’t impressed with his first private speech appointment, but I realize it was more of a quickie eval for her own understanding of where he sits. She echoed what the school’s speech gal said – that it’ll be tough getting him services before long. His articulation issues are minimal, and the powers that be don’t give two shits about his real problem area of pragmatics. They won’t authorize services based on that alone – so they both have slightly stretched his articulation results, from what I understand, to make sure he qualifies – for now. Not sure how long that will work. Something also about his age? I got the impression that was working against him too? Not sure, made a note to ask about that next time.

I’m just so fucking relieved that my appointment is still on. Serious to gawd, I just want this over – and I’m not even dealing with that gogogo shit right now. I know I was working myself into a tizzy about the appt, and then I thought it was being pushed back, so I relaxed. Now I am whirling again. I feel like I’m drowning. Every little quirk and cuckoo is hauling ass to the front and center of my brain, demanding to be acknowledged. Like every ounce of my being knows that ThisIsIt – if I don’t get it all out this time and be completely honest about the wayward brain cells I’ve got going on up there – I never will. I’ll never again have this lull, this half and half existence. Where I have the unfortunate awareness of just how fucked up I can be at times, and the horrible pit in my stomach that knows it’s only going to get worse the more I move away from nursing the wee one. Pretty soon, the train I’m on is going to slip into overdrive, and I won’t be able to stop it. Nor will I want to.

So I’m going. Even if I am scared shitless that they have a pack of crayons ready and waiting with my name on it. There’s only room for one artist around here.

Had a dream last night that I found a lone smoke hidden in a cabinet. Yeah – I went outside and smoked the shit outta that bitch. When I woke up though, I was very thankful it was only a dream – no matter how fantastic the head rush felt. We’re damn near at 7 months, and I am not screwing that up now. Especially when I rarely feel anything over a melancholy yearn for the damn things these days.

And how is everyone doing? Still quit?