Need to find out if someone in Slidell is ok, but I don’t have their address or phone number. Didn’t even know they lived there until 30 minutes ago.

Think I’m going to be sick.

Waking up to a pounding face is always interesting. Even more so when your throat is on fire and your head explodes when your feet hit the floor. And then you scream in pain as your arms fly up to cup your brain and try to cram it back into your head because you must have slept on your arm wrong and your shoulder hurts – omg it hurts to lift it.

And then your daughter hears your alarm and wanders in to tell you that there is water in her nose, and proceeds to show you this as she closes her eyes, tilts her head back, and sprays you with snot. You lift your arms up in snot self defense and howl from shoulder pain again.

And the baby wakes up from all the noise and coughs and coughs and then cries because his day is off to a shitty start and he reaches for you and you pick him up and try to squeeze back the tears from the pain your shoulder is causing from lifting him.

And then you remember you have a doctor’s appt today and errands to run and kids to cart to and fro and groceries to buy and haul in and put away and laundry to do and a house to clean and pack up.

And then you turn on the news and feel incredibly blessed for your life.

Very mild. Recheck in 6 months. Full clearance to play sports. MB1 is over the moon. I am too, although drinking in the visual deliciousness of his doctor a bit more often that than wouldn’t have been so bad either.

MB1 has his scoliosis check this morning. Time to find out what the hell is going on. Just in time, since he has a soccer game tonight. Shirt and tie to school today. He looked so grown up. Doesn’t seem real that I have a high schooler. High School. Damn.

My weight loss was going really well until about two weeks ago. Not sure what the hell happened. I was down 19lbs, and now I’ve gained about 5-6 those back. I’m hungry again. Starving, actually. I need to find things to eat that will fill me up, without packing on the assfat. I hate being hungry to the point of being sick and not being able to eat anything. Maybe I should take a picture of my cottage cheese ass – bet that would curb my appetite.

Why all the skeeter bites this year? We’re getting tore the fuck up over here lately. I don’t think I’ve been bit this bad since I was a little. Definitely nothing like the past few years. Could count the bites on all of us with one hand. I’m going out of my mind. Between the toes. Behind the ear. Top of the head. Back of the neck. Big itchy ass one right on the ankle bone that refuses to die.

Don’t they still spray for these fuckers?

Think that title about sums it up. Talking about MB4. Holy egads. Zoloft may make him hyper or possibly ease up his anxiety to fully unleash the underlying ADHD issues we suspect might be there? That’s the understatement of the fucking century. He’s like a cyclone. He spent the weekend in a battle with pillows – and himself. Throwing them. Punching them. Stacking and crashing from them. Hurling himself at the wall with them. Burying his face into them and shrieking these cackles of glee or some crazy ass shit.

But he was in a good mood – and that was hard not to notice. He had a smile or a laugh or a joke (MB4! joking!!!) for everyone. He played with MG like they were best buds. He even had to be told to brush his teeth (!!!!!!!!!). Amazing. He only had one episode that I saw where he got hammered on her for playing wrong – and that sibling shit is normal every so often.

I know he just started taking it, and I know that he still has so many things to work through, but for one glorious weekend – for the first time in many many years – he seemed perfectly normal. I felt like I finally got to meet my son – meet the little man that’s been kept from me, and he’s pretty damn cool.

Although we will be getting that ADHD med posthaste. Postfuckinghaste.

Guess there wasn’t a shoot out at the hicksville corral last night. Or maybe there was, but no one seems to be dead. After I called the non-emergency number to tell them I had heard loud sounds coming from that direction, I saw the man and woman come outside and sit on the porch. They were out there for two hours, and then I went to bed. Glad I’m moving. [4 blocks away]

Trying not to fixate on Katrina. Weather mesmerizes me. I hope the best case scenario plays out.

Finally feel close enough to start cleaning/packing. Well, not really packing, more like bundling up shit into a corner so I can clean. MD will power move it all in a day, and I will unpack it all as he brings it in, so a typical pack would slow us down. But at least I can start DOING something. Trying to push that nagging feeling of jinx out of my mind. We close two weeks from tomorrow if I remember correctly, and I want this to go smoothly.

We’re also coming to decisions on the other house as well. Whole house needs cleaned first off, then walls painted, then rugs removed. Then we’ll move in and let the house grow on us a bit before deciding what direction to go in. Only room we have planned out for sure is MG/MB5. They’ll share for awhile until we figure things out. The other rooms will be painted white to start. Well, the kitchen will just be left alone – no paint, no nothing. That red velvet / purple floral trim wallpaper deserves extra consideration. Barf.

Need to really strap down to make this all happen, especially with the schools sucking money out of our checking the way they are. Science trip for MB2 $200. Pictures for all 4 kids, plus football and soccer and ID pics $120. Lunch money. Art money. MB1 needs a shirt and tie. MB3 needs new cleats now [dammit]. Need a new mattress/box spring for MD and I. Paint. Fridge.

I need a sugar daddy.

You can’t usually tell it’s depression until a glimmer of normalcy sneaks in. Much like cutting yourself while shaving in the tub. No pain until you pull the plug. Except with depression, you might not ever reach down to grab it yourself.

I hadn’t realized it the past few weeks. Hell, few months? How long have I felt this way? Hard to say. Nothing major. No severe spells to speak of. But there all the same. I can see it now, on this side of it. That’s not to say I’m 100% – far from it, but I am feeling better. Happier. Blessed again, as I rightfully should feel.

What makes this difficult, is that I can’t trust anyone. Can’t Trust Anyone. Including – and especially – myself. I know it’s quite possible I’m only feeling better because I’ve boarded the crazy train again. I’d like to think that the meds are finally working to balance me out, now that the correct level has been achieved in my system, and that I will spend the rest of my days like this – enjoying my children, loving my husband, appreciating my life, but there’s always going to be that whisper over my shoulder that tells me to enjoy it while it lasts – because it won’t.

Maybe I should just pull my head out of the gift horse’s mouth, stop waiting to crash, and live.

What does a gunshot sound like? There was a fight earlier this afternoon between a couple on the next block. They were both out in the yard hollering and shit – that’s big news in this town. Big enough for two – count ‘em – two cop cars to show up.

And now, I just heard this loud popping noise – 5 of them, coming from that direction. I got up after the first 3 and walked over the window that faces that house, and the last two pops seemed to come right out of it.

My stomach is in knots wondering what is going on. There are at least 2 small children in that tiny house. Then again, I’m not sure of what I heard. Damn I hate this.

Those in the path of Katrina are in my thoughts. Stay safe.

MS started her second round of chemo this past Tuesday. She was so violently ill by the time she went back in yesterday to have the pump removed, that they hospitalized her for a bit to get her back on track. She lost 6lbs during the first round, gawd knows how many this time, and she sure couldn’t afford to lose any to start with. They are going to lower the dose of chemo next time, and she’s already working with a dietician to get her weight up.

This sucks.

MM: Damn, those birds are making it sound like a tropical forest outside. Think I’ll go sit on the porch and let them serenade me for a bit.

MB3: Umm, mom? That’s the intro screen for RugRats Go Wild. MG left it in the DVD player and it just keeps playing over and over……

Oldest kids have practice until 4. My two middle children have skating parties at 4. Parties end at 6. MD’s volleyball game starts at 6. Should be fun traveling at the speed of stress.

I made myself a new mood chart. Not much different than the ones I’ve found online, mostly included the good aspects of several. But more importantly, I think I’ve found a way in which to make the chart work better for me, plus I added a section for notes. I was rather surprised at the number of closet crazies that pull up a chair here every so often, so if anyone wants a copy of this, just shoot me an email. It’s not perfect, but it’s a Word doc, so you can modify to suit your needs – unlike the whore bastards charts out there now.

And now, it’s time to spend the day organizing my cleaning system. Total overhaul. Daily, weekly, monthly, so on and so on. My mother wants to hire a cleaning service – me, and I need to get my ass on the ball in terms of scheduled cleaning. Other than that, I have nothing else planned for the day – and it sure does feel nice.

So now I’ll go steal Crossfade from MB1 and let Colors wash my cares away as I get busy.

Don’t anyone blog today. If you blog, I have to read. And if I have to read, I won’t get shit accomplished.

Just finished organizing a folder for MB4. I included a letter explaining how we arrived at this point so far, made a chart to track his meds, another chart to track each doc/agency/program/therapist/etc he sees, and have created sections for each of them as well. Evals, IEPs, teacher’s notes – anything and everything related to my boy. It’s about time to start dealing with the school again, and I want everything documented and MB4’s advocate right beside me. I feel better having it all sorted like this. His issues will be lifelong, and starting a record keeping system now will ward off the migraines later – for everyone involved.

Next, I need to create a new mood chart. A decent one that’s worth a shit. I’ve downloaded every one I can get my hands on, and they all suck in some way. I need one that actually allows for a detailed mood change, not just a fucking box that asks for how many I had in a day – who the hell knows that? Uhhh – 52? Yeah, exactly. I need to be able to say that I spent the morning weaving wildflower crowns, spent the afternoon wishing I was a teething baby so I could bite the living shit outta everyone that annoyed me, and the evening buzzing around like a crackhead. Might take awhile to perfect this chart.

My son just signed into MSN. What an idiot.
I know how to walk up the steps without making a sound. What an idiot.

I love shit like this.

I had forgotten how glorious naptime can be. Wee one and MG ate lunch together and then fell asleep on the pillow pile they made on the floor while watching that little lost fish for the millionth time. MG twirled MB5’s hair as her eyes zoned out and went tilt. So damn cute.

I would like to be productive during this time, but it might wake them up? So I’d have to be quiet. Or sit here on my ass and read blogs for two hours. Fuck. I need someone who will whip me into shape again. Someone who will force me back into the Land of the Happy Homemakers. I used to be the fucking Queen of Clean. Now I just want to sit.

But I’m getting up. Right now.

I can hardly believe that tomorrow is almost here. School is back, and I’m not totally flat ass broke from school supplies and school clothes and school shoes – close, but not totally.

Had Mb1’s open house tonight. Was a fucking madhouse. I swear every resident of this town must have a high schooler. Or else they all invited grandparents too. We slipped out and went alone while MD minded the fort, and found all of his classes and met his teachers. A freshman. Wow. I know how fast it goes from here.

I’m hoping to get my brain back tomorrow. Or perhaps jump back on track with my diet since I’ve added back 4 fucking lbs. Or dust off our family planner and get this house cleaned. Or organize MB4’s records to prepare for an eval he has coming up.

Or maybe I can call the doc and find out why I won’t do any of those things and why this corner vision is getting worse and listen to him say what’s corner vision and then I can tell him it’s a saner way of saying that I’m seeing shit out of the corner of my eyes so it doesn’t sound like I’m losing my mind because I really think I might be losing my mind.

I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure that I take pills to prevent me from feeling like shit. Guess I’m curious as to why I feel like shit then. To be fair, it comes and goes. Ha! So does the bipolar – so what the fuck? Is this medicine doing anything at all? Or could it just be that I am – and have been – at the mercy of my cycles all along, and this particular med ain’t going to do – and hasn’t done – shit to help me? Entirely possible. Hmmmm. Lots of alternatives. Guess that’s up to doc. I just know that this – this feeling I feel right this very minute – is the reason I got help. I gave up the good shit that bipolar gives you to kill the bad – or so I thought. If that’s not the deal, then fuck it. Time to grab the mood chart and jot a few notes down. Then I think I’ll take a tylenol pm. I have a busy day tomorrow, and I can’t be staying up all damn night.

School starts tomorrow. I like tomorrow. The sun will come out tomorrow. I want to lick tomorrow’s beautiful ass.

Fine. Goodnight JohnBoy.

Had yet another open house. MD managed to make it to this one. Funny, he was home early enough to squeeze in that and still make it to a volleyball game. Fuckhead. I’m not liking sports tonight. I’m not liking anyone who plays them. I’m not liking anyone. Or anything.

I could have gone. He wanted me to. Was a nice gorgeous night, and I just wanted to throw a pity party and mope about. My choice. Remind me to take my pills later, would ya? Haven’t done that yet.

Tomorrow is not really a day at all. Days are these white squares in my planner, and tomorrow is more of a confused mass of squiggles. Squiggles Squiggles everywhere. Jots and notes and reminders. Fuck tomorrow.

On a good note, I’ve picked out the paint for one room in the new house. And if something goes crazytown, and we don’t actually get the house …….. well…..I’m still painting the motherfucker.

MB1 was recently promoted to Level II volunteer at the hospital. Simply put, he can do more shit. He’s thrilled. He’s trying to find a way to squeeze in more hours, but with school and sports – I just don’t see it happening. I don’t care if it takes him a year to earn another level – still proud of him regardless.

MD and I were making the rounds through out the house yesterday, making notes of things we need to fix or replace before we move, and we walked in on MB2 talking to someone on the phone. He was asking our wonderful local animal rescue/refuge place if they needed volunteers. Then he asked about the age requirements. Then he asked how he signed up. He starts volunteering there next Saturday. MD and I grinned at each other and turned back to counting fucked up blinds.

I am thrilled to death that both boys are volunteering – I really am. But I wonder if I push them too hard? I wonder if they would do shit like this if I wouldn’t talk so much about not wasting one moment or one opportunity? Do I exhaust them when I talk about their futures? How much is too much when it comes to guidance?

I’d like to send a royal fuck you to the maker of the cleat. Couldn’t you have made just one? I just counted 11 pair in the sports closet – and not a fucking one of them will work for MB2’s practice today because he’s a size 7 and the only size 7’s we have in there are for soccer. Bite me boner. I better not have to buy shit else for the rest of eternity when it comes to the other kids. I mean it.

[I was just reminded that last year I screwed up and bought those football cleats for MB2 - but we cut something off of them so he could play soccer. How's that for fucking myself up the ass.]

To the parents of the 5 extra kids I had here during lunch today – fuck you very much. Glad you think I have money sprouting from my asshole to feed everyone. Especially when we’re talking about farm boys here. Boys that eat whole chickens live and shit. Tell your kids to come home for lunch like my parents did. It’s the polite thing to do. Then – if they’re ASKED to stay here – they can call you. RudeRudeRude.

Had a little scare with the house this weekend. I misunderstood a message, and spent 30 minutes thinking we were losing the house until BLEEP……oops…. MD came home and explained it to me. I’m not well versed in this house buying mumbo jumbo bullshit, and maybe it’s just best no one discuss any of this shit with me. Just tell me when to show up and where to sign.

The weight of the stress is enormous. I keep saying we might be buying a house, while everyone around me says we are. Ok, does no one understand the jinx factor? We told the landlords this weekend. I didn’t want to. Now I’m convinced something will fuck up (see above paragraph) and we’ll be homeless. Of course, I realize on some sane plane of reality that they would love to let us live here forever and ever if this deal fell through, but what’s the fun in knowing that when I can spend hours with twisted guts dreaming up horrible whatif’s?

Kids are already yammering for a pet. Not sure I can do that again. Ever again.

Need to find something to do that will make me feel like I’m actually doing something to prepare for the move. Too early to start deep cleaning this place. Don’t have the keys for the new place. Can’t really pack up anything else, since we’re using it all. Well hell. Maybe I’ll clean carpets.

I just killed a horsefly that was the size of a small dog. Well, whatever, it was a big. Like over an inch and a half long. Since when do flies grow to be that big? That whopper I killed last year must have been a baby. What in the hell is the world coming to? When I was little, a big horsefly was m-a-y-b-e a half inch. Maybe. Tops. And that was big enough to cause panic. This bastard grinned when I grabbed the flyswatter and I ended up beating it to death with the fucking newspaper when he turned around to decide which of my children to devour.

MB4 had his psych appt this morning. Finally. Wonderfully pleased with her and her take on things. She said all the right things, and referred me to all the right places – too bad I already knew about them. She saw the ADHD that I have been asking about right away. Thank gawd. True, it could be fidget-y anxiety, but she’s giving Zoloft a go with him for the OCD and the anxiety so we’ll see if he settles down. Neither of us think he will. So a mild dose of Straterra (sp?) will probably follow.

Hot damn. I needed this today. Say what you will about medicating children – you don’t live in this nuthut we call a home.

Feeling better and better. Unfortunately, have been busier and busier. These are the days that people shouldn’t ask how we manage with 6 kids – ’cause I’d have to say it’s a bitch. Usually, it ain’t so bad, but when you have 3 registrations, 3 open houses, more and more therapy appts, soccer and football practices, band practices, back to school pool and skating parties, and last minute school supply shopping because the teacher was an asshole and decided to add $40 worth of shit on to the list the night of registration. Plus the appts for MB5’s hearing, MB1’s back, everyone’s dental and vision appts are due again, and the debate on whether to have MB2 seen or not for the ADD.

Thank gawd I don’t have anything else major to stress about – like buying a fucking house or anything.

Feeling pretty mellow. Now. Will change in about 12 seconds, I’m sure, but hey, let’s enjoy it, shall we? Did I use enough commas in that sentence? Can you use too many commas? Is there a comma cap? How about a question quota per paragraph? Wouldn’t really matter, I give less than two – count ‘em – two shits about punctuation.

Anyhooodananny – I made a fantastic dinner. Black Forest Ham, garlic mashed baby taters, homemade rolls, corn on cob, fresh green beans – just waiting for MD to get home so we can chow. He’s working late cuz we’re buying a house and it’s a pit that needs lots and lots of paint and soap.

Taking care of more house shit tomorrow. This is really going to happen, isn’t it? We’re buying a fucking house. Holy shit batman. Holy shit.

My daughter will be 4 this week.

Insert long dreamy sigh here over where has the time gone and yadadada.

I have bought everything she wants except for one thing – a stage. Little Madonna wants a stage, and I haven’t a clue as to how to make this happen. Thought maybe a few of you could throw out some ideas?

Something I could make and paint?

I bought everyone new socks at the start of summer – everyone but me. I had counted everyone’s stash, and I had over 40 pair. I went to grab one this morning, and my hands came up empty. It was dark since I was still enjoying my morning demon-free quiet time, so I went and got the flashlight so I could see where my socks had run off to. Still gone.

Came downstairs in a huff, pissed off that my boys had been stealing my socks, when I saw the basket. Full Of Socks. Socks that I haven’t matched up yet. I knew it was there, just didn’t realize it had been that long since I had bothered with it.

I’m a sock freak – two pair a day. One after my bath/lotion at night, and a fresh pair in the morning. Then I kick them off to put on my sandals if I go anywhere. I know I know. Shut up.

So, by my crudest calculations, I haven’t matched up socks in almost three weeks. Three fucking weeks. Poor MD, I bet he ran out of work socks some time ago.

All this to further prove to myself that I could be slipping into a funk again. Because I have no desire to march in there and match socks. Fuck that. So, I’m either depressed, or the body snatchers have landed – and from the looks of my fridge, they are rotten filthy pigs.

Not sure if I’m about to start, or if the meds are sending me into a real funk. The kind that adds weights to your limbs, fuzzies to your brain, and apathy to your agenda. The kind that can drown you.

I got pissed at the older boys for fighting and gave them a good old-fashioned terrorizing, just like any other psychotic mother would do. Said shit to them that will haunt me for a good many years. I’ve apologized and explained and searched their faces for any signs that it’s too late – that I’ve already fucked them up beyond repair. That they are biding their time until they can get up out of here and leave the crazy bitch behind. I would.

I’m calling the doc tomorrow to tell him that this latest med increase is causing problems. Not sure what can be done in the meantime, but he’d better think of something. I’m a horrible raging monster who doesn’t have the mental energy to do a fucking thing except chew ass, and I have two houses to clean, pack and unpack. And kids to raise right. And a husband who’d like his wife back.

Few more pics in the gallery of the house. Tried to get a sense of how big the back yard is. Or will be, as soon as that dinosaur pool is outta there.

And that’s about as much as I can get from my brain right now. Just not feeling yippety today.

I’m tired, but I can’t go to bed yet. I was fucking starving, so I threw on a bra and trudged out in the dark to the only place in town still open – Sonic. Bought way too much food for this time of night, ate every morsel, and now I can’t go to bed because Sonic has PerfectPop. And you don’t waste PerfectPop. You know what I mean. The pop/soda/coke/whatever the fuck you call it that is beverage perfection. Tastes so damn good you couldn’t possibly drain it and head to bed.

So I guess I’ll just sit here and drink. Damn, my life really fucking rocks, doesn’t it?

It may appear to be an innocent wooden block, but it’s really a demonic vessel of evil.

(more…)

Last night the weather was mild and the boys rounded up a game of football and somehow the whole damn team ended up crashing here – dinner included. Think there were 4 or 5 of them over. Not sure, as there were literally kids everywhere.

MD and MB1 left to drive one of the boys home to get a few things. They also wanted to swing by and show his friend the house. Pulling onto the street, his friend became very excited, as they were buying the house next door. Lots of male shrieks and high fives followed – until MD pulled into the driveway. Then his friend stopped jumping for joy.

Turns out his mama has been trying to secure financing this past week – for that house. Ya know, the one we just plunked down some cash for. Yeah, that one. Talk about awkward.

Probably won’t be seeing much of that kid anymore.

Internet works, but the email connection isn’t working. Starting to get pissed.

To answer a few questions, since I can’t respond to comments – yes, there are windows in the basement. It’s been redone to be used as living space. And since I’m an anxiety ridden old crow, I’ll have something under them to aid in easy escapes should the need arise. And yes, the house is big enough for all of us. I’ll take more pics later.

Now to fix this fucking email.

New computer is up and running and purring like a sweet baby kitty. Posting from it right this very moment. Now to figure out how to transfer my shit over from the other computer without fucking up what I’ve done so far.

Anyhooo – about the house. It’s got 2 bedrooms up top, 1 in the basement, and 2 more huge whatever rooms in the basement. Plenty of space to go ahead with the Boys Town in the Basement plan. Might have to actually redo some walls, but it’ll work for now. Bad thing, is that the washer and dryer will also be down there. Not only do I hate that, it means taking space away from one of their rooms because I plan on having a decent sized laundry room. But oh well. Still totally do-able. Overall, the house isn’t all that big, but it’s bigger than what we have now. And there are possibilities there that don’t exist here.

After I rip up that nasty ass carpet.

Don’t look now, but I think we’re buying a house.

Parents couldn’t find a damn thing wrong with the house. Not that I was hoping they would or anything. Solid. Should be, most of the beams for the damn thing are steel. Still smaller than I had hoped, and holy shit it’s even uglier the second time around, but damned if I can find a good reason to say no.

Payment would be the same as it is now – only utilities would be cheaper in the new one thanks to no second floor and shitloads of insulation. Could easily bank the equity over a few years just by making small cosmetic fixes. Would be mine. Velvet wallpaper and all.

Dammit. Some other gal is trying to get pre-approval to buy it, so I need to make a decision fast. And shit if I don’t HATE feeling rushed. Dammit.

Taking my parents to check out a house we looked at last night. A house that redefines ugly. Red velvet wallpaper with bamboo-like trim.

Yeah. And that’s the kitchen.

Not even sure I could clean the carpets. I think they might burst into dust demons. Fortunately, there are gorgeous hardwood floors underneath. That’s the thing – for every bad, there’s a good. And while the bads are minor, the goods are major. But oh holy shit, is it ugly. And dirty.

But cheap. Oh so very very cheap. Like rent cheap. Back yard is big, but front yard sucks.

I don’t really care for it. I think the lay out is funky. Something about it gives me pause, but I will trust my dad’s instincts on it. We’ll see.

MG called me stupid and I’m not stupid. She’s stupid because she thinks I’m stupid. She’s stupid because she thinks when you don’t shut up, that means you’re stupid. But really, when you go yayaya when someone is trying to talk to you that’s rude – very rude – and that makes it stupid. So she’s stupid, not me. No, not me.

I think I’m having a nervous breakdown. I’m trying to set up the new computer, and the task is proving to be the biggest pain in my ass ever. Ever. Try using the nifty doodad that relocates your shit from one puter to the other. Gives me grief because of the name differences. So I say fuck it and dump the new one. Start fresh. After system is so fresh and so clean clean, I try to connect to internet via the hub. Nothing doin’. No drivers for ethernet card because mom forgot to hand me that disc.

Wait one full day………

Installed drivers and tried again to connect. Got 42 gazillion popups before the browser even connected. Took 45 minutes, 6 reboots, and 14 new cuss words to make it to the windows update section to try and fix the fucking planet sized holes in the operating system, and when I finally get them all done – the browser shits the bed totally. Won’t open anything but yah00.

I used the doodad to send some spyware programs over, and they find hundreds – HUNDREDS!! Lovely. I erase them, they pop back up. I turn off system restore and erase them – they grow right back. Some I managed to kill completely, but nothing helps the browser. I can’t get to M0zilla to even load up a new browser to see wtfuckin hell the deal is.

My shiny new black computer is fucking worthless. I was going to go ahead and try another fresh install with my XP Home disc, but I can’t find it. I bet the diaper wearing imp stole it.

I have a doc appt tomorrow. I haven’t been updating my mood chart because I was going to tell him to suck a twinkie. I’m also having a level done tomorrow to make sure he’s not making my liver shrivel up into a pit of shit – which means I’ll be giving blood out of the same arms that blew not one not two but three lines today while the nice nurses smiled and said sorry and told me how flat my veins were as I smiled back while fighting tears as that shit burned and burned.

I think I’m going to bed now.

All clear. No polyps a ‘tall. And I don’t remember a fucking thing about the procedure.

So, all is well. Although I am hella sleepy.

MB1 does indeed have scoliosis. Lovely. Was scared shitless until I read about it this morning. Still not the bestest news, but I’m feeling better. He has an appointment on the 23rd with the ortho. No sports until then. To say that he’s pissed would be the understatement of the year. Soccer practice starts tonight. MD is going to take him to talk to the coach and let him know what’s going on. Hopefully he can still be on the team after the appt.

My colonoscopy is tomorrow. What a fabulous day of preparation I’m having.

MD was asked to work today, so I’ve spent the morning cleaning house. I surprised myself by going to the game and actually talking to a handful of people. I was the only one NOT playing volleyball (read: very small league), so that made it even easier to avoid small talk bullshit. I played in the sand with the kids and took pics, which I should get around to posting sometime today.

Dad just spent a shitload of cash on a new gaming Dell – and I mean a shitload, when you consider how inexpensive they’ve become – so guess who gets his old one? And by old, I mean purchased a mere 10 months ago. Yep, lucky MM. They’re going to buy my sister a digital camera to keep it fair since her old one bit it. And my wonderful computer that I’ve had for four long fabulous years will be turned over to the boys. I’ll buy a new sound card for their old one and give it to the little kiddos.

Now to figure out how to move my shit over in the most stress-free manner.

MD has a volley ball game tonight. I hope I still have the balls to go like I told him I would. I always find a reason to stay home when the time to leave rolls around. In fact, I already have two excuses lined up. Perhaps I should go pop a Klonopin now and see what happens. I would like to see him play. He loves his sports, and I hate being the bitch I am that tries to limit his time doing anything that takes him away from us … from me. I wonder if I’ll ever change in that regard. Is that a part of the bipolar? Or am I just really that needy? I’d hate to think that.

Slowly starting to come out this fog from the med increase. Actually felt zoomzoomy for a bit the past two days. Nothing to get excited about, but enough to make me feel normal again. One of these days, I’ll stop bitching about how I miss being who I was. She’s not allowed to exist anymore, and I need to get that through my head.

Oh, hell. Who am I kidding? I’m closer to stopping the meds than I’ve ever been. I fucking hate this normal shit. This isn’t me. I’m a non-productive, non-sexual, non-exciting little pissant of a person who is slowly killing off the best parts of herself. I say fuck this shit.

And please, no feel good love ya emails right now. I don’t want hugs and kisses. I’m not depressed. I just want to be me. I want to be who I was. And if that’s not possible, then just let me throw a gawd damn fit about it.

Feeling really good about this Light The Night walk lately. Our team has grown from just us to two old friends of Shawn from high school with their families, and my cousin and her family. The coordinator said we have the biggest local team so far.

As well, that $236 on the side is merely the money raised through my name – it doesn’t include the money on MD’s site or each of the kids’ – because everyone gets their own. Granted, I’ve raised the most so far, but the other things we’re doing are just starting to pay off.

Since MD and I are having sort of a contest, I only get to count what I raise here. MD sent off letters to everyone at his work – paying special attention to the bigwigs with the big wallets. He gets to count that and everything the two local stores raise by selling those paper balloons he got them to sell for us. For the kids, I sent out 50 letters to major corporations and local businesses, and whatever comes in – they get to split evenly. So far, I think MD has raised about $30 and the kids have had two checks for $25 each come in.

I’m just really pleased and really thankful. I’m also really surprised that squeezing out just a little time and effort can make regular folks like us feel so damn empowered against something so damn powerful like cancer. I honestly almost backed out initially, after thinking how horribly inadequate our team’s contribution would be compared to the national teams, but I’m glad I didn’t.

Epecially since the bastard made it personal.

Turns out I’m not a genius. MG is sportin’ a lovely rash over most of her body. A nice flushy rash. The kind that says, “Hi. My name’s Strep. What’s yours?”

MB1 has an appt tomorrow at the hospital to check him for scoliosis. Not happy about that shit either. Going to fill my pockets with quarters and chuck them at the kids whenever I see shitty posture.

Think I’ll turn in early. Nights sure are long around here with her sick.

MG has been feverish since Monday night. Said her tummy feels yucky, but other than that – no other problems. Just a fever you could set your watch by. My tummy feels like crap too, but no fever. MB4 has been telling me that his tummy hurts. Me thinks there is a tummy bug at work.

I know, I’m a genius.

Put up pics from our fishing trip yesterday. It’ll be nice next year when wee one is a bit older and we don’t have to chase after his ass the entire time. Might be fun to actually fish. Then again, we never catch anything anyway. It’s more of a long ass trip into the country to feed our aquatic pets. I still enjoy the hell out of it.

My kidneys are feeling great this morning. ‘Course, I have no idea how they’d feel without these pain pills, but we’ll pretend I have happy little organs.

I met a brilliant woman the other day. Who she was is not important. Why she was branded brilliant is. No toilet paper roll holder. None. No fighting about under or over. No reaching around only to find a fucking nugget left because some inconsiderate ass didn’t change the roll. No empty rolls left on the holder for a week while the new roll sits patiently on top the tank until mom finally sighs and growls and makes a one-handed change-a-roo with a towel-wrapped baby under one arm while cussing under her breath and sometimes rather loudly to no one in particular yet everyone in general because no one will ever fucking change it but her.

But not this gal. She has a basket. Fucking Brilliant. A basket – right next to the throne. Decorative, yet simple. Big enough to dump an econo size pack of rolls in that bitch and walk the hell away. No changing. No cussing. No reaching. No seemingly innocent little quips from family and friends about under versus over at the Thanksgiving get together that turn into a bar room brawl in the living room. Just tissue. And no contorting your fucking hand to polish the holder either. Brilliant. Unless you have a toddler. In which case, you’re better off buying one roll at a time and hooking it onto your tool belt and checking it out to people on their way to the john.

But someday, by gawd, I’ll have that toilet paper basket….