MB4 and I just returned from his pdoc appt. She listened as described the hell we’ve been living both at home, and the new shit pertaining to school. She watched him for 30 minutes and tried talking to him and then she pulled out the evaluations from when he first arrived way back when and the teacher’s notes and my notes ……. then she looked up and said – You mentioned ADHD a year ago and I didn’t listen. I’m listening now.

Thanks be to gawd.

You’ve seen a typhoon, right? No? C’mon over, I’ll show you one. Weeeeeeeeeeeeeee, he’s been rough the past few weeks. I can see the up cycle he hits, hence the bipolar meds, but there is still the constant state of GGEZUSCANYOUSTOPFORONEFUCKINGMINUTE. Nothing works to settle him down. Except to get into trouble, and that lasts about 2 minutes. That DinoTheDinosaur shit, where he literally jumps on someone and jumps and jumps and jumps until that someone just wants to fling him into the yard… When she told me it was probably the bipolar mixed with the austism last year, I believed her. For about a week. Then again, if the new meds don’t help, then well now it’s just a really high high mania, but I doubt it.

OMG, I cannot put into words the relief I feel right now. I KNOW if I can get him to settle down, he can listen —- REALLY LISTEN to me when I explain how book reports work. Maybe I won’t have to explain the rest of the shit a million times. Maybe I won’t have to ask him 20 times to take a shower, and then literally have to put him in it when he bounces around like Tigger and ignores me.

Now I just need to find out about stock options for my pharmacy.

Dad has been reading online again. Mom called to find out if I knew that secondary liver cancer wasn’t curable, just treatable in dad’s situation. I didn’t answer and that answered her question. But instead of dropping it, she pressed on, telling me that the doctor doesn’t talk that way. He talks about surgery and beating this thing. I said great, then listen to him. So she asks me to find a site – any site – that gives a positive spin on things for dad to read instead. I have none. I don’t know of any. I told her to tell dad that everyone is different, and she starts rambling again about how that must mean I haven’t found one but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any and the doctor said, and the doctor said, and the doctor said…

I would like to know how I keep ending up as the bad guy.

Let’s Say Thanks.

Thoughts that need unrambled. Dad.Triggers.Soccer.Forest.
No time. Save for later. Enjoy your day. I can’t. Dot has arrived.
When you return, bring pretzels stuffed with rolos.

I tested MB4 with some word problems tonight, and he didn’t miss any. Then we did some timed tests over math facts – ummm, for those of you, like me, that have no idea what those are – that’s a fancy way of saying 2+2=4. That’s a math fact. They have to be able to complete 30 problems in 1 minute, and he was averaging 8-11. Now, he’s averaging 19-23, in just three days. He tries so hard when he DOES finally get it, that it never takes him long to catch up. Thank gawd. So as long as the teacher even meets me halfway, he should be ok. I hope.

MD agrees with me on the MB1 job thing now. Yay me. Go me. Yeah yeah, I’m cool. Heh.

———-

But he wants us to chip in $1500 for each kid on their 16th birthday for a car, provided that they have earned the same to plunk down as well. I imagine it’ll increase for the little ones as the years go by. Right now $3k could get them a decent used car. 13 years from now, I’m not thinking so. I can handle this. My parents paid half of my car – but I paid for everything else, so we agreed on that as well. Was a good day for victory. Heh.

———-

Older boys just got home from youth. They kicked back and went to TacoSmell afterward. My mom would have never let me do things that like at their age. I don’t think I’m a total loosey goosey mother now, but I am oh so very glad that I’ve eased up a bit on that bubble boy shit. They actually have friends now with stricter parents than me. Heh.

———-

Soccer season is upon us again. Please hit me repeatedly me in the head with a soccer ball so I don’t have to play taxi driver to our 4 players.

———-

MB2 is officially converted back to a steak eater. Country fried steak, that is. It turns out that their school makes the best in the land, and the struggle over what to do lasted about 2 seconds. Besides, he said – if everyone stopped eating beef, there would be no need for non-dairy cows, and since they aren’t exactly pets, they’d be killed off anyway. We’re actually keeping their species alive. Makes sense to me. Then again, I have irrational thought.

———-

I took Michelle’s letter and my letter and used my second chance to dress it up a bit. There were pieces in the first one that made me shudder. I think the new one will do just fine. I won’t subject you to the torture of another mile long diatribe of bullshit, so I won’t post it.

———-

I’m hearing shit. Seriously. I have been for 2 weeks now. It’s been better the past few days, which tells me all I need to know about the reason behind it, but let me tell you – for those people that have ever stared at a “crazy” person in disbelief over how they can actually believe that pile of insanity – daaaaaaamnnn. It’s downright scary on this side of the house. The crazy side, that is. I’ve heard ….. for lack of a better word, galloping going on in the living room at night. I have MD get up to check, but there is never anything there. In addition to giving a person the shakes, the reality that you are actually hearing things that aren’t there really puts a damper on your mood. Kinda like the corner vision shit. I just hate all of this. For the first time in almost 17 years, I slept on the left side of the bed – away from the door. Even though I knew there was no one there, I still couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was going to sneak up on me. So MD sacrificed himself for my safety. My sanity.

And last week, while enjoying my quiet time in the morning when the kids are asleep and the older boys are already on the bus to school, I was downstairs starting a load of clothes when I heard the kids running around. I just knew they were up there flipping out because they couldn’t find me, so I hurried up and finished, then fed the cats because they were bugging the shit outta me, hollered up that I was coming as fast as I could, and ran up the stairs. To find no one. Yeah. Bye bye pills. Good riddance. I wasn’t going to tell the internet this. Thought it might make me look insane. Then I thought about the past four years of my life I’ve already spilled here, and laughed.

MB4 forgot to give the papers to the teacher. I was literally shaking when I grabbed his bookbag – for nothing. Dammit. S’ok though, he had a good day at school and was chosen to be the superstudent. Had his day been shitty, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep tonight.

My appt is the 6th. I did go ahead and step down the other day – yes, on my own. And you know what? I remembered to switch the fucking laundry today. Go figure. 2 days without that small morning dose (well, 3 now), and I suddenly have a few working brain cells. I KNOW that’s what it is. I’m still taking the 500 at night, but I kicked that 250 to the curb. It has been a month since I stepped down from the 1000, so I think it’s safe. The doc can holler all she wants, I’m coming off of this shit whether they like it or not. They can figure out which one to try next – because I DO want something, just not this shit. I did go back to taking two risperdal instead of the one, and I feel great. Really. Energy, but no exhausting zoomzoom. Although I do have a headache. Nagging, like I know it wants to kill me and it’s just waiting for the right moment.

MD works tonight, and the kids have youth, so I guess it’s just me and the small fries for dinner. I’m thinking pizza. Yeah, pizza.

MD was called to go to Canada last night at 8pm. Yeah, nothing like getting that phone call. He had 22 minutes to get to work to catch a ride with the other guy – it takes 25 minutes to get to work if he’s hauling ass. Left a lot of time to pack – not. We wildly throw shit in a bag for him, he runs around kissing everyone, and heads out the door. I’m pissed because Monday and Tuesday were the first two days off he’s had in 2 weeks thanks to that second job, and his REAL job called him away both nights. So I made a bowl of sugar cookie dough and ate it. I can do that. I’m almost on my dot.

Doesn’t that sound better? On my dot? Or do you prefer period? Sounds gross. I like dot.

I get a phone call at midnight. The weren’t able to get on the plane – they were trying to ride standby, so the big bosses were going to go ahead and fly there in the morning. They had simply wanted to see if MD and the other guy could get there first thing in the morning, as they won’t be able to arrive until damn near noon (thanks to another meeting in New York, where they are). So, he came home. Wasted night. Thanks boss man.

Although, his raise was on his check this morning, so at least they weren’t lying about that. I wasn’t holding my breath, given our past experience with employers. I get the feeling they have other things in mind for him – like travel things. Ugh.

I sent a note to MB4’s teacher this morning. Wrote it last night after pulling together all the past evaluations done by other teachers. Thought that might help out too. Sent the diagnosis and recommendations. Sent the profile done by the regional center as well. I’ll send a gold monkey if I need to. I hope the letter was ok. Michelle, have you read it yet? Well, hell. I should post it here.

Ms. —–,

I wanted to write you a note to let you know that I have seen the issues that —— has been having already. Mainly math (speed), math word problems, and reading comprehension. I hope you won’t think of me as some pesky mom who meddles too much, but ——- really needs me to help out at home in terms of making sure he knows what is expected of him in class.

I’m not sure if you remember our conversation or not, but ——- was diagnosed with PDD-NOS, Anxiety, and OCD in November ’04, and bipolar disorder this past year. I try my best to make sure he comprehends what you are trying to teach him in class. His number one problem is that he leads others to believe that he understands what they are saying, but he doesn’t. Then he doesn’t complete the work, or doesn’t do it properly, and he gets very upset when he brings home a bad grade.

Please don’t think I expect you to give —— special treatment, because I don’t. But I am sending various notes and evaluations from other teachers and myself to help shed some light as to what his issues are. The school has a copy of his diagnosis and their recommendations in his file, but I am sending my copy along for you to look at as well. Might help? I know teachers in the past have kept him close to the front because he tends to need more help with the directions than the other kids. He just doesn’t get it most of the time – no matter what he says. You’ll know when he does, as his eyes will light up. J

He has a LOT of trouble with reading comprehension. He does not recall information the way most people do. He has a hard time determining what is important. I asked him why he missed those word problems, and he said because he didn’t know if Jan was a boy or a girl. (??) I tried to explain that her gender made no difference in how many oranges she had, but he couldn’t grasp what I was saying. I made up a few of my own for him, and he couldn’t pull the actual math problems out of them either. Said they confused him. I’ll keep trying.

I know last year the teacher let me know if there was something coming up lesson-wise that she thought he might have trouble with, and I would start to slowly prepare him for it – like the book reports. He simply cannot pull that one sentence out of there to save his life. Well, unless you ask him the “right” way, and he won’t always have someone around to do that for him. I still work on this with him nightly.

Again, I’ll help out in whatever way I can. I keep hoping one day he’ll just snap out of this and the light bulb will stay on, but until then, I have to make sure he does what he needs to do. Please let me know if I can help out in any way.

Thank you so much,
Crazy Ass Mother Who Will Kick Your Ass

Well? Now I’m all nervous because Michelle hasn’t responded. Maybe it sucks and she doesn’t know how to tell me. Too bossy? Too bitchy? Gah. TELL ME PLEASE!!

I cannot even handle this right now. MB4’s teacher. I thought ……. she seemed to understand certain things, but now I realize I have to go through the entire hoodinanny with her. He’s got majorly sucky grades and it hasn’t even been a full week of school. She’s not doing the things he needs, and it makes me want to yank him out of school and torch it to the ground.

He’s never had math word problems, and he said it confused him. You know, Jan has 3 oranges, and Bobby gives her one more, how many does she have? He didn’t know if Jan was really a boy or a girl, so he couldn’t figure out the problem. See what he deals with??? The thought of explaining all this to another teacher makes me ill.

Gah. I just don’t know what to do anymore.

If you have a few bucks to spare, I know of a good way to spend them.

That yes, I have had my hormones and thyroid tested – both are fine. It was actually the first thing that sent me to the doc. I was convinced that simple estrogen cream would do the trick. It was the doc who ran the tests that told me that I was probably bipolar and that according to her scale, I was hitting at the bipolar I level. I have since seen 4 different docs now, and they all agree. Add that to the fact that there are now 8 bipolar diagnosis on both sides of the family, I’m pretty confident that the docs are right. I don’t WANT them to be, and there are times when I holler from the rooftops that all the bastards are wrong, but down deep – I know. I’ve always known it wasn’t normal – regardless of what ‘it’ was called.

Rach asked about pmdd because of the preg/nurs thing, but the main issue with pmdd is monthly madness surrounding a woman’s cycle – and I’m fine. My ups and downs have nothing to do with my period. Now, since I had the tubal, I get cramps, but that’s about it. Well, and I sometimes eat kitkats dipped in salt. Ok, not really, but I might as well. One bite of chocolate. One bite of pringle. Repeat. Yuck.

It truly is amazing what getting all that shit outta yer head does for you. I slept better than I have in weeks.

It is obvious what to do, isn’t it? The memory thing scared me a lot, so I think I’ll go ahead and start stepping down on the depakote, but then ask them to try something new. I don’t think it’s unfair to say that I gave the depakote an honest run at 18 months. It’s not working the way they said it would, and the side effects are horrid, if not dangerous. Surely there is something else out there. The risperdal seems great. I wonder if lithium is the same. Gah does that sound scary.

Went and forced myself to read the 12 steps to staying med-compliant. It helped. Now to just hang on until the appt. I appreciate the opinions so far, and would love to hear more, so fire away. Can only help.

I need help. I know you guys aren’t doctors. I know you don’t even play them on tv. I know you don’t really know me and I know that you’d only be making assumptions based on partial knowledge of my life. I know all this. I know that only the doctor and me and MD can make the final call. I know that it’s going to be us living the life afterward. I know I know I know I know.

But I’d like some help. At least input. Outside objective opinions. Some OOOs. Yeah, I like that. Give me your OOO. I can take it too. No pussy footing. No side stepping. No half stepping. Lay it on me. I’ll give you the ingredients, and you tell me what you’d make with it. K? At the very least, I’ll have something to print out and say here bitch. Fix my shit.

First off, more about Saturday to give some insight as to what I’ve dealt with the past 18 months. Some days are better than others, but this situation is the PERFECT example of what that white wall of dementia does to me whenever the fuck it wants to. Such a nasty, yet exactly fucking fitting, word. Dementia.

Saturday we ran to the store. I went to grab a cart, and when I turned around, I saw some friends of ours. I was immediately nervous, because I knew I had to go over and say something since they had seen me, and I couldn’t remember where I knew them from. As I started to walk over to them, each step cleared my head a bit. As I got right up to them, my family, the realization of who they were slammed into me like a freight train. How do you fuzz out your own family like that? MD knew something was up just by the look on his face. I started shaking and tearing up and when I explained, I thought he was about to flip a nutty of his own.

We agreed to talk about it later, away from MB1, and I started walking to the school supplies. After my fourth trip around the same aisles, MB1 asked me where I was going. Shakes hit me again, because I knew that I was lost. Not LOST lost, but lost in fuzzy land. Couldn’t remember what I was there for, didn’t know what to do next or where to go. It literally causes my brain to freeze. MD came up and gave me that look. I told him to take me to whatever we needed to buy and I would follow.

We grab the tissues and other stuff and then we headed over to find MB3 an art bag. MD had to use the little shopper’s room, so I went on ahead to the hobby section. I was going to make damn sure I didn’t forget this time, so I slipped into the artbag artbag artbag mantra. Except it lulls your head to sleep and you STILL wander aimlessly around the aisles not really able to focus on anything at all even though you’ve passed several possible bags and your son just rolls his eyes and grabs a bag and throws it into the cart and then proceeds to tell on you when your husband walks up. I just demanded to go home then. The shakes and tears and hair pulling was scaring the other customers anyway.

So, we launched into What The Fuck Do We Do for the 137th time. And by the end of the night, we still were at square one. I’m hoping we’re too close to the situation, and someone else could help point out something we’re missing. Or maybe someone has more experience with this and will tell me that it took this long to get them regulated. 18 months or so. Egads, has it been that long?

Now onto the weighing of the two evils….

First, let’s go into what I’m REALLY like when I’m not medicated……
People here have emailed me in the past and told me that they never really saw any behaviors indicating that I was bipolar, or that it wasn’t to the point of needing medication. Maybe that appears to be true, but I was also either nursing or pregnant the past 4-5 years. For whatever reason, it gives me a break. Doc said it goes either way for most women – you either get WAY worse, or way better. Guess I’m a lucky one in that regard.

All of this to explain that while I may seem only slightly bitchy and sometimes moody and occasionally odd, there is much, much more to it than that. Much more that the bipolar brings to the table, or else why in the hell would I be willing to choke down these pills and live with the side effects for this long? I’d hope everyone knows me better than that by now.

I give jealous a new meaning. There would be no more volleyball for MD. I’d actually follow him on occasion if I had a hair up my ass that he was keeping something from me. I’d check up on him at work to catch him in a lie. I’d force him to cut out any and all female friends from his life. Hell, all females period. I’d even be jealous of my daughter. And his mother. And his sisters. And my sons for that matter. And anything else that took my husband away from me – for even a few moments. I’d go with him to grab a gallon of milk – or else I’d watch the driveway until he returned. I wouldn’t have a life unless he was here. Think about your most pathetic dependency and increase times a thousand. He is my addiction. My fixation. I don’t know why. I mean, I love him, but it goes way beyond that when I’m ….. myself. Gah. This ain’t going to be easy.

I start fights just to hear myself yell, and I will make you regret the day you were born if you challenge me. I throw shit. Lots of shit. I’m mean as all get out. I’d scare the brawniest of men. I’m out of control when I rage. I can’t – and I can’t recall wanting to – control it. I have to rage until it’s over. I never know how long that’ll be. I never know what will ignite it. I have raged against family and friends and employees and bosses and strangers and whoever else was in the way. This is the number one reason I fear stopping the meds. I can be very dangerous. I have tried to run people over. Stab people. Choke people. I’ll stop now. You get the idea. Just typing it warms up a part of my insides that is always ready to rumble.

Irrational is my middle name. I make no sense and I don’t care. I’ll flat out argue to the death that the sky is purple and woe be to anyone that says other wise. I never admit I’m wrong, and I never say sorry. Never. I may or may not realize at some point that I’m wrong, but I can guarantee it will be the other person owning up to the blunder. I can make my babble talk sound plausible. I can whip the conversation around so that it appears that I was only wrong because I was following your lead. I will walk away leaving you feeling utterly and completely mind fucked. And I will find it incredibly satisfying.

The sexual hunger is never sated. Never. Think that’s wonderful? Think again. Imagine every day – all day – colored with sexual thoughts. Suddenly riding in the car with that vibrating motor becomes almost unbearable. Sex could happen 20 times a day. Easily. Every man is sized up and noted. Possible fixations there as well. Not for affairs. More like to challenge. The need is to hunt. Alcohol is big no-no and that’s all I am going to say about that.

I slowly start to detach from my family. The bonds I feel with them starts to fade. They annoy me with their needs. Not in the typical geezus I need a minute alone to piss mommy way. Rather the friend who has no children and comes to visit way. Big difference, and the kids can feel it. I know they can. I’ve left them before. I didn’t visit even though I lived three blocks away. I was done with that family shit. I have a very hard heart. A very cold heart. Makes my insides shrivel up to think about this. I’m deathly afraid of this one.

Oh yeah, I’m loads of fun. I think it’d be cool to plow over joggers with tight shorts just because they irritate my vision. And although lots of people say this, I lose my filter sometimes, and one of these days I just might really mow the poor bastard over. I like to go to the park and feed the ducks. Even if it’s raining. So sure, I used to claim that I wasn’t a naked snow dancer, but I didn’t tell you that I am a duck feeding rain idiot. Shit, I’d dance naked in the rain for fun. Storms make me feel alive alive alive. Must be the electricity that flows in the air. Shoots that magnet shit in my blood to the moon.

I haven’t landed us in the poor house, but I can spend $200 on condiments when I’m manic. Basically, we’ll use whatever I go hogwild on, but all in due time. Or it wasn’t needed at this time. Or did we really need it at all. I don’t like this one. It makes me feel guilty. For buying underwear. And shoes. And hair dye. Unfortunately, I buy these things along with the other shit, and standard mommy guilt is bad enough over underwear.

There are more, but those are the ones that frighten me. Of course, there are others that I would LOVE to have back, but boofuckinghoo for me.

Evils of the meds? You know them. I’m boring. I cry. I don’t want sex. I gained 50 fucking pounds – although I lost 30 of it. I don’t feel like me. I feel vulnerable. I hate living like this. I cry when I think about spending my life feeling like this. I have more anxiety than ever, probably because I have like real feelings and shit now. I have lost my memory in a big way. I still have sleep issues. Nothing works for long. I take more pills than Elvis. The pills upset my stomach constantly. This whole thing ain’t cheap. Doc is over an hour away. Nothing local at all unless I want to go inpatient first. No thanks.

———-

So, any takers? Step right up. Please. Any OOOs would be great. I’m so lost.

Fresh new pics up in the gallery. Birthday party, etc etc. I wish I liked my camera more. I have to stop being so lazy about picture taking. Then again, I see so many other mamas taking such gorgeous pics, and I get dejected because mine are just ….. just pictures.

Look at ‘em anyway.

I’m receiving free dog food coupons for posting that blurb the other day.

First person to humiliate themselves by describing some secret stooopid human trick they can do that IMPRESSES, REPULSES, OR AMUSES me – uhh, and that has a dog and actually wants these fuckers, can have them.

My son has decided that he no longer eats meat. I’ll let you figure out which son that is. I bet you can if you think about it. ANyhooo, unless he’s to live on green beans and apples, I suppose I need to actually figure out what these people eat. And that’s not said to offend anyone – not at all. In fact, I need your help in finding out what to feed him. I just think there should be division in the ranks of sorts. Those that drool over the thought of a big juicy steak and those that throw up over it.

I read a little bit online. Sounds like a pain in the ass to me. He claims that *I* can configure tofu into whatever food I’d like. I reminded him that we tried tofu before and I’m not thinking that curdled square of shit will tranform into anything except a pile of puke in front of me. Which leads to my next problem. I have the weakest tummy around and forbid people from eating anything squishy in the same room as me, so he’s probably not going to get *ME* to fix any of this food. I’ll be the one who throws up at the thought of eating kale. What the fuck IS kale anyway? Or mustard greens. I’ll be honest, I would probably have trouble finding spinach. gag

This should be fun. Can’t wait to see what he wants to do next.

MS’ scans were cancelled. She had all the tests run and such, but then the doctor cancelled the rest. Why, you ask? Because he sees no reason at all to have them. The rest of the results look amazing, and he ‘graduated’ her to 6 month appts instead of every 3 months. She’s pretty thrilled. She’s pretty confident that she’s really beaten it.

I’m pretty relieved my damn self.

Why is it that only shitty dreams are vivid and easily remembered upon waking? The good ones always tune in fuzzy and leave my head the minute my foot hits the floor. Unfortunately, I had a bad one last night. You know those dreams you have when your spouse tells you shit like, yeah, ok ok, I WAS with her. Yeah, uh ha, those dreams. Now you know that the aforementioned unfortunately refers to MD and his day, as I’m a crazy nutjob who will make his real life self pay all day long for the hurt his dream like self inflicted upon me by screwing around with this ugly ass girl who even tried to console me in the dream so she PUT HER HAND ON MY SHOULDER AND THEN TRIED TO HUG ME.

There are certain advantages over having a disorder based in irrational thought — *I* can torture my husband because of a dream and get away with it. You can’t. Ha.

Now I’m headed to the shower to wash that little troll’s germs off of me.

Bad day. Bad day at Wal***Mart. Bad family errand day at Wal***Mart. Got a cart. Got anxious over familiar faces that turned out to be family faces. Got confused. Got concerned eyebrows. Got lost. Got even more confused. Got glanced at sideways. Got shook up. Got even more nervous. Got lost again. Got caught being lost. Got very sad over very sad looks. Got a horrible case of the shakes. Got teary eyed and just wanted to go home.

Is still teary eyed and puffy eyed and sniffly hours and hours later because it’s been a scary day. All signs point to the dragon’s return if I stop the meds, and I know the dragon brings all out rage and sexual problems and impulsive decisions and irrational thought and the dreaded detachment from my family — so I’m stuck living like this? My gawd. I can’t handle another day like today.

I’ll go into detail tomorrow so I can show the doc. I just can’t think about it anymore tonight.

The reading list is coming along nicely. Now to find a used book store since our library sucks donkey balls. Ok, that’s not fair since our town is so small, but shit. It partners with the neighboring town and they STILL have damn near nada squat that you’re looking for. I’d rather buy them anyway. Three more kids coming down the pike and all. Egads.

Now to find some non-fiction books. Barf. Although I remember when I was younger reading some very interesting ones written in 1st person? Like Abe Lincoln and shit like that. Kept me interested from start to finish. Wish I could remember what the hell they were.

If you have some sort of fucked up problem with your kid saying the Pledge of Allegiance that has nothing to do with the religious undertones, so be it. Instruct your child that you are opposed to it altogether and that they are to remain silent – although I’d like you to explain why as well because at that age they are going to wonder wtf is the big deal and I’m sure you’d be hard-pressed to find a child that WON’T say it if all their friends are – but stop trying to have it yanked out of the schools please.

I’m going to throw a stupid ass assumption out there that most people could either care less or feel their kids should say it, and majority wins muthafucker. I am so sick and tired of catering to the teensy weensy portion of fucktards that have found something offensive to their sensitive way of life. Well tough shit asswipes. I’m offended that you are trying to change everything I know and love about this country. Fuck off and start yer own damn nation if this one bothers you so much.

6 posts in one day. I do believe that earns me some sort of prize. This makes 7 posts. No, I didn’t say they had to be good posts, so screw off and don’t come back unless you have cookies.

The 5th anniversary of September 11 is coming up. Go check out the 2,996 Project and consider signing up to be part of 2,996 volunteer bloggers who will join together for a tribute to the victims of 9/11. Each person will pay tribute to a single victim and they need more bloggers.

I just signed up. Your turn.

MB3 likes to read, but only certain things. We’re broke as all hell still until the raise catches us up, but I went ahead and ordered the Narnia set for him anyway. He loved the first one he read, and I want to keep that fire alive. Problem is I need more books to light that fire. There’s another author – Gordon or something – that he likes. I already ordered that set last year. Some chase books or whatever. He won’t ‘do’ Harry Potter, I already tried. As well, he needs to read 8 non-fiction books this year, and that’s going to suck.

So, I’m here asking for help. Any ideas? Certain books or authors or series that you could point out to me? 6th grade level.

I’d appreciate it.

I’m having trouble again with the kiddos, and instead of coming here to sort out my head, I’ve been letting the situation get the best of me. I’ve forgotten how useful this blog can be. I need to get back to that. To using this white space for me, instead of a bulletin board for the friends out there in internet land.

MB1-
Whooowee gawd. What in sam hell are you supposed to do with a lazy ass teenage boy? I have no earthly idea how to deal with the boy part or the lazy part. I’m neither. I was one helluva motivator at work, but I had the ability to fling shit and fire asses. I can fling shit at him, but I can’t exactly fire him from being my son. I mean, maybe. But not really. His dad might be pissed off.

He was the only member of his ‘gang’ to not have a job this summer – out of 9 boys. He was the only one that never had any money – but hey, that was ok, because his friends paid his way. They wanted to do this and that, so they coughed up his share. Nitwits.

MD and I disagree about this. I say we ride his ass to get a job. I say he doesn’t drive until he can help pay for upkeep, gas, insurance, etc. I say he doesn’t go anywhere if he can’t pay his own way. I say he doesn’t have a fucking life until he can prove himself responsible enough to have one. MD thinks that a job will push him away from sports and fun and school and activities. I say bullshit. I worked damn near 40 hours a week way back when they didn’t give two shits how many hours kids worked or how late we stayed to close, and I was still very involved at school. I had perfect grades. No, I wasn’t able to go out every weekend, but I damn sure had money when I did go. I bought my own clothes. I paid for my car, my gas, my insurance. As cornball as it sounds, it did make me appreciate the value of a buck. He has no clue. I suppose we’ll be fighting about this more and more as he approaches 16. I’m not backing down though. What’s good for these hard working kids around here is good for my sloth. He needs to get up off the fucking couch.

MB2-
Wouldn’t remember to dress himself in the morning if it wasn’t for me riding his ass to lay his clothes out the night before. It’s that bad lately. This is the reason I took him in to be evaluated. This is the shit I wanted them to fix. This is the shit that comes and goes though, and just as soon as I run him through the ringer again, it’ll blow on down the road and I would have wasted my cash. ADHD? ADHD that results from bipolar? Who the fuck knows? I sure as hell don’t. The only thing I DO know is that his head is planted firmly up his ass again and I am clueless as to how to help him. And he started high school this year. Not a good time to be forgetful frank.

MB3-
There is not a damn thing wrong with this child. When my head is about to burst, this child is there with a helping hand. He is the best babysitter I know. I have no idea how he managed to swipe his dad’s dna and not a drop of mine, but I am so very glad he did.

MB4-
AAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK. And one more fuck for good measure. FUCK. This boy is testing my last nerve. Time for a med check. Serious. Hyper and high strung. Off button is broke, to say the least. Cannot get him to settle down whatsoever. I don’t care what it’s called, I want – I NEED – it to stop. I’m going nutzo-er here. He goes down into his room for hours at a time, then emerges like some warped ass butterfly from some crazy causing cocoon hellbent on stirring up the whole damn house. The loud noises are back – the ones that only dogs can hear and water mammals can mimic. He’s hopping and jumping and bouncing and literally buzzing from the inside. You can almost feel the charge flying off of him. I can feel it now. The bipolar. That whir within him sends out a signal to fire up the charges in my body. In my blood. I feel like that whenever I’m around other people who are manic. I never noticed it before the diagnosis. Looking back, the people that always triggered it for me have since received their own Labels. Family full of nuttys. Oh, the joy of genetics. We are having him re-evaluated whenever the fucking insurance gets their shit together. Not so much to start out fresh, but to confirm/gauge the spectrum issues. Maybe find out about more resources available in the area. I know I’m dreaming there.

MB5-
My little fruitball. Talking more. Still silly as all hell. Still wonder if speech therapy isn’t going to be called in at some point. I know he has a little bit of time left before I officially start worrying, but that gap is closing in fast. I’d rather get going sooner than later. Not so concerned with spectrum-y things anymore, although a few tendencies are definitely there. Just no where near what they were with MB4. Totally able to function, and that’s all that matters anyhow.

MG-
Ack. I’m glad I only had one penis-less child. Good gawd. Talk about high maintenance. She’s so smart and witty. But I’m still glad she wasn’t able to go to school this year. Just not ready emotionally, I think. Still too much of a squirrel. Can’t sit still. Has trouble grasping directions. I’ll work with her this year and she’ll be good and ready for ‘07. Besides, she is way too tiny anyway. I’d have to drag my ass to school every day to make sure she didn’t get broken at recess.

MD-
Still working two jobs. Says he has no plan to quit after the volleyball season ends. Will transfer over to the inside complex to give us spare money to work on the house. I admit, I could get used to the idea of money going strictly to fixing up this house. Give me something to do as well. He loves both jobs, so I guess I see no harm. Other than he’ll drop dead of exhaustion someday. Guess I’ll up the insurance before I buy some paint.

MM – that’s me.
I’m here. I’m ok. Just not ok-ok. I still miss me, and I thought that would be gone by now. The sadness over losing that much of myself overwhelms me to the point of not wanting to take the pills anymore. Then I get scared that I’m just crazy-talking and I munch them down. Then I wonder who the fuck am I anymore since I can’t trust anything I say. It’s no way to live. I’m boring now anyway – aren’t I? You can say it, I can take it. I’m a boring old crow who used to have a hiphappening life. Ok, so I lie, but at least I FELT ALIVE. Alright, I’m off to make notes about the evils of Depakote. Maybe we can try something else instead of stopping altogether.

I’m tired of messing with that post to get the span right. Made me want to email Meg for help, and that stung me in a place that isn’t quite healed yet.

ABOUT LASSIE:
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————————————————————-
As always, if anything comes my way as a result of helping these folks out, it’ll be passed along by way of a contest or something. Especially if it’s doggie related. Making someone do stupid human tricks to win it sounds like a helluva good time.

I’m so not liking how they have my very existence tied to what pills I take each day. Yes yes, I realize that without them I’d probably murder the dish and run away with the spoon, but I’m still not happy this way either. Haven’t been happy for some time now. That has to indicate a problem still. Has to mean that they haven’t gotten it right, and who says they ever will. Anything that seems to be working shortly fizzles out into shit. I wish I knew what to do.

———

anyfuckingway

———

2nd day of school, and so far everyone is loving life. Me included. I will start the regular home routines next week since it’s a half day week and things are still hectic, but having at least part of our lives back to normal helps my head tremendously. I know now that I would rather get up early and have our usual school days than to sleep later and have wonky summer schedules. I need this order. This system. One spectrum joke and I will kill.

———

anyfuckinghoodinanny

———

It’s time for MS to have another round of quarterly tests. Time is zip zooming by. Guess every three months for the rest of our lives will find us holding our breaths. Although I think as time goes on the intervals stretch out a bit. No matter, it’ll still be looming around for always.

For whatever it’s worth, this experience has totally transformed my sister. She used to be just as shy and anxiety-ridden and cautious as I am. She’s now some free-willed love child who can’t wait for her next big adventure. She signed the kids up for scouts – and then volunteered to help. She joined the room helpers group at school, and also helps out with the parent teacher group. She isn’t letting life slip by her anymore. I’m thankful for that, but I wish I could do the same.

———

anyfuckingdoodad

———

I have errands to run today and I don’t wanna. I lie. I do. I just want to have more money to shop with. The boys were great this year by not bitching when I could only buy them new shirts, but I will buy the pants/shorts within a week if it kills me.

———

anyfuckinghoo

———

I am totally in love with the middle school this year. They have started programs there this year that, when added to the programs already in place, make for one fine ass school. Programs that won’t allow for even one incomplete assignment. Programs that provide the tools needed to learn organization and communication, and also how important those two things are to school. Programs that make it simple to talk to any teacher any time. Programs that offer assistance to the kids before and after school. Programs that allow for study time 2 and sometimes 3 times a day. Programs that reward the good kids while still expertly handling the not-so-easy-to-teach ones.

I just love it. It’s hard to render me speechless, yet I sat at the parent meeting with my jaw swinging open. Going to be a great year. I only wish they would have had these things in place when T and Z were going through. Ooops. MB1 and MB2.

———

ANyfuckingwhatever

———

I have to go to the post office today and I’d rather shoot off my toe and chew on it.

———

I’m fresh out of new nasty anyfuckingsomethings so I guess I have to go now.
Enjoy your day.

Search around and find the information video for this. I tried linking it, and it’s not working. Probably my brain not working, but anydamnway. It’s important for every woman to read about this.

Have been out of Wellbutrin the past 5 days thanks to an error at the doc’s office. Such a shitty week it’s been. Kids start school tomorrow. What a sweet week it will be.

I am thoroughly enjoying myself over there at Floyd’s. Really, go. No, now. Ain’t nothing to read here. Why ARE you here anyway? Why do you come back? You watch grass grow too, dontcha? Probably while you smoke grass. Lucky bastard. Not that I’d smoke any. I don’t smoke.

My daughter, the one that was a baby just a minute ago? For those that have been playing along at home for awhile – this baby of mine?

Well, somehow she’s turned into this……

I’m waiting for an explanation as to how this happened. She’ll be 5 on Sunday, and it just blows my mind. I’ve been trying my damndest to strangle the shit outta father time, but it’s not working. He just keeps ticking on and on and on, taking my babies with him. Had her birthday been 3 weeks earlier, she’d be headed to kindergarten next week. Thank gawd she cooked longer than her older brothers. I am still trying to figure out how MB4 is in the 2nd grade, when I JUST went through the kindergarten/evaluation/diagnosis nightmare with him.

Wow, what started out as a happy post has turned into a …. I can’t keep living my life like this blathermabob. Years zip and zoom, yes, but THIS fast? Bullshit. I’m calling foul, man. I don’t REMEMBER much of the past two years. And I know why. Fucking brain messer-with-ers. How do I stop these pills and still control the rage? I can handle all the rest with MD’s help, but the rage is too strong for both of us – even with the meds. Dammit I wish I could stop these damn things cold turkey. Fuckers did this on purpose.

Anyhooodinanny…. I need a hobby. A cheap one please. I would love to learn how to quilt, but I don’t want to use a machine. I want to do it grandma style. That sentence should be illegal. I’d like to scrapbook, but I’m artisticly void and I don’t have millions of duckets to spend on supplies. I’d like to bowl, but that’s just me letting my dork show. I suck anyway. And I bowl all stiff and shit, not like those fancy curve balls you see on tv. Not that I watch that kind of shit. Fuck off.

I lost weight. I gained it back. I lost it again. I’m gaining it again. It’s a little game I play called, sometimes I just like to eat like I’m about to fucking hibernate. Personally, I think it’s the Risperdal. So, I’m stepping off of it. Let her bite my ass. I’ll bite her if she fucks with me.

MB5 is really starting to talk!! He’s bitching less and asking more. Still using the special decoder ring to figure out what he’s saying, but at least he’s saying something. He broke out in song today in the car – bigbigbigbigwawerrrrrr – he doesn’t do things like that. Cute as hell.

It’s hard to type and eat doritos. Don’t want orange shit on the keyboard. So I guess I have to end this post. Priorities, yanno.

I just lost an hour of my life reading, and I’m planning on heading back later to read the rest.

Otay Buttwheat, it’s time to draw the wieners of the Doodlebop goodies. MB3 is standing by with hat full of names just waiting for the green light, and MB4 is hanging around to make sure he doesn’t cheat. Why MB3 would cheat when he has no idea who the hell any of you are is beyond me, but by gawd, MB4 is going to re-read them all. So be it. I have 7 names, and you know who you are. If you win and don’t want it, just holler and I’ll pick someone else.

First up – the magnet and the music cd. The lucky lady who will be humming these wacked out songs with me is………Rachel.

Next – the coloring book with the t-shirt…… Cynthia.

Lastly – the backpack………….. Leslie.

Congrats. I guess. Welcome to hell. I’ll check to make sure I have the snail mails in the donation details. If I don’t, I’ll email you.

But that has nothing to do with anything. Although it might explain any typos that appear since the green air is surrounding me and making it hard to see. And the toxic fumes are permeating into my brain and making it hard to think. But anyhooooooo…….

MB1 and I had a date night. Everyone up and left us, so we went out and blew a wad at Arby’s. I know. Big spenders. Love that 5 fer 5. Then we zoomed back and watched a movie. I never watch movies. Tells you how bored I was.

Tomorrow is as follows:

6am – soccer practice for MB1 & MB2
8am – pick up MB1 & MB2
8:30am – MB4’s reading test at school
9:15am – pick up MB4
10am – 2nd soccer practice for MB1 & MB2
Noon – pick up MB1 & MB2
1pm – MB2 freshman registration
3pm – pick up MB3 from friend’s house 30 friggin’ minutes away
5pm – MB3’s 6th grade registration (cries about another baby in middle school)

MD doesn’t work tomorrow [Note to self: shave] , which is great, but oh how I wish he was likely to get home before 6pm. I’ll be glad when things settle down at his shop. Going it alone every night is wearing me the hell out. Yeah yeah, he’s the one working two jobs, I know. Still, it’s hard to let the pity flow when he’s there playing vball, chit chatting and bullshitting, and having a merry ole time. He was bitching about how boring it was the other night to sit there and watch the games all night long. Sit there. Watch the games.

sit (sÄ­t) pronunciation
v., sat (săt), sit·ting, sits.
v.intr.

1. To rest with the torso vertical and the body supported on the buttocks
2. To lie or rest
3. To remain inactive or unused

Sounds heavenly ……

Registration for the oldest boys is today and tomorrow. Walking the high school halls. Argh. I’m getting old. I don’t like that. I do like smelling the closet full of school supplies though. What a rush. That first week of school was alway so magical. All that crisp, blank paper and unchewed pens and virgin pencils. If you were lucky, your class was the ones to get the new textbooks. Oh to crack open that brand new spine.

——–

MD got the raise. Exactly what he asked for. I’m so glad. Not for the money – it’s still nowhere near what he was making before. This just means he can quit the second job. I’m glad because I know he likes what he does. He didn’t want to have to go anywhere else. He’s still going to finish out the year at the volleyball place to help us catch our breath from the initial promotion whammy, but he won’t be taking all those extra hours. They also gave him a helper – the helper he asked for specifically. Maybe we’ll actually see him before 5pm like we’re supposed to. Wow. A life. Imagine that.

They said the scans show that it’s shrinking in the liver – AND more than they had hoped. The spot on his lung hasn’t changed at all, so they’re wondering if maybe it IS scar tissue?

I’m not blinding stepping into lala land over this. I know it’s still very serious, but this is the best news we’ve had since this nightmare started.

Check out the LTN total. Finally money is coming in from other folks on my team as well. ‘Bout time. Should be tallying up quickly from here on out. I have 7 gals in the running for the Doodlebops gear so far. That ends the 18th. Get pretty excited when I think of how much we could actually raise this year.

Never mind. I thought I could sit here and do this, but I can’t think about anything but dad right now. I wish they’d fucking call already.

Oh fuck it. Just go buy the Doodlebops cd and join us. I swear it’s audible crack. Then come over and beat me upside the head with a shovel.

——-

My dad’s test results come in tomorrow. Mutter a good word for him, would ya?

——-

Had an appt today with my regular doc about these headaches. Seeing a brain doc next month. I’ve seen them in the past, but they’ve been assholes who didn’t listen to a fucking thing I said. One even spent the entire visit on his cell phone. No joke. And people wonder why I have a dislike for doctors. My doc gave me a Rx for pain meds to last until the appt, taking into consideration that I have a headache almost every single day. I didn’t bother to check the slip, and when I went to pick up the pills, out slipped the biggest fucking bottle of pills I’ve ever seen. Matter of fact, I think a pic is in order. Good golly molly. Those pharmacy people make enough jokes about our crazy ass family anyway. Now they think I’m a junkie. Great. Sad thing is, I don’t feel shit when I take these pills. Darv*ocets. I hope they kill the brain beast when it attacks me.

——

School starts in 9 days. Time is f-l-y-i-n-g by. We’ve been in this house almost a year now. Amazing. And still haven’t done shit to it yet. Either no time or no money. Ain’t it always the way.

——

MD asked for The Raise. Not sure what will hit the fan if he doesn’t get it. I’m ready to head back to work though. Except I won’t be poppin’ no stinkin’ pills if I do. I’d need my marbles back, thank you very much.

——

I feel awful damn hyper tonight. Usually means my body is up to no good. Ain’t it a bitch when you just can’t enjoy something as simple as a good evening without your suspicious meter going off?

A migraine tried to steal my day.
So then Nubain made it alllllllllll better.
Now if I could remember how to use my hands…..

Mom is slowly starting to think ahead and take care of things. We had a bit of a …… disagreement the other day. Not really a fight …… more like me bashing my head against the wall while she puzzled away at the other end of the line. She was going on at length about how these tests results might finally show that it’s nothing more than scar tissue, and dad can get back to work full time, and they can get on with their lives.

Took a few minutes before I could even find something to say. Mouth would open and slam shut, but nothing would come out. Then I flat out told her that I hope she wasn’t saying shit like that around dad, because it’s just as bad to blow complete and utter bullshit sunshine up someone’s ass as it is to bash away at them with a hammer of truth. Said she could believe that crap until the cows moo’ed around outside, but she’d better keep it to herself. Told her that it’s high time the focus shifted from her need for everything to stay the same, to dad’s needs – whatever they may be. Told her to stop pretending that everything is going to be just fine, when she should be taking steps to make SURE that it is.

Then, all of a sudden, she gives notice at a job that has been taking advantage of her – and they come through BIG TIME. It’s been a part time gig for 15+ years, and is now full time whenever she wants it, and she can do most of it from home if need be. Plus she now has full benefits, including the wonderful health care coverage of every other government worker. Doubt they can get dad covered, but at least she won’t have to pay cobra for herself anymore.

All of a sudden she is asking questions – and listening QUIETLY to the answers, instead of butting in with the nonono’s, that’s impossible’s. All of a sudden she is listening to dad a little bit more and paying attention to his habits and said she will ask the doctors about this and that at his next appt. She even stepped in and offered to help clean the line at home on the days he doesn’t head up there to have it done.

Whatever is going on in that head of hers, I’m glad. It’s not that I want her to throw in the HopeTowel, but I do want her to step up and make sure that SHE will be ok as well. I need her to toughen up for dad’s sake. Let him lean on her for awhile. I need to know she’s going to be strong enough to see this through to wherever it leads us, ’cause that victim shit never helped anybody. Makes me want to squeeze her as well, but I know – I know. I need to remember what she’s going through. Fine. I won’t squeeze her.

As long as she doesn’t try to run away to lala land again.

Mom said that dad has been really wiped out this past week. And that she forgot to tell us that she couldn’t wake him up the other day when he got a phone call. How you forget something like that, I sure as hell don’t know. He still has the knot too, but he refuses to have another colonoscopy done. Won’t get the results from his scans until NEXT Tuesday. What a joke.

I sure miss those smokes.

I know for certain it was the Depakote making me lose my mind, as a remarkable recovery has taken place in the brain cell department. The corner vision too. Yes, it IS corner vision. I am NOT having hallucinations. Only nutzo people see shit that isn’t there. My shit is THERE I tell ya. It just disappears when I look directly at it.

I’m not wanting to play anymore. My appt is tomorrow, and I won’t be able to go because of MD’s 2nd job. Which means I have to reschedule. Which is going to be impossible with school and soccer and yadayada starting back up. Which will make me want to just say screw it. Which will start The Debate Over Meds. Which will make my head explode. Which will lead to me taking them anyfuckingway. Just wish it’d go differently for once. Obviously the extra depakote helps me tremendously, but it also fucks me up royally. Same could be said for the bipolar bits of the real me. The part I’m probably killing off forever.

Yeah, Yeah. I have a sane mind right now. I know better. Still would give your left nut to stop taking these bastards. Just for a little while. I miss the ooomph.

Check out the total for LTN – yee haw. Someone very special sent in a $200 donation. I gave the donation to MB2, but I wanted a team total somewhere. If this tournament goes well, it’s very possible that we could raise 2-3k dollars. That’d be fabulous.

—

MD worked until 4am Friday night thanks to a couple of fights. Turned out to be a 22 hour work day between the two jobs. He’s going to kill himself. I don’t care how easy he claims the other job is MOST of the time. Still isn’t sitting at home relaxing. The guilt I’m feeling grows more every day, but how long could I go without getting my ass fired thanks to my idiot brain? Hi, I couldn’t remember my middle name for three days — can I work for you? Suuuuuuuuuure.

—

Sure is boring around here on Sundays without MD.

—

I’d rather not fix dinner tonight. Maybe we’ll have something simple. Like funnel cake.

—

It’s going to cost two kidneys and a lung to register the older boys for high school. My gawd. And they wonder why I’ve been walking around twitching lately. At least I have three boys taken care of shirt-wise. MB2 is the only one left. Would serve his ass right to have me march into a thrift store and grab the most depressing black garb I see. At least his shoes will be the cheapest. Some loafer looking things. Gross. But cheap. Cheap is good.

MD was asked today by the mail lady if he wanted to play on a vball team they were forming for a Light The Something tournament. !! I haven’t even set up the bank account yet, and they are already teams coughing up the dough. News travels fast in the vball community.

My todo list grows, but I find my brain welcomes the challenge. Maybe part of my problem has been the need to have my marbles dusted off. Use it or lose it. I’ve been home with the kids for 6 years now. Not an easy job, but not exactly like the general mgr life I left behind.

I’ll just enjoy the change of pace for a bit.

And uh, anyone know where I can buy big jugs? Yeah, nyuknyuk, not those jugs. I need big plastic ones for the bracelets and tickets and raffles slips and cash donations. Where are those big ass pretzel ones they sell? My brain can see them, but I can’t remember where the hell they’d be.

Dad is halfway done with chemo, hence the tests. Not sure what’ll happen from here. Not sure when the results will be in. Not sure wtf mom was trying to tell me about some other test they ordered because dad was in the room and her little code blows chunks. But, I will not let it stress me.

The one thing that does bother me though….

When all this first happened, and all the way until about two months ago, we (well, some of us) were trying to come to some sort of semi-acceptance about it. Dad too. He was coming to peace and comforting us from the get-go. But the past couple months, it’s like the pressure was off. The infection was a bad spell, but that was a blindsider and he’s ok now. Even the mystery knot, which they still don’t have any fucking clue what it is, didn’t phase anyone for long. It’s like everyone is somehow being sucked into mom’s world — where dad is fine and dandy.

And dad, my gawd. He honestly says he has never felt so good. But isn’t that the steroids talking? I still find it odd that he’s fine DURING CHEMO and the days following (other than a little queasy), but slowly starts growing more tired right before the next treatment. Wouldn’t that be a bad ju-ju indicator? Like the opposite of normal people who slowly start to feel better right before they are whammied with poison again? Like MS?

Isn’t this such an ignorant thing to do to our feelings? To hope like this? No, this isn’t hope. I HAVE hope. This is some sort of la-la land trying to take over our reality, and we’re letting it. And dad’s letting it too. Maybe. I want him to have hope, but I will be pissed enough to seriously hurt someone if I EVER get the sense that dad was lead to believe one thing and then told another. We take people at their word. We don’t expect people to gloss over shit for us. We don’t want to be protected from the big bad world, because we have ways to do that ourselves. So when people tell us that dad is doing great – we believe them. They’re the fucking doctors. Now if they MEANT to say, dad is doing great for a dying guy, then they’d better fucking say it like that.

I’m afraid that my dad’s resolve will be totally crushed by these results – can you tell?

Dad is having a complete set of tests and xrays and scans tomorrow.
I don’t know why. I didn’t ask.

———

The Doodlebops have taken over my house.

———

MD got called into his other job. I threw a fit. I have a hard time with a change of plans. Dammit. Guess I’ll find something to clean. Gah.

———

MB1 has been gone for two days. MB3 just got back after two days. MB2 had a kid here for two days. I can’t fucking wait for school to start.

I was able to grocery shop this morning without children in tow.
Heaven.

Ok, let’s see… post something happy every day, eh? Hmmmmm

I made 7 phone calls this morning, and I think I could actually make more if I didn’t have to leave. And I was actually able to articulate. Who knew?

Go me.

I still want that tattoo. One of these days, I’ll be able to part with the money without throwing up. Until then, I’ll just have to stew over the one MS got yesterday.

Grrrr

She got a guardian angel fucking around on the job – ’cause that’s what happened when she got whammied with cancer. She’s rather pissed at that little angel. It’s cute, but I’m still hacked off. I’m older, dammit.

Although if you have to get cancer first, I’ll wait.

——-

Did I mention that it’s a lot larger than I thought it’d be?
Mom and Dad are going to SHIT.

Heh.

Just caught myself humming while folding the laundry.

Queen For A Day.

I’m going to go shoot myself now.

Damn, I’m all bitchy today, and I’m reminded that I need to post some happy shit.

Soooooo……. MD’s new morning schedule makes me happy. For the first time ever, we’ll get up as a family in the mornings when school starts. Pretty freakin’ amazing.

Yanno, I know now why trying to fix yourself is so damn trying and confusing. You tell your family and friends about the issues you’re having, and you get 20 different variations of oh yeah, that’s happened to me before too. You tell your doctor about the issues you’re having, and you get omg jeezus hell get in here right now so we can fix your broken ass brain.

It can’t work. It doesn’t work. It starts a cycle that doesn’t end and doesn’t make sense. You have a memory mishap that you find to be very disturbing because you KNOW that it’s not as simple as simply forgetting your child, there’s more to it, but you can’t describe it to someone who hasn’t experienced it. Like the difference between a migraine and a really bad tension headache. Sorry, just not the same. Trust me. Like the difference between having your heart broken into a million sad little pieces and being clinically depressed. Those that have never thought about ending their worthless lives when it appears to everyone else that they have a charmed life will never get the difference until/unless it bites them on the ass.

So we head to our loved ones, our trusted ones, and confide in them our embarassing and confusing and scary and horrifying experiences, and they are tossed aside into the melodramatic bin. Then we feel stupid. Then we question ourselves and whether or not these issues are actually as bad as we think they are, as bad as we feel they are. We wonder why we’re doing any of this to begin with, if everyone feels like this or does these things. We think, well shit, then take away my pills, because I wasn’t dumb like you before.

So then we call the doc. We don’t want to, because most of us have anxiety as well, and it gets really bad if we feel foolish, and we do now. We have to call and say we did something that seems bad to us, even though it doesn’t really sound all that bad when you say it outloud. But the doc flips the same flavor nutty you did, and demands you come in for an appt. Meds change. Remarks are written and written and you can actually see your file grow before your eyes and now you’re thinking holy fuck, how sick am I??

And then you get pissed at everyone because you can’t keep jumping back and forth like this. You want to holler and bitch at your family because they are the ones that want you on the meds, yet they insist the shit you do is normal. That is, until you start talking about stopping therapy – then the laundry list of crazy behavior comes out.

Make up your fucking minds already.