Loco YaYa's Snafud World

How long is long enough?

2011-08-17T22:29:00.000-05:00

This post has taken twenty years to write. With that being said there is a good chance it will be horribly long. And possibly sad. This is not the whole story. There are many more parts. But this is all that can come out after twenty years. It has been a long road. The rest of the story will come out. In time.

How long is too long to grieve? One year? Five years? A decade? A lifetime?

Does it matter who you are grieving for? A child? A friend? A sibling?

What about how they died? Was it fast and unexpected? An illness that was a long time coming? Or horribly traumatic and violent?

Each person is different. That is what I know about grief. And each person will work through it the way they feel necessary. There is no wrong way to grieve. No set amount of time. There is not a proper way to grieve. Everyone has their story.

This is mine.

I grew up in a middle income family. There were points where we had more money than others. Specifically the point where I attended a private Catholic school. And other points where we had holes in our floors. I grew up mostly normal. Mom, Dad, myself and a brother. He was three years younger. And the root of my first memory. One where I remember driving really far from home. Walking into a strange building and sitting on an old 70's style rounded leather sectional. Waiting until someone came and got our little trio and beckoned us to look through a round window on a swinging door. My mom held me up and allowed me to peek into a room filled from wall to wall with those weird see through sided bassinets. Babies. For what seemed like miles to a recently turned three year old. I remember my mom saying, "Your brother is here. Right there." Pointing to a little round baby that they gingerly and lovingly picked up and took to a counter that lined the back wall. There were rows of diapers and bottles. Many things I did not at that age recognize. I, in expected three year old fashion, specifically pointed out a different baby I wanted. I did not want that little walrus sized boy. I wanted the screaming little girl in the bassinet in front of him. The one raising her hand. As if to tell me "I am yours!" I did not get my wish. We were at the stork's house. To pick up our baby. The one my parents had been waiting on for over six months. Just as they had waited for me three years earlier.

My mother was barren. A horrible case of endometriosis had robbed her of the only thing she had ever wanted in her life. A baby. But thanks to a bit of money, and knocked up teenagers, she got her wish. Two babies three years apart with totally different biologicals. But we were hers. And she loved us. With all of her being. I eventually came to understand that my brother and I were adopted. It took me a few years to figure out we were different. Blonde haired and blue eyed brought into a huge family of coonass'. We stuck out as much as you could imagine. There were hurdles with being adopted. My father's father thought less of him. Convinced he was 'less of a man' for not being able to produce a child. It just had to be his fault. He hated us. We were not of the right blood. My father was the man. And all of his brothers and sisters older than him to that point had managed to have at least one child. My mother's family never once batted an eye. To them, we were special. Meant to be there. There was only one other adopted person in our family, but he was biologically related to the father of that couple. And I did not know of it until well into my adulthood. That great aunt was my mother's angel. She understood what it was like to want a child with every cell in your body. Her sister, my grandmother, had produced eight children. She, like my mother, was barren.

I remember my mother having a hysterectomy when I was three. Not very long after bringing my brother home from babyville. That was the start of her problems. You see, she was a smoker. And back in the stone ages, they made women get on hormone replacement. Something that we know now is not a good idea for women over the age of 35 who smoke. I remember the mood swings and hot flashes. I remember my father jokingly poking fun saying "Woman! Take your pill!" when she would get fussy. What I did not remember were the blood clots that were caused. The blood clots that eventually led to her death.

You see, twenty years ago today...my mother died. She had a blood clot in her arm. She did not want to bother going to the doctor. She would just 'rub it out'. Horrible advice for someone with a blood clot. Had she gone to the doctor that time and survived, just a few years later she would have been diagnosed with something long and complex and put on blood thinners. Meds that would have saved her life. But that was not what was in the charts. She had a massive heart attack. On our living room couch. While the whole family was home just five days shy of my first day of school Sophomore year of high school. Great way to start the year huh? Yeah. I thought it blew too. I remember that whole agonizing hour. From my brother running outside asking "What does it mean when your left arm hurts and it is hard to breathe?" to the point of her being taken away.

Sitting there on that couch she knew what was happening. She gave lots of good advice. Go to prom. Get married. Have kids. Take care of your brother. Almost 20 minutes of advice. Most of which I have forgotten and would give anything to remember. All the while I was on the phone trying to get my uncle to come with the ambulance. He was head of our volunteer fire department. But it was not in the cards. The man who had been on duty the night before had gone home with the ambulance barn keys in his pocket and was nowhere to be found. I remember running outside to the front yard. Frantically praying and looking down the road for someone, anyone, coming. A gentleman on his tractor with his young son in the cab passed. I ran to the road begging him to come in. My mom was dying. She was having a heart attack. Could he help? Please? He was scared. As I could imagine I would have been. He just shook his head and drove on. I found out years later he still carried the burden of driving away. I fell to my knees in the yard shouting at the heavens "Why? Why? I am too young for this. I do not deserve this!! She loves us!" I did not understand. I was only 15. I remember my father not letting me do CPR even though I knew how. Making me read how to perform it out of the encyclopedia. He did not want me to carry the burden of not being able to save her. Instead I carried the burden of him not letting me do what I knew how to do. Later finding out that the clot was so large, she could have been on the operating room table and there would have still been no saving her. I remember my dad driving my brother and I, followed by countless aunts and uncles that had showed up at the house to my Grandmothers. Begging him to slow down. Let me drive. He was going to have a heart attack too. This was the beginning of numb.

The numb that lasted through the arrangements. The 15 year old daughter that had to pick out the casket because the father had collapsed to his knees at the opening to the room and could not go further. The daughter that had to call people, because the father could not bear to utter the words after hearing the howl coming from his own mothers lips after being told that 'Sweet Marie' had died. The 15 year old daughter that did not shed a tear. Not. One. Single. Tear. through the whole ordeal. The 15 year old daughter that overnight became mother to her 12 year old brother, and caretaker of a house. The cook. The washer. The one that hated Big G for taking her mother. But would not cry.

That 15 year old girl got lost somewhere. She grew up too fast. She drank too much. She had sex too early. She lost her way. Her father got married less than six months later and would not, could not, talk about her. The love of his life. His wife for 23 years. He put his kids through hell that first marriage. And would put his kids through hell with a second. But he was in his own hell. One they did not understand. One that the 15 year old daughter, when grown, would experience when her own daughter was three. It is a hell. But a different hell experienced as a child and a parent. Those feelings would get shoved down. Talking about her mother would only bring heartache. Those feelings would eat at her. Until she was no longer herself. But she would get over it. And rise up. And ten years and one day after her mother's death anniversary, her daughter's father would die. And those feelings would rage back in with an ugly vengeance. And turn the now 24 year old mother into someone completely different. That woman would not get off the couch for almost six months. She would neglect her daughter. Her work. Her house. Her life. She would get over it. And rise again. But a bit slower. And changed.

She would realize her mistakes. And that her daughter was different. She would see the Asperger's, and the OCD and the stress disorder that ate at her child. But she would overcome it. She would meet her soulmate and bestest of bestest friends. And that friend would help her. Help her to overcome the grief. And the hate. She would help her become a great mother. Help her emotionally heal. She would become me again. And I was so glad to have her back. I was so glad to be me again. To feel and laugh. I wanted another child. Found someone I loved. That child was so loved. But hurt me. Caused nine months of hell. That child's father would walk out. That child's birth would open up a black hole. Postpartum depression. It consumed that mother. Turned the numbness back on. And turned her into a stranger. Locked deep inside was the 15 year old. She would be lost. Forever.

I struggle everyday. Every. Single. Day. I hate that I cannot mother my children the way they deserve to be mothered. I hate that I scream and yell. I hate that I cry uncontrollably. I hate...her. She is not me. And slowly, more and more everyday, I am leaving. I want to be normal. I want to be happy. I want to come home and hold my children and love them. It is this grief!! This fucking grief that has gripped me for twenty years.

Five nights ago that monster raged again. As it does every August. It led to a drunken night. Laying in the cemetery over a grave that holds my heart. Falling asleep praying. Asking that wonderful woman to forgive me. To give me the strength to fix myself. To become myself again. To live again. To make it long enough...to be over.

Today I decided that twenty years is long enough. Long enough to grieve. Long enough to let that monster live and take control. Long enough for the rage to consume a person. Today I decided that I would return. So tomorrow I will wake up and start fighting. Hope that the damage I have done to my children will be forgotten with time. Hope that they will see that I do love them. More than the moon and through and through. I decided that the grief has made me bitter. Incapable of love. Incapable of having a relationship. That grief has ruled me. I hate that grief. I will own it. I will take it. Turn it into love.

And find me. Cause she is fucking awesome! And I sure miss her crazy ass.

(30 years) plus (one day) = 10 958.266 days

2011-06-06T19:26:00.000-05:00

It has been 10958.266 days since the first reports of what would become known as HIV/AIDS was first mentioned in the United States. In this time AIDS has gone from something that the medical community knew nothing about to a disease that is becoming understood and treatable. To think that in my lifetime we have been able to discover what virus was behind the early symptoms and create cocktails of medicines that can allow those infected to live for decades. Thirty years later and there are over 30 drugs approved to treat HIV/AIDS. A disease that when first diagnosed thirty years ago also came with a very short life expectancy. This disease that was thought to be only a 'gay' disease has since taken on a new face. Every year more and more minority heterosexuals are becoming infected. Although gay, bisexual, and other men that have sex with men remain the group most affected by AIDS, the African American community face the most burden. Over 56000 Americans become infected each year with nearly 17000 infected dying yearly of AIDS or ARC.

Globally more than 33 million people are living with HIV/AIDS. Low and middle income countries hold 97% of these numbers. It is estimated that more than a million infected are living in the U.S. and one in five of those are not aware they are infected. Programs and public service announcements urge Americans to get tested every day. Whether it is the fear of needles, the truth or ignorance that keeps people from being tested the most important thing you can do is know. Know so that you can keep yourself healthy, know so that you can stop the spread, know so that you can live.

Last year I wrote a post about my brother. About eating lunch with a person that is dying. You see 30 years was at one time thought unattainable by him. He was diagnosed before he was thirty. We were afraid he would never see thirty. Thirty? Such a short time. Too short. Unfortunately, my life has been touched by this horrible disease. Touched in a close and personal way. I have lost family members and friends to this disease. But I have also seen them live. Last year sitting at that lunch celebrating Lil'K's fifth birthday I was so afraid that he would not be here to see her sixth. Just as I was afraid he would never see thirty. As we fear every year that there will not be another. As we sat at his house celebrating with cake and dinner just a few months ago, it occurred to me that he was still there. We all were. She was turning six and he was living. Still here. Alive and kicking. It has not been easy. There have been illness and injuries. Things that to normal people would go by unnoticed, but to him were devastating. There was depression and times it was hard to go on. There were friends that left because of it, lovers that hated because of it, and jobs that quit because of it. There were changes in medicines and times without medicines. Times when fighting the system for that medicine seemed as slow and painful as the virus itself. There have been tears and fears. Crying and laughing. All of this...over this thing. This thing...this monster that sucks the life from people is devastating. It is sick. It wreaks havoc. In every part of life. Of living. Not just to those infected but to the ones that love the infected.

The girls and I spent this last weekend with him. He looked SO good. SO healthy. That is the down side of the up side. The looking healthy on the outside and dying on the inside. He is able to shave his beard now. The one that hid a horrible infection he struggled with for so long. An infection the new meds have fixed. He is able to smile without hurting. His jaw and neck are not swollen as they were before. Something the meds have fixed. He is able to enjoy the chips and cheese dip because there are no sores in his mouth. Something the meds have fixed. Friday evening we cooked hotdogs and laughed. Made plans to head to the beach on Saturday. Had a drink and visited. We talk about his health but it is quick. Mostly about his numbers and where they were at the last report. What new meds he is taking and how the side effects are. But this conversation is quick. It is painful to discuss these things. It confirms he is sick. Still a subject that is tender. So we go back to laughing. Planning a sunny day in the waves. Saturday I drive him to work early in the morning. Crabby that I have to wake up earlier than needed but glad to have the time. By the time I pick him up from work he is exhausted. A side effect of the virus and the meds that help fight it. The meds that help to fix so much also help to sap his energy. He has a huge knot on his leg. From where? No telling. It hurts to walk and is uncomfortable to sit. But this is life. His life. And the life of many many others living with the virus. What does he do? He sucks it up. BBQ's the chicken and heads to the beach with us. He does what so many others have to do. He lives. Because he has to. Because he wants to. Because the last thirty years tells him that he could have thirty more. Because he made it past thirty. And wants that next thirty...

In thirty years we have come so far. And we will continue to go further. I look forward to going further. To him going further. I look forward to celebrating Lil'K's seventh birthday. Because it will be a year further that we have gotten.

Yes it is scary. Yes it is horrible. Yes it is hard. But knowing is half the battle. Knowing so you do not continue to infect others. Knowing so you can live.

So go!! Go know.

**Statistics provided by http://aids.gov/hiv-aids-basics/hiv-aids-101/.

Total Slacker

2011-02-27T14:13:00.001-06:00

wow. i have really slacked lately. no writing, or commenting. barely even reading to speak of lately. sheesh. i suck.

i have a few posts stuck up in the noggin to share. and i promise i will get right on that. sometime this week. but for right now how about a recap??

i did save my house. woo hoo me. not sure how i will continue to save it the next three months but it will happen. i found the $200 i lost. in. my. car. yay again. i got a full body deep tissue acupressure massage. yeah. i'm still sore. it is almost time to start mowing again here in the great country of Texas and i am NOT happy about that. everyone hates the cold weather but for me it just means i do not have to mow yet. and that makes me happy. today is hit up the laundromat day. other than that just a shit ton of other stuff going on. i will truly try to post this week. get some of this junk off my head.

You Know Who You Are.

2011-02-06T21:17:00.000-06:00

Hindsight sucks.

I get it. The whole meaning of it. The point is that you do not always see it at the time.

I saw it. I just did not push as hard, or say the right things, or keep asking until I got the answer I was needing.

I know time cannot be reversed. Big G knows if it could I would change a ton of things. At least on some days.

Today I would change something; I would have pushed more or tried harder. Gotten on that plane. Any plane. Way back when and just showed up. I wonder what it would have changed. If anything. I try to believe that there is a plan. That everything happens as it should. That does not mean I have to like it. It does not mean that I do not have the right to get angry sometimes. I am allowed to get jealous. Just a bit. I also try to not dwell too much on the 'what ifs', but I cannot help it. All I keep thinking is for all this heartache I have had to go through in the last 13 years, there better be something awesome up ahead. I understand needing to go through the shit to get to the shine.

I do not understand, however, the need for heartbreak. Maybe because I always seem to be right in the middle of it. Maybe that is why I do not see the need for it. That and it hurts. Maybe I am more sensitive than even I realize. Maybe I fall too hard sometimes. I say sometimes...but there have really only been three.

*My Knight In Shining Armor. The one that still makes my heart hurt. The one that I should have told the truth to. But I did not. And now, he is gone. And I am not the only one that was hurt by that. I still cry when I think of you. And so does she. You left behind too many. And the little ones really needed you. I could have lived forever with the fact you were not mine...had you just stayed here. And not left.
*Delta. That was too much time lost. Hoping for something that you could not give to me. I can see you now. We are friends. I can appreciate it. I do not want to throw up when I see you anymore. My heart does not hit my stomach. When I look at you I just see a friend.
*Mr. Bubbles. Yeah I know. You are probably laughing at that. I can say I did not mean to fall. I really did not. And I know you did not mean for things to turn out the way they did. I know you cannot undo it either. I do not want you to. I am just wounded. It will get better.

But those three have lasted for the last 13 years. And it ends the same every time...heartache. I am left not getting the one I want. It is really beginning to get old. Should I pick better? Not let myself fall? Then I run the risk of shutting myself off. Like I have done so many times in the past. After each heartache comes a shut down period. And then it happens again. The fall. I am not sure what I have done. Or did not do. Why it is I that obviously has to go through so many heartaches. I do know there will not be much left of my heart to give when all this is over. When will it be over?

Because I am so ready. For anything. Just something wonderful. Not the tears.

This weekend was awesome. I laughed and had fun. I was good. No broken drought. I was looking so forward to it. I was ready for the fact that at the end of it all....it still was not mine. I was not ready for how hard it ended up being. For the fact that I had to stop, in the parking lot, and catch my breath. I was not ready for the hurt feelings. For the green monster to show up. I was not ready for the tears that rushed out of me. For the heaving breaths and sobbing. I was not ready to face that fact I thought I had prepared for. It is not fair. I know, life is not fair. I get it. But it still does not sting any less. I know you are sorry for all of it. In turn, I am sorry too that you even had to be in it all. I do not know if you wish it would have turned out different. Maybe that is the answer I am looking for. I do. But that is because I was the one that lost. You see, you still won. Well not on all fronts, but for the most part you won. You gained two great things, even though in my opinion you lost out on one. Me. Me? I lost. And it sucks. And it is not fair. I have no regrets. I do not wish I would have stayed home. I am glad I went. It was a long time coming. It was overdue. I was glad it happened. And not another 8 years passing by. I do not want to reverse that.

You were everything I had imagined over all those years you would have been. You were funny, adorable, kinder than I had imagined, and so many more things. The one thing you were not and will never be...was mine. That...I want to reverse.

I am a big girl. I must put the panties on and deal. But right now, I just want to process it. I will get over it. I have to. There is no other choice. Fair or not, it is what it is. And everything will be fine. I will shut down. And come back.

I do not wish it did not happen. The whole way home I wished that things would have happened. That you would have told me my feelings were not mine only. That if you could do it differently you would have. That you wish you could reverse it. But I am not even sure if you wish those things. I wished you would have just touched me. But I probably would have cried...and well...it would have been wrong. I know that. But I wish you would have. That for the weekend it could have been mine. It would have just made things even harder. Harder than they already were. And I do not want that. For either of us. The problem is with all the things I wished, it would not have changed anything. It would have made my heartache worse.

My wishes are over. I will accept things the way they are. And get over it. This is part of me processing it. I will be fine. I just wanted to wallow a bit. And get it off my head.

The funny thing is when I got on the road and turned on my iPod...the first song that played after I hit shuffle was:

">Guess what song?

Funny huh.

Happy Birthday to The Mighty One

2011-01-26T19:51:00.000-06:00

there is a joke in our family that my BFF is ... the mighty one. she can do anything. she sews, crochets, cooks, raises kids, keeps me in line, handles Juice with a grace i could never muster, and deals with an assload of pain every single day of her life. these are just a few of the things she rocks at. i could seriously go on and on with all the awesome and mighty things she does. one of the few things she does not do is give herself nearly enough props or take nearly enough time for herself. but then again with three kids of her own, a husband, and me and my two to deal with she always has too much on her plate. we met 13 years ago this coming summer at a job we both worked at. to be honest we really did not care for each other. one good conversation later we have been best friends / confidants / soul sisters ever since. she is someone that cannot be replaced in my life. i do not know what i would ever do without her. and i can honestly say i would not have made it this far without her being by my side for the last almost 13 years. even on her worst days she is still my best friend. no questions. no judging. just there. i wish everyone in the world could have a BFF like her. they would be much richer!!

i just want to take the time and tell her: thank you. and happy birthday.

i hope we are here in 30 more years still laughing with and at each other.

Where Did The Time Go?

2010-12-31T10:26:00.000-06:00

Today I woke up a little earlier than the girls. I have the day off, it is Friday and that is the norm. Instead of laying in bed until my body just absolutely made me get up I decided to go on ahead get up, dressed, and have some coffee. It is very rare that I have a morning to just...enjoy. Usually we are rushing to get out of the house on time for school or work and they just seem to go by too quickly. Add to that the fact that I am not a morning person what-so-ever and you have few and far between mornings that are enjoyed by mom. For some reason today was different. It is the last day of the year. The last day of the decade for that matter. All I could think about while I was laying in bed, was how quickly it had all gone by. What was different about me, what had changed in the last decade. A decade. Ten years. Crap that is a long time. But so quick in many respects also. It scares me that time can just fly by so quickly. Have I wasted the time I have had? Have I spent it wisely? What do I need to do in the coming decades? Strange to think that a decade has flown by when there were days that seemed like they would never end. Moments that time stopped. Months that you felt you would never recover. Years lost in depression and some overflowing with happiness. The realization that life is what it is. Is it all we have? Who knows. But if we let it slip by and have nothing but regrets then we have wasted it. Why is it that you do not realize this until your 30's? I could have used some of this wisdom in my teens, or even just a decade ago. What will I realize in the next ten years? What will have changed?

How much has changed in the last ten years?

I went from being 24 to 34 and oh what a difference that ten years makes. My body no longer wants to or never mind remembers how to do things that seemed to come so easily back then. My lady parts have been ripped out and sent to a landfill. Menopause is not for the faint of heart. Night sweats, old lady hands, and hot flashes have become the normal. My boobs have been cut down by 6 pounds and why the hell did I not do that sooner? Tumors have been removed from various parts of my body and 'anesthesia head' is not a mystery. It is solved. And I have had it quite a few times in the last decade. My 3 year old is now a teenager and at some point halfway through I had another one that is now five. I have changed jobs at least 8 times and job fields twice. I have been deployed in the military. Blown out my knee. Attended a ton of concerts. Watched way too many people leave this earth and attended too many funerals. I have partied with some of my best friends and made new ones both in real life and here on the webiverse. I learned what a blog was, how to twitter, that facebook can lead me to people I thought were lost forever, and found out that I love social media. I have opened my heart up, complained, bitched, celebrated, thanked and in general opened up my soul on line for all the world to see...and was rewarded for it. Cell phones and T.V's have gotten smaller but smarter and more houses have internet and computers than record players and VHS tapes. Cell phones fit in your ears and computers fit in your hands. Now I am just waiting on the flying cars! 2001 brought the death of Big'K's father, the 10 year anniversary of the death of my mother, and a bunch of assholes trying to blow up our beautiful U.S.of A. Flying has become more of a pain in the ass, driving has become expensive, minimum wage has increased and most people are still struggling. The presidents have changed in more than just the color of their party. I have seen things happen that I did not think I would see in my lifetime and pray for other things that I hope I do. People have both amazed and disgusted me, but still manage to surprise me every day. I have grown up, changed, and experienced things that were new to me. I have loved, lost, laughed, cried, puked, screamed, had breakdowns, been depressed, scared, thankful and regretted past decisions. The power of mom and women in general has amazed me and continues to do so every time I pull up this world that was somewhat foreign a decade ago that has become part of my everyday life. I have recognized my shortcomings, embraced depression, realized how much I have screwed up my kids, not thanked my BFF enough, held on to people I should have let go of, and not fought enough to keep some I waved bye to. I have changed cars, changed houses, and changed dress sizes.

I have lost the girl I used to be and found a woman I did not know.

This last decade has been hard. I can only pray that the coming decade is much better. At the beginning of this year I decided to not make resolutions but solutions. To change things. I can tell by reading that post that I was a different person then; yes, even just a year ago. This last year has been hard. Really hard. I did do some of the things I had wanted to in my 'solution' for the new year post. Some I did not and failed miserably at. I think you can have the best of expectations but things happen. Things that shape you, even when you are resistant. In the end I guess it is just preparing you for who you will be. Maybe not having any expectations is the best way to go. Not having resolutions or solutions, not trying to make things happen; rather, just letting it happen. Going with the flow, shaping your way but mostly just riding. I do know I have no idea what the answer is, even though I try to convince myself I do. I have realized after this past decade that I really have no idea. At all. Maybe taking that revelation with me into the next decade will help to shape it a little better. I do know I cannot imagine what this next year will hold. I look forward to reading this a year from now and seeing where things have gone.

And I look forward to finding out more about the woman I have become, and maybe getting a little bit of that girl back...

I wish you all a Happy New Year and a Fabulous New Decade!

May we all be blessed with more happiness, less grief, tons of love and the joy of finding ourselves!

Challenging Children

2010-10-24T17:09:00.000-05:00

It is no secret that I have a challenging five year old. I say challenging, my therapist says it is a parenting problem.

Screw her.

She can take her for a week and see where she gets.

I recently, within the last three months, have changed my parenting methods. Or at least given it one hell of a go. I have completely quit spanking. (Yes, I was a spanker. I am from the south. It was the way I was raised. Getoffme.) I have also quit screaming. I have gone to time outs and taking away things she loves. There are a couple of problems with this new method:

1. She will continue to push me until I am broken. At which point all patience is gone. And I will break, at which point I will scream. (Although I have not spanked in quite a long while. I have popped to get her attention.)
2. In order to take away things she loves, I end up having to take away things from not only my oldest daughter, but myself as well.
3. It is a very s.l.o.w. process. One which I am struggling to complete.

I know that parenting does not come with an instruction manual. I also know that this is something we sign up for during that unwritten contract that comes with being a parent. However, I also thought parenting was not something that should/would produce tears on a daily basis. At least not the bad kind.

I am at the end of my proverbial rope. I have been hung. My daughter has twisted, turned, and beaten me into a person I no longer like being. It is exhausting. And sad. I get that she is hard headed. Stubborn. Independent. Strong willed. And recently has lost control of a few areas of her life. Yes, even five year olds need to be in control of something. They like the feeling and need to have at least a little bit of control. Just like us big people. With some of the changes that have taken place in the last quarter of a year, she is no longer in control. This is part of the reason for the fits. The other part I am sure has something to do with my lack of a routine. The chaos she causes can sometimes make a routine hard to accomplish. I do understand there are other things that cause the fits. What I do not understand is why? Even though she sees me trying. Even though she understands what it does to me, her sister, and everyone around her. Even though it makes her life increasingly harder each time. Why? What makes her need to see me broken so strong? What makes her just not care?

What is so sad is that she can be a great kid. She can be so sweet and caring. She is so intelligent and soaks up everything new like a sponge. I love seeing her grow and change. She is funny and likes to make other people laugh. She likes to help and know that she has helped. She can be so on top of things. Be perceptive of things that normal five year olds would not even pick up on. Loves to help cook and set the table. Understands how to do laundry and will offer to sweep and mop. Constantly sings. She can be amazing.

Mostly just for other people. Lately, as soon as I walk in all bets are over. She just spent the entire weekend at my aunt's house. Somewhere she has never stayed before. She was perfect. They went on and on about what a joy she was to have over and would love to have her again. She was so polite and sweet. And then ten minutes before we left, went all Rosemary on us. Over chocolate milk. Really? Chocolate fucking milk?? Calgon, drown me in bubbles. I was so embarrassed and shocked. Well maybe shocked is not the right word. Nothing shocks me anymore when it comes to her swings. I just could not believe it. In one instant she turned a great weekend into a nightmare. And since we have gotten home it has been a struggle. Now, she just ran in here so proud of the fact that she read the word "TAP". Completely different child from 30 minutes ago. The therapist brings up words like Bi-Polar and Defiance Disorder. I think of words more like 'my payback' and 'so much like her mother'. Either way, something has to change.

I know that there are many other moms out there that have had to deal with difficult children. Whether it was when they were younger or older. I know that the teenage years are yet to come. I am just hoping that she gets most of this out of her system before then. I am just hoping I survive till then.

What worked for you? How did you survive? Have you figured out the why?

Let's Get Religulous For a Second

2010-09-19T11:56:00.000-05:00

**This will be a post that will contain in parts religious material. I cannot promise it will not end up a rant due to my mood as of late, however it may just end up being terribly serious. Or it could be funny. Either way you have been warned. I know we all practice different religions (or none at all), and while I love a good comment or debate I ask that you not bash or be disrespectful towards any religion.

It is no secret that I am not an overly religious person. I grew up Catholic with a cradle Catholic family on both sides. Yes, we are from the South. No, we are not Baptist. Yes, it happens. And just in case you are not aware, cradle Catholics are basically people that are born into the Catholic religion and that is that. You are 'Catholic from the cradle'.

Both of my parents came from huge Catholic families. My grandmother on my mother's side was one of fourteen, and had four of her own; and my father's mother was one of five, but had eight of her own. Needless to say that is a whole lotta rosary beads being prayed on! I remember growing up going to church. It was just what you did. You went to CCD on Wednesday afternoon and then had a spaghetti dinner that evening. Sports? Nope. Not on Wednesday. There was church. You only went to one mass on the weekend...either Saturday evening, Sunday early mass, or Sunday 1000 mass. Some parishes had a Sunday evening mass, and we thought those people were lucky. See, it did not matter where you went. If it was summer and you were on vacation, you could bet your parents had already found the local church. There was no getting around it. You. were. going. There were sacraments to be made and in a certain frame of time. You made it to school? You were going to CCD. You were sick and could not go to school? If you were not contagious, you were going to CCD. There were times that I dreaded it. But no matter how much I protested, I would not win. Big G would. And in my family, he always would.

Now do not get me wrong, my parents were not 'tell everybody you know why they should come to our church' type people. We were Catholic after all, and we just did not go around converting people. Our church community was tight-knit. When a family in the parish was suffering we pitched in. Food was a staple. Someone sick? We cooked. Someone pass? We cooked. Have a new baby? We cooked. Maybe that is where I get the need to cook so much from. We always had food. If there was a family that had fallen on hard times, then we would have 'family dinners' with tons of extra family. It was the way it was. And I loved it. Being Catholic is more than just hitting up church in your Sunday best two or three times a week. To get together with your 'church family' and show off the new car, or purse. To be Godly in his presence and then turn around and talk bad about people. To tout that we do not drink or dance and then hit up the club the night before. It is a way of life. And by sweet goodness, if we do gossip or talk bad or stay out drinking too late one night, we go to confession. I am not bashing anyone else. We just have some overly overly overly religious friends who are constantly spouting scripture and wrapping up venom in prayer and thinking it is OK. All the while claiming to be Christian in public. That makes me irritated. I do not claim to be perfect. I do not expect others to be perfect. I expect you to realize that neither one of us are, and accept it or move on down the road. Do not wrap a 'I think what you're doing is wrong please Big G pray for these people and help me to keep my mouth shut' package and proclaim it as his word. It does not work that way in my world. We are all different. We all choose to believe or not believe certain things. I am fine with that. But do not tell me what I believe is wrong, and I will not tell you what you believe is wrong. Because then you are doing it all wrong. Big G made us all different for a reason. And He wants us to get along and live in peace and love one another. Not criticize each other, when really it's all the same Big G.

When I moved the summer before the third grade I was devastated. I missed my friends and my family. The first thing we did, was hit up the local parish and boom instant friends. Matter of fact, one of my best friends still today, my Small Surgeon, was one of the first people I had met through school. Why? Because we were both Catholic, she was new, I was new, battabingbattaboom, instant friends. We have stayed friends. Her with her medical degree and me with my two heathens. All because the church was in our lives.

One thing I have noticed over time is that at one time or another Catholic's will do one thing...stray from the church. At one point or another in their lives, they get tired of the ritual and routine. And they stray. I strayed. After I finished high school I really tried to continue with church but my anger over losing my mom was too strong. And I hated Big G for taking her. She was the church secretary, a devout Catholic and Christian woman, who had fought to have the kids she did. She and my father were active in everything church, made sure they brought their kids up in the same loving environment, and were kind people. Why on earth he chose to take her when she was so needed at home, made me angry. It took me a long time to get over that anger with Big G. But as a Catholic, I knew it would pass, he would forgive me, and I would return. You see, it is that ritual and routine that as we get older we long for. The 'I had to do it and you will too' part of it. I was baptized, made my sacraments, enjoyed CYO, and did what I was supposed to do, and by the heavens so will my kids!

I tried to return when I was pregnant with Big'K and did for a long time. After she was born I got her baptized. After that I got back in it whole heartedly, was the CYO leader, taught CCD, and really enjoyed my time. After a small disagreement with the priest for reasons I will not discuss, I left the church. Completely. After the birth of Lil'K, she was baptized, and I left again. When Big'K hit second grade I realized that it just was not right. I needed to get back in and get her sacraments on the right course. When she was in the 5th grade we jumped in and got the ball rolling. I have been back in the church off and on since then. But about a year and a half or so ago I just felt empty. Like I was missing something. I started going to early mass after I got off my night shift and realized what it was. I was missing my church. The church I grew up in. The church I had had a love/hate relationship with for so long. I was ready. Since then I have made an effort to get to mass every weekend, and get the kids there too. I have really tried to make it a priority on the weekends to make sure we go. Which, believe me, is just as surprising to me as it is to everyone else. CCD started today and the girls were there. Even Lil'K who had to wake up early just to be there. She did great! By the time we were half way through mass though, she began to get a bit sleepy and started to get fidgety. But all in all it was OK.

Being back in church, seeing all the faces I remember from what seems like ages ago, is comforting. I do not feel as if people are judging me, looking at me and the girls and thinking what I must have done. It is all the same old eyes, and faces, and they are welcoming. Most of them watched me grow up or grew up with me and now as adults are returning as well with families in tow.

That year and a half ago I do not know what made that push for me to feel like I needed more. But the intensity of it hit even harder about 8 months ago. I can feel something calling. Something really deep. I am just not sure what it is yet. I mean I know what it is. It is Him. He wants me to do something. For Him. In His name. I am just not sure what it is. And being how flighty I am lately I do not want to commit to the things I see opening up at church just yet. CYO leader. CCD teacher. Alter Society. That is all just too much right now. But I know He will push me and I will end up further into the church. Like my mom was. It is only a matter of time and He will get me back. I had asked one of my cousins, who is a very big part of her parish, what I should do. She told me "One morning before mass I was overcome with emotion. I had been getting very emotional after communion and could feel something stirring. I was not happy in general and knew He was calling me. I kneeled down and said a short prayer. I told Him, if it was his will to just show me what He wanted me to do, that I was ready and would follow. And He did. So when you are ready, tell him and he will give it to you. Just be careful and be sure you are ready." It was some of the best religious advice I have ever received.

I am not an overly religious person. I do not walk around making sure everyone knows I am Catholic. I do not 'thank my Lord and Saviour and Father God above watching down on me' in public or out loud every time I am given the chance. I know He is there. He knows I am here. I am good. I do not go around and convert people, or tell them they should go to church. Every once in a while I will say something or get a tiny bit religious about something. But that is it. But lately, when I go to mass, after communion I get emotional. Moved to the point of tears. And I just cannot help but feel he is calling me. To do something.

But I know what will happen when I tell Him I am ready.

And I am just not sure I am ready yet.

But eventually I will be, and he will accept me, and forgive me, and lead me. And I will feel whole again. I hope this time comes soon. And although I may not be praying for him to lead me at the moment I am praying that he makes me open to his wishes. And helps me to prepare to get ready.

And that my friends is the religulous side of your YaYa.

What Crazy Will Get You

2010-09-16T13:31:00.000-05:00

crazy is relative. it can mean a ton of things. and just for s&g i will list what the internets has to say about it:

brainsick: affected with madness or insanity; "a man who had gone mad"
foolish; totally unsound; "a crazy scheme"; "half-baked ideas"; "a screwball proposal without a prayer of working"
possessed by inordinate excitement; "the crowd went crazy"; "was crazy to try his new bicycle"
bizarre or fantastic; "had a crazy dream"; "wore a crazy hat"
someone deranged and possibly dangerous
intensely enthusiastic about or preoccupied with; "crazy about cars and racing"; "he is potty about her"

i know quite a few people that are crazy. some that have the papers to prove it and others that are just horribly passionate about something. lately i have been feeling quite crazy. in the papers way. not the fantastic way. my moments of motivation are few and far between and when they hit i have to act. and act fast, before they fade. it is the reason my blog has been so lacking lately. you see, i am a write blogger. i like to write. tell stories. or give accounts of my life. parts of my past, or present. i am also an emotional blogger. my writing is by emotion. if i am mad that day i write a hateful post. happy, then here comes the humor. sad, and you get a sappy pull at your heart strings post. lately i have just been crazy. and nothing good comes from that really. so i stay off the blog. even when i sit and try to write a piece or article for our newsletter or website it starts out great but comes out twisted by my emotions. hence the vaccination post the other day. it was meant to be a thought provoking piece, and turned into a rant. because i was ~~crazy~~ emotional that day.

i think one of the only good things out of my kind of crazy is, not only is it justified on a few counts, but i see it. i really do see it. i know when i am having an off day, and i hate it. i want it to be better but just cannot pull it out of myself. when i am on it, i am on it. and it is awesome. today i am motivated. and i have gotten more done by 1000 a.m. than i have gotten done in the last month. those days are few and far between right now. i have noticed that, even though i am broke, the more i get out of the house the more it helps. sometimes that means just sitting in a parking lot by myself and watching the day. the cars. the people. the birds. the air. it just helps. i cannot explain why. i am a very social person. i need to be out and about sometimes to just get myself right.

i have great friends. like great to the point i cannot even explain it, but because this is me we are talking about, you know i will try. they come over, they try to make me better. try to get me motivated. try to get me out of my slump. and i see that they are trying to help. and at that moment all i can do is try to not be mean. but sometimes the YaYa they know is just not in there at that moment. it is only Loco. and well, no one really likes her. i have also noticed that lately, as in the last year, i have been so negative. i complain about everything. the positive has left. i used to be so positive. you can ask any one of my 20+ year friends. i was the driving force when we were younger. the motivator. the one that was always smiling. but now, meh. i am so tired of being negative. even when i try to be positive, it just creeps back in. i know it is not healthy. for my family. my friends. myself.

i know i will return. and i know when i do it will be fine. it is just getting there that sucks. i also know we all have days like this. and all i can do is be so thankful i have the friends i have. that are, after all these years, willing to hang around and try so hard. and give so much.

Vaccines and Kids...My Rant

2010-09-13T21:35:00.001-05:00

I normally do not get all up in arms about such things. I am not someone that prides myself on being overly gung ho about the no vaccines, attachment parenting, breast feeding, and natural births. Do not get me wrong, if you can and did breast feed - great. If you were able to have a natural birth - even better. I could not do either and do not begrudge anyone who was in the same boat as I was. I will not jam it down your throat. Some people cannot have natural births or breast feed. Some people can. Hoorah for those that can. I think it is the most natural way and should, when applicable, be done. There are people that promote and educate about the reasons why you should do the above mentioned things. I think it is great. Had I been more aware and educated on the options things may have gone different. Had I had the foresight to push for a natural birth and make sure that was first on my list I would have done it. Had I tried to have Big'K in a tub in my kitchen we both probably would have died. I respect the people that can do those things even though I could not, and would not dream of giving them hell because they could not. It is what it is.

Vaccinations. I have some acquaintances that refuse to get their kids vaccinated. You know what? That is fine. I work in the medical field and know all too well what some of these vaccines can do. But, I also work in the medical field and know all too well what some of these diseases can do. There are some diseases that we really do need vaccines for. Smallpox is one. Yes it has been eradicated since the 1970's. The last recorded case in the U.S. was in 1949. The disease was certified eradicated in 1980 by the WHO. Awesome. It is also the ONLY human disease to ever be eradicated. Polio - ok. I get that one too. Hepatitis B - get it. I am in the healthcare business. I got my vaccination in order to protect myself. I am glad my children also received the vaccination as no one who leaves the lab will ever go home free of some type of possibly infectious material on them. Think you do? Check the bottom of your shoes. Short of completely showering down, changing clothes, and remaining sterile until you get home...it does not happen. I mean really you can walk to the local store and step in something someone hocked up and track it into your house. Diphtheria, Tetanus, Measles, Mumps, Rubella -still tracking. Pertussis - meh. Ok. No major issues with this one. Meningococcal (Meningitis vaccine) - I am still not 100% on this one. Big'K was not able to get this vaccine. The Texas State Health Department nurse (RN) would not give it to her, for the reason I am about to get into (which is the main point of this rant). Now I am not one of those mothers that believes that vaccines give kids autism. I do believe that introducing certain ones together may push the body into a state that it cannot handle, therefore opening up a propensity for autism that may have been laying dormant. Big'K was a semi-normal kid. Progressing as she should have, until age two vaccines. And all of that changed. Now? Aspie. Read into it what you want.

Chicken Pox - Now I have a problem. Yes, if a pregnant woman gets the chicken pox it can be harmful/fatal to her fetus. I understand that. In most cases, chicken pox is not fatal. It can be fatal in immuno compromised people and older patients. I get that too. I do understand that it causes parents to be off work. Single mom here...totally understand. I am talking about a healthy child. Things are ok. Itching, burning, spots, sores, scars...yeah I had em all. I had a very severe case of the chicken pox. Horrible. The people at Dairy Queen in Lumberton would not serve me because they thought I had HIV due to the severity of my lesions. It. was. bad. people. But I lived and short of the scars made it through. Yes it lasted over two weeks. Yes I had to be taken to the doctor a few times because it got down into my throat. I get it. My poor mother. The hell she must have gone through. But I also remember all the neighborhood kids coming over and playing. To 'get it over with' for the other parents. It was like a party. "Oh...Little Suzy has the pox? Great! We will be over for playtime in half an hour!" Parents did that because it could be dangerous and deadly to catch it as an adult. So parents everywhere made sure their kids got it out of their systems early. I do understand that at that time most families had a stay at home parent. Schools also were not as asinine about truancy.

Here is my issue with the Chicken Pox Vaccination. This is my opinion. And mine only. This is based on what I know as a mother and as a healthcare professional.

The shingles. An old people disease. Right? Wrong. You can only contract the shingles if you have had the chicken pox. It was considered an old people disease. When their body was stressed out or immuno compromised they would come down with the shingles. Which was left over virus from the Chicken Pox that had 'gone to sleep' in a root nerve somewhere in your body, usually the spine. Now. We are vaccinating our children against the Chicken Pox. Which puts the virus in their bodies. Our bodies cannot fight off all of the virus, so little pieces parts 'go to sleep' in a nerve somewhere. Are you tracking? Now enter adolescence. you are exposed to tons of stress. Athletics, school work, other kids and their illness', deploying parents, new sisters and brothers, etc. Stress is everywhere.

Big'K got the shingles at age seven. Yes. I said seven! When her new little not yet vaccinated sister was only six weeks old. She spent over a month wrapped in gauze, coban, and double layered with long sleeve shirts and hoodies. She could not touch her sister or anything I would touch and then touch her sister. Shingles in itself is not contagious. But coming in contact with the blisters can cause a case of the Chicken Pox. And in an infant it can be dangerous. So I did my best to keep the two of them apart. It was horrible. She had to be out of public, for fear someone else (at this time) was walking around with a child that had not been vaccinated. Did I mention that it is painful? And can be for years. She still hurts. Her root nerve was up at the base of her neck, so it spread down her right arm. She still has shooting pain down her right arm and in the back of her neck. When we visited the hospital, because I could not believe I was seeing what I was seeing on my seven year old, we had to see five (count them five) doctors before Thank Big G an infectious disease doctor happened to be on call and was called into our E.R. room, and confirmed that it was definitely the shingles. Here's the kicker...he said there were upwards of seven children that had been in that week alone for the shingles. Ranging from eighteen months to fourteen years old. I was floored. But this is an old peoples disease?!? How can my seven year old, as well as all these other children, have it?!?

Fast forward to the week before school. I find out Big'K is missing a few vaccinations. The booster for the Chicken Pox, DTaP, and her Meningococcal. Because she had the shingles I could exempt her from the booster for the CP. Easy enough. Although trying to convince everyone I came in contact with that she actually did have the shingles was a different matter all together. We head to her semi-regular doctor. They give her the DTaP and are out of the Meningococcal. Awesome. This means a trip to the health department. Understandably, one of my most favorite places. Insert sarcasm here. After sitting there for over half an hour, which makes it now closing time for them, we get back to see the nurse. As we are going over her medical history I bring up the fact that she had the shingles. This is the conversation:

Me - Oh yeah, she had the shingles at age seven.
RN - You mean the chicken pox. (Not a question, a statement)

Me - No. The shingles.

RN - Ma'am, kids do not get the shingles. You are wrong.

Me - No. Ma'am, she did have the shingles. She was seven. I am not wrong nor am I stupid.

RN - Well unless you had an official diagnosis you cannot say she had the shingles and you need to mark that she had the chicken pox.

Me - I did have an official diagnosis from **** Hospital in Beaumont. It was confirmed by the infectious disease Dr. on call at the time, as well as two other physicians, a PA, NP, and three nurses.

RN - Well I have never seen that in my 12 years of being a nurse.

Me - Well I have seen it at least six times in children since then coming into my E.R. With positive confirmatory testing from me, the lab tech.

RN - Well then I am not giving her the Meningococcal vaccine. The shingles is a disease that affects the nervous system and all I'm saying is that for a seven year old to be so stressed out that she got the shingles then something else is going on. It increases the chance that she could have a severe allergic reaction to the Men vaccine and I am not going to be held accountable for that. I mean what could have had her so stress out at seven is all I'm saying.

Me - Hmmm...well let me see...her father died. I had been deployed for a year in the military. And she had a new baby sister, new house, new school, and my blood pressure had been so high during that pregnancy I almost died. So you figure it out.

RN - *blink blink*

I believe that had Big'K not gotten the chicken pox vaccination she would not have had the shingles. I believe that there is something different about the vaccine vs. getting it naturally that makes the virus more susceptible to jumping straight to the shingles at such a young age. Do I have medical proof? No. But I just know. How about the increase in adolescent shingles in the last decade. When before it was virtually unheard of. Shingles is painful. It is horrible. And the reason this rant is busting out now...is because I think she is having another outbreak. At twelve. She has been under a lot of stress lately. Athletics is kicking her ass, AP classes have her doing more work, and as normal her sister is ~~psychotic~~ challenging. Add into all this the fact that we just spent a nice quiet weekend without Lil'K, who as soon as she walked in the door started giving Big'K hell and has not let up.

So now, three weeks into school, I am faced with the fact that Big'K may possibly be having another outbreak of shingles. She has had two small blister spots come up. She is itching, and today started hurting in her arm and neck. Freaking awesome.

Now every medical professional I have talked to, and every online journal I have Googled, says that shingles is not contagious. That in children who have had chicken pox or the vaccine it seems to be of no worry. In children that have not been vaccinated, it can cause a case of the chicken pox. It seems to be ok for her to attend school, per all the professionals and journals. My question is this...how do they know that with all the vaccinated children that it will not cause some other type of reaction? Maybe force that 'sleeping' nerve to jump up and bust out the shingles? Or even worse cause a different reaction in those already vaccinated vs. those that got it naturally (if that even happens anymore)? And with people running around that refuse to get their kids vaccinated, is that even safe? Is that something you are willing to take a chance on? Not me. So, if it is in fact the shingles again, we may be facing three to five weeks of out of school. Now what? That long would result in her having to repeat a grade. There is not a 'full' outbreak, or enough for me to take her to a ID doctor yet. But I just have a feeling. The itching, burning in the arm, pain, blisters. It has happened before. And it is deja vu. So now a waiting game. Sit and wait another 48 hours to see if anymore blisters pop up. Then contact the doctor and then the principal to see what to do.

Really Big G?

I am beginning to think I was Bonnie Parker in a previous life. Bad karma coming from somewhere.

Vaccines and Kids...My Rant

2010-09-13T21:31:00.000-05:00

Me - No. The shingles.

RN - Ma'am, kids do not get the shingles. You are wrong.

Me - No. Ma'am, she did have the shingles. She was seven. I am not wrong nor am I stupid.

RN - Well unless you had an official diagnosis you cannot say she had the shingles and you need to mark that she had the chicken pox.

Me - I did have an official diagnosis from **** Hospital in Beaumont. It was confirmed by the infectious disease Dr. on call at the time, as well as two other physicians, a PA, NP, and three nurses.

RN - Well I have never seen that in my 12 years of being a nurse.

Me - Well I have seen it at least six times in children since then coming into my E.R. With positive confirmatory testing from me, the lab tech.

RN - *blink blink*

Really Big G?

I am beginning to think I was Bonnie Parker in a previous life. Bad karma coming from somewhere.

Win For The Homefront

2010-09-13T11:53:00.000-05:00

**Before you read this...do NOT judge me. If you think you can do better you take her ass home with you!! I have a 12 year old that behaves perfectly.

It is no secret that I have a challenging five year old. She is me. She is my payback. And I totally get that. The difference is...before the ripe age of five I had well learned that my parents were more stubborn than I and well they had the belt and in the end they were in charge. Lil'K has not learned that I am the one in charge. And to be honest even if she knows I am in charge she does not care. And is ready to dethrone me at a moments notice. It is a battle that is fought everyday. It is challenging, frustrating, and leaves me feeling insane at the end of each day. I have tried everything you can imagine...to no avail. Lately, this issue has become a huge deal in my house. My frustration with my children, most specifically the smallest, has had me wanting to run away to a distant island and sell coconut swim suits. I love my children. I understand this is what happens when you are a mother. A parent. There will be trials. I will not win them all. I get it. I was a kid once too. But my children leave me feeling like this is not what I was cut out for. It really does not help when I am already fighting some of my own demons with the loss of job and financial issues that has brought, all the while trying to maintain a loving nurturing home with things like food.

Since she has started Kindergarten the battle has not stopped, I just get an eight hour reprieve from the war. She came home with a permission slip for a field trip a week and a half ago. Much to my surprise, Miss I Hate School begged and begged and pleaded to go. The light bulb clicked on. And boy did it shine!!

Me - Oh you have a field trip...that's nice.
Lil'K - Oh momma can I please please please go! I want to go. Really Really bad mom.

Me - Well you know you cannot go if you act on your trip as you act at home. The teachers have way too many kids to keep track of. With the way you like to run off in public and hide in the clothes racks in the store, I am just afraid if I let you go you will get lost. And honestly, the teachers just do not have the time to look for kids that stray.

Lil'K - Momma I promise I will not run off. I won't jump, or bounce, or skip, or run, or even leave the line. I promise I will stay with my class.

Me - You know what, I am just not sure you are ready to go on a field trip without your mom. Maybe next time.

Lil'K - {crying, sniffing, wailing, throwing oneself on the floor, devastation ensues}

Me - Ooooooh. That is bad. Now I really know you are not ready for a field trip. What if you want something and they tell you that you may not have it? Then what? Will you hit the floor and have a tantrum? They are not going to deal with that. Then I will have to come pick you up before you even get to watch the show.

Lil'K - {devastation and destruction end, allbeit through watery eyes and a red nose}

Lil'K - Momma I will NOT act like that on my field trip.

Me - You say that but there is really no way for me to know. You behave badly at home. And I am afraid you will behave the same at school and on your trip.

Lil'K - {The wheels are turning}

Me - But mayyyyybeeee....if you could be good. For a whole week. Seven days. No melt downs, or yelling, or fits, or crying unnecessarily or ANY bad behavior and then maybe I would sign your permission slip.

Lil'K - OK Momma I can do it!!

Me - We will see.

Don't let the cuteness fool you...she is a monster. Monster I tell you!!!

And please let me tell you: P-E-R-F-E-C-T child. For AN ENTIRE FREAKING ASS WEEK!!! She stayed on green everyday in class, after getting on red twice the week before. Had no meltdowns, no fits, no crazy major issues. Now. Am I proud of her for it? Yes. Did I think she could do it? No. Am I glad she did it? Totally! Does it make me even more angry? HELL YES. And to top it off she even spent the weekend at my Dad and Stepmothers and was good. And not just regular good...like good good. Well mannered, yes ma'am and yes sirs, never cried for me, stayed two nights which is a miracle in and of itself. (I will tell you this was the calmest, quietest, awesomest weekend my house has seen in a very long time) Are you freaking serious?!?!? It really just proved, if nothing else, that when she wants something she is aware of how she acts and can and will pull off proper behavior. And to be honest...IT PISSES ME OFF!!!

I got an email from her K teacher this morning reminding me that the money and slip were due by Wednesday, and if Lil'K was not attending the field trip that I needed to note it and send back the slip. This was my reply:

"She will be going. I used the field trip as a bribe for last week. One week of good behavior = me signing the field trip note. Wrong? Maybe. But she behaved better in the last week than she has in the last year. I will have the money and pink sheet signed for her to bring tomorrow. If she can find her pink sheet. Is it possible to send another one home with her today just in case?

Sorry I waited so long but I have to pick my battles and this one was a win for the home team!"

Her response:

" Hey whatever works! "

Have I mentioned I love her K teacher???

Why can she not act like this all the time? Why must she give me hell every day of my life? I am truly beginning to think it is me. She just does not like me. And that is plain nuts.

So yes. I used mental warfare. And yes. I won. Is it fair? Absolutely!! Is it right? Meh. The jury is still out on this one. We have another outing, for the family, coming up soon. You can bet your ass I will use the same tactic for that one as well! I have to choose my battles. And I won this one.

Score for the home team!!!

Inventors, Creators and Asshats.

2010-09-02T08:54:00.000-05:00

As a people I truly believe we would not be where we were today without those that broke from the herd. Those that when everyone else was turning right, they decided to turn left. Create something new. Strive to change the status quo. Sometimes those bouts of rebellion are needed. In order for us to grow. As people. Both individuals and as a species. All people; not black, not white, not brown, not yellow, not purple. Just -- a people.

Had someone not gotten tired of riding horses and the longness of the trip we would not have cars and trucks. Something we take for granted every day. Had someone not had the drive to keep people from being sick and the bravery to eat that mold on the bread, we would be plagued by simple diseases. Had someone not yearned to connect with fellow people all around the world, we would not have phones or the internet. Two things I cannot live without. Or at least it seems that way.

Without people to buck the system things would never change. Sometimes change can be hard. OK. All the time. We get used to things 'the way they are'. Then along comes change, with resistance, and things can be better. Sometimes it is not. But more often than not if we just go ahead and let the change slowly happen, we will see a better or more convenient way of doing things. Safer. More economic. Faster.

Breaking out of the mold and leaving the herd behind to think freely and invent and discover is how we grow. It is what makes us who we are. Technology. Medicine. Fashion. Art. And even war. Many things have come about because someone just could not keep on the standard path. And how awesome it is that these people were brave and sometimes stupid enough to accomplish what they dreamed of.

To those inventors, creators, masterminds...I say "Way to go!!".

And to all the people that continue to to go the wrong way in the car rider vs. bus line at my local elementary... YOU ARE ASSHATS. I understand the way of getting there is different from what we have done for the last 50 years. I get it. I also find it unnerving to have to use the highway entrance. I too have used the back way for as long as I have been driving. However, this rule was put there to keep the kids safe. YOUR kids safe. MY kids safe. It was also put there to keep you safe while driving, to keep you and the buses (which are carrying our kids) from running into a space issue on the small country road. You know what I will even give you the benefit of the doubt. Before 0720, fine, you win. Use the side entrance. I do. There are not as many buses coming in. But after 0730 just do what they ask us to do. In this instance you are not breaking from the heard, or changing the status quo. You are endangering lives. And that, does not make you a martyr...it makes you an idiot.

I am done.

New Shoes and School Supplies

2010-08-31T21:21:00.003-05:00

Every community, big or small, has those families. You know the ones. The ones going through a hard time. In recent years, with no help from the economy, it seems there are more and more of those families.

In our small community there seems to be quite a few. I am not necessarily talking about the homeless. I am talking about that family that seems normal. But secretly, cannot afford school supplies or new shoes. I remember at times growing up when we were dirt poor. And at times when dirt poor meant you could literally see the dirt through the holes in our floor. Remembering back as a child it seemed like those times were few and far between, but parents were not as open back then. Those times could have been considerably closer together and lasted longer than I realized, but my parents did not let it show through unless it was just ridiculously obvious. I am thankful for that. We were a great family. Active in our church, school, and the local community. It would have been embarrassing for people to know we were one of those families. Now as a mother, I have come to realize that one of the reasons my brother and I never realized we were one of those families is because so many people did know. My parents’ friends must have certainly known and pitched in; albeit in a very quiet, compassionate, and gentle way. I remember family dinners we would enjoy with other families during a week night get together. Wednesday evenings our spaghetti dinner at the church hall were the normal, but now I know was just one less night my parents had to scrape together to provide dinner. Weekends spent with extended family and other friends were always full of tables overflowing with food. Times that made me think food was what held my family together. I guess in a way it did.

Before school started every year we would head out to Beaumont and go school clothes shopping. Three new outfits per kiddo. We thought we were in hog heaven. New clothes, and from the huge department stores at that! And it always seemed a few days later my mom would be out later than normal and come home with bags from JCPenney’s, Montgomery Ward, and Sears. Filled with more new clothes for school time. My brother and I were ecstatic to have the new clothes. What I did not know at the time was that my mother would save the bags from the three outfit trip and hit up the local Goodwill, garage sale, country feed store or discount store. Sometimes they were hand-me-downs that she would carefully patch and sew to revive and make look new. But she was always very careful to make us feel as if they were new. Having new clothes can do a lot for a child. Every year it always seemed as if one of the families in our group was having financial trouble and the others would pick up extra binders, notebooks, pens, pencils, and other school supplies. So that all of the children would have school supplies for the first day.

Towards the end of the year when the holidays hit, these families are thought about for Christmas and Thanksgiving. We do food drives, toy drives, and giving trees. The outpouring of help at this time can ease a parents’ burden and make children happy in ways you cannot imagine. Unfortunately, it is not the only time that help is needed. The beginning of a school year can be a financial burden on a family barely scraping up enough to cover utilities or rent and having to choose which one is more important. We are a week into school and as the new wears off the normal will shine through. Those three new outfits have been worn.

If you have free time or are part of a group that can help out, make time to sit down with your local school counselor or principal. Most of the time they are aware of the kids and families that are struggling. There are many things you can do to help and they will be more than happy to point you in the right direction. They can usually get the sizes of clothes or more specific information from families that they know are struggling and pass it on in a quiet, confidential manner. Try holding a ‘clothes swap’ with local families in your community or neighborhood and trade out what your children have outgrown. You can also arrange a blue jean donation bin or hold a new shoe drive. Our school district has done them around Christmas time and will get the shoe size of kiddos whose parents are having a tough time. I was one of those families when my oldest was in the first grade. She received two new pairs of shoes neatly wrapped in holiday paper. It was one of the best gifts I have ever received. In the years since I have always found a way to get involved in helping out those families. Just by buying extra binders, paper, crayons, and other school supplies and letting the teachers know that they are for other kids in the school that need them but may not be able to afford them.

There are many other ways you can help out in your community. Check with your local city hall or school district and see what you can do to lend a hand. Community involvement is a wonderful way to help give back and make a difference in someones life.

I am no longer the child, now I am the mother, and I have a huge group of friends and a wonderful community. A very quiet, compassionate, and gentle group of friends. This year, I am that family. The family that looks normal on the outside, but cannot afford school supplies or new shoes. I have wonderful friends that have stepped up and helped in various ways, as I have helped them in the past. It is done quietly, without much fuss, and not made to feel like a handout. No one has asked for anything in return or boasted that they have helped. We all know that any year it could be our family. So they are thankful it is not, and help.

Who can you help? Do you know a local family that needs help? How have you helped in the past?

Insomnia and iTunes

2010-08-14T00:29:00.000-05:00

the fact that i have insomnia is not a secret. i really have no idea when it started. i just know it sucks. and it is bad right now. i also know that stress does not help my plight. eh sue me. i am a stress out mo-fo. always have been. i think with my stress. not my brain. tonight the insomnia is really bad. coupled with, as it has recently been, a kicker of a headache. so i sit here in my front room and listen to my music. here is a little taste of what was in my ears:

fleetwood mac - the chain
the parlotones - push me to the floor
8stops7 - uninspired
dido - here with me
the beatles - strawberry fields forever
weezer - holiday
pearl jam - unthought known
michael buble - havent met you yet
blue october - dirt room
karsh kale - one step beyond
the offspring - half truism
10 years - wasteland
pink - its all your fault
good charlotte - emotionless
thomas dolby - she blinded me with science
train - hey soul sister
alison krauss - down to the river to pray
broken bells - the high road
system of a down - holy mountains
dexys midnight - come on eileen
rise against - long forgotten sons
lady gaga - paper gangsta
eagles - no more cloudy days
nicolaus esterhazy sinfonia - sym no 3 in e-flat major op 55
muse - uprising
ray lamontagne - trouble
slipknot - snuff
the avett brothersw - i and love and you

and honestly everything in between. that is just what i typed until i got tired of typing. curious? google some of it and see if you like it. i think my tastes in music are wide. are yours? what is on your list?

The Embarrassing Living Room

2010-08-13T01:50:00.000-05:00

Had I thought about it an hour ago I would have taken a picture for you all. But at the time I am usually so distressed that I do not think about it. It is no secret that I loathe cleaning. I mean really, who likes it? Truly? But I really cannot stand to clean. It irritates me. Not like the clean with cleaners clean. That I do not mind. But the in general picking up. That is what I do not care for. And my kids are the worst about leaving stuff everywhere you can think of. If I lived by myself, my home would be the picture of clean. I do not remember being this 'dirty' when I was a kid. My mother did her fair share of the housework, do not get me wrong. But really, she made us do our part too. I had chores. Chores people! And not just run of the mill chores either. I had horses to feed, manure to shovel up, 5 acres to mow. All on a downhill slope. Push mow at that. Although I do have to admit, that one was usually reserved for when I was grounded. I knew that when I took a shower, my towel was to be hung either on the rack or in my room. And that same towel was to be used at least three times. None of this two towels every shower every time. Oh no. That would have been a sin. I remember doing daily chores. There were normal stuff we did everyday. Wash dishes, pick up the living room, pick up the floor of our rooms, and general sweeping and spot mopping if something had been spilled. And Saturday's were cleaning morning. Friday's during the summer. But you can guarantee we were going to spend at least four to six hours on that cleaning day doing everything. A super good vacuum, sweeping, mopping, dusting, window cleaning, everything. I do not remember our house ever being like stupid clean, like old people's homes, there was normal 'I have a family that lives here' clutter, but it was always company ready. My house. Not. Company. Ready. Ever. Unless that company is expected. And with at least a two hour window. Do NOT let someone call, say one of my guy friends, and be like "Oh hey, I was in the area and I am gonna stop by for a bit in about thirty minutes." Because all hell will break loose. Batten down the hatches! Swab the deck! Holy bejesus!! It gets downright scary up in here. That is reserved for emergencies. The problem is that the kids start messing stuff up, and for about 1-4 weeks I will stay on top of it. And then something happens. Maybe I am gone for a couple of days as I was with work and another adult is at my house. Maybe there is a different type of emergency and I am not home much for a couple days. Maybe all five kids are here and the BFF and I run to town for half an hour. But something happens. Then I walk through the door and BAM!! Tornado town. The only thing to do is just look at it, scream a bit, and walk off. This is point where all the trouble begins. Next thing you know there are things stuck to my floor, red kool-aid on my wooden floors, ants in my damn laundry room. (And I so wish they would do that laundry MOTPG!) And then it happens...I. Give. Up. I no longer care. I keep my friends away. Although my nearest and dearest know to expect a mess. And yes I am embarrassed. I know it is horrible. And if anyone just stopped by save about three certain people I would probably stroke out with embarrassment. It has gotten to the point, like tonight when The Worrier stopped by for a late night visit, that when she walked in the house she gasped...BECAUSE IT WAS CLEAN. I know. Sad, sad state of affairs. I truly believe the worst part is that I, just like the kids, will just step over it. I will tune it out. Horrible. Until the moment I trip. Or someone has moved my stuff around. MY stuff. Then I flip. Because when fat girl trips all bets are off. This body is NOT hitting the floor. And sometimes I will clean after a good flip, and sometimes I will not. Tomorrow, there will be women at my home for morning coffee. It is something I started for during the school time. All my good friends from forever come over and we sit around and drink coffee and visit. It is our mom time. Most of them are SAHM's so they welcome the chance to visit with other adults. And I just love it because I get to see my friends. School has not started yet, but one of our friends that lives out of town is in town. And she wants coffee. And what The White Mexican wants, The White Mexican gets. She is rarely here and it is the least I can do. So tonight. I made my kids step it up a notch. Some screaming included. And I cleaned my house. And when The Worrier walked in she gasped. At the fact she could see my floor. She was here two days ago and saw the horror. Now I know I am not the only one that does this. And I partially lay blame on the fact that I am single. I know myself, and know how I am when there is a man present in my life. And my house is usually clean. But there is no man at my house. At all. So there is not that urge to have my house not look like a hot mess. For the most part when the BFF and I just had one kid each it was not a problem. It was when the bottom three came that things got so out of hand. Most of my friends expect it or accept it. And the kids...they are no help at all. The BFF and I have said that once school starts this year there will be rules. The first two weeks they are in school a group of four moms are going to get together and hit all four of our houses. Do a huge spring cleaning type thing. Go through each others houses and throw stuff away, move stuff around, just clean the shit out of it. After that, every evening we are going to make the kids get a snack, do homework, clean for thirty minutes and then a little time for play before baths and bed. I am hoping we can stick to it. And maybe get the kids in the habit of cleaning up after themselves. Hopefully also make it easier on the adults to help it stay clean. I am looking forward to that. I am sick to death of having my house look horrible. It wears me out.

So do you do this? Or have friends that do? Did you do it and how did you fix it? And please do not say it did not get better till the kids went to college. The youngest is five and I cannot wait that long for a clean house. Is it that big of a deal? I would much rather my kids remember when I am gone because we had fun and danced in the kitchen and sang at the top of our lungs than because we had a spotless house.

Back To Our Normal Broadcast

2010-08-07T10:51:00.000-05:00

i wanted to apologize to my two faithful readers. i have been absent for far too long. but i do have some post ideas coming up. it has just been crazy lately.

in the last eight weeks we have been through: lost jobs, illness, hospitals, surgery, fits thrown, broken ovens, misfit microwaves, job opportunities, more lost jobs, new houses being built, mono, strep, dirty houses, laundry piled up to my knees, a 28 hour there-and-back road trip to florida, car inspections running out, late house notes, jail, family dinners, aspie breakdowns, injuries, house warming, birthdays, parties, coffee mornings, MK promoting, article writing, bad kids, fresh pears, peeling tons of pears, house renovations, flooded bathrooms, ants in the laundry room, kids being extraordinary... and much much more.

i do hope you are all doing great! i will try to get on my blog reading and commenting here soon. as well as a few posts. so what have you all been up to?

Showing Some Bloggy Love

2010-07-26T20:38:00.000-05:00

After being in the blogging world for a while I have gotten to 'meet' a lot of cool people. Some of them I admire. Some of them I fear. Some of them have no idea who I am. Some of them I drool over. Some of them I wish I could meet. My BFF in real life is one of my fellow bloggers. Being able to get away from it all and have an adult beverage and laugh and bounce things off of her is wonderful. There are so many bloggers out there that I would love to just be able to do that with.

With all the conferences coming and going throughout the year the chance to meet some of these amazing women (and men!) is possible. The impossible is being able to afford all the great opportunities. It got me to thinking, if I could have my own little conference who would I invite? Well it would definitely be an open invitation because I would hate to miss out on meeting so many great writers and bloggers. But what if I could only pick 10? Who would my Top 10 of all time 'OMG I wanna meet you!' bloggers be?

I was pondering this while eating my mini-wheats the other morning and all I could think was how could I narrow it down? Is it really different than shopping? Hitting the cereal isle at your local mega mart you are faced with hundreds of options. How do you pick the few cereals to pour in your bowl? Taste, cost, the toy inside? If I had a huge bowl and could mix in my favorite bloggers to make this...well...huge bowl of awesome, who would I pick?

Below is my list. My Top 10. My veritable 'Bowl Full Of The Awesome' Bloggers that I would love to meet:

1. The Bloggess - Really? Do I have to list a reason?? It's The Bloggess!
2. Candace - This girl has more southern charm and sass than J.R. Ewing's cowboy hat!
3. Jane - This woman is amazing and inspiring! How awesome would it be to kick it with this momma!
4. MOTPG - This woman rocks it with three girls! Just do not ground me Mom!!
5. Mother from TMH - Intelligent, savvy and kick ass! I would love to just sit down pick her brain and soak up the knowledge.
6. Leiah - This one is full of laughs and great times. I just know it! What a hoot this one would be.
7. Supah / Chief / Meeko - OK! I know it is three people, but really, I think this group comes as one. And hopefully with a little magic I may get to be meeting these crazy cats in Vegas.
8. Busy Mom - I already know this one and let me tell you something I am a much better person for it!
9. Aunt Becky - Grab me a drink and get ready to laugh!
10. Moooooooooog - Sarcastic, offbeat, and has a squishy inside. This Midget of Steel reminds me of half the guys I hung with in the Army. Not sure if that is good or bad. But I am sure it would be a blast!

This is by no means all of who I would love to get together with. But it is the best list I can come up within my 10 limit. There are so many wonderful people out there. Some of them are right up the street and others are across the country. I am happy just to be able to read their blogs and get a glimpse into their worlds. Be sure to go show them all some love!!

So who would you list as your Top 10? Who makes up your Bowl Full of Awesome?

If you receive this Award the rules are simple.

First, give yourself a pat on the back! You have been chosen as someone so worth while that there is someone else in this crazy blogging world that thinks you are amazing! Show off your award with pride!

Second, if you would like to pass it on, then pick your favorite 10 bloggers that you would like to meet if given the chance. (If you already know 'em IRL that's ok too!) Give a short reason why they are full of the awesome and be sure to link to their site and give them some comment love letting them know they have been picked.

If you do pass it on be sure to write a post and copy the award button and include it with your post.

Shock and Awe, People, Shock and Awe

2010-07-20T22:04:00.000-05:00

That is all I felt a few days ago. I received an e-mail from BlogHer. I was sure that it had something to do with me being signed up to go. Or having something to do with me selling my tickets. But no. It had nothing to do with either of those. It was an e-mail informing me that I had been chosen as one of the Voices of the Year Finalists.

What?? Wait...me?? But? Why? Huh? Gasp?? PEOPLE WILL READ IT!!!! Really?? Seriously?? You have got to be f'n kidding me?!?? *silence* *hyperventilation* Wait...What?? AT FREAKING BLOGHER!!! Me?? Why? HUH?!?!?!?

Yep. That is pretty much what went through my head. Shock. Awe. And disbelief. I write here for myself. To get things out of my head. Onto paper. Because that helps. I learned that a long time ago. As a teenager after my mother died. I felt better when I got things out. Wrote things down. And the blog helps me. If no one read it, I would still write. But knowing that people read it, that somehow gives validity to what I write. To know that it does not just fly out into the nether regions of the interwebs. Other people, who may or may not need to read what I write, still read. There is something comforting in that. But also terrifying. You see, my family does not know about my blog. I will copy and paste some of my posts into an e-mail for them to read (like my post on bullying), but aside from that they do not come here. And I really kind of like it that way. I need this to be a place that is not viewed from people that may be ranted about. That could be bad for my chance of an inheritance. And to be honest very few of my IRL friends read it either. My BFF does. But really, she already knows most everything about me. So it is all good.

My BFF tells me all the time that I write very well. And that I should do something about it. Write more. For people that would pay. And more people that would read. I do not see the writing that is above average. I see my words. To me...that is just what they are. Words. And they are mine.

You can imagine my shock when I read that e-mail. Of course, the first thing I did was bite my lip. The e-mail required it. Nothing being said. Not yet. Wait till all the word was out. I could not believe it. Mostly that I was picked, but even moreso that I could not tell anyone. Well, I took the anyone part to mean the public and immediately called the BFF. I mean really, how can you not tell people! She was ecstatic and very proud. I was...in shock. I could not believe it. Even through the weekend until the day it was officially announced, I still could not believe it. And even when I saw it, right there in black and white, I was taken aback at the quality of posts I was chosen to be next to.

I think what made the most difference, was the post that was chosen. A post that I never intended to write. A post about my Lil'Bro. He is dying. And that is something I do not take lightly. In another decade I will be the only one left. My mother gone when I was fifteen. My father...ill. My brother...ill. It will just be me. That is something that frightens me. The day I wrote the post was an emotional day. My brother looked well. That was not something I had seen in quite a while. I was emotional and shocked. And the post that came out was raw and true. My Lil'Bro has no idea that the post even exists. I will read it to him one day. One day when he is laying down and cannot retaliate or be mad or upset at me for exposing him that way. He may be sick, but he is as strong as an oxen, and I have NO desire to get a smack from him. He may be my Lil'Bro but he towers over me by almost a foot. He may be skin and bones at times, but his strength outdoes mine by at least twofold. He may be dying, but he is still my Lil'Bro and I love him.

So thank you BlogHer!!! It is an honor to be added to that list. The Voices of the Year Finalists. I am humbled and very appreciative. I am in great company on that list. It is not something I take lightly, however cheesy that may sound.

I do hope everyone that reads the post not only sees it as something they consider 'good writing' but also as a short glimpse into me. Just someone out here in the world, doing what so many others are doing...writing. Even if no one else reads it.

I am valid.

The Most Independent Codependent I Know.

2010-07-16T02:39:00.000-05:00

Just for s & g:

independent - free from external control and constraint; "an independent mind"; "a series of independent judgments"; "fiercely independent individualism"*

codependent - Codependency or Codependence is a tendency to behave in ways that negatively impact one's relationships and quality of life. This behavior may be characterized by denial, low self-esteem, compliance, and/or control patterns*

capitulate - To end all resistance; to give up; to go along with or comply; may imply compliance with an enemy or to end all resistance because of loss of hope*

I am independent. I am capable of holding a job. Paying my own bills. Changing my oil. Fixing my plumbing. Taking out my trash. And many other things. Physically I do not require anyone to 'be' with me. I do not have the need to rely on someone else to get things done. It is just me. And by Big G I can handle it. I am woman! See me be independent!! (the roaring will come later I am sure)

That being said, I have a few very codependent friends. They must live with a man. They must have someone to help with the day to day. They cannot be alone. They must have someone to 'be' with. Granted, the majority of these friends also have addiction issues, or are with someone else who does.

I do not have an addictive personality. I never have. I did my fair share of 'experimenting' in my previous life to obviously decide it was not for me. I have been on almost every narcotic you could imagine for pain and never once did I get the cravings. I just put 'em down. And that was the end of that. (my friend alcohol was another story, but I digress)

As a child I did not really like to be touched, or hugged, or loved on. I did not like people in my space. I still do not. Having children was hard for me in that respect. Children need to be held and cuddled. Have you met me? I am NOT a cuddly person. Trust me on that. Big'K is like this. No hugging and being all mushy with her. Lil'K has almost put me in my grave with all the space invasion (and not the little green people kind) I also have space issues. I think the military only added to the craziness. I HAVE A BUBBLE PEOPLE! Stay the hell out of it! Thirty six inches all around is what I require. And I do have some huggy friends. And sweet baby J it drives me nuts. I have tried to let myself go and realize that sometimes, even the hard asses, need a hug. And I capitulate.

I have prided myself on my independence. It is something that I can always rely on. It makes me happy. Recently, we helped one of my codependent friends, BTDT, detox. At home. It was awesome! No, really, it was all that and a bag of chips...and a big seizure by her common law (BTDTCL). And I am being horribly sarcastic. It was NOT fun. In any way. It was horrible. And it was long. And it was messy. But we did it. We got her and him detoxed without too much incident. And all is fine now. But the reason she has not been clean for so long is because she is so dependent on him. To pay the bills, make decisions, 'be' there. She was scared to get clean because she did not want him to leave her. She would be lost. Dead even. If he were to leave. What would she do? How would she survive? How could she make it?

The one thing playing in my head during all this was "OMG it must really suck to be so freaking dependent on someone else!"

In my mind the answer was easy...you just would. But I realized that some people just cannot. Some people cannot just be. None the less alone. I am surrounded by these people...and they wear me out! My Lil'Bro is one. June is one. BTDT and BTDTCL are also. Do not get me wrong...I am also surrounded by a ton of independent, strong, take charge women and men. But these few codependents...they just leave me at a loss for words. Begging for help. Wanting to get out of the situations they are in. But not being able to.

The last 48 hours have been hell for me. I got a call from Lil'Bro at 0100 last night saying "Oh crap ... are you asleep? Sorry. But Sid the Sloth left me sitting on a curb in the Montrose area. Just left me! Can you come get me?" My response was sure. I was on my way. Confused, sleepy, and a bit angry I took off from my home and headed for downtown Houston in the wee hours of the morning. Not somewhere I wanted to be in the middle of the night. But hey, it is my Lil'Bro for the love of Big G. And he was stranded. Sheesh. Like you would not have done it!

On the ride there I had time to think. And also talk to him and Sid the Sloth. I did make it there. Around 0300 and found him (with minimal getting lost time) and did not get killed, mugged, or dead. I did get cat called by a few unsavory characters. But hey, it is Montrose, in Houston, in the middle of the night. I mean that is just to be expected. We got a burger on the way home (as an alcohol soaking up tool for him) and made it back around 0445 this morning. After not nearly enough sleep I made it to BFF's house to discuss an intervention. Not a drug or alcohol intervention. A life intervention. He is sick. And heading down the wrong path...ready to give up. But for him, giving up means death. And I am just not ready for all that. Besides, my schedule is way too busy for a death at the moment. We got a plan together and intended to enact it tonight. Bring him home, get him clothes, bring him back. Remember what they say about intentions and roads? We boy howdy am I gonna have one smooth ride straight into the netherworlds!!! Things did not work out the way they were planned. And the BFF and I ended up spending quite a bit of time both on the road, waiting on the ferry, and in the ghetto part of our local island area, getting ate up by mosquitoes the size of freaking Pterodactyls, that I am sure were carrying some type of death plague. Not. Fun. I mean really, I have ass rot from driving so much in the last two days and I itch in places I cannot reach and I do not understand how mosquitoes can get to.

The story was the same...I just cannot. I cannot lose another friend. I cannot lose someone. I cannot be alone.

Through all of the recent interactions and interventions and the being surrounded by the codependents, I began to realize something. Yes. The proverbial light went off. ***ding*** Rendering me almost speechless. Close to stroke level, but just enough off that there was no loss of vision or drooping of the mouth.

I am a codependent.

Yes. I know what you are thinking. No way YaYa! Not you with your handy dandy skills and fierce attitude!! Yes my loco followers. Yes I am.

I know. It took me by surprise a bit also. I have figured out...I am not physically codependent. And not in a destructive way. Oh no. It is much worse than even that.

I am emotionally codependent.

Now I do not have a fancy definition from Google for that. But I have figured out what it means. To me anyways. I need my people. My friends. To run things by. To have around me. To help with decisions and bounce things off of. I need way too much emotional support. I can do things on my own. And my habit is not damaging. But I like to have input on things. My girls. My unit. My troupe. Without them I could still figure it out. Make a decision. Get things done. But I feel more at ease with my actions if I get the thumbs up. The atta-girl. The pat on the back. Does that make me an accolade whore? A compliment seeker? I do not think so. I do not respond well to that. Compliments make me uneasy. I do not seek their help to be told I am right. Or to make myself feel better. I seek their help in order to make informed decisions. To better plan things out.

So there ya go. Something you did not know about me. Something apparently I did not know about me either.

So for now, I will refer to myself as The Most Independent Codependent I Know. Until someone else can come up with a better name.

And no. Crazy will not work so do not even try it.

Do you know a codependent personality? Rely on people for things? Physically? Emotionally? Are you an independent codependent? I think we need a group for this. And I say bring on the beverages and we can hash it all out over some queso, hot sauce, and chips!

Yes. I am sleep deprived. Stressed out. And just run down in general. This post is totally not rational. It neither has a point nor does it make sense. Really, just go on ahead and skip over it. I am going to get me some sleep and write something better next Monday.

After I talk it over with my friends of course! (haha. just kidding)

*definitions from google.com

My Big Huge Rag-Tag Family

2010-06-23T13:44:00.000-05:00

**Just to stop the confusion before it starts... I have two children that I birthed - Big'K and Lil'K. The BFF has three children that she birthed - Big'R, Lil'R and Mid'K, who are twins. We are called YaYa and NieNie by our 'other' children, but to the both of us they are all ours. When someone asks us how many kids we have before we can think we both say five.

There's something to be said for having a huge family. Whether it is your natural family or one that has been put together over time, a family can be a wonderful support system.

I do not know if I have ever mentioned it here, but I was adopted. My little brother was too. My mother had endometriosis and could not have children. After seven years of trying, my mom and dad decided to adopt. I do not know how the process went for them, if it was hard or bankruptcy expensive. My mother passed when I was 15 so I have not gotten to hear all the stories. It seems that right when my family was becoming an awesome functioning unit, it was destroyed. My father ended up remarrying soon after, which was a nightmare. That marriage ended at the end of my junior year in high school, and he was quickly on to the next. His last marriage has stuck, albeit rocky, for the last 16 years. My father has been sick for a while, and my brother is also. My little family has been falling apart constantly since that day in 1991.

I started my own little family back in the fall of 1997. Big'K made her introduction into this world to a mother who had no idea what she was doing. We barely made it through the first five years, but managed to both survive and grow along the way. Big'K's father passed away when she was three. There is a theme here. I know. I saw it too. She had never met him and only talked to him once on the phone, but she was rocked and devastated by his death. I talked fondly of him through her whole life and in some way he was her knight in shining armor. When Big'K was five I was deployed in the Army and ended up leaving for a year. Part of which she spent with my father and stepmother, and part of it she spent with my BFF and Juice (who was not juicy back then, and in the last two months has become juicy no longer. but it is the name I have given him here so it will have to stick).

My BFF and I met on a job back in 1998 (this is a post in itself). When I was a bumbling mother and Big'K looked like a poor little homeless kid. As I said, I was a bumbling mother. Doing my best, but really not very good at it. Which is quite sad, because Big'K was truly one of the easiest babies ever. We ended up becoming best friends and this has stuck for almost 12 years. Not long after us meeting she became pregnant with Big'R and had her in 1999. I spent most every weekend over at BFF's house with the girls and Juice. In 2002 the twins, Lil'R and Mid'K made their appearance. When BFF offered to keep Big'K while I deployed I was nervous but knew in my heart it was the right thing to do. We were friends but at that time were not too terribly close. This is where everything changed. After I came back, the bond between BFF and I was very strong, and the girls were best friends. Juice ended up leaving for overseas when the twins were only a year and a half old. Leaving my BFF, who had no intention of ever being a single mom, alone. With three kids. Not very long after he left Lil'K made an appearance. I had always been a single mom. I knew how that life went. The BFF and I made a little family. The two of us with the five kids. We became an awesome functioning unit. Granted we got a ton of 'OMG look at the two lesbians with all those kids' looks. But we made it. Juice was gone for three years. We had our little family and we rocked it.

When Juice came back things were rocky in the beginning. He had left with one wife and three kids and came back to two wives and five kids. He came back to a family that did not have a place for him as he saw it. We had become very accustomed to doing everything. The BFF and I cooked together, handled all the household chores at both houses and managed the kids. He eventually found his place in it all and we are now one huge family. He has a picture on his desk at work of all five of the kids. They all call him dad and know that when they need him he will be there. He checks on the kids and I and is quick to help with no matter what we need. We are an awesome functioning unit.

Recently this unit has been tested and has proven stable and solid yet again. Juice finally realized he had a problem with the juice and got himself dried out and off the vodaka (how we pronounce it when being goofy). It took two weeks and the BFF and I kicked back into high gear and got it done. I have also had two surgeries in the last couple of months, and BFF has been having a lot of Dr. appointments. Yesterday, Lil'R had to have her tonsils out and her sinus' roto rootered. When she came out of surgery she was like a wild animal and was having trouble breathing and bleeding a little too much. So what should have been a four hour trip is turning into a three day ordeal. With the BFF being stuck in a city two hours away in my car with no changes of clothes and me having the other four kids and her truck (that seems to not always wanna run well). It works. It just does. Probably because it is all we know and because we work so hard at it.

For a long time neither my family or hers really understood it. Why would complete strangers do so much for another? Why not?? The phrase 'it takes a village to raise a child' came from somewhere, did it not? My great aunt has told me tons of stories where the men would head to the rice fields and all the women took care of the kids. Every ones kids. We have our own version of a village. And it works well for us. Matter of fact, if more people would make these bonds and form their own little families things would operate a lot smoother for some families. I guess not everyone can do that. I know we can and have...and although they are not my natural family...they are my family. The one I chose.

We support each other, comfort each other, pick up the pieces when one just cannot keep going, and so much more. We are emotionally, physically, and spiritually supportive. We cheer each other up and offer an ear when we need to complain. We accept the children as our own. We love the children as our own too. We discuss major decisions and life changing events with each other. We help out in every area that we can to keep our family afloat. We cook together, eat together, share and laugh together. We have rough times as every other family does, but we get through it because we have each other and love each other.

Because in the end that is what makes a family...love. And we have been blessed with a ton of it!!!

To my BFF: you are an amazing mom and are doing an awesome job!! I love you girl. Hang in there.

Are you lucky enough to have an extended family? Who are they, how did you meet, and how do you share your responsibilities? I would love to know!!

The Year In Review

2010-06-15T15:43:00.000-05:00

i began to think about it about two weeks ago. i knew june was the month i had first started blogging...just could not remember the exact date. i had every intention to go and look and make a big to-do about it. but, my life seemed to get in the way and i truly just forgot. it also seems as if i have kind of 'ignored' my blog for the last month or so. not on purpose. there has been a ton of stuff going on over here in my SNAFU'd world. BlogHer'10 is now off the docket and i am in the throws of selling the tickets. i know. sad. but things happen. and a decision was made to go to another conference that will benefit the BFF and I better as far as work goes. which means making money. which is always a win win situation. i have continued to read other blogs though. usually from work (shame on me) and i have tried to comment. sometimes it is just not feasible from work. i am sure the few followers i had are now gone and ran away. i guess that is the price i pay for being away. i also recently had two surgeries since the end of april. so that kinda got me all discombobulated also. i have tried to look back on the blog and see if i am anywhere near where i wanted to be a year in...and i am not sure. i tended to get a little dark at times. and i also seemed to stray from writing as much as i had started out. i am sure in the next year i will find what this should be. but if it ends up being as it is i guess i am ok with that. i really just started blogging to blog. and that part i still love.

so i guess happy birthday (four days late) to my little SNAFU'd piece of my world here on the internets.

my kids are trying to kill each other.

i promise to write more. i have had tons of stuff in the noggin' that i have been meaning to get down here. it will all come out in the wash.

The Loco One.

The Blah's

2010-05-26T14:37:00.000-05:00

lately i have been feeling so - blah. my BFF is not feeling well and i am still recovering from my double surgery doozie. not to mention being off of work for a month has taken a huge financial toll. and that sucks. bad. i have also been trying to make decisions on what to do next. with life in general. go back to school? which i need to do. and soon. get a new job? but the one i have is not bad. and i make ok money. and the insurance. the insurance is great. i hate to leave that job and not have the insurance. and it took me three years to get to the pay point i am at. i am so tired of working only weekends. and i forget about how bad i miss my weekends until i have some time off. but things have to change and i know that. Lil'K does not start school till August so i would have to find someone to keep her during the day so i could work my part-time job. decisions. decisions. decisions. i also have not made it over here to write in too long and i hate that. i love writing. and i love writing here. my house is a wreck with a capital W. my laundry is piled up and my dishes...well ok i washed those this morning. when i could not sleep. which is also becoming more and more of a hassle. the not sleeping sucks bad. i just want to be on a normal schedule. with decent pay. and insurance. i mean really? is that too much to ask? apparently it is. i go back to work this weekend so that will kill me. when you go from not working for a month back to 17 hour days it kinda kicks ya down a bit. i plan to work my butt off in June and catch up on the bills and then decide stuff then. i just do not see it happening the way i want it to.

*sigh*

normal crap different day i guess. Big G knows if i can make it through this year i will be golden. this just has not been a good year for people. and i do not know why. it seems all my friends are having trouble too. there has been illness, job loss, weddings, divorces, moves, and just in general crap this year. boy i sure hope 2011 is better. sheesh.

have you had trouble too?

This One Time...In Band Camp

2010-05-13T22:24:00.001-05:00

ok. i will admit it. i was a band nerd. and i LOVED it. it was a different time. i get it. but in our school...people did NOT make fun of the band. we were awesome. quit laughing. we were. seriously.

i remember going to band camp the month before i started my freshman year. it was a new thing. our band director, Pattycake, had decided to try it out. and we were the guinea pigs. not only was it a blast...but we learned. we learned our music. we learned tips and tricks from the upper classmen. because we all talked. there was no you are a freshman and i am a senior. we were all friends. we were a team. a band.

i remember the seniors yelling at us at night to go to sleep. we were staying up way too late and would be tired in the morning. us? nahhhh. we were fine. and up before them. i remember that was the summer that a friend had died. a popular senior that all the girls looked up to pulled us all out in front of the main barracks and we sat there and held hands and prayed. because that is what we did back then. we prayed. outloud and in public. we, as a band, did it before every competition, every friday night football game halftime, every everything. some called us the praying band. and made fun of that. even when they threatened to not let us march if we prayed...you know what we did...we kept on! we held hands in our big huge band circle and we prayed.

marching practice was hard. and Pattycake was even harder. she was mean, and strict, and big G we were all scared to death of her. by heavens, if you were on that marching field and you were standing in ants...you had better be still. and get bit. because you were NOT to move at the position of attention. swarm of killer bees?? nope. be still my little band nerd. this too shall pass. we did it one hundred if not a thousand times. in the sun. outside. and it was hot. but there was always yellow gatorade. and not the in the bottle kind. the powder mix. that was distributed into huge ice chests. and yes there was usually grass in it. we did not care. it was hot. and we were thirsty. you learned to love that flavor. and even now when i drink it, i reminisce. the contests were awesome. we scored I's at every one i can remember...except one. we did not want plain vanilla, we wanted rocky road, or chocolate, or some other flavor. we did not want to be blocks with smiley faces on them. we wanted to be unique. and special. and we were.

we got standing ovations at our concerts. and our christmas encore sounded like a stadium. we had the 'signature' song. and we loved to hate it. but we loved it. we rocked it. and we knew we did. and we would groan when they would applaud, but secretly could not wait to play it again. and we sat there in our santa hats and played our hearts out.

we were awesome. in a ton of ways. we were still one of very few military marching bands. there were not many then. and i am not sure how many now. we stretched, at one point, from 20 yard to 20 yard line. we were huge, and loud, and in step. because if you were not, you were afraid. you knew you would get chastised. and no one wanted that. i remember our drum majors. they were like gods. with their whistles. and white cuffs that kept rhythm for us. we listened to them. and respected them.

one year we performed the UT fight song and the Aggie fight song in one routine. it was so great to hear the crowd first gasp because we were doing it and to hear the roar for each school song. we even performed it on Aggie soil. which was totally awesome.

there are so many more stories from this period in my life. i loved it and i hated it. and i could go on and on. but i will not. the reason all of this is coming up is that tonight my 6th grader had her spring concert. it was so strange to hear the high school band play and think back to our time. Pattycake time. a time that came to an end not very long after we left i believe. to me it signaled a great era coming to an end. and there are not many bands around like that anymore. we had heart. and we loved what we did. we believed in it. even now looking back i think of how hard it was. but it was so worth it. because of her. because of the one that made our lives so freaking miserable every marching season. she expected the best. because she knew we could give it. and we did. with blood, sweat, tears, and yellow gatorade in the mix. there was nothing worse than letting her down. and we all tried our best to not let that happen. she commanded our attention when she got on the podium. something i did not see happen tonight. she did not have to tell us to be quiet. we just got that way. you could have your back turned and hear her take the podium. and you knew to hush it up. we respected the other bands playing and were quiet and listened. i did not see that happen tonight either. we were respectful, and quiet, and always ALWAYS on our best behavior. for her. for us. for the band. we were a part of something special. and we did not want to tarnish it by being rude. i was very disappointed in the kids tonight. they were loud. and did not act the way our old band acted. i know times are changing and directors change. and it may be their way. but our way was the Pattycake way. and big G and whether it made you or broke you, it made a lasting impression. one that stays with a lot of us even now into our 30's.

i wonder if they still pray. or if school and pressure and politics have gotten the best of them? i hope they do. it was something that was such an integral part of us. whether or not it was accepted. we did it. and even those that were not religious still bowed their heads and held hands.

to the Pattycake era. it left a mark on all of us that were blessed to be a part of it.

**thanks to rocketfan86 on youtube for the videos. i wish we had 1993 and 1994 too.

Buying Things

2010-04-28T19:42:00.001-05:00

Ok. I would like to ~~complain~~ ~~rant~~ ~~rave~~ ~~bitch~~ talk about something.

The financial affairs of our ~~fucked up~~ country.

Recently, I have been bitten by the 'refinance' monster. My father owns the house I live in. It's cute. I do love it. Unfortunately with some things that are going on right now, my house note has become a little...unattainable. Only if I would like to continue having electricity and water, that is. Now, before I start ~~bitching~~ discussing this problem, I would like to state that my mortgage/rent is hardly a third of what most of my friends pay. So in some ways I know that it does not seem fair for me to complain bout my situation. I know that a lot of them would much rather pay my bill than theirs. I also, only have one income...mine. And although I do make more than most of my single mother type friends, it still is not enough to cover all of my bills in a month if something out of the ordinary happens. I have a small, old house. In a small, old town. I have ~~not enough room for a damned thing~~ well under 2000 square feet. My windows are leaky, and my doors drafty. We have made some improvements, but money runs out. And, well, ours seems to run out faster than most. But we were able to make some improvements to raise the value of the house.

The plan was for me to buy the house and have it in my name. Right now it is in my step-monsters and even though there has not been any reason for me to think she would kick us out, you just never know. I worked on my credit to get it to a point that would allow me to get a house...and them boom! All the crap happened with the economy and now it takes your first born to buy a house. Here are the problems:

- Apparently my house does not cost enough to justify a loan.
   Now hold the phone. You do not want to give me a loan because, to you, my house is not expensive enough?? But I am trying to be a responsible adult and not take on more than I know I can pay for! My house does not cost enough for you to loan me just 30 to 50 thousand dollars and my credit is bad, so to fix it, you want to loan me 120,000?!? WTF? Please tell me where that makes sense? I already stress to pay the note that is currently on the house and you want me to up it by seven or nine hundred dollars? Because the amount I am asking for is not enough, although what I can afford, and I have trouble paying what I already do, so you want to increase it?

- My credit and debt to ratio numbers are all wrong
   I have been working on my credit for almost two years. Every time I come up even the smallest amount, you decide to put something stupid on my credit. No one will give me anything on credit because my credit score is bad, so I cannot get credit to make it good, so that my score will go up. Yet you want a higher score for me to be able to support the $120,000 loan you want to give me ~~that I cannot afford~~. So about a year ago I went to get a new car hoping that would help my credit score. I go in and see a car between 10-13 thousand that I could afford and my family would fit in. Would they finance me? Not on that car. My credit was bad, so they could not finance me on the car I was making a responsible decision on and could afford. NO! If they were going to finance me it would have to be on a car that was over 21,000. Therefore giving me a car note that I could not afford and would at some point be late on. But I had to have a car. And going to a mafia lot was not something I wanted to do. And I had to have a car that was dependable i.e. warranty and such. So I ended up with a car, that I LOVE, but that has a note the size of my mortgage/rent. No way to improve your credit score like that. But a hell of a way to jack up your debt to income ratio.

- I need to refinance and I would like to stay with my current company
   Oh but wait---we will not refinance your home that you have paid for through us for the last decade, because your credit score is too low. It is too much of a risk. WTF??? Dude! I am already paying you a note, on a house that you have financed, that you know I am late on at least three months out of the year. Why in the hell would you not refinance it?? It would extend the loan, which would make the big company more money, not to mention you know I am going to pay it so if you lowered the note then maybe I could pay the damned thing on time! And you think you will be losing out on money because I am a risk??? Yet if I am not wrong, you would be losing a hell of a lot more money if it got foreclosed on...right??? Right.

It just seems like they do everything so backwards. OK. Be greedy. I get it. The mighty dollar. Woo Hoo Blah Blah. The problem is they get bailed out for making horrible decisions and giving people more than they can afford with interest rates that are astronomical. We the people cannot get any damned help from anywhere, but they get the help for making bad decisions. They want to complain about all the foreclosures, and the defaulted loans, yet they do not want to step up and help to at least refinance their current customers that are asking for help. In the end they would make more money if they did. The notes would go longer. And so many people would not be having to step out of these financial commitments. Lower some of the freaking interest rates and help people get lower notes. At least they are trying to continue their notes with you, the same company, and not going somewhere else. And these people that want to buy houses that are under 60,000...let em! Chances are they are not worth more than that and if they were stepped out of you would not make any money on it anyways. And now you have a homeless family. Way to go big finance companies!!

I just do not understand why those of us that are trying to do the right thing financially are not able to. Because of the same companies that penalize us when we are late or default on our payments. They are so quick to bend us over and jack us up, but will not ever ever help us, even when it is going to benefit them. I know ranting about his changes nothing. I just wish something would happen to help us. Not them.

It just gets so frustrating sometimes.

**sigh*** ok. i am done.