There are no U-Hauls behind hearses. . .

Those of my readers who know me know that a years-long pet peeve of mine is how prisoners get treated. In prison and out of prison. I am not proposing working with this population-- I'd be destroyed. There is not only a lot of need but people who manipulate. I do not laugh at treatment of prisoners; I knew a guy who was a guard and he was a calloused person and a terrible, distrustful father and I know that his personality allowed him to survive his environment.

One of my long-time high school friends came out of federal prison a while back and we have since renewed our friendship. He is anything but bitter-- he tells me what happened to him and it hurts to hear, but he maintains that those who had power who were jerks were not jerks because of him but jerks because they had to survive, too.

I found a new blog called The Rabbit Hole. Bill Baily has written it. He's been in what I think would be Hell. Prisoners get out of jail or prison. They cannot help each other. They have nothing yet he is philosophical about it. I have nothing deep to write-- but here is my blurb for his work. He may have been down but he's never been out. Go to his blog.

Family Violence becomes an Art Form ;)

Last night I went to my first wrestling match. It was like combat ballet. All I can say is, "Wow."

For several years my eldest daughters were telling me to get their brothers into wrestling. I was thinking of guys roughhousing on a mat and said no way. Last night my eldest at home was given extra credit points for bringing a family member to a tournament as one of her teachers is a coach. I dropped them off and went to class. I knew they'd not be out for a while so I went to the school when I got out and paid to go in. My daughter was up in the stands. Now initially I was going to ask them if they could leave early, but the band was playing a catchy tune and I decided to stay.

First, I found myself cheering for the guy on the bottom, just hoping he'd get back on top. (Isn't that humiliating to lose?) Well, one of Peaches friends, The Vivacious Redhead said, "Don't cheer for them! We're winning! That's bad if their guy gets on top!" I guess the guy who was winning was in her first hour class and was a sweetheart so I started yelling for whomever they told me to yell for. I was glad for the other school-- they got two wins. It would have been humiliating to have left with no wins and the score was like 70-6. They canceled the JV tournament which made me sad as I'd have stayed for it. (If you have ever been on a JV team, you know what I am talking about. It is devastating to watch nine tenths of the crowd leave when Varsity gets over. For me, seeing two equally matched teams of athletes face off is great and I don't care WHAT level they are.)

My son who went with his big sister found some friends and was playing Pokemon cards and hanging out. Peaches thought he didn't like it since he wanted to play, but I asked if he wanted to wrestle and he looked at his sister and hugged her-- he'd asked her to work on me so he could wrestle. It was important that he saw it and then saw his friends who wrestle and they just did their thing.

In the car, I drove home then had to run to the store. I got the three middle boys in the car and looked in my rear view mirror to see LEGS in the air. I pulled over, "WTF are you idiots doing?" In the brief time I ran inside to go to the bathroom and brush my teeth, my one son had taught his other brothers some moves and they were practicing. (They kept trying to wrestle in the supermarket aisles. What have I created?) New rule in the Crumpetmobile: both butt cheeks have to be on the car seat while Mom is driving!

I'm excited. I always thought my boys would either cripple of kill each other, but with wrestling, they can do it in a controlled, gentlemanly manner. . . I am really excited to get them doing this and I regret that I waited so long. They won't really kill each other-- although that's only because I put an end to their roughhousing before it gets out of hand.

Miss Kaydence

A six month old baby was killed by her biological father about a week and a half ago. In her picture, she looks like any other six month old baby. Her father apparently lost his temper. Big guy, beating up on a baby like that-- she would have survived and he'd have not gotten the longer sentence that he'll get had he just taken her to the hospital. I will think of something to say about this, but I keep looking at her picture. She looks like any of my own children. Her mother buried her the day after Thanksgiving.

I temporarily lost my two eldest in a custody battle a few years ago. It's hard to disprove things that never happened. The judges never investigated anything my ex said which would have helped me and my daughters and proven my ex a liar. Instead, the battle solidified our relationship and they came home as soon as they could on their own which I took as having a bigger blow to my ex and a higher honor to me, but I'd have rather not fought the battle. The ex hired a mock counselor who blabbed to him and his wife everything my daughters said and they had school teachers thinking they were saviors. (Their bio father criticized them for learning foreign languages and tried to convince them that they had his learning disabilities! His wife had eating issues and she accused my daughters of getting fat at her house and making themselves throw up when it was her doing that! They did gain weight-- and she made a huge issue of being smaller than them. She has ISSUES.) The ex's wife had all sorts of issues that are finally coming to a fore. My ex husband was violent and broke my bed, he shoved me and destroyed things and I got out-- no paper trail, no cop calling,I just got the hell out when the kids were little.

Did this young lady's mother tell the courts that the father of this sweet baby was violent and did they not believe her? Of course I am putting my own issues on her. Maybe she had no clue that he'd be mean. It doesn't matter.

Anyway, my heart is broken-- the baby is safe in Heaven-- but she should be here, getting ready to celebrate her first Christmas. How does one's mother survive such grief? (How will her biological father come to terms with this? Was this uncharacteristic of him to be violent? Was he having a crappy day and a crying baby just hit the wrong chord with him? Did he think less of her because of her mother seeing someone else or not being in love with him? We will never know and it doesn't matter.) I still cry for my miscarriages. How do you get over such a loss and not being able to help your child?

I Canceled the Surgery

I cannot go through with it. This isn't the right time. Do I need to be in a real fix?

I called the doctor this morning and told his nurse I'd schedule the pre-operation stuff. She'd told me that it was just a bunch of paperwork and would last fifteen minutes. She knew that I had a class the night before my surgery and said to come in right before since I was doing stuff that day.

I was like, "Cool-- I can come in today and take it home, sign it and take it back in a week."

Oh-- this had to be done 48 hours before. Then she told me the rest of the story-- I needed an EKG, a blood count, etc. I flipped out! What's all this other crap that she wanted?

I started asking more questions. She knows that I attend school two days a week in the next city and intend to continue in the spring. "How long will I be recovering?" Oh-- all of Christmas break and then right before I can see the doctor and he may approve me to return to classes, but I need to not be upright too much. WTF! I have a 90 minute drive each way those days!!! "Can't you lay down and put the seat back?" She thought my husband would just. . . drive me to and from school! ARGH!

I was freaked out by the EKG anyway.

When I asked her what would have happened when I went in to get my paperwork before class where i have a monster final, She casually said that she didn't know-- she hoped that I'd respect the doctor not being able to get another patient in and go through with it and tell my prof that I needed to take it later! She is a nursing school graduate. She knows that you don't skip out on finals unless you are dying!

Anyway, I had a test in toay. For the past few days I have been frazzled about this operation and didn't think I was learning anything. I think I did well on it. The operation is a HUGE deal. I'm glad I decided to not do it, but the doctor's nurse tried to talk me into getting it done. For whatever reason, I am simply not ready. Next time this comes up I will know what is happening and not be so thrown off.

For now. . . I am forgetting about this and worrying about school. Fiddle-dee-dee.

Surgery and Reading

My hysterectomy is scheduled in three weeks. I am up at 3AM worrying. I can't sleep. It will cost quite a bit of money. Do I want this? If I don't do it, my doctor wants tests done that will be as annoying as the surgery prep itself on an organ (my uterus) that I do not need.

Recovery is six weeks long. There may not be this much time as I will have again for a long time. One of my friends, a local politician, is coming with me to the hospital. I don't want my husband there-- I'd rather have him with the kids at the house. Or to take time out to be with me later on. They don't want you moving around because they do so many internal stitches. For the first three weeks I will be out for the count on bed rest, then school resumes and he said that as long as I heal properly, I will be able to walk around school with luggage on wheels that many people do already. Of course we worry about how this will be with me putting it in and out of the car, but I should fare all right.

In yoga this is the location of the third chakra. What if he removes my uterus and i have thought that this was the location of that chakra? He laughed, "Well, you will still be able to have sex and enjoy it. You will just make a new location and focus on it!" He doesn't do yoga chakras. He thinks that is silly.

The ovaries will stay in. One of my great grandmothers died of ovarian cancer. I was scared when my mom went off about how young she was. Turns out "young" was 58-- my mom is almost 70 so 58 is young to her. My Gyn said that no, 58 is not young. He is 48 and said as much as he wishes that 58 was young, it is not! By then I will have hit menopause and they will get them out as they will have stopped working anyway and they are aware of the history now and will look for it.

I don't like surgery. I wonder how my body will change. I hope I don't get a big stomach like many women get. I don't want to be looking like a middle aged mother. I still feel 19! But-- acceptance of one's attributes that one cannot change is more important than hiding behind baggy clothes.

Tonight I helped my son with special needs read and do his spelling. We started singing his spelling words. Two of his words, her and were, sound similar but have different endings. He asked why and I told him about the history of the words. It made sense to him. Later I was grilling him on his words and he shut his eyes and sang them for me. I also drew < > greater and lesser signs but as musical symbols. He was learning them in math and they made more sense to him than the stupid explanation that my teacher and his teacher gave, "It's a tiny alligator (small end) wanting to take a big bite of the big alligator!" Guy understands the loudness aspect. He slipped me a note after dinner, "I want < spegety! It's <, < good!" (I want more spaghetti. It's very, very good.) That was cute. He likes the symbols so I will be looking for more for him. If things start to click in his mind, I will be very happy.

Cartoon Laureate

A friend of mine in Alaska has suggested that I write to their governor about making Chad Carpenter Alaska's CARTOON LAUREATE. To see his work, which is hilarious, click here!

After looking at his comics, I have to say he is not famous and should be. This guy is a comic genius! Click on "more silliness" and play the Really Gross Game!

What you are all typing away on your computers, take a moment to write to Alaska's guv, Sarah Palin, and tell her that you love him and that Alaska needs a Cartoon Laureate. A cartoon Laureate is kinda like a poet Laureate, but he's funny and easy to understand. Everyone can understand him or her. CHAD IS THE MAN!

At the end of the day. . .

The holiday is over. I'm worn out. I cannot wait for another month from now-- it will be solstice and we will start getting more daylight again. I am on the count down!

It rained today. This is terrible! Yuck! Our backyard had been full of snow and the kids loved to play in it. They were looking forward to sledding but now it's black with mud. They were indoors. We have ripped up the carpet. We got to hear them yell and play. I know I should feel blessed but too much of anything is wearing on the nerves.

Every time I asked the kids to do anything, they'd take their time at it. This was lead by my eldest, home for the weekend and her first weekend off from working. She's a hard worker and has worked every day for the past month. Just as I was contemplating my Friday and holing up and doing school work, she told me that she has to work at noon and needed to go shopping. . . and to stop by a couple of places. (She's buying a car right now and doesn't have one.)

OK. So I started to work on my Russian and she asked if I could take her some place. Her timing is amazing. I wanted to break down and cry. I so much need this weekend to STUDY. She is so clueless sometimes. She gets on her computer all weekend and eats up bandwidth. She could have stayed in The City but oddly, she says she misses the chaos.

Such is life. I'm glad the day is over. I made a big dinner. I don't make 20 dishes-- I know what everyone likes and they come in and see me making what they don't like and remark and I don't like that so, I make a few things that we ALL love. Very frustrating as my three sons came in, "Why don't we have as much as other families?" Well, I suppose other families aren't as open about what they dislike!

There were a few things that we make every year-- I always make a high bush cranberry sauce for turkey. It's so good, very Alaskan! TeaCup was eating lots of that. I was going to make potatoes and had just bought some but they were mostly gone. So I made potato rolls which I've never made. They were REALLY good. I do not make "green bean bake"-- it looks like baked vomit. I make green beans however and they seem to be liked. The Jell-o mold that seems to be a mainstay on tables was not here. I looked and someone had used it all. Fruit salad with CoolWhip, a tossed green salad-- it was pretty darned good. Not too much and not too little.

Contemplations

My friends all have read this. My dad died on 2 November last year. We never got along and I think the hardest thing for me is knowing that I don't miss calling and having him say mean things about my family size, politics or whatever. Holidays are hard because the only time we got along was when he was dying and now calling my mom isn't so hard. Her new boyfriend is totally cool. He is 70, has no children of his own and loves the vicarious aspect of her children. She says he laughs at my emails. I wish my dad was around but in a nice way as a nice (as in different) person. So far I've yet to talk to this guy but my mom is laughing and seems like she is having fun.

Don't get me wrong-- my mom is catty as ever. Every conversation with her has to be braced for.

I am thinking about all that went on while he was dying, reliving everything that happened and how I was reacting to external things unrelated to him. I feel terrible-- he was like a sore tooth! I know he'd be sad to read this or know I feel this way, but for God's sake, he was painful to me! Those last ten days were a great ten days with him. I was honored to be with him, and the cranes taking off as he died were amazing-- but I don't miss the man who I knew the other 37 years minus those ten days. He told me that he was "hard" on me for so many years to make me stronger. I wanted to thunk him for that-- he was cruel. He'd come in and just start raging on my weight or my boyfriends or my friends-- my friends were on the debate team or in drama, and he liked to pick on the ones with speech impairments or who were fat or whatever. He thought I was fat. Did his picking make me stronger? No! It made me weaker and I'd cry. That's like sticking holes in a boat and seeing f it can still float! What a dick!

I send his cemetery paper cranes to put on his grave and I show my love by telling the kids great stories about their grandfather, the rancher who raised horses worth lots of money. . . that were too good for his children to ride. Grrrrr. I don't tell them that I hardly rode-- they don't need to know that. It still eats at me. It will stop. Scar tissue grows over wounds.

1. I'm thankful for the ten days I had with him
2. I'm thankful that my family appears to be over the flu now
3. I'm thankful that the court mess that my ex husband had me in for four years is over with and has been over for three years
4. I'm thankful that my husband had a great birthday party
5. I'm thankful that I have nine sweet children
6. I'm thankful that in spite of almost having an accident last night that I am OK and no one's car got hurt!
7. I'm thankful that my eldest is home and we have at least one more holiday together right now
8. I'm thankful that my children and I have an open relationship and that they love me
9. I'm thankful that my husband is a pretty nice guy
10. I'm thankful that we have good neighbors with decent kids
11. I'm thankful for a good mechanic
12. I'm thankful for having good medical insurance
13. I'm thankful for a great doctor who asks lots of questions about my symptoms
14. I'm thankful for being in college
15. I'm thankful for having a computer that works.

(None of the thanks are in any order. They ARE my life.)

How do they do it?

My independent variables are at it again. I get time off and need to study and they are there, TeaCup has pink eye and needs to see the doctor so my husband takes her down and someone needs my undivided attention for a hurt knee. Or creates a confusion in the kitchen. I needed to study last night but Tiger wanted to come home so I went to Town to get her and almost had an accident. I thought that I had night blindness and almost caused an accident (I pray before I drive and think that helps-- seriously) but then realized that both of my headlights turn in the direction of the drivers side which is why I cannot see the other side of the road. I brought her home and when I got up to study, Miss 11 needed eggs for my husband's birthday cake. We got home and Tiger wanted to chat in the car so we chatted. Don't get me wring, I enjoy her company more than you can imagine but I needed to study! I was about to close when my three boys came off the bus. My eldest wanted to see his sister so he got in the car and chatted.

No problem-- I was to meet my husband in our other little city and I could listen to the Russian CD. He pulled up with a friend who decided to be helpful and rive him home. Damn.

It was his birthday and festivities began. This is my life.

I calmed myself, I'd have all day Friday to study. Not so fast, Tiger wanted to go to work late. (Yay! We have time with her!) Well, not really-- she needs me to drive her to the store to buy food, to get some stuff around Town before work. . . Lord, have mercy. I will crumble if I don't pass my classes. Soon my eldest will have a car.

8 Things Few Know About Me

:)


Thank you, Emperor Ropi

for this idea for a post. You saved me from describing my stomach flu and bitching about classes. (I have a distance ed teacher who will kill Hamlet if he's ever allowed to teach Shakespeare through distance ed.)

1. I have a phobia about putting postage stamps in the upper right hand corner of the envelope. I can't do it for fear that Western civilization as we know it will come crashing down around our heads.
   
2. I do mail art. Wild, crazy or pretty things. One year I was running in the Mrs. for my state pageant and sent all of my sponsors letters each month, telling them what I was doing. I did pretty work, all original. I also sent them to my gynecologist (a sponsor) who I think misunderstood the intent of my letters (and that I sent them to EVERYONE.) He acted really weird the next time I saw him. Everyone else said they loved my artwork. Two thank you note envelopes hang in TWO lawmakers offices! :)
   
1. I discovered that I loved art and writing when I did that for the pageant. When I wanted to do it the next year, I was planning my letters and artwork. My husband said, "Instead of you running again and asking for sponsors, what if I give you $200 to spend at _____'s for art supplies?" Forget the pageant. I wanted art supplies and I took a writing class the weekend of the pageant!
   
3. I am terrified of heights and water. Watch Jack Nicholson in As Good as it Gets and you will see how neurotic I am near the ocean and at airports. Last time I flew, I used some old sleeping pills to keep me calm at the airport.
4. I am a neat freak but every time I start getting clean, my husband or one of the kids decides to haul out some junk and make a bigger mess. It's easier to shut the door on the mess and be oblivious. I make up for it by doing what I can-- I get my bed made every morning and when that doesn't happen, I get really frustrated and obsess until I come home and fix it.
   
5. I love to cook, but it's not easy because everyone has a preference and feels that they need to voice it and it wears me down. I wish I could tune them out, but it becomes, "Oh, you are making polenta? I hate it when you use mushrooms and tomato sauce with it." or, "I hate spaghetti. It looks like worms." Nothing destroys my passion like comments like that. I think the worst is a cheesy smile, "This is really good, [smile gets bigger] but you wanna know what you can do to make it really good?" Mac n' cheese for you until you shut up, Dummy. You'd think that I could just say, "This is not up for discussion, eat what you are given and LIKE it." I need the praise. The little comments are painful and wear me down.
   
6. I am an artist and a dancer. I feel alive when I dance and do my artwork.
7. My favorite color combination is an azure blue, pthalo green and mauve.
8. I want more than anything to be able to make a living writing books and illustrating them.
   

You Should Be a Doctor

You are practical, sharp, and very intuitive. Optimistic and energetic, you are a problem solver who doesn't get discouraged easily. You are also quite compassionate and caring. You make people feel hopeful. You're highly adaptable and capable. You do well with almost any curve ball life throws at you. You do best when you: - Are always learning new subjects - Use your knowledge to solve problems You would also be a good therapist or detective.

What Should You Be When You Grow Up?

You're A Prayer for Owen Meany!

by John Irving

Despite humble and perhaps literally small beginnings, you inspire
faith in almost everyone you know. You are an agent of higher powers, and you manifest
this fact in mysterious and loud ways. A sense of destiny pervades your every waking
moment, and you prepare with great detail for destiny fulfilled. When you speak, IT
SOUNDS LIKE THIS!


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Something Happy--

My car runs decently-- life is good.

My elder Peaches was sick today and her teachers sent me notes telling me not that she was gone but that they hoped she was OK.

My eight year old son is doing 100's on his spelling and math tests. He says, "I just want to get the highest grades that anyone has ever had. Is that so wrong? I want to be the second smartest person on the planet. God will be smarter."

My son with special needs and I read all week. He dances when he reads and can't stand still. He said that his teacher was talking about rhythm in words and we may be getting somewhere in how he thinks.

How did my brilliant husband marry moi?

Last night my husband and I were at the mechanic's shop. I suggested that since my beast doesn't start very well that the mechanic look at the battery and the block heater. My husband didn't bother to take so much as a deep breath when he said in a nasally, condescending tone that, "There's nothing wrong with your heater or your battery."

I was talking to my mother but hissed that he say something just to make sure. My sweet, charming husband rolled his eyes at me but said, "Fine." (This means, "You are a flipping English and art major and you know nothing. I will ignore you."

Today, probably 18 hours after he blew me off, I was calling him from my driveway as I was trying to get to a test and asked him, "What's wrong with my battery and block heater?"

My husband didn't bother to take so much as a deep breath when he said in a nasally, condescending tone that, "There's nothing wrong with your heater or your battery." (Note a pattern developing.) He added that it would start right up.

I told him that I was calling Triple A. The guy came, "Say, aren't you a frequent flier with us?" I laughed, "Of course! I'm the woman who gets ignored about her vehicle!"

I told him what I thought was wrong and he set things up to jump it. "Yeah, it is probably both. I can't hear the block heater and the battery doesn't seem to want to turn over."

I rang up my husband, "He thinks it's the battery and the block heater."

My husband didn't bother to take so much as a deep breath when he said in a nasally, condescending tone that, "There's nothing wrong with your heater or your battery." He added that it would start right up and that I'd take my test in no time. He was right on one of those points. I took my test in no time!

We towed it.

Guess what! It was my block heater and my flipping battery!

I am seething right now. I don't like being right when he could have just said something and had ti taken care of on the spot. Why didn't he listen to me? If he'd have asked and I'd been wrong, at least he'd have asked! I didn't take my test, my entire day was spent at the mechanic's shop. I am a frazzled mess.

My lawyer friend heard my vehicle a few weeks ago and he saw me have to start it a few times. I am religious about driving and he saw me cross myself. He said he liked that I pray before I drive but hated to think of having to use my faith to start my engine. He said that I really needed to check out that battery and the block heater while I was at it-- "they go out every so often, you know."

I called him after my car got fixed.

I just touched up my hair. It's red. Right now it is flaming. I am so ticked. I have a political fund raiser to go to tomorrow. Fortunately my friend who is taking me who I really go to be with called and said that she can't be there for long. I was glad. I have to hit the books hard.

Anxiety

I am having nightmares constantly about school. I am waking up in the middle of the night thinking that I have to study more when I need sleep.

I'm getting muscle tremors from lack of sleep.

The stomach flue is making a second round in my house. I cannot believe this. I missed Russian again for ME last night as I was sick.

I may need a hysterectomy-- they will leave my ovaries as I have no issues with them and menopause this early is a very bad thing, but I just have "female bleeding" a lot and pills are not working. The thought of spending Christmas break with my 17 year old caring for me cannot appeal to her. When I get my student loans for next semester I think I will set aside some money and send her skiing for a day with a friend. She is such an angel. If i get the surgery I will be laying down for two weeks then not able to lift anything for six to eight weeks. The idea of getting to college classes with a back back bothers me. Maybe I will get a suitcase on wheels.

How sad. . .

I went to get Peaches from school today as she was sick. The school nurse thanked me for coming to get her. I was baffled, "What kinds of problems was she causing?"

Oh none-- just some parents don't get their children from school.

The thing was, were I in town in school, I'd have not been able to pick her or the others up. It is a problem for parents. It was just sad that I was thanked for getting her.

Testing Today

I have some tests to take. I have to go to the proctor's office to take a test in linguistics and a lit. class. I love the linguistics but will take that later-- I know I will do it. I am slogging through the lit. It's distance education and while the prof is a good guy, he doesn't lecture much. He assumes we will pick it up through the questions. I'd hoped this online class would be chatty. For me, reading books and stories that I am not familiar with is best done through the social experience. He deleted all the posting for the stories and lessons right after the deadline passed to drop the course which I thought was pretty low-class. I tried posting, "Hey-- what does everyone think about. . ." and he got hissy and asked me to please stop posting questions to the group.

Chicken Soup Tastes Tastey

We ate nothing but chicken soup this weekend and it was great. Everyone liked it and I made full grain cereals for breakfast.

Somehow, we managed to get the flu out but now a dry cough is upon us. Eeeeeek.

One of these days when the kids are grown up I will miss this.

Today my husband sat out with the kids and did more with them. He made chicken soup with three chickens that I ran to the store and bought.

I wrote a creative writing paper on a classmate who I think is a great guy. He's about ten years older than me (about 50) and it turns out that we passed each other many times. He knew my debate coach who my eldest daughter was named for, then he was at the huge performing arts center that my first wedding was in the night I married, being the head lobby guy. I was at another theater getting married and committing myself to someone who'd help me create two amazing daughters with. When I was training kids with disabilities to ice skate, he was running a skiing group that taught the same kids how to ski!

I fell "in love" with him. (No threat to my husband-- I fall in love several times a year. I glow, wear pretty clothes, smile at the object of my affection, glow some more and come home. Glow at my husband.) It was funny because I went to class late and saw him out of the whole room. He caught my eye and had my attention and I found myself not listening to him but watching him and how he spoke. He's a director and talented musician and and English teacher. To get assigned to him and talk to him was a sheer joy. We had some of the same student-athletes.

One of our mutual students was a young girl who was deaf. She would sign at me that she couldn't hear me as I admonished her and chased her all over the ice rink. She'd pull stunts that had me looking like a buffoon, acting like she'd been hurt then pulling my hat over my eyes, etc. I thought she was near genius with her IQ. I expected her to one day run Gallaudet. She sadly turned out to be mentally retarded. She is living a good life, but she was sharp! (Or I was extremely dull!)

My classmate kept in touch with her family and it was good to catch up on so many people through him. The world is quite small!

I tried to write a profile on him that was worthy but I came up with rubbish. I hope he likes it. My husband says I didn't conceal my adoration very well. That's OK. I may never see him again and perhaps he can use it as an introduction or letter of recommendation. "Hi! I am a really great guy!"

I spent way too much time on the paper-- it's a one credit class. I spent several hours writing it.

Things I Learned Yesterday

1. Don't try to do your schoolwork with your kids around
2. Don't try arguing with your child who is slow-- slow kids are faster than their parents and more resilient
3. Don't try to do your schoolwork with your kids around
4. My 11 year old's voice sounds whiny when she is speaking normally and my nerves are shot from kids bickering
5. Don't try to do your schoolwork with your kids around
6. Children need to be sent outside more
7. Don't try to do your schoolwork with your kids around
8. 2 year olds are fun to hold when you try to do your school work and very funny as they try to kiss you when you try to look around them
9. Don't try to do your schoolwork with your kids around
10. Three year old boys will make room for themselves on your lap when you are trying to study
11. Don't try to do your schoolwork with your kids around
12. Husbands help you make babies, not take care of them when you need to do your schoolwork
13. Don't try to do your schoolwork with your kids around
14. If your husband makes dinner several nights while you study, he thinks that he deserves a medal
15. Oh-- and last but not least, don't EVEN try to do your schoolwork with your kids around

It took me two hours to finish up my assignment once the kids went to bed, tomorrow I have five to do but I will be in my room.

My husband has a computer that he said he couldn't let us touch once he put "secret data" on it. He invited me to go into the bedroom to work on my assignment on it. I said, "I'm not allowed to. Why don't you make a separate log-in so I won't access or be able to access private information?"

He said I was acting so psychotic he thought I needed his computer. He'd not create the separate account for me. He wasn't meaning it that I could borrow it.

Why the f- didn't he just come out and do something with the kids? Damn him!

I love every single one of these children but I am exhausted. I really just wanted my husband to come out and read to the kids or play a game of Monopoly or something. When he did come out it was to watch a movie with them. My computer is in the living room (my house is tiny) and I was not happy with the commotion.

Poster Girl for Planned Parenthood

I wish my house was a duplex and that I had a door inside in the middle and could separate my children. A casual fun time with a few of the kids to go sledding turned into the 8 year old whitewashing the 11 year old.

I'm trying to do my schoolwork. Chaos reigns around me. My husband is in our room watching videos on his laptop that he claims has confidential information on it that no one can access yet he watches all kinds of things on it-- music, shows, nothing gross as far as I know. I think it's BS to keep us all way from his computer. He can't come out here and play a game with the kids and keep them happy, can he?

My almost 10 year old son has moderate special needs. He gets mad, cried and blows snot out of his nose. I can hardly touch him, he is so gross at times. He had candy in his backpack and the others were yelling about it and I asked to see it-- a couple of pieces I'd not mind him having, but a bigger bag he should share. He started screaming and sat on his bag. I found some behavior contracts online and we have filled some out. They are for teachers, but I am his mother, the ultimate teacher. So far the notion on me saying to use an inside voice when he starts to yell and squeal is not working. He's having a hard time grasping consequences. He wanted me to work out a behavior sheet with his next younger brother, the kid who prides himself on catching his teacher's mistakes. OK, I turned to him, "Honey, will you please sign a contract to not scream and toss tantrums?" We wrote it up and he wanted me to put him outside in the dog house if he breaks it, "You like to tease us about being in the dog house and I won't really do throw a tantrum anyway. Let's put on there that you will put frogs in my bed!"

I had threatened military school where to my tantrum tossing scion and that he would leave all of us for months at a time. He said I'd not do it so after I put him down to a nap I looked online. He sneaked in here and saw me online and decided that I was serious and started to cry. I held him but didn't say I'd not send him off. It is really tempting.

It's sad because this particular son cannot handle things going nicely. I wonder if he is just a little odd duck or if he really has problems. At school he seems fine, but puberty is hitting.
He is not a typical boy because I know what normal boys are like and he's just "off." The next five to seven years will be fascinating. I hope they will be good.

My others are great-- it's 'nowing today and the younger ones love it but are convinced that it's cold outside because I'd talk about snow and say, "Brrrr!" and shake. Now they do the same. It's cute.

TeaCup is still sleepy and not feeling well, but i think she's enjoying the attention of being sick. In the midst of this she sits on my lap and cuddles as I do my school work. I sometimes think that it was easier with just two little ones as a single mother, then three. It's more difficult at times being married because you have another child with your other half being one. If you are rattled he calls you the child!

Alas, this will pass. I will get my degree and be in a position to pay off my student loans and then contribute to the family and perhaps set something aside for retirement. I wonder if my son with special needs will be able to live on his own or if we will deal with this for a short while. The longer it goes on, the more I think he will be living with some other men his age. This makes me very sad for him, but we have to do what is best for him.

Sick Little Crumpets

The Crumpets are getting sick. It started on Wednesday with Sunshine having stomach cramps and talking in her sleep, "Mommy help me!" The two year old, TeaCup, was sleeping with her as she was so worried about her. Letting her stay with her was debatable, but by the time Sunshine was sick, we thought it was food poisoning and I knew that it is wasn't she'd passed it on anyway.

The others will follow. I have so much school work-- and I will also succumb. I have a Jewish chicken soup recipe that I'll be making for the weekend-- when the family is getting sick it is not time to be making spaghetti!

I say the bit on spaghetti because this morning as I was holding my three year old son as he threw up into the waste basket in the computer area, my seven year old (oblivious to what was happening) said, "You know, what I would like this weekend is a huge spaghetti dinner with garlic bread, noot-elles and meaty sauce!" I have no idea why he said that when he did. I know we all love spaghetti like that, but his timing was comical.

I went to the local supermart to buy stuff for the weekend. I lost my custom Hummer-like hybrid vehicle in the parking lot. Why does everyone see you wandering around the parking lot and have to ask you if you've lost your car or if you are lost? "Umm, yes I am! I don't know how I lost it!" Argh. It's not like they are going to go looking for it, but why even slow down and ask me? It's embarrassing to misplace your vehicle. I suppose if the worst thing that happens to me is that people ask if I am lost I am doing pretty darned good.

I'm right brained

Are you Right or Left Brained?


RIGHT BRAIN FUNCTIONS
uses feeling
"big picture" oriented
imagination rules
symbols and images
present and future
philosophy & religion
can "get it" (i.e. meaning)
believes
appreciates
spatial perception
knows object function
fantasy based
presents possibilities
impetuous
risk taking

One Year Ago. . .

One year ago today my dad died.

I've written a lot about him. I won't go into details today. I started the day off with a shot of Crown Royal which was his drink. I do not know how he drank it. That stuff tastes like what I imagine lighter fluid to taste like. YUCK!

Oh well, I still drank to him.

My phone went off letting me know it was his birthday and that he'd be 69 were he still alive. I was about to delete it, then fast forwarded on my cell phone calendar. I think I will keep it on there. To drink to him with a shot of Crown Royal each year on his birthday and day of death is nice. I think he likes it, wherever he is, but thinks that I am wasting perfectly good Crown Royal!


A year later, my mom is dating again, a man who is full of vigor, whose traveled the world and who wants to take her around. They met a few months ago. Of course I was happy for her-- I think she worried about her kids resenting it but none of us do. Loneliness is a cold bed partner.
Besides, she is still stunning and pretty. It would be a shame if she didn't go out. Her life is shrinking though-- a lady who used to dance till dawn now hates to be out after dark and I don't blame her, but life gets smaller as the body's ability reduces.