Magic memories

I had a dream that Chris and I were at a huge festival/picnic that was going on in my Aunt Shawn's yard. I was competing in a steak hoagie eating contest with my Grandpa Bertelli who left us over 8 years ago.

We were sitting on an old wooden picnic table and it was a perfect sunny summer day. The grass was thick, the sun was warm, and the breeze was perfect. Grandpa B was younger, the way I remember him when I was a little girl and he would let me dress up his hair with all of Grandma Bertelli's bobbi pins. But, his laugh and his smile were the same. Grandpa always had a little mischievous twinkle when he would lean forward with an ear to ear grin to whisper a little taunt. On the weekends I spent with them, grandpa would crawl into bed to poke and tease me until I would angrily wake up and stomp down to the kitchen. Grandma would make us polenta with butter and syrup for breakfast while Grandpa would have his fun 'poking the bear'. It was always the same play. He would try to talk to me and I would grunt my disapproval. He would smile and lean across the table at me and call me a peabrain and stick out his tongue. This, without fail, always improved my grumpy mood. We would go back and forth thinking of names to call each other. Some of his were in Italian. Some of mine were in pig Latin and he would pretend he couldn't understand my secret language just like I couldn't understand his. This would drive grandma crazy and we would both be in trouble, but we would still do it anyway.

The entire dream consisted of Grandpa and I joking, name calling and laughing and trying to eat more than the other until the end. An old classmate, Jacob, that recently passed away walked up the the table. I wasn't really friends with him in school and only saw of his passing from others on Facebook. In my dream, I was surprised that he was at the picnic since he lived out of town. He never spoke but just sat down and kept smiling. Then he started scooting over towards me and pushed me off of my bench and I woke up.

I woke up and laid in bed remembering grandpa and wondered if maybe, just maybe, I really got to visit with his soul and have one more silly moment. Did the classmate bring him to me? Was grandpa showing him the ropes and that's why he was laughing? I'm just grateful for the incredibly vivid dream and now that I've written it out I can revisit it any time I choose.

And now I am rolling over and going back to sleep with a smile and the whisper of the word peabrain still echoing in the distance. 

Me, Grandpa, and my sister Jamie. 98/99 ish on Christmas Eve.

Grandpa holding my oldest son. This would be my only child that would get the privilege of meeting him, even if it were only for 2 years.

ADHD Medication anxiety

I struggle between the doctors (and people all around) telling me to keep Devin on medication in the summer, but wanting time for him to just be him. I want him to know himself and know what it feels like to be himself. I don’t want him to be medicated forever. And, I don’t want him to not like who he is or how it feels to be himself.

So, this summer we went off the meds (again and against medical advice). I loved it (for the most part). While we were at home, Devin was Devin. Sure, he’s obnoxious and needs to have 50 million reminders, usually very loud reminders too. But, he was himself.  The problem was when Devin wasn’t with me. At his summer program, at his grandma’s, at his aunt’s. He had problems dealing with other children and dealing with authority. He’s fine when he is one on one, but not when he has to deal with his peers in a group setting, be it small or large.

By the end of summer I was near a full out mental breakdown if someone had to call me one more time because they couldn’t or didn’t want to deal with my child. I felt like I had let him down, a failure of a parent. It didn’t help that my younger two decided that they wanted to follow suit and try to raise holy hell like big brother.

We made our end of summer appointment and got our prescription to start the step up process to his medicine. It’s always so heart breaking to put him back on his medicine. The side effects are difficult. Fatigue, drowsiness, stomach aches, headaches, increased appetites. These are all magnified times 5 during the first week. He’s like a zombie shell of a child and it always makes me angry at the world that I have to drug my kid because others don’t know how to deal with him. The logical part of me knows that is not entirely true. He needs to be able to focus, have functional social skills, and receive decent grades in school.

He adjusted well and we were into our third week of school. Devin had bounced back from the initial shocks of the medication. We went to our check up with his psych and she asked how school was going. Devin told her that he was having a hard time focusing after lunch time. The psych recommended that we switch medications. Devin has been on the same medication for two years. We have never tried anything else. The thought of it terrifies me. I tell her that we aren’t quite ready for that move, and I honestly thought we were ok with the current medication and dose. She suggests we could at least increase his dosage. I agree and tell her that we will try it.

We are 7 days in. My kid isn’t right. It usually takes about a week for his body to regulate itself to the new meds. This morning he had a hard time waking. Then he didn’t want to get up because his head and stomach hurt. He’s napped, moped, and stared aimlessly at walls this week. I also received a note from his teacher letting me know that Devin was falling asleep in class even when she repeatedly woke him up. He did start to perk up towards the end of the week and was playing and running towards the end of the week, but he still isn’t fully himself.

I miss him. I want my son to be my son. I don’t want a shell for a son. It breaks my heart.

I dropped him off at school this morning and our routine was the same as always. We drop off his brothers then head to his school. We pull up, he leans over and gives me a big hug, we say our ‘I love you’s’, he gets out and walks into school.

Maybe it’s my own anxiety, but it just seems like he’s carrying so much weight on his little nine year old shoulders. The way he keeps pushing on. He knows he’s run down. I ask him every day if he thinks it is worth it. He still does. He says that he gets too nervous without the medication because he knows he will do something that gets him in trouble.

This morning he hugged me a little harder. said I love you three times, and turned back to make eye contact three times. I know it’s hard on him. Days like these are heavy. I can’t carry the weight for him. The older he gets the heavier his load. And the older he gets, he must carry more of the load himself rather than me carrying it for him. I can only walk beside him and try to tell him how to wear it to make it lighter, to encourage him when he gets weak, and to love him in any and all forms that he may be in. 

Self worth, self accountability, self motivation

I'm doing a Jennie overhaul and I've decided to reboot the blog and take it on the adventure with me.

I've always joked that I'm the ADHD poster child, but I've had a very rude reawakening and affirmation to that.

While I am extremely productive at work, I seriously lack at home. My house is a continuous mess, laundry always needs put away, I misplace or forget important things, phone calls go unreturned, mail doesn't go in the mailbox....hell, I'm lucky if I remember mail at all.

Chris used the word 'disappointing' to describe me the other day.

Dis-a-ppoint-ing.

Yes, it still packs the same gut punch from childhood. Nothing was worse than the "I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed."

What an awakening. 

After days of panic and feelings of inadequacy and being overwhelmed, I picked a few checklists that were simple but still detailed. I have the lists at home and I love them. I'm a list lover. Nothing feels better than checking something off. I also started a journal to keep myself accountable.

Here I am world. I kind of suck, but I'm going to give it an honest to goodness try. 

Ithinkicanithinkicanithinkican.

Here is my first checklist. http://www.rosybluhandmade.com/2012/03/01/free-printable-the-ever-so-reasonable-cleaning-checklist/ I was able to add a few things on. I love that one entire month is on one page. Switches lists out weekly would probably turn in to a task in itself.

Random saved posts never posted, now posted

Sometimes we get caught up in rushing to get everything that has to be done done. We rush to relax before we rush off to sleep so that we can get up and start rushing out of bed to rush the kids off to school and rush to work. Repeat rush repeat rush repeat rush repeat rush.

Then we stop to smell the roses. Or in my case, the cherry coke and whipped vodka.

It had been one of those all rush weeks where everything had left me with a tic and a twitch.

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			Is there a line that can be drawn between your career and your life? Can the two exist without one affecting the other? I'm not talking about the financial aspects of it. We all know that you have to have money in order to live.

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We have really been boring lately. Not too many funny stories to report on. Chris is working on finishing the basement and me and the boys have been getting back in to the work/school routine.

Here's a run down of our latest funny conversations:

Me: "Boys! Aunt Suzie is taking you to the movies. Do you want to see Puss in Boots 3D or (something else I can't remember)?

Nuby and Peyton (yelling and jumping up and down): "PUSSY BOOTS! PUSSY BOOTS!

Devin: Can we take turns doing my homework? My hands are tired.

Me: No, I have my work to do and you have your work to do.

Devin: But, you are faster than me.

Me: All you have to do is finish your homework and it's done. I have to fold never ending laundry because you guys want to wear clothes every day of your life.

Devin: I make your job easier cause sometimes I wear my underwear for 2 days. Now you should have to help me.

Me: I'm different. I'm not a Jennifer or a Jenny with a Y. I'm Jennie with an I-E.

Coworker: .....with an IEP.

Me: (I turn to face my usual smiling-happy-go-lucky co-worker)

Coworker: (Staring at me with a stone-faced-caught-in-the-headlights look)

Me: GAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Coworker: I can't believe that came out.

Me: (Still cracking up) What else is roaming around in your head just waiting to get out? On second thought....keep them there!

(Everyone is always joking about how the things that drive me crazy with Devin are the things that I do also. So, this made it all the funnier. It was in no way meant to be a dive at anyone with an IEP. I'm very open about my wierd quirks and issues. If there were an adult IWorkP. I'd be first on the list.)

Me: Ok. Let's take a look and see about your EITC.

Client: Alrighty.

Me: Great! You'll be getting back X dollars in the Earned Income Crack Credit.

Client: Crack? (laughing) I knew the government was getting shadier these days.

Me: (talking to the tv) Dirty hoe.

Chris:

What the bug?!

Run! It's...It's...the FLU!!!!! And, I pretty much just want to be gross and disgusting today....and maybe make you throw up a little in your mouth. Don't you just love kids?

Three weeks ago the weather took a turn for the better. The grey skies, flurries, frosts and chilly blusters turned into birds chirping, flowers blooming, 80 degree weather. While this is great for yardwork, it also turns little children who have been cooped up all winter into raving lunatics. Such behavior will land you in your room on punishment.

Which leads us into the second day of wondrous weather. Day two brought behaviors that landed Devin in his room. Devin being in his room brings on all kinds of ailments and excuses of why he should be allowed out of his room which are met with loud protests of stomping, crying, and "This is the most not fair house in the whole world" type mumbling.

Since the day was so great, we were doing yard work which just so happened to be right below Devin's window. Every time that Chris would walk away the window would crack open and he would call out to me with different requests: I'm thirsty, I'm hungry, I'm lonely, Can I have the dog, and finally my belly hurts. All of these are his usual grounded-to-his-room requests so I met each one with the usual: Get a drink, Get a snack, Sorry about your luck, Yes, No, and Go Poop.

After an hour and a half he wouldn't give up on the belly hurting so I went up to sit with him. Devin can be quite the drama queen so sometimes it's hard to tell when he wants attention and when something is really bothering him. He was now laying on his back in the birthing position doing some lamaaz type breathing while I stared at him with a raised brow. Finally after trying to poo twice, he up-chucked and sacrificed his contents to the sewage gods. This continued for 4 hours. Each time as dramatic as the first.

Fast forward two days. We drive one and a half hours to meet my mom. After a long day at work/school and then hopping in the car to drive we were all half starved by the time we arrived. I had to wake up Peyton when we got there. I didn't think much of it since he sleeps wierd hours and falls asleep in the car all the time. We had a party of 9 so while we were waiting to be seated,  I did my usual routine of making all three boys empty bladders. While coming out of the bathroom I noticed Peyton rubbing something off his hands and thought, "Where did he get that hand sanitizer from?", only to realize that it wasn't hand sanitizer but vomit. This continued for the next 6 hours.

Fast forward two more days. Nuby was shuffling his feet and taking his good old time getting ready for school. I caught him just staring at himself in the mirror holding his toothbrush after telling him to hurry three times. Finally he tells me that his belly hurts.

DEAR GOD, I CAN'T TAKE ANYMORE!

I tell him that his belly shouldn't hurt because nobody is sick. He looks at me, leans over, and starts splattering vomit all over my floor.

Now, don't get me wrong. I work with kids and vomit usually doesn't bother me. But, by this time I had had enough. While I was whipping Nuby off the floor to redirect his stream, my foot slipped in the puddle. Warm vomit on my foot mixed with the smell was too much. I was dry heaving right along with my poor guy.

I leave for work and by the time I had come home Chris was throwing up. The next day I was sick, Chris' brother was sick and my nephew had to be picked up from school.

It had been two weeks since that nasty bug reared its head and then........

Peyton threw up this morning. I gave him a quick clean up, threw clothes on him and yelled to Chris as I was throwing on my shoes that he needed to wake up and clean up the mess.

SEE YA, SUCKER!

This one is for you...

Devin has now seen countless people for tests and evaluations. We've run from one side of town to the other and have done everything from reciting the ABC's to getting EKG's. All of this for....ADHD and sensory integration disorder.

It is exhausting.

Since being a little girl, all of my career related dreams were always with high maintenance kids. I wanted to be a guidance counselor, a teacher, a social worker, a missionairy (hahahaha)...the list goes on and on. As it turned out, I wound up working with a program that serviced various groups of children and it took less than one year before they moved me with the inner city group. I LOVED it. I loved working with the kids that were misunderstood. I loved the ones that nobody else wanted. I loved the ones that people called bad or hopeless. Every child has the potential. Some may be broken and need some mending. But, they all have it. They need faith and that's what I was good at. Seeing the potential and helping them figure out how to release it.

Working with kids is not where it stops. Or at least that is what I've always been told and what I tell my staff. We don't just work with children. We work with the family. One of my BIGGEST rules is that if you have to tell a parent something negative about their child, you sandwich it with two positive things. You never know what is going on in their lives and how many people have come before you to 'talk' to them about their child.

All of this leads me to now. I have a new found respect for those parents. Those parents aren't just 'them' anymore....they are now included into a 'we'.

I am one of them. My child is not typical. I never thought that I would one day be on the other side of the fence but am greatful that I had the opportunity to get to know and learn from them for my own sake. I never thought that ADHD could cause so much turmoil in a childcare setting, in a family, in friendships. It affects his whole life, mine and Chris' and his brothers. And, it's not always easy. It's not easy for him. It's not easy to watch him struggle with making or keeping friends. Or struggle to keep up with his peers. It's not easy to watch him not be able to make choices like he 'should' or be responsible like he 'should'. It's not always easy for me to listen to other parents talk about how 'perfect' their children are even if I am truly happy for them.

Things could be far worse. Devin is healthy and happy but he has severe ADHD which does not allow him to function as a typical child during the school days or keep up academically. Mix that with some sensory integration disorder and he's all over the place.

I can deal with the academics. He has private tutors and we're putting some accomodations in to assist him throughout the day. He's not learning at the pace of everybody else, but he is learning. And he keeps steadily pushing forward.

But, here's the difficult part.....

People. People have been the biggest hurdle. And not just any people...but the people that I thought were supposed to be like me. The people that were supposed to see the good in my child. The people that were supposed to provide me with a shoulder to lean on and some wise words of advise. But, time and time again...that didn't happen.

People. People that you think love your child...or have their best interest...don't.

People. People who have no patience and don't understand why he doesn't just 'act right'.

People. People that want to tell you everything that you are doing wrong because they think that the parenting MUST be the problem.

People. People who treat your child differently or say thoughtless things to them. People who give them the look.

People People People People.

Sometimes good people are shitty. That's my new inspirational quote. Everybody messes up. Nobody is perfect. And at some point or another we are all shitty human beings. Some without realizing it until after and some just outright.

But, I have learned. I have learned from Devin. I have learned from myself. I have learned from people.

So, this one is for YOU...

This one is for the ones who have stood by and given me words of encouragement. You have helped me keep faith in myself and my child when others were stripping it away.

This one is for the ones who didn't have faith. Once I was able to see through the fog you have given me the will and courage to not give up.

This one is for the family members who have listened to me cry and helped me by just listening and then allowing me to talk through it by laughing about Devin-isms.

This one is for the adults who should have helped my child but instead humiliated him. You have given him an early glimpse into a world that isn't fair. You've stripped some innocence away that can't be regained. In return, he has gained empathy and can relate to the underdog.

This one is for the few that will dare to come and spend time with him. It isn't easy but he loves going places. And it gives him a break from the day to day things that start to build up.

This one is for you....

It doesn't matter if you were the encourager, the discourager or the one who didn't want to intervene because this wasn't your problem.

This one is for all of you...without the good, the bad and the ugly. We wouldn't have the zest to get to where we're going. Devin will be alright. He'll make friends. He'll one day be a productive man who will remember what it was like to be an awkward child. And hopefully he'll be all the better for it.

Thank you. All of you.

Excuse me, Can I lick your pink eye?

Why am I never sick? Most people would think this is great, but it's really a curse. I'm cursed to take care of sick people. I'm cursed to never have homemade soups and hot tea. I'm cursed to never be able to lay all snug in cozy blankies on the couch with a never ending stream of tasteless reality shows on tv.


I did catch an 8 hour bug from the boys last year. But, it wasn't severe enough to put me out of commission for the entire day. Come on, flu. That's all you got?

Sinus infections...psssssh. That's not a couchable illness. Nobody looks at you with a blown out sinus filled face and says, "You'd better go home and let somebody take care of you".

I once had kidney stones. That was pretty bad. I had an extremely high fever and wasn't able to straighten myself from the intense pain. I was delirious on the couch under a mound of coats and whatever else I was able to reach, croacking out for water and sinking back into fever induced sleep.

......

I want that back.

I want to lay on the couch for an entire day while Chris does everything. I want him to make me food, bring me food and clean up my food. I want to be the remote holder and watch every episode of Sister Wives. I want him to have to tend to 3 boys who have bottomless bellies, always wanting a snack or something to drink. I want him to do bath time and bed time and bed time and bed time and bed time and bed time (for my vampire children who don't sleep).

If anybody has any good communicable diseases, send me a vile of your spit!

Attack of the vacuum

Devin goes back to the Doctor's office to talk about medications this Thursday. I'm a basketcase of anxiousness and hopefulness. I wish people were more open about their children being on medication. Hearing about other's experiences is always helpful. I've got less than a handful of mom's in the same boat as me so we're flying mostly blind and with the help of google.

In happier thoughts...Christmas is coming! Flights are booked and family will be flying and driving in from all over the country. We went out Thanksgiving weekend and cut our tree down.

Yesterday I was attempting to use the vacuum hose attachment to suck up fallen pine needles from the tree skirt when the hose sucked up the tree skirt. Normally this wouldn't be a problem. You would just pull the skirt from the hose. But, you have never met MY vacuum. It's the vacuum from hell. I can't tell you how many times that sadistic sucker has found ways to maim me, blind me and regularly reek havoc on my phalanges. It's a heavy beast that is the only vacuum that has been able to hold it's own in a house of never ending dust producing projects, spills of random candies and lego toys. Chris and I have been together for almost 8 years and we have owned 4 vacuums in that time. The first three lasting all around one year before hacking out it's final fur ball and retiring to the local dump.

Not this one.

It dishes out as much abuse as I can dish. It's an eye for eye, toe for toe....or as in yesterday's case a hose for nose.

As I was precariously twisted around the branches of sappy knives trying to suck up dead pine needles, the tree skirt sucked up into the hose.

This caused a chain of reactions of the Griswald proportion.

1. Hose sucks up tree skirt.

2. Hose gets jammed with tree skirt and can no longer suck.

3. Hose that was stretched to the max recoils up on it's own suction.

4. Recoiling hose yanks vacuum across the room.

5. I turn to see vacuum roaring at me.

6. Vacuum slams into me (I think I heard it laughing too)

7. Vacuum slams me off what little balance I had.

8. Both me and vacuum fall to our sappy death.

Had anybody else been in the room with me, I probably would have been able to find more humor in it all. Instead, I was left pelting ornaments and lights back onto the bottom portion of the tree by calling the vacuum every unholy name I could think of.

ADHD. Over diagnosed or under estimated?

I'm sure it's apparent from reading posts that Devin is not your typical go with the flow child. Unfortunately for him, he's my clone but to the extreme. I'm ridiculously forgetful, I have a hard time doing things that don't particularly interst me and there are times when I feel like my brain wants my body to go ten million times faster than it can. As an adult I've learned how to function (if that's what you call it) and cope with these things. For example: If I have a deadline that I have to meet I will put on headphones and listen to an interesting documentary and have an endless supply of munchies.

Devin was different since the day he was born. While most babies like to sleep the days away, Devin would stay up for hours. He started tracking objects and people with his eyes almost immediately. And the kid didn't like to be still. No, no, no, no, he did not. I would get charlie horses in the arches of my feet from bouncing around all day long. When he learned to crawl he would put his head down and speed towards his destination and at 9 months he skipped toddling around and went straight to running.

Through preschool, he struggled to keep up at the same learning rate of his peers and struggled with self control. Long story short...we found that he had severe hearing loss during preschool caused by otitis media. He underwent surgery to have tubes put in.

I now had "something to blame" for his extreme outburst behaviors and his lack of ability to keep up. His hearing loss had been around a 70% loss. He had missed out on alot and was frustrated with being an environment that he wasn't able to understand or thrive in. His preschool modified everything for him to be sure that he always was aware of what was going on and was expected of him.

Enter Kindergarten. His behaviors were still extreme. I spoke with the principal and teacher enough that year to think that I was the student again. I was at a loss. His teacher obviously did not like him AT ALL. And, he was having hearing issues again. We had to go back for another set of tubes. We struggled through the year with barely getting by grades. I was never so happy for summer as I was that year.

First grade. His teacher was wonderful. But, he still gave her a hard time...not as bad as Kindergarten but still a hard time. Towards the end of the year it was more time with the principal. Referrals for anger problems and attention problems. Suggestions of diagnosis that made my head spin out of control and left me feeling like I had ruined my child's academic career as well as any future visions of a productive life.

After two days of crying and pulling the woahs-are-us deal, I pulled my head out of me bum and got moving. We saw a counselor...went to endless meetings and was promptly referred to medication with no supportive services. While I'm not comfortable with medicine I'm not ruling out that it may help him. However, I know from experience that it isn't a wonder drug. You can't pop a pill in his mouth and expect his whole personality will change. He is who he is and he's unfortunately already learned some non-productive ways of doing things at school. I have since found a new counselor and we are in the process of getting a formal diagnosis and will then be requesting an Individual Education Plan (IEP) for Devin.

I'm not thrilled about it. When you have a baby, you envision them doing normal things in a perfect world. What is the definition of perfect? What is the definition of normal? I think my crazy guy is pretty great. And I'm going to do everything in my power to help the rest of the world see the greatness within him too!

Truly, I was way over dramatic about it. I've always said that I love Devin with a fierceness that is different than my other two children. Maybe it's because I see so much of my former awkward self in him, maybe it's because I see the looks people give him, maybe it's because of the conversations I've heard or maybe it's simply because he needs it. He needs someone to remind him that he's not alone and even when he loses faith in himself, I never will.

Who doesn't love an old poop story?

Here's an old one that I found and couldn't resist posting. Why? Because it is about one of my all time favorite subjects.... POOOOOO

Ah. The joys of being stuck in times of old with a septic tank and little boys who love to flush things.

Here in the northeast, we finally had a break in the cold weather and the temps hit the 50′s! Great for cold spirits…bad for all the snow that melted into our backyard, which is where the septic tank beds are.

For those of you who are not familiar with the septic tank. The definition according to google is..septic tank n. A sewage-disposal tank in which a continuous flow of waste material is decomposed by anaerobic. Or in layman’s terms…all our excrement flows into a 1,000 gallon tank located underneath the trampoline in the backyard where it supposedly breaks itself down allowing for more excrement to be packed in. This makes for a good read during supper….

While anaerobics (I have no idea what this means, but makes me envision turds in neon leotards) are going on, the tank does need to be emptied. The rule is generally, for two people in a household you get it done every 5 years. For 5 people, every two years. Well, we have six people and frequent out of town visitors throughout the year…..and it hadn’t been done in 4 years. Is the post title starting to give you a visual yet?

On Saturday, my dad texted Chris' phone to let him know that a sewer smell was coming from his pipes and said it was probably time to get the tanks sucked out. No problem. By Sunday, the smell emanating from the bathroom showed itself. The toilet had backed up and there was raw sewage floating around, stankin’ up the place. Not a problem, right? Sewage goes in the toilet, so aside from the smell it wasn’t too bad. We went into crisis mode utilizing the water at a bare minimum.

Sunday night brought another snow storm that lasted into Monday and had all of us praying that it didn’t keep the ‘sucker guy’ away. We lucked out and he showed up first thing in the morning after I had left Chris and the boys home to ‘take care of duty’. About halfway through my work day I receive an email from Chris that read, “need to rent snack for train”. What?!?!?!?! I’m at work and him and the boys are going on a train ride! Ok, it was a frantic text full of typos that after calling him translated into, ‘It’s not the tank causing the back up and we need to rent a commercial length pipe snake to correct/unclog the drains.’

After the ‘sucker guy’ had left, Chris started the dishwasher, clothes washer and flushed all the toilets that were full of almost 24 hours worth of (gag). He went to check out my dad’s bathroom when he realized that sometimes the Shit really does hit the fan. Little did we know that little boys can flush things that create a clog. All of the water in the house, including the toilets, was shooting out of my dad’s toilet and shower like a shit spewing volcano.

I’ll stop the story there. Needless to say, I left work to come home and help clean the mess and help him snake the pipes. Love…it’s all about standing side by side with rubber gloves on picking up mushy poop and trying to figure out what it's in it.

My Not Me Pig Roast

Nevermind the man behind the curtain. Or the random jibberish from the previous post below. The conveniences of handy blogging are also convenient for my youngest. I downloaded the blogger app on my ipod touch to stay up on the bloggy world. I guess he wants to make his presence known also. I thought about deleting it but it makes me giggle, so it stays.

While browsing over past blog posts I came across my My Not Me Friday post and decided that the annual family pig roast shall be narrated likewise.

No pigs were harmed in the making of this pig roast. Except for this one. We ate him.

This past weekend was NOT our family's annual pig roast.

I did NOT call Chris and have him bring me blueberry lemonade smirnoff on his way over. I did NOT decide to open one to drink before eating. I did NOT decide to keep on drinking since I had already started.

My aunt does NOT have a giant hammock-like swing hanging high in the branches for the kids to swing on. I did NOT get nailed by said giant hammock swing while pushing kids causing me and my blueberry lemonade to launch and skid across the yard. My shoulder does NOT still feel like it might fall off from NOT grabbing onto the swing and NOT letting it jerk me off the ground so that I could NOT swing kids higher.

This is NOT my grandma. You should NOT feel sorry for her!

I assure that I did NOT run up to people snapping obnoxious photos of myself with them. I have way more class than that. Speaking of class, Peyton did NOT stand behind me and break wind as I was talking to family friends. I did NOT fail to hold in my laughter and then try to claim the broken wind as my own! Who would do such thing. NOT me!

As the sun went down so did the supply of smirnoff that Chris brought. All 6 of them. After I did NOT crack open my fifth blueberry lemonade I plopped myself down to NOT watch a competitive game of cornhole. I did NOT pull off an oompa loompa cartwheel attempting to stand up. I did NOT try to pretend like I had done that oompa loompa cartwheel on purpose. If I had, I think I would have fooled them.

I did NOT decide that I needed to play cornhole with Chris, Tommy and theonly other drunk people at the party. Tommy did NOT tell me that I was only mildly offensive the next day but that it was alright since my sentences were NOT half missing, jumbled and slurred. Chris did NOT try to nail me like a carnival game with cornhole bags for cheating and I did NOT call my conservative aunt Achmed.

And finally, Chris did NOT have to take me home early so that I wouldn't make a fool of my NOT thirsty self.

B. Mnndodxbwokqkoiiiiiiiiipoj zoAe
Poourreqqwetyiioppppppppppp

Nuby starts school

Another school year has begun and with the new wave, my second child has been sucked out to the sea of school never to return to the days of all play. Sad, but exciting. He was in his glory on the first day of school getting to wear his new Lightning McQueen book bag that comes complete with a plastic hood attached to the top. He jumped on the bus and didn't even look back. The school does all of their "testing" on the first day and then decides which classrooms they will be placed in. We got the call at the end of the week to let us know that he was going to be placed into the same classroom that Devin had in Kindergarten. If you all remember...Devin's first year of school was awful.

By the end of the second week in his classroom, he was in full crazed mode about not wanting to go to school. He was crying and refusing to get on the bus. He couldn't fall asleep at night. And the principal even had to chase him in circles around me and then drag him into the school, all while he was screaming at me to help him. It was awful. I cried the whole way to work and I'm sure he cried for quite a while too.

When his attitude towards school continued to get worse instead of better my aunt and I went up to the school to request a room/teacher change. The principal was happy to oblige in light of all of the issues we had with Devin. Christopher's outlook on school changed over night. Literally. Overnight. After his first day in his new class he no longer cried. He went to bed fine. He still says it's boring but he's not afraid. He told me that his new teacher "is a lot a bit nicer". And that makes me sleep better at night too.

The sweet smell of manure

My dad was and still is one of the hardest working men I know, although Chris runs a close second (he is ALWAYS doing something). He worked long third shift hours at a local auto plant and would leave the plant for his second job; exercising and taking care of horses at Olin's horse farm before coming home to eat, sleep and prepare to do it all over again.



Since he was always working, sleeping, eating or preparing for one of these...our time with him growing up was limited and like any children we silently followed him with eagle eyes to see what/where he was doing and going and to try to figure out how we could tag along. The few and far between weekend trips where he would wake me up as the sun was just starting to rise is still one of my fondest childhood memories. He'd wake me up with his usual to the point gruffness usually giving a time limit to when 'the train was leaving'. We'd silently walk to his old two door faded brown blazer, with the bumper sticker saying "I build GM, I drive GM" and pull out of the driveway with the worn shocks groaning and squeaking with every bump and sway. I don't recall any specific conversations, but I am sure that I chattered on about anything that would pop into my head and I'm sure that my dad answered with his usual head nods and nose snuffs praying that I would just shut up for once.


It wasn't a long drive to the farm and when we arrived we would pull down the once gravel but mostly dirt driveway to park by the horse barn on the back of the property. You could hear the sound of the horses neighing and pawing at the ground with their hooves anticipating the arrival of food, attention and the chance to escape from their stalls. I'd kick and push my door open, hop out and wait for Dad to gather his riding helmet, goggles and other supplies before wandering off.


The farm was freedom. There weren't many rules. Don't walk behind the horses. Don't overfeed the horses. And most importantly, don't get in dad's way. He would get to work feedind and watering all the horses. Rotating them out of their stalls and into the pasture to roam, onto the exercise tether, riding them around the track or taking them down to the lake for swimming.


While he did all this I would rotate to stay out of his way. There were umpteen cats and a dog to play with and a lean-to with piles of sawdust that were bigger than all of the horses put together. Bales of hay could be stacked and unstacked to make tunnels, forts, make-believe horses and steps to heaven and bath tubs that were plugged up and full of the water. A swing was fastened to one side of the merry-go-round so as the horses exercised in their circle you could ride along with them. Fields with grass as tall as myself were available for running and making 'paths'and there was enough dirt to sufficiently cover my entire body before leaving. Sometimes Olin's granddaughter was there with her dad and I would have someone to play with. We would sneak into Olin's house, filled with antiques and pretend that the cubby holes were space ships.


I can still remember the smells of the farm. The horses. The hay. The feed. The fields. (The poop) The dust. I can hear my dad's voice talking to the horses. The signature, "Aay" that would come from the bottom of his throat if a horse wasn't doing as it should. Which was also the same "Aay" that my both my grandma and grandpa used on us grandkids. And is now the same, "Aay" that I catch myself using on my boys.


At the age of 11 or 12 I learned to drive in Olin's field. While dad and Olin's son were hogbrushing the field, my stepmom gathered old horse blankets to puff me up enough to see over the dashboard of the old blazer. I climbed in, arranged myself and after alot of engine revving, hopping and giggling I finally got the hang of manuevering the clutch and gas pedals to make the truck go. I learned to hold the truck steady on a hill without using the brakes. I learned to shift without giving myself whiplash. I learned to dodge holes in the field. It was one of those unforgettable I-am-the-stuff proud moments.


Times change and as the years went on, Dad no longer needed to work at Olin's farm.


Today, Olin's farm no longer has horses. I'm not even sure if Olin is still alive. I vaguely think I remember my dad talking about his failing health years ago. I don't see horses anymore when I drive by the farm. Instead I see an old advertising sign with mismatched letters pointing to the open field and speaking of approaching community garage sales. The gravel driveway is an overgrown memory with only the missing curb on the road as evidence that it once existed.


It's funny how life changes but also repeats. I see my boys with the same eagerness to follow Chris around and help except instead of horses, it's fixing things. Yesterday, Nuby and Devin were having a discussion about how old they needed to be to go with Daddy to the Rental Corral (they determined it was 5, so Peyton couldn't go). Their favorite place to go is Home Depot. They watch him from across the yard waiting to be called to assist with the same eagle eyes that I remember having myself. I wonder if when they grow up, they'll be whisked back to their childhood and be wrapped in the warmth of happy nostalgia.

Happy New Year.

To update everyone and leave off where my last post ended.

The feud is over. It came to a head the week after Christmas when more people got involved. And, like I'm always compelled to do, I stuck up for the underdog...which just so happened to be the very friend who had decided that I had ruined her life.

In the end, she came over and we were able to talk about each and every snarky, nasty blow that we spat back and forth at each other. Sometimes the truth hurts, but I suppose it needs to be heard every now and then to keep us in check. The important thing is that we both apologized for wrongs that had been done and accepted that things will never be perfect, but will always be workable....unless she snarks out some of the things like she did last time. Then, I may be liable for chopping her face off! I kid, I kid.

My neighbors and best friends finally (after years of everyone waiting) got divorced. It's been an adjustment for all of us. She moved about 10 minutes away and he is still there. The kids go back and forth each week. There's no way to explain it, other than wierd. Wierd for me to not have her there. Wierd for the kids to not have their friends. Wierd to go over to a completely different house. Not necessarily bad...but wierd. 

Other than that, I don't really have anything eventful to report. I do believe in the short near future, I will be changing blog addresses and attempting to blog all of my whole life stories/events that were significant to me or just stick out as funny. My life is usually anything but boring and I don't want to forget anything. But, would like to spell it all out a bit more anonymously. Leave me a comment if you wish to follow in the future and I will send you the new URL when it's out. I also think I'll be leaving blogspot. The layout issues are driving me crazy.

Obsessed, grace-less and stuck in a rut

I'm not even sure where to start without giving away too much information. I guess it would be safe to say that I had a falling out with a very good friend, a friend I've had for over 10 years. One who has been there for the births of all of my children. One who we shared similiar paths in life in more ways than one. One who I valued and loved and still do.

Through the years, we all grew. We found people to share our lives with instead of just dating, we had our own children instead of babysitting, we found careers instead of just something to get some cash with. We moved into homes with yards and bought lawn mowers and had cook outs and family get togethers. We were still a tight knit circle....dysfunctional at (most) times but still tight knit.

Between my family and friends, I think I now associate the word dysfunctional with love and friendship.

The falling out....

I was already overly flustered and angry. I called my friend to update her on the flustering situation, to which she said she was mad at ME for! I lost my temper and yelled, and my loudness was splattered with obscenities. My mouth was crapping out more than I could hold in. It was bitter. That I will admit to. I was overly frustrated and angry. I immediately knew that I had messed up.
Silence followed......I half commented/ half inquired that I had been mean.? My friend confirmed and said she was getting off the phone.

The texting war ensued. I was careful to keep my tongue and not let it loose again. The things she said were hurtful and attacking. Things that weren't even like her. I will admit that I spewed back, but was careful to not attack anything personally about them or any of their character flaws. Angry wasn't even the word for what I was feeling...at that time it was pure hatred. How dare she blow this all out of proportion...and then attack me and Chris! In the end, I texted to let her know if she wanted to blame us that was fine, hurtful words weren't helping anything. We would be gone. She said she was walking away from me and chris...not the kids. I agreed.

And that was it....just like that. Everything was done and over. No more friendships. No more get togethers. Nothing........

Two weeks later, I haven't let it go. I'm angry, bitter and hurt. I rotate between the three. I don't understand how I am the complete raging lunatic and this time Chris just keeps saying, It's going to be Ok. That makes me angry at him. For what reason, I have no idea. Rational thoughts have left me.

I don't like when people are angry with one another or fighting for any reason. It makes me anxious until it's resolved. I often stick my nose in where it shouldn't be to try to mend things or get people to try to put themselves in the other person's shoes. But, this time I am the other person. And, in all it's ridiculousness, I do understand why my friend would say such mean things. I can understand her feelings, even if I don't agree with them. The awful thing is, I can't be the voice of reason since I am the enemy.

She has discarded me. I can't seem to get past this. Our close knit group was comprised of mostly her family members. Which she let me know...was HERS, not mine. That hurt. That was probably the most hurtful thing she said, besides blaming my husband for basically ruining her family. There is a birthday party coming up, which will be held next door to our house. The anxiety of it has invaded my dreams. I don't think I can go. I can't face them. I can't face the whole family. Not yet. I don't think I can muster enough pride to sit and face them all looking at me, judging me, blaming me. I can't take sitting there while friend ignores me. I can't take feeling taunted....

I know I should just bow out gracefully while I have a few strands of dignity left. Grace has left me. Rational thoughts have left me. I want my group back. I want my friends back. I want my little family back. Everything is changing and I hate it.

It's a thin line

between productivity and laziness. Or at least it is for me. Why must it be all or nothing? Most people clean each day. They do their daily chores, put things away when they are done with them, utilize hampers and sleep in beds instead of on couches.

With Chris on third shift and noone coming to visit me anymore, my house has been a war zone. I truly hate cleaning. I would much rather spend my time doing whatever I want to do. And that pretty much boils down to everything BUT cleaning!

Chris comes home from work and goes straight to bed in the morning after waking me up. He then sleeps until Devin gets home. When I get home with Nuby and Peyton in the evening, he's usually still in waking up mode. I spend some time with Devin, usually pick up the living room and kitchen quickly while Chris either runs to get us food or makes us something. We eat, play with the kids for a little bit, put them to bed and then Chris leaves.

Once he leaves, I do NOTHING. I put on my jammies, make a coccoon on the couch and watch endless episodes of The Nanny.

I need to snap out of it and get my arse into gear! Any suggestions?

Blower (snicker)

Fall. What a wonderful time of year. The air turns crisp and starts to nip at your nose and ears. Kids all get to dress up in costumes and collect free candy from strangers. The first frost comes and the leaves all turn the most magnificent colors....and this is all done while the trees strategically crap hoards of before-mentioned-leaves-gone-dead onto your yard.

Leaves, leaves, leaves....most people start raking, blowing (snicker), sucking, burning, throwing away leaves little by little as they fall. Not this guy! I wait until every one of them is on the ground. Aaaaand...they are now all down.

We are in the final days of halfway decent weather. So, while watching the kids enjoy these last days on our multi leaf covered lawn, I decided that I wanted to be productive and re-discover our yard.

Me (yells from other side of yard): "Chraaaaaaas, Where's the leaf blower?"
Chris (lifts head, looks semi annoyed at the obvious answered question): Garage
Me (I see he's not getting the hint): "Can you get it for me?"
Chris (Stares at me)
Me (Does my best to look sweet and innocent. Can feel lip curling up, nose scrunching in a beast like manner and eyes squinting. Standing in the sun is not helping my cause)
Chris (Sighs, drops what he was being productive with to help me on my productive way. He gets out and unrolls two extensions cords, plugs everything in, straightens everything across the yard so I don't get tangled and hands me the leaf blower)
Me (While he does all this, I stay in my same spot that I yelled from and wait for my royal slave loving husband to bring me my leaf weapon)

Our front yard is pretty big and we do have numerous trees...which in turn produce craploads of leaves. Add into that the fact that they were all soggy on the bottom layers from the morning's melted frost...and I probably should have just used a damn rake. But, my lazy ass kept justifying in my head that leaf blowers were made after rakes, therefore MUST be better. Right?

I blew and blew and blew (snicker) until my arms were vibrating, my ears were ringing and I was using my uterus (heh...who knew it was good for other things too?) to maintain some stability to keep the blower from careening completely out of control. In addition to my vibrating arms and ears...I now feared that my reproductive organs might vibrate out, fall down my pant leg and be blown into the woods, buried in a mountain of crunchy leaves to probably then be eaten by a deer. And who says I never did anything to contribute to the great outdoors?

I blew with such intensity (snicker) and concentration that 45 minutes into it, I realized that I was chewing the sides of my tongue raw. Don't judge, everyone has a wierd tic they do when they concentrate. Mine just happens to be chewing on the sides of my own tongue similiar to how one would chew gum.

Chris eventually came over and took the blower to help out. I jittered over to a tree and sat watching him blow (snicker snicker). After a few minutes, I jumped up managed to drag my ass off the ground and hobble over to take the blower back. This was my mission... My battle... My war...

And................

I lost. End of story. A little short of halfway through the front yard, I caved and gave up. This morning I woke up and my back still hurts, my forearms ache and I'm wondering if the leaves will be removed from the yard or if they will stay until the snow thaws.

ps. I left the blower in the driveway for Chris to unplug, wrap up the cords and put everything away. All while he grumbled about my not so productive productiveness. He loves me. Maybe I'll have him get everything out for me to continue next weekend...

NaBloPoMo just sounds dirty, doesn't it.

Like some kind of deranged perverted telli tubby!

I just needed to get that out and in front. I guess I picked the right month to rejoin the blogosphere. I have so much to tell and with the excuse of the National Blog Post Month, I can write every day!

I believe all of my loyal followers came to facebook with me and have been following along there. But, for those of you who haven't, I got hitched! That's right, took me thirty years but I finally found someone dumb smart enough to see how wonderful I am.

We were engaged over 5 years ago, have planned and cancelled two weddings, have damn near killed each other, have laughed, have loved, have cried, and most important of all, we have found our way...together.

Since I am 30, we do have three kids and have been living together for 6 years...I decided it was better for us to do an out of town wedding with just our family and closest mutual friends. This meant that I had to cut our original list from 350 to 100 or less. It wasn't really as hard as a anticipated. I did go over by about 40 some guests, but luckily alot of people don't want to travel.

We were married at a chapel in the woods. It was extremely remote. No cell phone coverage, no wifi and no GPS signal. It was great. For the most part, everyone came and stayed all weekend. I can't decide if I had more fun the day before the wedding or on the actual wedding.

The weekend was nothing short than magical. It makes me very sad to think that I will never ever ever have all my family and friends all in one spot like that again. Big buffet style meals, drinking games at night. Kids galloping in hoards together.

Chris' oldest brother was shaking. I'm not sure if he was nervous about being so close to my chest region or if I was just that damn heavy. Either way...I thought I was going down at any second.

My daddy.

Sucker! I now own half of your soul!

The boys had a blast! They weren't too fond of picture taking though. So, I didn't press the issue.

Notice the cake on Chris' forehead. My ONE (really, you believed me when I said one?) rule I had that day was not to shove cake in my face. The one day of my life I make an attempt to look decent and what did he do? He shoved the cake in my face. While he gently smushed icing on my cheek, I pelted my slice at mach 10 where it didn't just hit him in the head, but was more like embedded into his skull. Take that! Oh yeah, the half of the soul that I own....it's grounded when we get home!

Nobody should ever give me a microphone when bon jovi is on. I'm a loooooooaded guuuuuun. Yeah.

This is now my all time favorite picture of me and my little brother. This picture sums it all up.

Pre-cake being thrown. My mom spent ridiculous amounts of money on this cake. Poor cake collapsed on it's way to the wedding.



A weekend full of keg stands, more laughing than my sides could handle, arm wrestling, rafter pull ups, dogs, cabins, grilling, enough beer to fill a few pools and I cried halfway to South Carolina when we left. I couldn't believe it was over. Me and Chris both agreed that we should have skipped the honeymoon and stayed in the cabins with all of our families and just had a good time.

My next few posts will be a break down of the events of the weekend and the wonderful fun memories we all got to make and take home with us.

Hello?

UPDATE: I've narrowed it down to people not using internet explorer are the ones who see my blog all messed up like. Still trying to figure out how to fix this!

I had someone tell me that it was difficult for them to read my blog and it was all jumbled and full of computer lingo....is anybody else seeing this?

And does anyone have any suggestions?