And the Sickness Marches On...

I was up all night last night with Logan. His asthma is kicking in, his tongue bright red and full of tiny red bumps. Each time my head hit the pillow and I started to dream, I was awoken again, my clumsy feet leading the way into his room, until I collapsed into a wadded ball at the end of his bed.

I get up from the fetal position this morning and notice a HELLA rash on Annabel. Her tiny leg is covered in bumps and new ones are forming on her hands and arms.

I pack Arwen off to school (fully medicated and on the mend).

One trip to the Doctor confirms - throat infection, and ear infection x2 for Logan. Infentigo for the baby girl.

Right now Jimbo is the only family member not currently taking (or having partaken via shot) an antibiotic.

And all I want is some sleep.

The longest call...

Today I took life by the balls, calling up the counseling services provided by Jimbo's employer. It was one of the most difficult calls I've ever made, placing myself bare and raw across a phone line to someone I've never met and don't know.

The girl on the other end was very nice, listening attentively and taking down my information. She referred me to someone in my area and I had to make yet another call - this time leaving a message that I realize now was garbled and difficult to understand.

Hopefully the counselor managed to salvage my phone number from within the confines of the rambling message and will call me back to arrange an appointment.

On one hand, it's terrifying. On the other - it's one HELL of a relief.

In Living Color - Delta Airlines Ebonics

Okay - this is SO not politically correct but I laughed my ass off. Go ahead, flame away, but I dare you not to chuckle!

I'm not depressed!

I took a trip to see my family doctor. She's still new to me but so far I like her. She gets the "girl" thing better than my male physician did previously. I was certain she would understand my need for a medication to get me through this short period of stress in my life. Considering everything that has transpired.

I told her everything - minus my nice imparting words to my sister - and she listened thoughtfully. I explained I didn't want a long term medication, just something to ease the way for the next few weeks. I've been unable to sleep, I'm edgy and nervous, and it's slowly taking a toll.

She tells me she'll, "put something together that will work for me", and then leaves the room. When she returns she hands me a sample of Lexapro and a prescription for it as well.

Let me just say I think Lexapro is an awesome antidepressant. I used it for several months after Annabel's birth. It got me through a really difficult time and I praise it's gloom eclipsing glory.

BUT.

I am not depressed.

And this isn't the first time I've had someone try to pawn off a medication like this for anxiety. (When I was busting my balls, working a two jobs and attending college full-time, my 'then' doctor tried to do the exact same thing.)

I suppose she worries depression might follow and it's simply smart thinking on her behalf. But what in the hell am I supposed to do in the meantime while I'm still losing sleep and I have an occasional but debilitating panic attack?

For the first time in my life, I demanded something for my nerves. I've never, EVER, told a Doctor to prescribe me something before. But I knew that if my family contacted me, I would need something more than Lexapro to smooth the way. She didn't like it but complied with my request and gave a prescription for Xanax.

For those of you that read the blog, especially if you deal with anxiety like this, do you have to ask for something to keep you from losing your shit during stressful periods? Was I wrong to tell her the Lexapro is well and good but I just don't need it?

Get out of Jail Free Card

When she smiles at me, I forgive her anything.

OKLAHOMA "People Will Say We're In Love"

Everyone has one romantic movie they can't get enough of, one they go back to time and again, and Oklahoma is mine. I fell in love with Gordon MacRae in middle school and have loved him ever since.

Anyhow, this is one of my absolute favorite songs from the musical.

"That" kind of Person

So today I go into the Neuro's office and the nurse notices the tattoo on my forearm (it's new, got it a few weeks ago) and says, "Well, look at you with a tattoo. You don't look like that kind of person."

This got me to thinking, what does a "tattoo person" look like? Truth be told, when I didn't look like one to her observant eyes, I had three. Sure they are all in nifty locations on my body that make them difficult to see, but they still exist.

So tell me, what does a "tattoo person" look like? Do I need a Harley, set of leathers and a couple of piercings?

Let's talk about Sex

This is the last blog entry of the day, I've just been retaining this stuff while on bed rest with strep.

I spoke with the editor regarding my book last week and those necessary revisions on the road to publishing. And, while I'm open to shifting things around, the changes aren't exactly what I had in mind.

The truth is this. My book, while technically a romance, doesn't include sex. The story focuses on the developing relationship between the hero and heroine and the obstacles that come between them rather than the actual - "bumping of the uglies".

Which brings me to the problem at hand. I was asked to include a "consummated love scene" into my story.

I won't go into too many details, other than to say the story has a sequel and in it the the star crossed duo make love for the first time. But I will confess my sadness that times have changed so much sex is necessary to sell what is essentially a "love" story.

You can have love without sex - right?

Really? I didn't know that!

Jimbo walks into the room holding our new laptop. He has it braced under his arm, fingers wrapped around the bottom.

"Hey baby," he says, walking over to me.

"What's up?" I ask, spinning around in the chair.

"I'm not sure if you know this, but when you carry the laptop, carry it like this." He models his hold and then maneuvers it around, clutching it with just his fingers. "Don't carry it like this, you know, just in case."

I stare at him and then smirk. "Really, I would never have thought of that."

I love my husband, but sometimes he can be really stupid.

A Delicate Matter

I've avoided blogging about this because...well...it's personal. Not for me but for my youngest son. After some contemplation I decided he will be none the wiser if I blog about this topic and honestly, I need to vent.

For the last year, we've had issues in potty training. When Vincent turned 4 the hubs and I pretty much knew it was "time" for him to get with the program. But all of our bribes, all of our encouragement, all of our everything - just didn't work.

In the last couple of months he's reverted to "holding it". You'll see him on the floor making odd motions, grabbing himself, and generally bringing attention to the matter. Yet when we take him to the toilet he'll let out a small amount of urine and say "all done", refusing to relieve himself. After several hours, he'll be in agony, holding myself and crying. Most of the time I'm forced to place him into a tub of warm water to force the issue and get him going. Then he'll release a fountain that cannot be contained (it's even worse if by some chance this let down occurs and he's in his pull-up).

The doctor arranged for an ultrasound today to check his little kidneys and waterworks. He was a little champ during the procedure and on the trip home. I just hope they can tell me what is going on with my son. It's terrible as a parent to watch your child in agony but being unable to alleviate it.

Blah!!

Started as a moderate sore throat, then became a fever. I was up all night because I could no longer swallow without excruciating pain.

After a trip to the Doc in a box it's official - I have strep throat.

The doctor swears the shot in my rear will take effect and I'll be much better tomorrow. Please lord make it so!

P.S. Forgot to mention, my boys had to visit their pediatrician Thursday - they have it too. You know what they say - the family that germinates together, stays together!

O.M.G.

Got an email today, from the publisher, and included was this sentence:

If you would be willing to do revisions and resubmit directly to me, I would be happy to consider your story for publication.

I never knew being so happy could make someone feel so sick.

I'll keep you posted!

The Snuggie

Hate to break it to you but I already have a "snuggie". It's called my robe. *wink*

The "Book" Situation

I realized today while overlooking my blog that I never told you what became of the interest in my book. The truth is - I don't know. The editor wrote to tell me she's still reading and will get back to me as soon as she is able (had a death in the family).

To be honest, I went back and read the material and *hides* I don't like it. I'm not sure why...I just don't.

However -

I wrote another story after the first was complete and polished it up, sending out queries to a few agents and publishers. I was asked for a synopsis and the first fifty pages a little over a week ago by one of the agents at the top of my list.

So...

I have a feeling this is going to be a long and tedious process, but compared to the family drama I've had going on, it'll be cake.

Guilty Pleasure

We all have one. Something that just puts a leap in your step and a smile on your face. This is my guilty pleasure...

What's yours?

So far, so Good

Yesterday went off without a hitch(with the exception of Arwen and she's doing well). It was a relief, but I don't know how long this calm will hold before the storm. Thank you everyone for your well wishes and support. Sometimes just knowing other people understand makes you feel like less of an anomaly.

Tania - to answer your question - this is more than ongoing. Since the birth of our second child, there has been tension in the family. It boils down to one thing really - control. My Mother wants total control when it comes to my children. She wants to decide when she gets them (without notice), where she takes them (without prior consent from us), and how long she keeps them (she'll drop them off when she is good and ready). That is the root of the problem, along with Jimbo's refusal to allow this to continue.

I didn't blog about it but the day before my Aunt passed away my Mother pulled the shame old garbage. She showed up at my home unexpectedly (while Jimbo was at work I might add) and told me she'd made a doctor's appointment for Annabel for her skin (she's got eczema too). At the time I had a stomach bug and told her we'd have to reschedule (and to be fair, I didn't feel my daughter needed to go to the doctor). She forced the issue, threatening to take Annabel by force if she had to. At that point I told her to leave and explained I didn't feel well to start. So she pulled her favorite threat from her pocket, "I call the police and report you for neglect!"

Long story short - I guzzled some Imodium for the upset tummy and made the trip. And guess what? The doctor said Annabel was absolutely FINE and nothing was wrong with her.

I decided after that incident I didn't want her around anymore, but then Laura died. Her unexpected and untimely passing reminded me of just how little time we are given in this world, and I forgave but didn't necessarily forget.

Now this has happened.

To be 100% honest here, I think my Sister and Mother are suffering from a chemical imbalance. Their elevator doesn't go to the top most of the time.

I can't recall the number of times my Sister has called here complaining my Mother did this or that (her arguments always revolve around money. My Sister is currently in the market for a new vehicle but as she doesn't work, she expects my Mother or her fiance's family to provide for her) and then spends an hour whining about how bad she has it or how wrong it is my Mother purchased something new for herself when, "I need a new car!"

Did I mention my Sister currently drives a 2003 Lincoln Navigator?

There are many differences between us but I'll name a few so you get a general idea of the seperation.

I cook - they eat the fast food window. I do laundry - they purchase new clothes to avoid it. I am on a budget - they are constantly struggling with money. I stay at home with my kids - they are always on the road somewhere. I shop for my clothing and such at Target - they both have credit cards to various stores in the mall.

And then you have the big difference. They'll say and do whatever it takes to get what they want. They don't care if they hurt your feelings in the process. In fact, if they are angry enough, that's exactly what they go for - the gut. Nothing is sacred.

Strep Throat

Arwen woke up this morning and I inspected her skin. The rash she had wasn't necessarily worse but it wasn't better either. I decided to take her into the pediatrician just to be safe and it's a good thing I did.

Turns out she has strep throat (a first in our home) and the strep in turn has caused her eczema to flare into infintigo. She's fully medicated and on the mend but keeping her apart from the other children for a full week is going to be impossible.

Fun stuff.

Rough Night

I slept horribly. Each time I closed my eyes it was the same thing - reliving the events that transpired hours beforehand.

I went back and re-read my previous post. In retrospect, it seems very Jerry Springerish. Fighting with relatives as an adult. I always imagined I might have issues in my life with my marriage, not with those I have been surrounded by a good portion of my life.

My poor Father is also feeling the sting. My Mother is terrified we are going to press charges and she will "lose her security clearance". So early this morning she got dressed (along with my Sister) and drove up to the court house to make sure Jimbo didn't go up there to file something against her. What's laughable (insert sarcasm here) is that Jimbo also has to have clearance for his job as well. I suppose it's fine if he loses his income because of her antics but her livelihood off limits.

I don't know which is worse. Her total lack of regard of our needed income (if he loses his clearance we're in the shit) or the fact she's so mental she actually drove up to the court house this morning on the off chance he was going there. By the way, doesn't that classify as a form of harassment? Or is it considered stalking?

I told my Father we are not pressing charges but she needs to leave me the hell alone. I told him I can't take it anymore. He agrees that would be best for all involved.

So...

Right now I'm in a dark place. I don't know what to do. I'm seriously considering contacting someone to go talk to. I've never spoken with someone before (i.e. counseling) but right now I need to let this out.

I'm tired of being afraid and of being cornered and threatened, and I'm tired of worrying something might happen to my Mother or Sister and I'll regret losing that time we could have "gotten along" because I put a fork in them.

But sometimes you have to concede and accept that this is the way things have to be. Right?

Birthday Hoedown at the Ponderosa

Picture this if you will:

Me in my driveway.

Make-up - impeccable. Hair - wet and wild. Dressed in nothing but a robe. Slurs are being uttered, insults flung, anger peaks and my big red button signal blares. I lift my arms, extending both hands, creating impossibly proportioned and balanced "bird" fingers. Then I open my mouth and scream wildly - "FUCK YOU!"

Now, for the rest of the story...

My day started out great. Spent time with the family, decided at 2:00pm. to get ready to go out with hubs and kids for pizza and possibly a movie. Approx 2:35pm my Mother, Sister, and 18 month old niece arrive with a gift for me. I thank them, we talk. My oldest daughter begins to complain that she, "wants to go with granny". This behavior persists. My Mother notices rash on daughter, says she will "take her to the clinic". I give the okay BUT insist I must talk to Jimbo first.

I go down the stairs and the hubs says, "No, if our daughter is going to an unknown clinic, we need to take her ourselves." I tell him I will tell my Mother no. He sighs and says "forget about it." I tell him again I will tell her no and he says, "No, your Mother will only do what she wants to anyway."

My Mother hears this and proceeds down the stairs.

An argument erupts, Jimbo remains seated and tells my Mother to leave. She doesn't. I take my niece from her arms and tell my husband and Mom to take it outside. He asks her to leave again, she doesn't. She begins insulting Jimbo, calling him a "control freak" and other insulting and reprehensible things. He reacts as she intended, stands and walks to her. I turn away, watching the argument unfold from the reflection of the television screen.

My Mother lunges at my husband and he reacts defensively, throwing out his hands to grasp her shoulders. She falls to the ground and I spin at the same time, averting my eyes from the screen and searching for her directly, worried that she's hurt herself.

Then I see it.

My Mother is staring at me with this expression of pure terror and violation - wanting me to believe that my husband is responsible for her accident, insinuating that he hit her. Jimbo backs away, hands raised, yelling all the while, "I didn't touch her!" even though I know he didn't, even as I know he didn't do anything wrong. My Mother continues staring at me, waiting for me to react, to lash out at Jimbo.

What I say next wipes that victimized look from her face.

"Mother, he never touched you. I was watching everything from the reflection of the television."

She lurches to her feet in outrage, stomping up the stairs. My sister hollers "where is my baby!" I hurry up the stairs and say, "she is here", handing her over. My Mother whips around, raging at me for not defending her against my husband. When I tell her directly that he never touched her she admits she tripped, but then proceeds to say, "but he had no right to touch me!"

As if her striking him was an appropriate response and defending himself was abhorrent.

As I go into the kitchen, my Mother and sister lash out. I walk forward, toward the door. My sister's swing misses me - barely. I argue with them and tell them to leave. My sister comes at me again, only to retreat after a solid kick has sent me into the dining room, "I have my baby in my arms, Jaime!"

They go into the garage, rushing outside. "We'll see you in court", my Mother says. Then my sister calls me worthless, a pill head, a piece of shit sister and daughter that cares more for her husband and his family than she does her own. Then she threatens me with DHR.

"I'm calling DHR, you just wait!"

My threshold breaks. My very own sister is throwing my biggest fear into my face - the future of my children.

And she knows it.

My body heats and I lose my collective shit. I lift my hands, let the winged angels fly, and scream, "FUCK YOU!". Then I inform my sister I need to change into my clothes, but if she wants a piece of my action, I'll be right down in a minute.

She calls me a coward as she slides into my Mother's car with her infant in tow and she and my Mother blessedly leave my home.

My birthday was shit and it's not the first one my toxic family has ruined. But you know what I've decided?

It's the last.

P.S. I called the police and filed a report. I won't take this shit. Not anymore.

Another Birthday

This year, instead of focusing on the dreaded "age" factor, I'm going to remind myself of all the reasons to be grateful. I'm still here, surrounded by those I love most in my life. I woke to a decorated table with homemade cupcakes, a boisterous surprise yell from the kiddos, and a kiss from the hubs. We're taking the kids out for lunch this afternoon and possibly a movie together.

What more could a gal ask for? I'll settle for being lucky enough to experience the exact same thing next year.

Email!

One last post for the day.

For those of you I've emailed (Tania is the exception! She's already hip to the new way to contact me) I've changed my email.

So if you've emailed me in the last 4 months *blush* I've missed it! I had to change it to something easier for people to remember and to alleviate all the spam I was receiving (over 20 or more per day!)

If you want my new email, just post to this and I'll comment on your blog and you can just erase it afterward.

Logan's Birthday

Granted, this video is older (August 19th of last year, Logan's 5th birthday), but it makes me smile.

How Much?

I just noticed something today. Something totally random that got me to thinking...

How many of you -

Use tons of shampoo instead of the recommended "dime sized" amount?

Leave your conditioner on for 15 seconds instead of a minute and rinse?

Say to hell with measuring and drink your Pepto Bismol directly from the container?

Gurgle the Listerine as long as your scorching gums and mouth can take it (generally 10-15 seconds for me) instead of the suggested 30?

Use a "handful" of toilet paper, irregardless of the reasons for your visit to the throne?

Slosh whatever amount of detergent you desire into the washing machine, be it one item of clothing or a entire load?

Don't preheat the oven but just plop whatever item of food you need baked into the stove and hope for the best?

Anyone else guilty of this? Or am I just a rebel?

Circus Pictures

Wow, thanks for the love girls (Shelley,Rae,Tania!) I've missed you too. Here are the photo's from the circus. I'm battling a gnarly stomach virus at the moment, so I'll blog more when I'm not rushing to and from the porcelain god!



That last photo cracks me up by the way (was taken after the circus when we took the kids to Pizza Hut). I'll take a few new ones of Ms. Annabel to share too. She's grown so much!

Special Needs

My poor blog has gone to the toilet, but it's not my fault - well, not completely.

The last couple of months have been focused on preparing Logan for kindergarten. We've quizzed, colored, prepped, sang, danced, and worked with his teachers to get him as prepared and able as he can be. Yet even with the educational requirements being met and knowing our son is more than ready for the academic portions of school, his social interactions and stimulus behaviors are still a concern.

We met for his second semester conference and I knew what was coming. I'm his Mother. I see him get excited by loud noises or images. I know that he'll flap his hands, hit the top of his head, spin in circles, or just plain squeal in delight. Jimbo on the other hand, took it hard. And I understand. This is our son and as much as we love him (and always will) he continues to stay in a certain place developmentally while his younger siblings pass him by.

But like it or not, Logan just isn't ready to be integrated into a public school system without an aide present to assist him.

No big deal, right?

I wish.

Since this new stimulus package by Obama has cut school funding, the aide present at the public school Logan would attend was "let go". So we have no other option but to place him into a program inside a public school (aka special education) with the facilities and funding to give my son exactly what he needs.

Hopefully, he will be given the opportunity to attend the kindergarten classes and will only be removed when absolutely necessary. The goal is to prepare him for first grade at his home school next year, but I'm not thinking that far ahead. Right now is difficult enough.

On a positive note, we took the children to the circus again this year. We had a blast. There is no better feeling in this world than observing awe through the eyes of your children. I'll try to get the pictures cropped and edited and share a few.