Friday, January 29, 2010

Happy Days ! ! !

I went to see the new therapist on Monday. It was amazing. He did more in 40 minutes than everyone else combined during the last 2 1/2 years.

He agreed that there was ample reason to look into the possiblity of Asperger's. THEN he told me that all I had to do was request that the school screen him for the autism spectrum. That's it. Just ask. Why has no one told me this? I have no idea if he does or doesn't have it, but that's one question that can be answered.

THEN he told me about this free service that is available to families going through this. You get a caseworker/advocate that will go with you to meetings and evaluations, help you know which questions to ask, and make sure you get answers. Free. All you have  to do is ask for it. Why didn't anyone ever tell me this?

As soon as I left his office I went to the school and requested the evaluation. Come to find out, his teacher had requested it a few days prior. Next week his case will go to committee and they will get the ball rolling. After talking to the school, I went home and called the advocate service... They said they could certainly help and I should hear back from them within the next 2 weeks. I feel like such a huge weight has been taken off of my shoulders. I will finally have direction and someone to give educated insight. Thank the gods.

This therapist seemed shocked that no one had ever sat down with me to discuss options. Apparently, the school should have discussed things like IEP's and 504's. No one discussed anything. I got a letter that said, "Your child has ADHD." That's it. The pediatrician said, "Here's meds" until the med dose got too high, then he said, "Go to the psychologist" who said "Go to the psychiatrist". I have jumped throught hoops and gone from one doctor to another, and no one ever really offered us any help. What a bunch of assholes.

Unfortunately, we don't know if Burp will get to see this new guy. We're waiting to see if the insurance accepts him. I have my fingers crossed. I really like this guy. He's not a psychiatrist, not a psychologist, just a therapist who specializes in autistic children and teaching them to cope with their "quirks". That's exactly what we need, whether Burp is autistic or not. He just needs to learn how to deal with it.

Saturday, January 23, 2010

Cupcake Whore

I am apparently a cupcake whore.. and I love it!

It's funny to think that as I was growing up, my mom always worried that I wouldn't know how to cook. Cooking, more baking, is my passion. It's my ME time, my de-stresser, time for me to regroup.
And probably the one thing that I do half-well, I think.

I have been told I make the best cupcakes EVER! It's funny when you get tons of compliments and all you did was FOLLOW THE DIRECTIONS ON THE BOX, and open a tub of processed, store bought frosting. I make the best BOXED cupcakes, EVER. lol

For the longest time, when ever I felt the need to bake, I'd take the majority of my results to work. I sure don't need that crap in my house. Before I knew it, coworkers were bringing me baking supplies to feed their need. (Works out well considering my budget) I hit a roadblock though when they all started going on diets. Not that they don't still appreciate it, I think that my bringing goodies in is a good way for them to "cheat" without too much guilt. And every diet needs a little cheat on occasion. But I've found a new way to accommodate my baking fetish. Paramedics and firemen!

I have a friend who works at the fire station near my house. Boys don't diet! I get to kill so many birds with one stone.

I live in a town with two hospitals. I work in the ED at the smaller of the two. One thing I love about my hospital is that everyone is family. We love and appreciate our medics and police officers and understand that, in a lot of ways, our livelihood depends on them. We strive to make them feel appreciated every time they walk through our doors. As the ED secretary, I offer them sodas, juice, and coffee, or to order them a free meal from the cafeteria. (The breakfast sandwiches are known far and wide as the best EVER!) My understanding of the other hospital is that they don't treat the medics and officers like family, probably because they know that a lot of times they don't have a choice in which facility they go to.

So in taking the cupcakes to the station... I'm not breaking coworkers diets TOO much, I'm getting to know the firefighters and medics better, and that's good PR for the hospital, Burp got a tour of the new fire station (though he was too scared to go down the pole (thank the gods!), I'm allowing for my need to bake, and feel like I'm giving back in some way.

In a weird way Burp and I get mother/son time AND I get alone time, as Burp's attention always wanes long before the cupcakes are finished. We've also taken to distributing them amongst neighbors too.  My manager loves me (says she's going to buy the stuff for me to make her some scones soon), and it's a nice way for Burp to learn how good it feels to let someone else know that you were thinking of them. Nothing says, "I was thinking about you," better than chocolate frosting!!

If you have small children, bake some cupcakes with them, then gift them to your nearby fire station or police station. It's a great way to spend an hour with your kid, they learn the joy of giving, and they might get a tour out of the deal. Plus, it really makes the public servants feel appriciated... AND, you can keep some for the family without feeling guilt about sweets. Win, win, win, WIN!

A couple of little hints for the BEST CUPCAKES EVER......
1. Use your Kitchen Aid. Throw everything in. Mix for 30 seconds, then jack it up to 2 or 4 and walk away for 5 minutes.
2. For moist fluffy cupcakes, use olive oil, not regular cooking oil.
3. Make sure your oven is fully preheated for nice rounded tops.
4. If batter sits, rewhip it for 30 seconds before putting into baking cups.
5. DON'T OVER COOK. Know your oven. When lightly pushing the top they should spring back, and when taking them out of the oven you should still hear them cooking (a slight crackley, bubbley sound)

Well, I have to go deliver cupcakes..... and I have to say, being a cupcake whore makes me incredibly happy!

Happy baking!

Thursday, January 21, 2010

I Am SOOOOO Sick of Doctors!!!

If there is anything that stands out in my mind from college... it's the lesson that YOU are ultimately responsible for getting appropriate medical treatment. We live in a world where you're generally raised that physicians know all, know what's best for you, and you should do as they say. But the fact of the matter is, if you don't agree with your doctor it is your responsibility to do something about it.

We have been bounced around so much. When the question of Burp having ADHD came up, I went to the pediatrician who told me he had to be diagnosed through the school psychiatrist. She diagnosed him with ADHD... We messed with the meds for a year and a half until Burp was on 72 mg of Concerta and no one could tell. Every time the dose was raised, it would seem to work for a few months and then not at all.

Finally the pediatrician said he wasn't comfortable giving Burp more. He was 7, weighed 60 lbs and the doctor said that he could give him meds with the Concerta, but while he did that for high school and college kids working and going to school... he wouldn't do it for Burp. Find by me..... I'll agree with that. He recommended we see a psychologist to determine if there wasn't something else going on with Burp.

The psychologist was a nice guy. He did a HUGE assessment with Burp and decided that yes, he had ADHD, but also severe Anxiety Disorder... (I had always thought Burp had mild OCD..... which is a form of anxiety, but the doctor said Burp wasn't there... yet) We went once a week for several months. The psychologist wanted to discuss and work on some of our biggest issues.... ie. we have really rough mornings, every morning, BURP just doesn't want to get with the program. Argumentative, combative, and all around disagreeable. His opinion was that Burp was acting out due to the anxiety because he's very dependent on me, and it stressed him out that I work at night. Whatever.... his solution was that we spend the first 10 minutes of our morning playing a game or something, and then when Burp does what he's supposed to, I was to reward him with cookies. WTF?

First, I know my child. Yes, our mornings were rough... but I understand him and know how to deal with him for the most part. The rest of the world doesn't. I am more concerned that he learn how to recognize his triggers and learn how to cope with his issues so that he can get the most out of school and have a normal childhood and social life. And I think it's bullshit to bribe my child.

So the psychologist eventually suggested that Burp see a psychiatrist to possibly medicate for the anxiety. The thought presented to me was that perhaps dealing with the anxiety might make the ADHD easier to deal with.  During this whole ordeal, when I speak to the parents of other kids with "issues", everyone keeps saying, "Ohhh we went through that."  "Sounds just like my kid." "Are you sure it's not Asperger's?"

So we go to the psychiatrist. I ask, "What makes you so certain that this is ADHD and anxiety, not Asperger's? Everyone thinks he's autistic when they first meet him."
Don't ever question the professionals. "It's very apparent that your child has ADHD and anxiety... he might have Asperger's... but  there's no test for that, and no treatment. So let's treat him for what we know he has...And what makes you so sure he DOESN'T?"

Well first of all, if I were so sure he wasn't ADHD, I wouldn't keep him on the meds. I'm not sure of a fucking thing at this point. But it's obvious that the meds aren't working the way they are supposed to. Maybe he just needs a different med. I DON'T KNOW... but when the new teacher says she thought he wasn't medicated and is shocked to find out he's on 72mg, THAT SAYS SOMETHING TO ME!!! But I'm not a doctor just a stupid, single parent... what the fuck do I know?
He did opt to put Burp on 25mg of Zoloft, which I've caught a lot of flack for from the nurses I work with. But I see a huge improvement with some of his nervous habits. He doesn't tug on his shirt collars so much, or grind his teeth in his sleep as much. He doesn't obsessively tell me he loves me, sometimes as often as once or twice a minute..... which might sound like I'm a horrible mom for getting frustrated by it, but it was constant to the point of not normal. He doesn't seem so compelled to repeat himself to get the right sound to a word or phrase. He actually WANTS to go to the babysitters, even on nights I don't work. His appetite is better. He takes transition better, and we no longer fight every morning.. In fact, I can't tell you the last time we had a bad morning. And he doesn't so obsessively tell stories over and over, even though you saw or experienced the event with him. I see a vast improvement in those areas....
The psychiatrist now wants us to see a psychologist, as well, to work on those things that are so important to me. The learning to cope. Developing the skills to recognize and deal with his issues in an appropriate manner. However, I don't feel that psychologist #1 is the man for the job, though he is very nice.
So I've searched.... and finally, talking to yet another mom whose son sounds soooooo much like Burp, yet is only diagnosed with learning disorders, I was referred to a counselor whose specialty is actually autistic children. I looked him up on line, found an email, and sent him our history for the last 3 years and asked if he thought he could help. He promptly replied that he thought he could. I called him and on Monday I have an interview with him.   YAY!

However, two weeks ago Burp had an eye appointment. See, every year the school does their assessments and every year they tell me that my child is blind as a bat. I take him to the pediatric eye specialist (Burp had Strabismus when he was little ... so I just returned to the doc that did his surgery) And he tells me there isn't anything wrong with his eyes. We chalked it up to the fact that Burp has ADHD and doesn't test well. So this year was no different. The school nurse calls me up in arms, why haven't I taken care of this yet? I explain the situation to her and she demands that I have his eyes checked again, stating that she personally tested him and there were no exterior distractions and it is quite apparent that my son has horrible vision. (Though he never complains or squints or has headaches.) So I have her refer me to another eye doctor.
We go..... it is very apparent during the initial screening that Burp is faking it. THE LITTLE BUGGER WANTS GLASSES! Then we get back with the actual doctor and I try to tell her that he was faking in the other room. She very coldly told me she knows how to do her job. She continues with the evaluation and at one point has Burp jump on one foot, then draw an A with his toe on the floor. Apparently, from the confused way he preformed the tasks she was able to determine that his motor skills are developmentally slow. ... and I MUST take him to a specialist. Then she superscribed him glasses that she said would help with the eye fatigue he described getting (always on the last page of his book.) We order the glasses and as we're walking out the lady helping us gives me his prescription. Apparently I had just ordered progressive bifocals for a child with 20/25 vision. WTF? and she tells me my kid needs to see another specialist? Do I trust her opinion? Fuck no.

So today I'm sleeping, which is a miracle these days. My 28 year old neighbor died in her sleep on Friday and her 4 year old was home alone with her (though he didn't know she was dead) until nearly 11am. I think I'm having some anxiety over the whole thing. Just as I fall asleep, I feel as if I'm not breathing and startle awake, gasping for air. I'm not too concerned, I'm sure it will pass. It just makes falling asleep hard. I must have been in a fairly deep sleep when the phone rang just before noon. I looked at the ID and it was the psychiatrist calling to confirm Monday's appointment. After the call, I couldn't remember anything of the conversation, and stressed about it as I tried to go back to sleep. The psychologist is a 1:30... shrink at 4:20... But something didn't feel right.
So finally after I picked up Burp from school, I called the shrink back and explained that I work graveyard and that someone had called to confirm my appointment for Monday, but I wasn't fully awake and couldn't recall the conversation. OMG, you'd think I told her I was too busy packing my bong to pay attention to the phone call.
OB = Office Bitch
ME= duh!

OB: Do you know who called you?
ME: No, I'm sorry. Like I said, I don't remember any details of the call.
OB: Well I didn't call you.
ME: Who ever it was just wanted to confirm our next appointment, which I just want to verify is Monday at 4:20.
OB: Ok, that would have been XXX, her notes say whoever she spoke to confirmed the appointment.
ME: Yes, I'm sorry. That was me, but as I said, I was sleeping and I don't remember the conversation.
OB: But it says it was confirmed by whomever she spoke too.
ME (agitated now): I understand that. Ma'am, I work graveyard and answered the phone not fully awake and now don't recall the conversation. I just need to verify that yes, the appointment is Monday the 25th at 4:20.
OB(Very bitchy): No. It's Tuesday at 4:20.
Me: Ok, thank you very much.

I was so disgruntled that it took me a few hours to realize I would have never set an appointment for Tuesday at that time, Burp has swim then. I looked at the calender. The 25th IS Monday. I dug though my purse and FINALLY found the appointment card. The 25th at 4:20! WTF!!
This has happened before and we've only been going there once a month for, this will be, 4 months. And last time I called because the appointment card said a day and a date that didn't match. The date was a Monday, but Tuesday was written on the card. They clarified that they had us set for a Tuesday appointment, and I rescheduled, but the next appointment we went to the doctor had us written down for a no-call, no-show. I've freaking had it!

I'm getting Burp a new shrink. And no one is allowed to diagnose him with something new unless they have addressed something old! I'm not putting up with anymore shit from anyone. If I don't like you, or your bitchy, pippy-twat incompetent staff, I'm done with you!

Enough is enough already.

Welcome to the World of Weird

I get Burp from the sitter this morning and ask, "What do you want for breakfast?"
He doesn't even have to think. "A granola bar, banana, carrot - big not babies, and an apple. I wish we had frozen peas."
What mom has to limit her kid's fruits and veggies? Me...
"No, how about some protein.... can we at least add peanut butter in there?"
We wheel and deal.
He finally agrees to a peanut butter and banana sandwich, a carrot, and an apple... and a granola bar- if he's still hungry.

He only got through the sandwich and carrot.

Yesterday was a plate of apple slices, carrot sticks, and celery sticks, all of which he liberally dipped in peanut butter.

The psychologist wants him to have a high protein breakfast. I've tried eggs and sausage, which he loved for the first week.... then refused to eat after that.  He won't eat cereal. I even broke down and got him Lucky Charms... which he ate once. (I know it's not high protein, but with his ADHD meds it's pretty much a given that he won't eat much of lunch... and the boy is skin and bones. He's gotta eat breakfast.) The only breakfast I can get him to eat without a fight is bagels and fruits and veggies... Thank god he loves peanut butter - or I'd be totally screwed.

It may not be HIGH protein, but at least it's SOME protein.


Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Talk Thursday: Superstition

I'd like to be able to say that I'm not superstitious.. but I am, within reason. Hey, I was raised with a grandma who knocks on wood and in a house that has a Pie God....  Also, I don't think it's possible to be a borderline pagan and NOT be superstitious. So yes, if I spill salt, I toss some over the left shoulder.

Growing up, if a nose itched I knew it meant "Kiss a fool, meet a stranger, break your neck, or be in danger..." Itchy palms meant the giving or getting of money according to my stepmother. But then I knew it was ridiculous to avoid cracks in the sidewalk and to make the point, I stepped on every one... and my mother's back was never broken. I know cats don't suck the breath out of babies. I don't fear black cats, but I won't walk under a ladder- that just seems to be inviting trouble. 13 isn't an unlucky number at all, but I do a double take when my purchase rings up to $6.66, and I don't even believe in Satan!
I don't believe that a yawn or a cough allows your soul to escape your body or leaves you vulnerable to evil spirits. However, I know the power of salt and have been known to line doorways or windowsills with it to protect the home from evil. I have, more than once, preformed cleansing rituals on homes and people. And though more for my son's well-being, I have hung windows with garlic (but he was having vampire nightmares).

More than anything, I believe in the power of the mind. I believe that if you believe in it, you give it power. Take voodoo or witchcraft... I don't believe that it can be used to harm someone who doesn't believe in it or doesn't believe it can harm them. Interesting note: I have messed with people who know that I have a bit of knowledge in the occult, and fear it. I have made stuff up, just to fuck with them... and though my intent was just to play a prank, their belief that I knew what I was doing and that I had jinxed them seemed to give it life and convinced them that I had really truly put a hex on them. (I know, bad girl!)

I do believe in spirits, ghost, and energies good and bad.... I don't believe that evil demons can come to this plane and do us harm. Others might believe that they can... and therefore, it might possibly give them the power or energy to do so.... People who do not believe in the possibility of ghosts, won't ever see one because they have closed their mind to it, and reduced the flow of energy. I don't think that spirits, or whatever you want to call them, have the energy to manifest on their own, but need to "borrow" energy from a live "receiver"... But, that's just my own perception, who knows...
Hmmmm, should the belief in the supernatural be considered superstition? Because I do, without doubt, believe. But then, by the same token, belief in a god or gods would have to be considered superstition..... and that would just piss a lot of people off.
When I consider superstitions, I am generally playing it safe. I might not REALLY think I'm jinxing myself, but I'll knock on wood just in case. I might not REALLY think it's a bad idea to open an umbrella indoors, but just in case... Why tempt The Fates? I do, very much, believe in Karma, maybe not EVERYTHING comes back three fold, but you certainly reap what you sow. You get what you give. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you....

I suppose, before I wrap this up.... I have to explain The Pie God... who was most certainly NOT born of superstition, but from which superstition was born.
Growing up, mom didn't keep sweets or treats in the house, so if she made a cake, pie, brownies, cookies, whatever..... that was a big deal... and I'm a fat ass.... Not that I would eat a whole, or half, a pie in a day (that was Misery), but I did often eat more than my fair share. My mom would inevitably flip out a week or so after whatever desert was gone, "I never even had one piece." (In my opinion, who makes a desert and waits FOREVER to have even one piece?) So after years of this, we became trained to leave the last piece, and OMG, guess what? 99% of the time it went bad and was eventually thrown away. So it became tradition that the last piece was left for the Pie God, and mom couldn't complain. Of course, when mom married Ducky and Misery came to live with us, the Pie God starved to death because there was no way in Hell Misery would let even a bite of any sweet go to waste. As much as I insisted, they could never be convinced of the necessity of the Pie God. Misery did experience the wrath of mom when she called her dad at work one day and asked if she could have the "last piece" of cheesecake. He said of course she could..... what she failed to mention was that there was half a cheesecake left, just not cut into pieces.

Boy howdy.... let me tell you, they were both in big trouble.

Monday, January 18, 2010

Talk Thursday: Favorite Proverbs

I grew up in a house that abounded with proverbs, wise sayings, and bizarre but intellectual quips, whether legit or made up by my brilliant and insightful mother.

It has been thrown around that my mom has some OCD tendencies. This is no laughing matter. "A place for everything and everything in it's place" was no joke in our house. I'll never forget the time I was sitting on the sofa reading and mom asked me to take out the garbage. I put down my book, took out the trash, and came back to the sofa. My book was gone. I found it on top of my dresser. I could say that I was a slob out of rebellion, but honestly, I'm just a lazy procrastinator who easily gets lost in one thing after another. Certain aspects of the OCD are contagious though. I, more than once, frustrated and sometimes infuriated my very NON-OCD step-mother. One of the first things I always saw to upon going to their house was the organization of their pantry. Cans of peas and peaches don't go together and you can't have the soups with the tomato products. I just can't stand it. AND, I don't care if you only have one can of creamed corn you can't stack it on the green beans. Boxed goods must go on a separate shelf, however you MAY put the unopened peanut butter next to the Bisquick. Don't ask me why, that's just the way it is. I did however go too far when I reorganized her kitchen one day while she was in town. They had a huge kitchen with more storage than anyone really has a right to have, but there was no rhyme or reason to where things were or what was stored with what. They liked it when I cooked but I couldn't cook in those conditions. So I moved the glasses from next to the stove and put them in the cupboard between the fridge and the sink.... that is obviously where they belong. DUH! I took the spices that had been in that cupboard and put them in the now empty one by the stove. I separated everyday  pots and pans from the seldom used baking pans and placed them in appropriate places. I put storage containers in a handy location next to the drawer that stored the foils, wraps, and baggies. LOGIC! HELLO! When she got home, she was so pissed. I think it was several weeks before I was allowed back in the kitchen. I still say I did her a favor. People pay good money to have professional organizers come in and do that shit.

"Any job worth doing is worth doing right" or some crap like that. This is where my procrastination hits a snag. See, when I clean- OMG, I get in there and go to town like a mad man. I don't own a mop. I do it by hand because that's the only way to really get it cleaned right. Even as a kid, when I'd break down and FINALLY clean my room, I didn't just clean it.... I'd get so deep into it that I inevitably ended up totally gutting and rearranging the whole damn thing. I think this is why when things get a little out of hand, I procrastinate until it's WAY out of hand... because I know that if I get in there to clean it up, it's going to be an all day project anyway... I can't JUST clean the kitchen floor... because I'll end up wiping down the baseboards,.... which leads to the walls... which leads to the cupboards... makes no sense to have clean cupboard doors if the inside isn't clean too.... the fridge needs wiped.... uggg the inside needs cleaned.... and on and on and on. I think maybe I have a little ADD too, cuz I might not always get one completely done before something else gets my attention and Ohhhhh if I have to go to the bathroom before I'm done cleaning the kitchen, I might just have to stay and clean that first.... then where did I put that spray bottle.....

That said.... I need to quit procrastinating and go clean my kitchen floor...... I could go on..... mom had lots of bits of wisdom to share.... but the floor, and baseboards, and walls, and cupboards, and fridge and bathroom are calling........ *sigh*

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Talk Thursday: Ambiguity

I have no place in my life for ambiguity or ambiguous people. I hate fence walkers and double talkers. Say what you mean, or don't say it at all. Stand for something or you don't stand for anything.

In my experience, there are two kinds of ambiguous people. Those who think they are intellectually superior to others and use ambiguity to passive aggressively insult the intelligence of those around them or the non-committal people who get through life without making waves and never have the backbone to stand up and disagree with anything.

Life, to me, is cut and dried. You are or you aren't, you do or you don't. If you're somewhere in between, then you just haven't made up your mind yet. If I ask you a question, don't use your ambiguous-double-talk-crap on me, tell me the truth or tell me to mind my own business.

Don't seek me out to play your little games. I know what you're doing and you're not that fucking smart, asshole. I'm a little insulted that you think the rest of us can't catch on because you don't hide it that well, and if you thought you did.... I know a few people who could really teach you a thing or two about ambiguity. You're very much like the kinda fat girl who hangs out with really fat girls so that she can feel like the skinny one for once. Pathetic.

My first roommate had a 25lb Savannah Monitor (Turd) who ate live baby rats. On occasion, Turd would play with her food, picking it up by a hind leg and tossing it into the air. Sometimes she did it too long and the rat would get past the scared stage and start fighting back. You have to be careful, your lizard can loose an eye that way.... and in turn, get an infection and die.
Moral of the story.............

Ahhhhh sweet ambiguity.

Monday, January 4, 2010

It's been an interesting 2 weeks....

I found out one of my best friends is pregnant after years of yearning and trying. I'm so excited for her.. I want to start knitting and, though she's a world away, my greatest desire is to rub her belly and talk to Baby. I'm sure she's already got Baby listening to classical and I'm immensely regretful that I can't sneak some Metalica in there. (Though I will burn you a copy of Whiskey in the Jar, because we both know what a life saver that can be.) I was waiting til the 3 month mark to tell Burp, but he saw the pic of the test on your blog. "What's that?" he asked, "How do you make it play??"
"That doesn't play. That's, well, a pregnancy test." I answered.
"Oh? Who's pregnant?" he asked.
"Well, Aunt Tandy's pregnant."
"WHAT? HOW THE HECK DID THAT HAPPEN?" The look on his face was priceless.... like I'd just told him Aunt Tandy laid an egg.

* * *
I got to go home for Christmas. YAY!! It was nice. Every year or so I need that Florence recharge. A few interesting things happened there.

Apparently, not only is my father speaking to me again... but he has a business proposition for me. My step mom and I should start an adult fostercare. We'd have 4 or 5 residents and I would live there and work at night, step mommy will work days. All I have to do is tuck them in at night and be there, and ta-dah! I'll make $3,500 a month........... What the hell kind of idiot do they take me for???? WTF.
First, you don't just tuck them in...... You wipe asses, and if you don't, you get turned into the State.
Then, they die at night..... They tried to tell me this isn't true.... but I work in an ER. They forget they can't walk, get up to go to the bathroom, fall down, break a hip, piss themselves, then go to the ER to die.
And, do I really want to raise my child, my ADHD/ Severely anxious child in a house full of dying old people?
And, Who the hell wants to live at their work?
And, MOST importantly, I DON'T LIKE SICK OLD PEOPLE!!! 1) You have to yell at them. 2) They're rude. 3) They say weird shit, 4) They do weird shit.

Old people are crotchety and cranky and will shit on the floor just to spite you. I've seen it... and smelled it! And nothing smells worse than old person shit.
* * *

Speaking of old people saying weird shit... Picture this... I'm at my mom's on Christmas Day. Carols playing in the background. The smell of turkey wafting in from the kitchen. Lights twinkling on the tree. Sitting in the front room talking to the Grandmas (which is really my grandma and her best friend who we adopted as grandma several Christmases ago- henceforth to be called BatShitCrazy grandma) We're talking about the weather and how cold it's been and BatShitCrazy says, "The only time I've been warm in the last few weeks is in the shower when I put the massager on my pussy. That's nice. Warm."
---- Yes, she SAID pussy. PUSSY!
My dear sweet grandma does the only thing she can, completely fucking ignores it.
My eyes are bugging the fuck out of my head and stupidly say, "Wha...?"
And as my 8 year old son walks into the room she says... "Pussy dear. You have one. Don't you like to make yours feel good too?"

I did the only thing I could, I completely fucking ignored it.

Pussy, indeed.
* * *
I am apparently not the black sheep of my dad's family. Currently, at least, I would appear to be the golden child. My dad's family is kind of messed up.
My dad recently got arrested for domestic violence, or some shit. The story goes that he and my step mom got into an argument, he may or may not have smacked her. She threatened to call his boss, which is her new weapon, and went into the other room to make the call, so my brilliant father unplugged the phone. Well my esteemed step mommy was really calling  911, and unplugging such is some sort of federal crime. Daddy went to jail and then couldn't go home for a week or two. He got to stay with my Good aunt.

My Good aunt is going through her own ordeal. She has two businesses, and during Christmas time she has a third, selling Christmas Trees. Just after Thanksgiving her boyfriend of two years gave her an ultimatum. Her son or him. As any good mother would do, she chose her son.... Who recently got medical discharge from the Army for ...... sleepwalking. (LAME) J moved back to mommy's and has proceeded to do absolutely nothing. J was living with her and working part-time for room and board and mooches money off of her constantly. (Can I say that him working for her consists of him sitting behind a counter improperly ringing up people's purchases?) Half the time he can't finish his shift because he's got insomnia and is tired, or his stomach hurts, or he just doesn't feel good. But of course doesn't go see a doctor. When her boyfriend left, J moved out too. So now she's all by herself.

I have another aunt. She's my dad's oldest sister. (I think she's a little evil.) She's the angry-at-the-world-no-personality-fat-and-grumpy kind of bull dyke. Except I think the stereotypical bull dyke has short manly hair and she doesn't. It's long and black and straight. Severe. That's what I'd call her in every way. And she wears black androgynous clothing and never smiles.  It's never discussed that she is a lesbian, though about 15 years ago she had a girl "friend" that she brought around for awhile.... She has decided that she will not be coming to Florence anymore for holidays. She doesn't feel it's fair that she always has to do the traveling, therefore if the family wants to see her, they have to drive the 2+ hours to visit her. (Nevermind that she has a government job with government holidays and the Good One has a business that's open 365 days a year.) She doesn't have room for any of us to stay with her, so everyone will have to get motel rooms or make it a one day round trip. Also, she has suddenly in her mid-50's become allergic to everything, so she will be offering  sugar-lactose-gluten-free meal. ENJOY!
Ohhhh and, she has decided that grandma is too old to maintain the apartment building that the Evil One will one day inherit, and so for Christmas her one true wish is that grandma would let her take over the management of the apartments. She will plan to come down for several weeks to train with (and stay with) grandma but she requires that grandma have the carpets professionally cleaned, the walls and ceilings wiped down, new linens for her room, and as she has quit smoking she will require that they smoke outside while she is there..... "If you really love me mom, you will let me prove myself to you. I can do this!"

The holidays saw both of my brother's back in jail. I'll call them Gimpy and Stinky, cuz one has cerebral palsy and the other doesn't bathe. Gimpy, who's been on parole and doing good for the last two years (since the dumb ass took a taxi to rob a bank and did 5 years in fed pen), got in a fight with his woman, smacked her (sound familiar?), was so distraught over it that he went out and got high ruining 2 years sobriety, and got arrested while being administered to by a hooker. Stinky got some sort of drug charges but still has custody of his kid (great system, huh?).

The Good One, grandma, and I went out for lunch and talked and stuff. Nothing too exciting. I thought grandma was going to cry at one point, but over all we had a good visit and I spent Christmas Eve with them (my dad couldn't make it). Grandma hugged Burp and I like a million times and they both kept telling me what a good mom I am and how proud they are of me. The Good One said she'd tell my dad to leave me alone about the adult foster care thing and that he's fucking crazy if he thinks I should give up my job with it's benefits for that crap.

I have to say, it feels really good to be the Golden Child for once, though a rusted spoon would shine like a scepter in this family.

* * *
I'll leave you with one more little hahaha from BatShitCrazy......
Same day, same setting... BatShitCrazy leans over to grandma.
"Her nose is pierced twice."
Grandma murmurs an agreement.
"Her lip is pierced."
Again grandma agrees.
"What else do you think she has pierced?"
Grandma groans.
I wave. "Hello, I can hear you. I'm right here!"
BatShitCrazy...."I'm just sayin..."

Talk Thursday: My, My Time Flies

Every year just seems to go faster.

I pretend I don't hear that clock ticking. I'm almost 34. Crazy. Growing up I never thought I'd live past 21. Sure I had all sorts of dreams and goals for life past that; Marriage, I wanted tons of kids, I wanted a career in forensic pathology. Despite that, I could never really picture myself as an adult so rationale said I probably wouldn't ever be one. Here I am. An adult, of sorts. I've been semi-secretly in love with a married doctor for three years (sadly, that's probably my longest relationship ever)(And I know if I did believe in Hell that alone would put me on a fast track for a fiery eternity). Single parent to one child (which is way better than a single parent to 12 children). And the closest I got to the career I wanted is Sunday On Demand marathons of CSI and NCIS.

Dreams and goals adapt to real life. Though it's not forensic pathology, I love the challenge and stress of my job. A good day keeps me on my toes and gives me the chance to shine. I know I'm damn good at my job. Marriage is something that time has definitely changed my views on. It's not something I long for though I miss being in a relationship. I suppose that there is the deeply hidden wish that I could find that Mr. Right who could make me forget my doubts and who I could place all my trust in.... I have trust issues. Hell, I apparently have Mr. Right issues. These days Mr Right is a smart, fun loving dad of, hopefully, two younger children...... I don't exactly feel the need to go through the whole baby stage again, though it does make me occasionally blue that I'll never give my mom a granddaughter.

When I was pregnant with Burp, I was so terrified that I would have a girl. I was never a girly girl, what the hell would I do with a girl? Because I was so afraid of it, I became certain that The Fates would give me a girl. By the time I found out I was having a boy, I'd pretty much gotten used to the idea of a girl. I even had a name picked, Rosslyn Calista - after my grandma and mom. Tick, tick, tick...... Now Burp is 8 and I can't really imagine starting that whole thing over. Sure he wants me to have a baby and has since he was old enough to say so, but he also wants a dad or a puppy, not necessarily in that order.

Dreams adapt... I would love to do foster care. Too many kids out there need good homes, be it for a day or a lifetime. I could do that. It breaks my heart to hear what some foster homes are like. Unfortunately, I'm not in a place in life where I can give my child everything I want to give him, I don't think it would be fair to him to spread things even more thin. Ever seen the movie, "Yours, Mine, and Ours"? That's the dream life. Unfortunately, I have no secret talents that will suddenly make me independently wealthy. Nor do I see some greatly successful old sweetheart coming back into my life..... I don't think there are any. haha

I wonder where life will take me over the next 10 years? Burp will have graduated from high school, hopefully be in his first year of college, and my baby making years will certainly be over... Then what?

Sunday, January 3, 2010

OMG it's been like 2 weeks...

Uggg I suck.... Today we're going to Willamette Pass to play in the snow... I promise I'll catch up on blogs tonight....