Fractal Custodial Grandparenting

Ahhhh, the ravages of the day after Christmas...

Yesterday went fairly well, all told. I awoke at 8 am, to three children still sleeping. The night before, we had ¾ Pint, both of whose parents worked. ½ Pint was totally scandalized by this fact, she thought that her cousin's parents should get Christmas Eve off. I asked her if she thought people should stop being sick and all the bad guys should quit being bad?

She said well, no. So I told her that Nursey still had to take care of sick people that are in hospital, and Cop still had to track down the bad guys so they had to work...

I took the kids to Christmas Eve Mass. We have three churches that are served by our Priest. That becomes extremely convenient at times like Christmas Eve. We had three masses, 6:30 at one church about a 10 minute drive, 9:30 at our usual church (3 minute drive) and midnight at the other church (7 minutes).

Guess which one I chose? Yep. The 6:30. They should have called it the “people who have small children” mass. Cause that's who was there. Everyone in the Parish who had small kids showed up at the 6:30 Mass, along with the elderly who don't want to stay up late.

We got everyone dressed in their little Christmas Eve dressed, found enough tights and pantyhose and socks to fit everyone, I went in and found an outfit I hadn't worn for about a year, but is a red pantsuit and suitable, found black dress pumps...and we were off.

Got to the church, no one was there yet. Ran the other mile into town (drove) and the Dollar Store was still open. Locked the kids in the car right in front of the door, ran in to buy D batteries for Pint's robot.

Back to the car, and back to the church. Now there are lights on. Into the church.

IT'S FREEZING IN THERE.

Thats what happens when you have this big old church which doesn't get used every day by anyone. It takes a good bit to warm it up even with the furnace on.

Slip into a pew. Pint has to go potty. The bathrooms are in the church hall, outside, behind the church. There is NO WAY I am going out there. It is COLD.

Tell her she will just have to hold it, and there is a reason I tell them all to go potty before we leave the house.

The church is very beautiful. The nativity is particularly pretty. Which becomes funny later.

We keep our coats on, as does everyone else who comes in. We see a few friends and speak softly to them.

We make our prayers and seat ourselves. The Priest comes in, and the procession starts. We are still freezing. ½ Pint and ¾ Pint are being sort of disruptive, in a nice 5 and 6 yr old way. Pint is paying attention to the service. They aren't, only when it is time to stand, and they are doing their responses, but you can tell their little hearts aren't in the responses. They are too busy thinking about Christmas and the presents under the tree.

I tell them, if you are good, you can open a toy. If you are bad during Mass, it's pajama's for you kiddo. I have to have SOME control!!

Christmas is a Holy Day of Obligation in the Catholic Church. I had to take Pint to make her confession this past week. She had never made her confession to this Priest, only to our old Priest. And her previous confessions were face to face, in the new manner. This one was in a confessional like I had to do when I was a kid.

She said Father laughed out loud once while she was in there.....She told him it had been 9 months since her last confession and she had too many sins to remember them all. He laughed and told her to just tell him the worst ones then.

It's nice to have a Priest with a sense of humor.

We came home, did the hot chocolate thingy, did the present thingy, did the Night before Christmas thingy, and then did the bed thingy. Pappy left with ¾ Pint to take her home and put her to bed.

Baby was here for Christmas. Her and I finished wrapping. The kids went to bed without too much problems, I only had to spend about ½ hour standing on the ladder in Pint's room. She can be particularly difficult during times of stress. Christmas Eve wasn't too bad.

We got everything wrapped and then DH came home and we stuffed the stockings which were hung on the mantle with care.....

And went to bed.

Back to the beginning of the blog. I woke Baby up, went into the Dining room and turned on the stereo LOUD. Christmas music. Out of the bedroom came the kidlets, smiles and hugs all around. Into the living room they flew, straight to the stockings.

Started opening presents after I got my coffee. Calamity was due to come over. I was not looking forward to that, but it was okay.

The day progressed. Calamity got here with ¼ Pint who has been sick for over a week, and although I have told her five times during the past week to take the baby to the dr, or at least to the ER, she hasn't done that yet.

Son and Niece/daughterinlaw came over. They and Baby all left at 11:30 for other family visits that had to be made.

Nursey and ¾ Pint got here about 1 ish. Nursey brought the fixings for Christmas Dinner. Calamity left shortly after.

Pint was acting a little weird. Very withdrawn. It is because Calamity was (according to her) very tired and hadn't gotten much sleep. So, she kept nodding off in the middle of conversations and whenever she was sitting in one place for more than 60 seconds.

For those of you who are not familiar with certain aspects of this behavior, falling asleep in the middle of a conversation or whenever you sit down is an aspect of heroin addiction. One that unfortunately, Pint is most familiar with. And so, she was again, watching her mother have behaviors that are reminiscent of her using heroin. Is she? We don't know. But the behavior definitely affected Pint.

Calamity left, to take the baby other places, and not probably to the ER where the poor thing needed to be.

We had dinner and a wonderful time with Nursey and ¾ Pint. The kids didn't start fighting until it was time for Nursey to leave anyway, and then it was time for bed.

It took me two hours to put Pint to sleep. I stood on the ladder. I stood on one leg with the other leg thrown up onto the top bunk, my arm under her pillow, my other are wrapped around her little 8 year old body to give comfort. I stroked her head. I kissed her neck. Finally, she fell asleep.

Today, she will have normalcy or whatever approaches normalcy in our home. It's a mess. The house needs swept, the dishes are still not all the way done from yesterday. The presents are piled up in the bedrooms.

I will get to it all. Slowly. Dh went into town to the bank (½ hour away) and then to Nursey's to drop off a forgotten present, then will stop at the Dollar Store on the way back to get more batteries.

Monster, who is even HUGER than he used to be (we are estimating roughly 185 pounds now) got scared of something this morning and wouldn't get off the bed. It was too funny.

And, my coffee pot breathed it's last, so DH is also getting a cheapo coffee pot at the Dollar Store. A good coffee pot can wait til DH's pension check hits the bank on Monday.

We survived another Christmas.

The Pope just announced that the official Nativity did NOT happen in a stable.  I am thinking that no one is going to change their idea of the Nativity that we have all grown up on. 

½ Pint got me the best present I have ever gotten. It is a little tiny plaque, from the school Santa's workshop. It says...

Grandma's are Mommies with lots of practice.

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It was a light and fluffy night. The snow was falling. It was quiet on the old homestead. Pint was busily wasting time at her computer. ½ Pint wanted to read.

Now that she is in Kindergarten, she thinks she should already be able to read. Apparently, there is a reading fairy who comes by and bites you sometime during your kindergarten year, and presto! You can read.

So, we pick a book. For many years, I only read one author to the kids. I figured, hey, if I have to read, I'm gonna enjoy it darn it!

So we get good old Dr. Suess.

Green Eggs and Ham.

We start out.

That.

Okay honey, what sound does Th make when you say it? She doesn't know. I explain that every single time you see the two letter T and H together, it will make the THHHHH sound. Good.

I cover up the th revealing only the 'at'. I ask her if she knows that word. She proudly says AT.

I ask her what would you get, if you added TH to AT. Smart kid, she says THAT !!

And we are off and running.

When she comes to a new word she does not know, which is clear over on page 33, the word is train. She guesses what the word would be by looking at the picture on the page. Pretty dang smart I am thinking, but of course, I am prejudiced. A few other new words pop up. We are really having a good bit of trouble sounding out words. She knows the sounds the letters make, she knows how to string them together, but the end result is just not the word we are looking for..

The next page we have trouble with is page 36. Good old Sam and his friend are now in the train tunnel. We struggle through, we struggle through, she says, BOX. I say nope. I say, it starts with a D. Box doesn't start with the Duh sound. She says Boat!. I say nope, thats the bh sound, this word starts with the Duh sound. She says FOX. No honey, it starts with Duh and ends with the Cuh sound. She doesn't even guess Duck..which to me would make sense...... and finally, giving up, I tell her the word is DARK. Good on then.

A few pages later, we are on page 42, still on the train, with the track hanging in mid air supported only by a slim tree branch with two red pieces of wood on it, Sam and his friend are now perched precariously on the top of the train, sitting in a blue car. There are several passengers in the car besides Sam and his little friend.

“Could you, would you, with a .......”

GOAT? She is unfamiliar with this word. We sound it out. She says gaaaaaaa. She says ahhhhhhhh (one of the O sounds). She says eeeeeeeeeee as in small a sound. And finally, the T sound. It takes a good bit to put them all together. She is not a phonics kid. She is a very visual kid. Hands on kid. Finally, we get the word. GOAT !!

Rock on little girl.

Next page. Now we are clear to page 47. It is a long page.

I could not, would not, on a boat.

I will not, will not, with a goat.

I will not eat them in the rain.

I will not eat them on a train.

Not in the ......... she falters.

I say, look at the first letter, and the last letter. She does. I ask, “what is the first letter?” She says D!

Proud. I say what is the last letter? She replies, “K!”

I say, sound them together and what do you get?

She looks up and proudly says

GOAT !!!

We couldn't help ourselves. We start cracking up, DH and I. There is only so much a grandparent can take.

Now, insane people that we are, we are walking around the house, and whenever something happens that totally doesn't make sense, one or the other of us will look at each other and shout at the top of our lungs.....

GOAT !!

And then we collapse into gales of laughter, and the kids look at us like we are nuts and we don't care.

So, for all you out there in blogland....a very merry GOAT to think of today, as we approach the celebration of Our Lord's birth.

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****singing****

Oh, What a night.......

Yeah. Whoo. Buddy.

Yesterday was not a good day and led me to literally three hours of deep, deep, reflective prayer last night in bed.

Yesterday, we met with the girls counselor and myself, and Calamity.

The counselor has recommend supervised visitations only for the present. Calamity does not understand why. Which I can totally understand. DH and I met with the counselor and she explained it to us, I had DH along because, quite frankly, my recall is not what it used to be.

So, after that visit with the counselor, DH and I returned home to meet with Calamity a few days later and try to explain it to her.

We tried. It didn't go very well. She loves her children. I have never denied that in any way. I have said that apparently she loved heroin more, but I have never said she didn't love them. I have said that when she was using, she was an incompetent parent, but she was never an abusive parent. However, simply not being abusive does not make you capable of good parenting.

So yesterday, she and I met with Counselor.

We went over the facts mostly. That the kids have lots of anxiety issues surrounding their mother. That she has recently (within the last six months) made decisions when they were with her that were not adult decisions. These are not things that are horrid, just bad judgment. Things that she didn't even think about as problems, but which are viewed by society (and me) as being bad judgment.

Getting up in the morning on a snowy and very icy day, and piling three kids into the car at 5:30 a.m. To go to the methadone clinic to get her dose. Not safe. Not good. Miss your dose. It won't kill you. But no, she does not see it that way.

Leaving the kids with an alcoholic and abusive significant other who has been arrested six times in the last year and a half or so, while she goes to the clinic to get her methadone, and then runs errands. She returns to find them hungry at 11 am. He has not moved from the couch to feed them. They are 8, 5, and 7 months.

She says, He is not in the house anymore. I say, but you are taking the baby to him to watch at his mothers where he is on house arrest. The counselor is like WHAT? Calamity says, his mother is taking care of the baby.

I remind her that this is the same woman who this morning on the phone, Calamity is complaining to me that there is no food in the house where the boyfriend now lives because they only get $80 in food stamps a month, and the boyfriend's mother doesn't drive, so she sends her husband to the store and he buys all junk food which is gone in a week, and then they have no food the rest of the month.

I say to her “these are not the actions of a mother in control. So what if she doesn't drive. She gets the food stamp card, tells her husband, TAKE ME TO ALDI'S and then can go and buy a month's worth of food from Aldi's.”

She takes control I say. This is what ADULTS do. They take control.

She says “You are no saint either mom.” “there were times when we were little you didn't have food”...and I reply, “there were times we didn't have food, and I went out and FOUND FOOD. You never went hungry, without clothing, without housing, without doctors, without anything that you needed.” That is what adults do. They take care of business.

She of course, felt attacked, and there is nothing I can do to change that. It was an attack. There is no ifs, ands or but's about it.

The counselor had to explain that they are learning from her that nothing is ever her fault, by the things she says when they are around. Such as, the kids somehow have the idea that it is the landlord's fault that Calamity and her boyfriend are $2600 behind in their rent and are/were being evicted.

We had to explain that they are trying to “own” her issues. That by owning them, they feel that they can “fix” mommy.  The counselor went on to explain that when small children try to own and FIX an adult problem, that they are still small children, and their idea's of "fixing" the problem can lead to BIG HUGE problems for them down the road. That for the safety of the children, she feels that it is best for them only to see Calamity in our home from now on, where they are just simply, children.  That they are learning to do adult things from her. Calamity so does not understand.

She says, but all we do is play when they are over.  The counselor says, but you have Pint change the baby's diaper.  Calamity says, but she wants to.....the counselor replies, but YOU have her do it.  That is not helping.   That is giving her an adult task. She is 8 years old. She feels like it is HER job to take care of the baby when she is at your house. She (meaning Pint) has a great deal of anxiety surrounding you (meaning Calamity).  The counselor goes on to explain that Pint is constantly trying to figure out ways to "fix" Mommy.  That is is very unhealthy for her to do that.  That Pint is always stressing about whether or not Mommy is using again.

And, of course, Calamity blames this one on me as well.  Because I told Pint about Heroin.  Calamity says, "I only told them that I was taking medicine that made me sick, and I had to go to the hospital to get fixed.  Mom told Pint that it was heroin."  Its not my fault.  No one should tell a six year old about Heroin. She shouldn't even know what it was."

I say, well, that is partially true.  Pint was sick, and on my lap. She was refusing to take her medicine because she DIDNT WANT TO GET SICK LIKE MOMMY.  I had to explain to her that Mommy was NOT taking medicine. Mommy was taking drugs that are illegal and Doctors do NOT prescribe.  That the medicine the Doctor gives us helps us to get better.  and Pint, being Pint, wanted to know. So, I told her.  I go on to say, If you didn't want your kids to know you were a junkie, then I guess you shouldn't have turned into one.  I didn't do this.  You did.

She said, “everyone is mean to me and I have tried and tried and I have been clean for 16 months.” When can I have my kids back.

I explain that my requirements are that she be drug free for at least two years, and this means methadone too. That she have the same apt for two years, and not be behind in her rent. That she have the same job for two years. That she have health insurance and car insurance. That she have enough furniture etc.

The counselor asks if this is unreasonable. Calamity says no. The counselor asks if she has done any of this.

She hangs her head and says no.

She accuses me of being so smart that I totally manipulate the counselor and only tell her my side of the story.

The counselor is very smart and has an advanced degree from a local very well regarded Catholic University. I am thinking she would be on to me manipulating her if that is what I was doing, and would put me in my place fairly quickly.

It was genuinely horrible. There is so much more, but it doesn't need to be recorded.

Last night in bed, I talked to God for about three hours. It helped. I asked Him to help me with a bunch of things. Bitterness. Forgiveness. Pride. Hatred. Tiredness. And, a bunch of other stuff.

I do blame her for a lot of things. I think the one the most, is that prior to her drug use, we were a VERY close family. Our kids wanted to be with us more than their friends, which is rare and precious. Now, our family is fragmented. Our children won't stick their neck out for anyone. No one wants to communicate. Well, not Nursey. She is the oldest and it doesn't affect her as much.

But definitely the younger two. Calamity actually said that DH and I had “fucked up all four kids unbelievably...” and that all her siblings agreed with her.

And, the problem is, that she has said that to her siblings, and they don't argue with her. They just let it go. They don't want to fight or say mean things. They tell me separately that they do not feel that way, but they do not say it to her face.

So, Calamity is convinced that they all agree with her. She continues to live in her world where I am the total bad guy and everything is my fault.

It hurts. A lot. I would have my children stand up for me, and they were raised to stand up for what was right and say so when the opportunity arises. But, they don't want to rock the boat, so they say nothing.

So, I prayed for all of them too. I simply do not know what else to do. It is the season for forgiveness. I will continue to pray for the strength to forgive.

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Been thinking about Politics a lot lately.

There for a bit, I was pro Fred Thompson. Then I sort of waffled out on him, cause it seemed to me that he was sort of waffling out on everyone else. He just doesn't seem, um....to want the Presidency enough to go after it aggressively and to the extent that the others do.

But, you know something? I am not sure that campaigning to that degree is even a good idea. I mean, if he wants the presidency that badly, would I really want HIM as president?

This election is making me look at politics differently. I am not sure why, but it is.

Then, I was interested in Huckabee. But some of his actions historically do not please the conservative in me at all. No, not at all. I do not like wishy washy people who pander to different groups. Even if they are 'men of the cloth'. I have known many priests, pastors and other ministers throughout the years. Experience has shown me that they are all human, and subject to human mistakes. So, Huckabee being a Baptist Minister doesn't bother me at all. That just shows me that he had the gozongas to finish college. Good on him then.

But I do NOT like his foreign policy, or actually, lack thereof.

I do like Fred Thompson's foreign policy.

I did sort of like Mitt Romney. But I didn't like the fact that he is LDS. I don't, as a rule, care much for the LDS theology. It is based more upon the supposed revelations of their supposed prophet Joseph Smith. I have read extensively the Book of Mormon, as my grandparents who ½ raised me,were practicing Mormons.

And yes, they do in fact believe that Satan and Jesus were brothers. They believe, frankly, and completely, that Jesus was an angel in Heaven before He was born of a woman. That sort of puts the fact of Jesus's divinity right in the dirt. I mean, either Jesus is the Son of God or He isn't. If He existed as something other than God, before He was born, then He couldn't be God born of woman. That sort of puts the whole Holy Trinity theory right out the door. They believe that Jesus and Satan were 'spiritual brothers'. Because Joseph Smith said so. Joseph Smith also said anyone who wasn't a practicing Mormon can't go to Heaven.  (I keep thinking of that Bible passage that says "Beware false prophets....)

And that if you love people who are dead, even though they may be baptized Christians (Mormons do not recognize any baptism other than Mormon baptism) that you can be baptized 'for' them. Then, in Heaven, they can decided whether or not to accept your gift. Imagine this. You are dead, and not in Heaven, (according to them) and then someone baptizes you so you can get into heaven, and you are supposed to decide whether or not you want it.

Yeah. Right.

So, I don't want a Muslim for President. And, I don't want a Mormon either. I do have a problem with people who aren't Christians. So sue me. And regardless of what Mormons SAY, their theology says that they aren't Christians. If you do not accept that Jesus is the Son of God, born of woman, then you aren't Christian. If Jesus was an angel before He was born, then he cannot be God incarnate as man. Period.

If you need a link to all their theology, then go here and read.

Surrogate will probably jump on this one LOL. So be it.

I guess for me, the political field is narrowing down to Thompson or McCain. We shall see I guess.

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Today hasn't been too bad. Course, it's only 9:21 a.m.

Got briefly excited when I got a thingy in my email about VA Disability pensions being allowed to be received concurrent with retirement pay. Turns out you have to have over 20 years of service. Alas and Alack!! My poor DH was injured in the line of duty after ony 1 ½ years.

Such is the way of my life. Go ahead, dangle that withered carrot in front of me!!

Still, I am grateful for the pension we DO get as we would be totally devastated without it.

I am making Christmas gifts for all the older kids, mostly because what money I could scrape up and that Nursey and Cop loaned us, had to be spent on the littles. That sucks, but then you'll have that. It goes part and parcel with what we are doing. Besides, I think I have a major problem with the fact that Christmas costs so freakin much.

I have been watching commercials lately. It comforts me in a small way to have the stupid TV on in the kitchen whilst I sit in the dining room or move about the house pretending to do things that are necessary and valuable.

I pretend to do them cause I don't' WANT to do them. LOL. Little things, like um..cleaning the Thanksgiving mess off the stove, (still not done but starting to bother me), cleaning the bathrooms (3 days overdue), finishing projects (not even within the realm of reality this week...) you know.

Why is it that the more time a person has, the less they get done? Perversity of nature I guess.

Anyway, the commercials. There is one where a fairly comfortable woman goes out and buys her big sister a diamond eternity necklace to say thank you for being there for me.

Yeah. Well, we are not in that category. Sorry.

The kids commercials are REALLY pissing me off. To the point of making me all depressed unless I grab myself up. Which I have to do every day at least three times.

I am thinking that we are having a good Christmas this year. Each kidlet has like 10 presents under the tree. Which is more than sufficient. So why am I obsessing over the lack? Why, as a society to we hanker after what we do NOT have, instead of appreciating what we do have? Is this something that is genetically wired into us? I could probably get a stupid federal grant to research this. Sad, isn't it.

½ Pint got one of the things she asked for particularly. The Girl Crush Streak and Style. $24.99 for four tubes of non toxic color for little hairs, four plastic clips that you could by at Wally World for $.99, and some sort of applicator pen looking thingy called a color wand. It is on every prehuman little girl's list this year. ¾ Pint got one from us as well. Pint, did not. She may or may not have asked for it. I honestly don't remember. DH is giving me shit cause I did not take a list of what they asked for to the store. I just sort of wandered through, looking at prices and putting things in the buggy.

Well, yeah.

I even got into the mistake of saying..and I absolutely HATE this...

You'd better watch out, Santa is watching.

What a crock of shit that is?

So last night we talked at dinner. About Christmas being about love. About celebrating a day which represents, but is not historically accurate, the birth of Christ. I did explain that if you do the calculations, that the closest we can come is that Jesus was born in mid March. LOL. Which makes no sense. Oh, the academic in me realizes that the Church adopted a few pagan rituals to allow Christianity to be more palatable to the masses who were used to celebrating at certain times of year. I know historically that the Winter Solstice was already celebrated and that the time of year was borrowed from that.

In truth, Easter probably comes closer to the actual birth of our Lord than does Christmas. However, this doesn't really bother me all that much, nor make me less of a Christian.

I explained that the giving of gifts is a tangible statement of something that should be shown every single day. That love is about giving and sacrifice. Then we talked about what each of us give to the other.

Still, on Christmas morning, knowing the society we live in, I hope they are happy.

I am totally not liking holidays anymore. How sad is that. First Thanksgiving, now Christmas. And me with two littles to raise yet.

I'b better get ahold of myself there. I got a ways to go.

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There are mornings, and then there are MORNINGS. ARRRGGGHHH

It doesn't happen very often anymore, the girls are mostly on a schedule that works and that they feel secure in. But every once in awhile, something happens to set them off.

Today, after the snow and wind and ice that incapacitated most of the easter seaboard over the weekend, school was delayed for two hours. Everyone ELSE canceled, but no, not our school. We get a 2 hour delay.

Calamity Jane (formerly Junkie Daughter) woke me up at 7 am. Thanks SO much. I don't even know what she wanted to tell me, I am not a nice person when you call and wake me up. Ever. Never.

After hanging up on her right after I said “you woke me up, thanks!!” (I also do not converse with you if you wake me up), I turned over to DH and said, you'd better turn on the TV and see if we are canceled. He did, and we were delayed, but not canceled.

Thought briefly of going back to sleep, but the thing is, and the REASON I do not like to be woken up, is that I cannot get back to sleep. So regardless of whether or not it is 3 am, 4 am or just before I am supposed to get up, I am, after the offending phone call, totally awake.

Thank you SO freakin much!!

Okay, I'm whining.

So out of bed I get, pee, let Monster out, let Spikey the chihuahua out, then let 51 the cat out. Then head to the kitchen to get the coffee.

Take a sip while walking to the bedroom to start waking up the girls. Put said coffee cup on the table while I head into Pint's room.

Pint takes after me. She is NOT a morning person. I wake her up slowly, tickling and rubbing her back. Sweetie, it's time to get up, you have a 2 hour delay....

It doesn't help. She rolls over, fighting awakeness.

Into ½ Pint's room to wake her up. She, on the other hand, IS a morning person and usually a delight to wake up.

Not today.

Finally, both girls are awake. Since we have a two hour delay, I think, hey...I can go to the bathroom BEFORE I get their breakfast. Cool.

Into the bathroom I go. Pint starts screaming for me from her bed, that she is starving and where am I? I am occupied at the moment and unable to get up. Really.

She screams for about 10 minutes straight. You would think, but you would be WRONG, that DH could either get out of bed and tell her, or that he could at least YELL in to her, or that ½ Pint who is on her sister's computer since her's crashed, that anyone could explain to her that I am in the bathroom. Or, in the alternative, that loud mouth Pint could get her butt out of her bed, stop screaming at the top of her lungs and come fine me.

Nope. You would be wrong on ALL counts.

Finally, I give up and get up. Into the bedroom I go and I am not a particularly happy camper now. Stand in the doorway.

“WHAT.”

“Meemaw, can I eat breakfast in my bed?”

NO.

The screaming starts back up. Oh, Joy. It's going to be one of those mornings.

A bit later after they have both eaten, ½ Pint does not like the way something is going. Into her room she runs, wailing at the top of her lungs.

In a minute or two, I hear the words I hate.

“I MISS MY MOMMY”.

Of course, when she visits her Mommy and gets mad, it is “I miss my Meemaw...” but still. There is only so much a person can take in the moring.

I am standing at the sink, washing the pots and pans from last night.

Listening. It doesn't do any good to go in there right away. She will yell for about 5 minutes and nothing anyone can say will help.

The entire time I am thinking (evil, horrid person that I am)...

>>>>(“I WANT MY MOMMY”)<<< <<<

Yeah, well too bad she wanted Heroin more than she wanted you......

>>>>(“I WANT MY MOMMY”)<<< <<<

Well, she is on her way to the Methadone clinic right now......

>>>>(“I WANT MY MOMMY”)<<< <<<

Yeah. So do I, the Mommy that I raised and who used to be a wonderful person but who is now only as sad shell of her former self....

>>>>(“I WANT MY MOMMY”)<<< <<<

I go in and hug her. I tell her I miss Mommy too. I ask her if she wants to help me pick out her outfit for the day?

And the morning progresses. I have a headache. Now, it's time to put them on the bus. I stand at the front door which still has no stairs. They stand at the laundry room door and wait for me to see the bus coming down the road, then I yell, “There's the BUS...” and they go out to get on the bus.

Merry Morning all.

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The last 10 or so years, I have stopped school shopping, preferring to do the dirty deed at the Christmas sales.

Some things make no sense to me, and school shopping is one of them.  School clothes come out the beginning of August.  The stores are full of nice long jeans, sweaters and hoodies, striped and solid leggings, gloves, mittens, etc.

In our area, as in many, the average temperature in August is above 90 degrees.

So, I shop for school clothes in the clearance section, where they have a plethora of capri’s, shorts, short sleeved shirts and summer weight dresses.

Then, when the school clothes go on clearance at the Christmas Season, I shop for school clothes.

Good thing too, cause ½ Pint got a growing streak.  She went from a size 4 in August, to a size 6 today, and it doesn’t look like she will be in the size 6 for long.

I was a bit worried about her development.  I kept asking the Dr’s, (one and two) which is funny because the pediatricians are sisters, and one of them has a last name that sounds like (but is not spelled like) the word TWO, and so the older one who has been in practice long enough that they are now treating grandchildren of her original patients, became in my kids jargon, Dr. One…because her baby sister joined her practice about 15 years ago, and since her last name sounds like Two, she became Dr. Two….anyway, I dirgressed again. Sorry.

I kept asking them if ½ Pint was developing physically okay.  Dr. One finally told me….(the physicans are Korean and speak with a slight accent)… This Baby is fine. She is small, but VERY sturdy. There is nothing wrong with this Baby. She is C.O.M.P.A.C.T.  (which absolutely cracked me up…)

So little sturdy and compact ½ Pint, who has the cutest backside in our family, the kind of butt every girl longs for and never has, finally achieved a size 6.  Shopping yesterday included five outfits each for the girls in the school clothes dept, most on sale or clearance. 

Yesterday, because one of my children actually KNOWS what our lives are like and CARES what our lives are like, and is married to a man who has both understanding and compassion for what we are doing, I got to go Christmas Shopping.

Our budget for our four children and two grands that live with us and two grands that don’t and everyone else was a whopping $300.00.

That doesn’t go far at all. Nope.  So Nursey and Cop fronted us a piece of plastic on which we can make the payments.  I am so blessed to have her as a daughter and to have her married to Cop.  They are wonderful people, even if they didn’t help us out which they do whenever they can. Except when they fight. When they fight..its not pretty LOL.

They are both Cancers.  You can not believe, or believe in Astrology.  Doesn’t matter to me either way.  But I can tell you that when two Cancer’s fight, it becomes well, the thing that reality TV is made of.

Cancer’s can take the trip down HYSTERIA HIGHWAY at the drop  of a hat.  When that happens, whomever they are talking to at the time needs to NOT go on that trip.  The problem comes when the Cancer is fighting with another Cancer, because they BOTH IMMEDIATELY JUMP IN THE TRAFFIC ON HYSTERIA HIGHWAY.  So at that point, there is NO rational adult person present.

If you have a daughter who is a Cancer, recommend highly that she not fall in love with another. Trust me on this.

Yesterday was fun spending the day with Nursey.  I did have to stop into Olive Garden for a quick Merlot to stiffen my spine for the experience.  Not being with Nursey.  Being in public.

I shouldn’t be allowed out in public anymore without a chaperone.  My level of courtesy has dropped to the point where I am actually rude I think.   At least, that’s what they tell me.  If someone bumps into me, and doesn’t say anything, I will speak to them…sorta.

Actually what I say is things like  “you boorish asshole, obviously your parents left courtesy out of your upbringing…”      Or, “EXCUSE me, did you forget your manners?”

I do other things that I shouldn’t too.  Like when they are ringing up the merchandise, and they total the order…and say…..”That will be $157.30”. 

So…. I pull out and carefully count out $160.00 while they look, and then hand it to them…and then they enter the $160.00 into the computer which then pops up and says that my change should be $2.70.  At that point, I say “OH! HANG ON, I HAVE CHANGE…and I pull out $2.75 and hand it to them..

Then I stand there and wait, laughing hilariously inside me. I don’t do this unless the person is under the age of at least looking under the age of 25 years old.  But at Christmas, the cash registers are positions filled by college students and young people looking for extra money, and none of them can make change.

Nursey thinks it is funny too,  which is why I like to shop with her.  None of the other kids will put up with it.  They get mad at me. LOL.  Which does nothing to change the aberrant behavior of their socially unacceptable mother.

So today, I get up late.  Rush in to get the girls up and tell them “Meemaw slept in 15 minutes over the absolute time I have to get up.  I do not have time for you to dick around this morning. Get up, Pee, go eat and get dressed or you will miss the bus.”

They are great kids, and they did it.  (Sigh..they know me.)  So, at promptly 8:23 they were stationed near the laundry room door which leads to the driveway, and I was stationed at the front door which has no stairs, looking out the storm door window for the bus lights which I can see as it crests the hill.  When I see the lights, I say “OKAY, there’s the bus, go…..”  and they carefully proceed down the stairs and down the driveway.  By the time they reach the end of the driveway, the bus is turning the corner.

Timing is everything.

We waited.  And waited.  And waited some more.  A thought sort of wandered through my head briefly.

The thought decided to return.  Wow, it’s really cold out there.  And there is ice.

The thought left again.

The girls, at the laundry room door say…”Did you see the bus yet Meemaw?”  to which I reply, NOPE.  She must be really late today.

The thought is gone.  It moved though.  From the front door, it wandered through the house and came to land in DH’s head, which works a lot better in the morning than mine does.

DH says from the bedroom, “you don’t suppose there is a delay this morning do you?”

So he puts the TV on only to discover, there is a 2 hour delay.

So they are watching TV, I am blogging, to finish, shower, get dressed and be at the end of the driveway at 10:23 with DH and the girls, put them on the bus and go to wally world to finish up the shopping.  Shop till 2:30, pick up ¾ Pint from the catholic school, drop her off at the Girl’s school at 3 where all three of them will attend the Brownie/Junior Girl Scout Troop meeting, go home and come back at 5 to pick them all three up, then home (20 minute drive), to eat dinner ,then at 7 DH will take ¾ Pint BACK into town to put her to bed.

Our job today is to find  a Style and Streak…a GEM thingy that puts beads in your hair, and about 17 other things that have recently been advertised on TV to attract the 5-12 year old girl group…none of which I can remember.

It’s all good though. Wally World keeps track of those thingys and will have every single one of them on display.  I know.  This is now officially the 30^th year I have shopped for Christmas presents for Girls.  IF they held classes for Christmas Shopping for the PRETEEN market, I could skip the class.

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Fairly slow days recently, and much appreciated!!

The girls have finally settled into a routine.  When the routine is not followed, things tend to get out of hand.  It happens about 2 times a week on average.

Mornings are much nicer when the routine is followed.  Dh has recently begun hearing the alarm and trying to wake me up when the alarm goes off.  NOT GOOD.

Yesterday morning, he did it.  I ignored it the first few times, but finally turned over and growled at him.  I explained that the alarm was set for 6:30 so that I could get out of bed by 7:30.  That I do NOT get out of bed before 7:30 and that I would appreciate it if he would shut the hell up and let me snooze, along with the snooze button, until I would jump out of bed at 7:30 a.m sharp to get the girls up.

Well, in my mind that is what I was saying anyway.  I am not sure exactly that all that came out, but he shut up and left me alone, so it was all good.

My back field is slowly being covered with snow.  Eskimo’s (being not PC here) have some 200 words for snow.  I have two.  Snow I like, and Snow I do not like.  Okay, three, Snow I am ambivalent about.

This is snow type 3.  Doesn’t bother me a bit, but I do wish it was Snow type 1. Snow type 1 is huge, large flakes that fall totally vertically down, floating gently to cover the earth in a white blanket of silence.  Snow Type 1 causes school to be canceled.  Snow Type 1 means you go to the frig and see how much milk you have at the beginning of Snow Type 1.  Snow Type 1 is best on Thanksgiving or Christmas Day.  Snow Type 1 can amass a whopping 2 or 3 feet around here abouts.  I like it a lot. 

It is funny as heck to watch Fifty One go out into Snow Type 1.  She runs out the door, and disappears into a snowbank, sending me into total stitches of laughter and derision standing a the door watching her.  I tend to say things to the cat like, “bet ya won’t do THAT again…Stupid cat.”

Snow Type 1 means I have to  dig out the snowsuits and go out with the kids and make a snowman, and snow angels, and have a snowball fight and then come in and make snow ice cream.  Snow ice cream only tastes good when you are a little kid, but even when you are an adult, you will make it willingly, in the hopes that it will taste as good as it did when you were 6 years old.  It never does, but you will do it every single time anyway.

DH is having a good bit of trouble with ***MOLES***.  He is a man possessed.  His goal in life is to now rid the earth of every single mole in existence.

We have moles in our two acres.  They did furrows of good, black earth up and mar the perfect two acres of well manicured grass that he tries so hard to keep.

I don’t have the heart to tell him that the two acres of well manicured grass, is, in fact, well manicured timothy hay.  **shrugging**.  He is a city boy.

Moles like timothy hay.  They eat it from beneath.  They like the roots.  Moles live in an upside down world.  Moles, like most animals, do not bother me.  My attitude is that Moles eat and kill grass.  Then, you have less to mow.  There is no possible way they will eat the entire two acres up.  Moles are on average, about 4 inches long.  An acre is on average, a lot bigger than that.

The other day, he was out crushing mole hills, and a grandfather mole ran out in front of him.  Whipping the tractor around, he followed it.  Round and round the yard he chased the grandfather mole.  Throwing up a bit more dirt with the tractor wheels than an entire family of moles could possibly dig up in a year or two, and leaving ruts in the yard.  Back and forth he chased that mole.  Finally, up over the bank and out on to the street, where he summarily ended the fat little mole’s life. Turned it right into road pizza.  In front of the neighbors, who were at that point, laughing.

Did DH feel awkward?  He did not.  He proudly pointed out to the neighbors  the dead mole on the street, and then stuck his thumb up in the universal sign for “I DID IT”. They clapped. Then he came into the house to share his conquest of nature with me.  I was proud.  We now refer to DH as the ‘mole killer’.

Looking out the patio door where there is no patio, I can see about 10 mole hills.  It has been one whole day since he went out with the tractor and ran them all over.

The cold will send them into hibernation, or kill them or whatever happens to moles in the winter.  I won’t have to deal with moles for at least 4 months.

By then, I may be able to find something less amusing to get rid of the moles, then again, why take away his quest, and why take away something amusing to me?

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Yesterday was shopping day. Dh and I happily motored the ½ hour drive into town, went to the bank, got money out and headed to good old Wally World.

$297.00 later, and we had yet to buy food….

In the car, he thought I was mad at him. I had gotten up to the check out and was a bit surprised at the total. A few things had made it into the buggy which were not on my list and had driven up the price. Nothing at all extravagant. One very large Jurassic Dog Bone for Monster, $9.99. Two movies @ $19.99, one at $7.50, one bottle of English Leather After Shave (still my fav) at $8.48, and a pair of slippers for me because I haven’t yet unpacked that box apparently….

$8.98. I had expected the total to be about $190 or so…so was a bit put off at the $100 difference.

I was a bit quiet in the car. We pulled into Wendy’s (they don’t call the only hamburg I like the Wendy’s Big Classic anymore, very confusing for me to order now) and got lunch, pulled over and parked to eat it. I would rather eat in the car than in the restaurant.

I knew he thought I was mad at him. I wasn’t . At all.

So, I tried to explain it to him.

I said.

You know when you were at the top of your physical form at age 19? Right before you got hurt? You were a body builder, could run for 5 miles with a full battle pack on your back, do an infinite number of pushups, etc.?

He was like, yeah. I said and then you got hurt. And were in a coma for three months. When you woke up, you weighed about 120# and had no muscle tone at all, and were missing a few parts of your body inside, and a few outside as well?

And all of a sudden, you were a cripple. At age 19. Do you remember how you felt?

Quietly, he said, Yes.

I said. My entire life, I was extremely intelligent, way past gifted. I used to simultaneously do up to and sometimes more than seven things. My mind was truly an awesome thing. I don’t say this to be bragging, believe me readers. It is more of a confession.

Problem solving was for me, easy. Off the cuff and all that. Everyone came to me with legal problems, social problems, etc. I tutored. I mentored. I helped out wherever and whenever I could. I considered my mind a gift from God, and tried to use it to help others. I believe I did so. I could see through to the root of an issue in a nanosecond, when it seemed obvious to me, other’s just did not see the solution or resolution. I could sit at a computer and run a new software program, totally cold, never seen it before in less than two minutes on average.

I could learn a new language in less than a week. I could arrive at a check out after shopping for more than an hour and know how much I spent within a few dollars, including sales tax.

I could handle the phone, fights, dinner, cleaning, conversation with DH, getting ready for a softball game or soccer game or dance recital, plan a formal wedding and not forget any details. I could also, and often did, read a book throughout all of this.

I grew up with a mind that could process information on at least six different levels at the same time. Falling asleep was rather hard at first, my mind would not shut down. I trained my mind to shut down as a child. Probably before age 8, which is as far back as I can reliably remember.

Then, about 9 years ago, the extreme stress started. When I say extreme. I do mean extreme. Without going into details, well, trust me.

At one time, actually, at several times, we had living in our home, oldest daughter, pregnant, not married, age um…22, her best friend, pregnant, age 28, junkie daughter with a 1 year old, and using heroin which we at the time did not know, her husband, their best friend, and a high school son and a middle school daughter. Then shortly thereafter we added two newborns (one ¾ Pint at 9# plus and Tyler at 4# 4oz and very fragile) into the mix, and then another pregnancy when junkie daughter got pregnant with ½ Pint. Then the husband got arrested at our home for dealing out of our home….DH fell down the basement stairs and broke his GOOD leg in six places which necessitated surgery (5) and then got a staff infection of the bone which necessitated IV long term super antibiotics and being bedridden for six months, ..

During this time we found out she was using, and so was he, another baby was born, and I worked full time.

And that is just a small part of what I went through. This kind of crap went ON AND ON for um….well, it hasn’t really stopped. It has slowed down. But not stopped.

I sort of had a nervous breakdown. Not the kind where everyone knows. Only the kind where I could tell. Things got a bit harder to handle. I didn’t smile quite as often. Laughing became an effort.

I was checked for depression, and wasn’t. They gave me medication for stress, fortunately, in a very small town, Doctors know your whole family and what is going on. They understood.

The stress didn’t stop.

Now. I can work on one thing at a time. If you interrupt me, I lose my train of thought, and often don’t get it back. If there are too many people in the room, I get agitated and nervous. Snappy.

I always sort of knew there would eventually be a ‘crash and burn’. There was. I am living it now.

The part that is hard is that I now function on the level of a normal person. Really, nothing wrong with that at all.

Except, I remember. And, so does my family. They got used to the way I could do anything, figure anything out, be supermom, etc.

And, they still sort of expect it.

I haven’t even explained it very well here at all.

But, I told him, it’s for me, like when you got hurt and then were crippled. You really missed your perfect body. It was damaged.

I really miss my perfect mind. It’s as though I suffered a brain injury that deactivated ¾ of my brain, but left the part that knows what I used to have??? And I know. Believe me I know. It’s sort of like driving down the highway in fifth gear, only to have someone put you right down into first, but you still have to go 65 mph, and you cannot upshift into fifth. No, fifth gear is irrevocably gone, and you just have to figure out how to drive in first gear only from now on. You slow down, but all the other cars ride your ass and honk at you and flip you off. Sort of like that now. Even with my Hazard lights on to tell all the others, hey, something’s wrong here, I cannot go that fast. Nope. Doesn’t work.

Most of the time, I get frustrated at my lack. I try not to show it, but I feel it. I kind of understand a very small part of what Cutter is going through. He see’s his brain and body leaving him in little MS pieces, and there is nothing he can do. Yet, he remembers when it was whole and functioning well.

I don’t have Alzheimers. I don’t have MS. I have not had a stroke. It is just the cumulative effect of too much on one person. But, when they say stress kills, it’s true. My blood pressure went from a normal (my whole life) of 75/40 or so, extremely low and stable, to overnight 275/195. Whoa NELLY !! 

It is sort of a funny bit, the day they found out my blood pressure had skyrocketed.  The doctor told me, GO HOME.  do NOT have sex. do NOT be around any stress. Do NOT let your children near you !! Come to the hospital first thing in the morning.  If you feel any pain, go straight to the ER!!  I said, where should I go? Cause I cannot go home...

I have now had two cardiac catheterizations for heart problems I do not have. Three stress tests. One hospitalization for a heart attack that was not a heart attack. I do not like doctors and do NOT seek out treatment. I avoid it like the plague. For me to be taken to the Emergency Room I have to believe I am dying. Trust me on this LOL.

And, I tried to explain this to him. That I don’t hate him. That the jokes he used to tell me all the time, are still funny, I just cannot listen to them unless I am doing NOTHING at all. That he cannot talk to me while I am on the computer, or reading anymore.

He misses me almost as much as I do.

And the phrase, “out of all the things I’ve lost in life, I miss my mind the most”, isn’t funny to me at all.

A phone call can now put me right over the edge. More than one issue can put me right into a full blown panic attack.

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