James is being an absolute PILL today!!
First they couldn't find their library books, and then they found them and we were going to walk to the library, I told James he could ride his bike if we had the bike lock. We have a bike lock, but I don't have the key for it, I'm not risking having his bike stolen because he wants to ride it, so he absolutely melts down. So no library, which upsets Jayden because she really LIKES to go to the library.
James isn't going to program today because of his behavior. Getting to leave is like a reward to him. I told him I'm taking away ALL video games and he has been noes and toes to the wall for the past 40 minutes. Crying and carrying on the entire time. I just gave him a sandwich and he bitched that I didn't spread out the jam enough.
He's complaining how his feet hurt from standing. I used to stand in the corner for 8-10 hours, I highly doubt an hour or two will kill him. He wants to go upstairs and take a nap. While that would be great, I'm not giving in to what he wants. He does this kind of shit all the time. He throws fits and throws fits and throws fits until he gets sent to his room so he can sleep, which is how he makes up for the time he should have been sleeping because he came down stairs at 6 in the morning to play video games. I'm going to have Jason lock the video games away and not in the usual places.
James is behaving just like my 2 year old. I'm SO tired of this. He thinks this family should revolve around him and what he wants at all times. He's 9 1/2, he's old enough to understand that isn't how it works. Yes, he has a disorder or twelve. However he CAN control himself. Him behaving like this sets everyone else off too, with too much crying and carrying on.
I feel like I CONSTANTLY have to be a hard ass. I can't let up, at all, ever and it's so VERY VERY tiring. I just want him to go away, for a few days, no, that's not true, I want him to go away for a few months. I'm so tired of his bull shit and how it affects every other person in the house. How it puts us all on edge and it really affects my relationship with all the other members of the family.
Am I thinking twice about homeschooling? No, not really. Yes, he goes to school and I get a break, however then I have to deal with the ignorant ass "behavior team" and how they bitch to me about how he is. When I talk with them, it's like listening to a little kid complain about how their friend treated them. Buck up and do your fucking job already people, you don't become a member of the "behavior team" and expect the kids to be peaches and cream, for christ's sake.
I'm tired. I'm worn out. I want my son to be a "normal" 9 year old kid. This entire "world revolves around me and if it doesn't I'm going to behave like an inconcolable 2 year old bullshit" is just that, bull shit. It stinks like it. It gets stuck on your shoes like it. It gets in to your house and infuses itself in to all of your belongings like it.
I have to rant here because I can't rant at him. As much as I would love to, it would accomplish nothing. I would love to gag him and toss him in a closet. But I won't. Aside from the fact that that would be VERY illeagal, it's not how to handle the problem. It won't find a solution, it just elminates the source of the irritant for a bit.
How did my parents not lose their ever loving minds raising me and my brother? Having James is like having me and my brother rolled up in one person, and some extra shit thrown in for good measure.
I really hate Homer at times like this. He wouldn't be nearly this bad if Homer hadn't of neglected him for a year and half while he was there. I kick myself for ever allowing James to go live with Homer. I know I'm not the one that neglected him, I was trying to make sure he was taken care of, and Jayden. I couldn't care for newborn Jayden and 3 year old very immature James at the same time. I knew I didn't have it in me. And now I'm paying the price for that. And it's not fair. It's not fair to me, and it's not fair to James.
A couple of weeks ago, when James spent however long it was yelling at me, we called Homer. Homer said I could drive James out to him, however I'd just have to go get him again in a week. There was no way James would survive living with Homer. Homer told me he would go to jail for abuse or killing him. That there was no way he could handle caring for James on a daily basis and he was amazed that we could. What a fucking cop out. What a fucking asshole. How do I do it? I don't have any fucking clue, but if I didn't do it, who the hell would? It's not like I can just drop him off some place and say "I'm done with this bratty pain in the ass kid, it's your turn now". Jesus Fucking Christ.
That's cop out parenting. Where do I sign up for that? I mean, really. I want to be like all the other dead beats out there. They don't take care of their fucking kids, whether they live in the same damn house together or not. Leaving state. Not buying new clothes for the kids. Not paying their child support. Not giving their kid the time and attention they need. Not disciplining, and not praising. Let's ALL do that! Yeah! We can all be grown ups who focus only ourselves and what WE want to do! Leave the fucking kids to themselves. But we gotta keep having the kids so we can keep getting our state aid or child support or income tax deduction! Who the fuck cares if we are screwing up their generation? Didn't our parents do that to us, shouldn't we carry on the fucking tradition?
That's all BULL SHIT by the way. Heaping MOUNDS of BULL SHIT. Get off your asses and be FUCKING PARENTS! Discipline, praise, care, nurture, mold. Take care of the children. They didn't ask to be born. They didn't ask to be here, with you, as their mother, as their father. You could have prevented their birth. A simple piece of laytex and there you go. Laytex allergy? They have lamb's skin for you. Stand up, do your JOB as their PARENT. These kids don't need friends. They PARENTS.
THAT is how I do it every day. How I wake up and deal with the bull shit that my son dishes out. He is my son and I am his mother. I am here to take care of him, and that's all there is to it. There are days when I wonder what the HELL I am thinking? And then there are days I feel so very blessed. Often those days are the same day. I'm sure at some point today, I'll see my blessing. I always do.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
The Fruits of My Labors.
It's amazing to me that these gorgeous flowers will turn in to some very tasty and yummy fruit. At least I hope they do. That is the goal after all.
Well, technically, the food garden is Jason's labors, but we are just going to go with it, k? For the past few days I have looked out my window and seen these gorgeous flowers. They are cantelope. And judging by the amount of blooms present, we are going to have a BUTT LOAD of cantelope. Good thing every one likes it! 
The thing about the garden is this, I really wanted it. I'm trying to have our family as a whole eat healthier and for us to spend less on groceries. I'm sure that everyone out there can appreciate that.
These are, I believe, green peppers. I didn't have any other kind of pepper seed, so I'm pretty certain that is what they are. We'll see as they grow.
The plan is that we'll keep the seeds from the fruits and veggies we harvest and plant them again next year. We'll clean them, dry them, and store them in clearly labeled paper envelopes. Again, that's the PLAN. I'm also hoping to add more variety to the garden next year. I know a lot of stuff was planted, not all of it came up.
We also have strawberries in their first year, so the fruit from them won't be much at all. Tons of tomato plants that I need to tie up to the fence to keep them from toppling and to spread out a bit. A vine plant that is watermelon or zuchini or possibly pumpkin. It is just beginning to get it's flowers so we'll see how it goes. Tons of carrots. Quite a bit of lettuce, that I'm not sure when I should harvest. And I *think* a broccoli plant or two.
All of this planting and growing is teaching me that it is all trial and error. We buy things that don't grow. So we try again next year. Hopefully we'll get better at identifying the weeds before they get as well grown as they are this year. I still need to thin out and weed 1/2 of the flower bed up front. I recently ripped out all of my herbs and cut my bulbs to the quick.
With the herbs, only the cilantro grew. I bought some potted herbs, ones meant to be planted outdoors. I hope they grow well. And I'm wondering, how do I harvest those? Do I rip up the entire plant, just take the leaves off? What?
I love to see all of this stuff grow and know that I, and Jason, and even the kids to a point, have helped nurture it, to helped it thrive so that it can enrichen our lives.
The kids' current sceince projects are sunflower seeds. They are the small pretty variety, not the ones with the huge heads. They each have 15 seeds, though Jayden only has 14 now, she dropped one on the floor. They'll plant them out front, and watch and chart their growth. Lots of sketches and charts and paragraphs will be written about these flowers. I'm sure there will also be some competition about them. I'm just glad that I'll be able to share what I love, growing these plants, with the kids and have them learn too.
As the next few weeks go by and summer leads to fall, I'll be posting more pics of our fruits of labor. Maybe you can share your tips with me about harvesting and planting for next year.
Monday, July 21, 2008
And Now For Something Completely Different...
Yes, that's a Monty Python quote. So sue me. I was talking with a friend tonight. She asked how my walking was going. I jokingly said "Walking? What is this Walking you are referring to?" She of coarse was referring to my plan to go walking with MF Jenn and the kids two or three times a week at the local walking/biking trail. It didn't happen. The days we planned on going didn't work out for one reason or another. And, No, I didn't do any exercises to compensate for my lack of plans.
I told the woman I was chatting with that I'm either not motivated, or I just don't care. Which in the same sense, boil down to the exact same thing. She told me that maybe I should find out why I'm not motivated. I said that maybe it's because I'm so damn tired all the time, or that I'm too busy from taking care of the kids and working and keeping the house from falling down around my head that I just don't care about being fat and lazy right now.
To which she brings up pregnancy. And my lack thereof. I have this theory that what is keeping me from becoming pregnant again is my weight. That simple. My life has stabilized out dramatically since I was younger. My hormones and all of that are just fine, they did the tests to prove it. Other than my living situation, which is greatly improved, the only thing that has changed since my younger days (aside from my age) is my weight. As my age has gone up, so have the numbers on the scale.
While this tidbit is personally depressing, because fat is not cool and I don't view it as sexy in the least, it's not a downer in the way I thought it would be.
While I would love any baby I was blessed to have, I realize, that right now, a baby would not be the best thing for my family as a whole. I need to adapt to the homeschooling. The kids need to adapt to it as well. We need to find our financial rock and glue our asses to it. Things like that.
I've never stopped to think about not having another baby. Before now it's always been "when we have another..." However, it has slowly become "We are done. What is next?"
There is some sadness there. And envy when I see other women who are pregnant, or announce they are pregnant. I think that will abate a bit once the time that our baby should have been due has past. Which, sadly enough, is in this next few weeks. I think it was some time between the 25th of July and the 11th of August.
I'm becoming more comfortable with the notion of selling all of our baby things. A small part of me keeps saying "Once all the baby stuff is gone, that's when you become pregnant" and has hope. A bigger part of me says "Oh fuck! That would totally suck and COMPLETELY piss me off!" And understandably so.
I am not ready for Jason to do anything permanent, at least not yet. Maybe next year I will be. Why do I want something permanent done to one of us eventually? Because when I'm 40 I don't want a surprise like Jason was. While I love my husband dearly, the only diapers I want to be changing when I'm 40 or more is those of my grandchildren.
Now think of this. My 40th birthday is 9 years away. And in all feasibility I COULD be changing the diapers of my grandchildren then. Katy would be almost 20. James would be 18. While I don't WANT my children to have children when they are that young, I'm a realist at heart. I just hope that at some point, they DO have children.
What does no more babies of my own mean? How will my life change?
Gone will be pregnancy, at least personally experienced. No waddling at 10 months pregnant. No extra swelling or needing larger clothes. Oh wait, I'm doing THAT without being pregnant! No throwing up needlessly. Or odd cravings. No giving birth of breast feeding or feeling that horrible guilt for quitting the breast feeding even though I hate it to begin with.
Once Izzy is potty trained, no more diapers until those grandbabies make their appearence. Or changing or holding or bathing babies. Yes, babies smell wonderful. However, grand babies smell even better, according to EVERY grandmother I've ever spoken to. Why? Because once they start smelling not so nice, or they start crying or doing any of that other "unpleasent" baby stuff, you can hand them back to their parents.
I'd say no more sleepless nights, but that's not true. Once these kids start dating and driving and growing up even more, there will be plenty of sleepless nights as I wait for them to get home safe and sound.
No more teaching and shaping and watching them grow. Well, again, that's not quite so. As they grow and develop and learn to become themselves, truly themselves, as adults, I will be watching and sharing and loving and teaching and learning with them. I've never been the parent to adults before, it'll be a new experience for all of us. I can only hope that they remember that I am here for them, with them, when they need me to learn from.
What I'm saying is this. While this is all "Something Completely Different" it really isn't. It's just bigger and more of the same thing, though in a slightly different form. So I shall stand up and look at my "Something Completley Different" with joy and tears and laughter and sorrow because that's how I look at it all right now. I know that I am doing my best to be the best for them and that one day, the whole world will see them as I do now. At least I hope so.
I told the woman I was chatting with that I'm either not motivated, or I just don't care. Which in the same sense, boil down to the exact same thing. She told me that maybe I should find out why I'm not motivated. I said that maybe it's because I'm so damn tired all the time, or that I'm too busy from taking care of the kids and working and keeping the house from falling down around my head that I just don't care about being fat and lazy right now.
To which she brings up pregnancy. And my lack thereof. I have this theory that what is keeping me from becoming pregnant again is my weight. That simple. My life has stabilized out dramatically since I was younger. My hormones and all of that are just fine, they did the tests to prove it. Other than my living situation, which is greatly improved, the only thing that has changed since my younger days (aside from my age) is my weight. As my age has gone up, so have the numbers on the scale.
While this tidbit is personally depressing, because fat is not cool and I don't view it as sexy in the least, it's not a downer in the way I thought it would be.
While I would love any baby I was blessed to have, I realize, that right now, a baby would not be the best thing for my family as a whole. I need to adapt to the homeschooling. The kids need to adapt to it as well. We need to find our financial rock and glue our asses to it. Things like that.
I've never stopped to think about not having another baby. Before now it's always been "when we have another..." However, it has slowly become "We are done. What is next?"
There is some sadness there. And envy when I see other women who are pregnant, or announce they are pregnant. I think that will abate a bit once the time that our baby should have been due has past. Which, sadly enough, is in this next few weeks. I think it was some time between the 25th of July and the 11th of August.
I'm becoming more comfortable with the notion of selling all of our baby things. A small part of me keeps saying "Once all the baby stuff is gone, that's when you become pregnant" and has hope. A bigger part of me says "Oh fuck! That would totally suck and COMPLETELY piss me off!" And understandably so.
I am not ready for Jason to do anything permanent, at least not yet. Maybe next year I will be. Why do I want something permanent done to one of us eventually? Because when I'm 40 I don't want a surprise like Jason was. While I love my husband dearly, the only diapers I want to be changing when I'm 40 or more is those of my grandchildren.
Now think of this. My 40th birthday is 9 years away. And in all feasibility I COULD be changing the diapers of my grandchildren then. Katy would be almost 20. James would be 18. While I don't WANT my children to have children when they are that young, I'm a realist at heart. I just hope that at some point, they DO have children.
What does no more babies of my own mean? How will my life change?
Gone will be pregnancy, at least personally experienced. No waddling at 10 months pregnant. No extra swelling or needing larger clothes. Oh wait, I'm doing THAT without being pregnant! No throwing up needlessly. Or odd cravings. No giving birth of breast feeding or feeling that horrible guilt for quitting the breast feeding even though I hate it to begin with.
Once Izzy is potty trained, no more diapers until those grandbabies make their appearence. Or changing or holding or bathing babies. Yes, babies smell wonderful. However, grand babies smell even better, according to EVERY grandmother I've ever spoken to. Why? Because once they start smelling not so nice, or they start crying or doing any of that other "unpleasent" baby stuff, you can hand them back to their parents.
I'd say no more sleepless nights, but that's not true. Once these kids start dating and driving and growing up even more, there will be plenty of sleepless nights as I wait for them to get home safe and sound.
No more teaching and shaping and watching them grow. Well, again, that's not quite so. As they grow and develop and learn to become themselves, truly themselves, as adults, I will be watching and sharing and loving and teaching and learning with them. I've never been the parent to adults before, it'll be a new experience for all of us. I can only hope that they remember that I am here for them, with them, when they need me to learn from.
What I'm saying is this. While this is all "Something Completely Different" it really isn't. It's just bigger and more of the same thing, though in a slightly different form. So I shall stand up and look at my "Something Completley Different" with joy and tears and laughter and sorrow because that's how I look at it all right now. I know that I am doing my best to be the best for them and that one day, the whole world will see them as I do now. At least I hope so.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Jason Rocks It!
Carrying on from my post yesterday. I filled it out as if I were Jason. Well, he's got me beat hand and foot. I always tell him I wonder why the hell he stays with me. Now it just goes to show he must be certifiable. I mean, when you think about it, in most things, Men and Women still look for the same things in their spouses that they did 70 years ago.
 | 102 As a 1930s husband, I am |
Friday, July 18, 2008
And On A Humorous Note
I was visiting a blog of a friend, and she had this (there's a link there, you just can't see it because of the layout colors)posted, so I took it. I figured Why Not? What have I got to lose. It's not like I'm really a house wife from the 1930's. I failed miserably, by the way. here is MY score.
Now, I'm not sure how to retake this test and actually pass it. It just doesn't seem possible to me. Admittedly, this test was designed for women some 70 years ago. Basically when Jason's parents were BORN. But it's no wonder that his mother feels I'm a craptacular housewife. According to the standards she was raised with, I AM! By the way, when I saw the results I laughed my ass off. Why? Cause it's seriously funny! Share with me what you got.
 | 24 As a 1930s wife, I am |
Now, I'm not sure how to retake this test and actually pass it. It just doesn't seem possible to me. Admittedly, this test was designed for women some 70 years ago. Basically when Jason's parents were BORN. But it's no wonder that his mother feels I'm a craptacular housewife. According to the standards she was raised with, I AM! By the way, when I saw the results I laughed my ass off. Why? Cause it's seriously funny! Share with me what you got.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
It Was A Wonderful Day UNTIL
James lost the part of his brain where his mouth plugs in to his brain and the brain THINKS before the mouth vocalizes. It was LOVELY to say the least.
Let me start with the beginning of the day. I get up. Do a little computer work. Give Izzy his regular cereal bar. James and Jayden are off getting dressed, or so I thought. I yell up to James to have him bring me down clothes for Izzy when he comes down to put on his shoes. We had places to be.
James is in bed. UGH. So I get James out of bed. He brought me a t-shirt and heavy overalls for Izzy to wear. It's going to be 90 outside, so that won't work. I ask James to bring me some shorts. He is FINALLY dressed and brings me shorts for the Izz-Man. They don't match the shirt. James starts yelling at me how Izzy doesn't have any shorts that match that match any of his shirts or anything like that. I go up and find something that matches, imagine that. Get Izzy dressed and his shoes on. Get out the door.
We go to The Root Beer Stand. You drive up. Stay in your car. The girl comes, takes your order, and then brings it to you on one of those trays that sit on your window. MMMMM, hot dogs with chili cheese, mustard and onions. Jayden likes her with just ketchup. James is a cheese and ketchup guy. Izzy gets a bag of popcorn, being a non-meat eater and all. James and Jayden had root beer, Izzy and I had fruit punch. I need to remember to not get that again, it tasted funny, the lemonade is much better.
From there we go to therapy for James. We all go back to begin with, to the play therapy room. Leave the kids in the play area while R and I go behind the mirror to watch them and talk. Then R meets with James on his own. Jayden was particularly upset to be leaving the doll house. So sorry kiddo. Once James is done, we swing back by the house. I use the potty (this is pertinent later it's why I'm sharing), I grab James' glasses, which need to be fixed and the overdue library books. And off we go again.
Get to the optometrist and the place is PACKED. It's always that busy. They are one of the few places in town to accept Medicaid. The only state assistance we get is Medicaid for the kids. Thankfully on that part. They fix James' glasses for free. YAY! Off to Wal-Mart.
I pick up some soil for my flower beds, some more herbs for my herb garden. Some perennials for the perennial garden that really disappointed this year. That's also what the soil is mostly for. Plant food, gloves for James, under shirts for James, panties for Jayden, Mt. dew, Cheese, rolls, Pringles, cottage cheese. That was our entire list. I get to the check out, and reach for my wallet and realize "OH SHIT! I forgot it!" I have the cashier, a nice young lady named Robbie, ring it all up and then have Joanna suspend the transaction. Rush out of there to come home.
On the way home, I remember I had left the house WITH my wallet cause I had paid for lunch. The entire trip home I am hoping it didn't fall out somewhere. It falls out when I use the bathroom at work. I was wearing pants similar to the ones I wear at work. It MUST be at home, on the bathroom floor. We get home, Izzy is crashed out in the back, I unlock the door so James can go in and check, and YES! it's there, phew!
By this time, Jason is home, so I leave the tired and cranky Izzy with him. James, Jayden and I head back to Wal-Mart where we procure our beloved purchases. Then on the way home, I realize I didn't buy lunch meat. We were having a no cook dinner. Subs, cottage cheese, and chips. So I stopped at Hardings and hit up the Deli there. It was a nice dinner. The cool felt so good after the hot hot day.
Jason had started filling up the kiddie pool while were gone. Jayden and Izzy played in the water. James thought it was too cold so he opted to ride his bike. Jason stayed outside with them, while I went in to enjoy the cool a/c. We have 2 window units that cool the main floor of the house. One is in our bedroom, the other is in the living room. For the most part, all the rooms get cool, aside from the office because it's at a weird angle off of the other rooms.
The kids clear the dinner table and pick up food off of the floor. Izzy likes to throw food and our kittens like to eat it off of the floor. The stupid animals are having a hard time with litter training as well. UGH, they annoy me some times! I digress. While they were doing that, I informed them that because it was getting cooler out, we were going to go upstairs so they could pick up the play room. It was trashed. Part of why it was trashed was because of me. I had told the kids to take all the toys from the cubby area where the toy boxes were and put them all in the middle of the room in the play room. There were all kinds of things in that cubby that shouldn't have been there. On previous occasions, when told to clean the playroom, they had picked things up and just tossed them there instead of actually putting them away. I wanted to remedy this situation.
This starts the downslide which shall be known as The Hour James Lost His Ever Loving Mind. We all go upstairs, well James, Jayden and I. Jason has put Izzy to bed because he is being a cranky whiny screaming pain. He napped a grand total of 15 minutes today. From the time it took us to get from Wal-Mart to Home the first time. James starts SCREAMING at me because has to clean and he just doesn't want to. That ladies and gentlement is the ENTIRE reason for what took place for the following hour. THE ENTIRE REASON. I didn't hit him, yell at him, scream at him, nor threaten him in any way, shape, or form. He didn't want to clean.
James SCREAMED at me. Not scream. Not cry. Not yell. HE SCREAMED! All caps screamed. He had that high pitched voice the bad guys on cartoons get when they get really worked up and start monologuing like crazy. He was telling me how I didn't love him, how I didn't care about him. How I should be the one to clean up the mess. How I should just throw everything out. How I torture him by making things he doesn't want to do. How I never do anything for him. How he does everything for me. How I didn't deserve to be a parent. How he wanted to be adopted. How he wanted to go live with Homer. All because I wanted him to clean up the playroom.
Now, let me explain a little about the rules in my house. I don't expect much. I have a standing rule that you can be upset at what I ask you to do. You can vocalize your frustration, anger, and upset as much as you want. As long as what I have asked you to do gets done, you can be as pissed as you want. You can scream, yell, cry, throw things (as long as they are ONLY your things), whatever, as long as what I have asked you to do is getting done.
James was screaming at me. I was sitting on the couch up there taking it all. I kept reminding him to pick stuff up. So he'd pick up a toy or two and scream and scream and scream. I'd remind him again, and it would start all over. After 45 minutes of this, I called Homer. I figured I'd let him tell James about it all. So Homer talked to him. Tried to explain that James would have even more rules there because Homer's wife runs a daycare. None of it mattered to him. All James perceived it as, in that moment, as Homer hates me, and he won't let me have what I want either.
By recommendation of MF Jenn I had James get ready for bed. By the way MF means my friend. Katy's step mom Jenn will now be KSM Jenn. This had been carrying on for a good hour. I was worn out, emotionally drained. I couldn't do any more. As it was, I had Jason go upstairs to "relieve" me for a bit. After James had brushed his teeth and gotten his meds, as he was walking by the office I said "Good night James, I love you" as I do every night. That just started him off on another screaming fit about how I was just saying it to make him feel better and yada yada yada. UGH.
I went out MF Jenn to Bennigans. We had a drink a piece and shared an appetizer and a dessert. Neither of us needs either of those things on our own. It was a nice repreive. Here's hoping tomorrow is a calmer day.
Let me start with the beginning of the day. I get up. Do a little computer work. Give Izzy his regular cereal bar. James and Jayden are off getting dressed, or so I thought. I yell up to James to have him bring me down clothes for Izzy when he comes down to put on his shoes. We had places to be.
James is in bed. UGH. So I get James out of bed. He brought me a t-shirt and heavy overalls for Izzy to wear. It's going to be 90 outside, so that won't work. I ask James to bring me some shorts. He is FINALLY dressed and brings me shorts for the Izz-Man. They don't match the shirt. James starts yelling at me how Izzy doesn't have any shorts that match that match any of his shirts or anything like that. I go up and find something that matches, imagine that. Get Izzy dressed and his shoes on. Get out the door.
We go to The Root Beer Stand. You drive up. Stay in your car. The girl comes, takes your order, and then brings it to you on one of those trays that sit on your window. MMMMM, hot dogs with chili cheese, mustard and onions. Jayden likes her with just ketchup. James is a cheese and ketchup guy. Izzy gets a bag of popcorn, being a non-meat eater and all. James and Jayden had root beer, Izzy and I had fruit punch. I need to remember to not get that again, it tasted funny, the lemonade is much better.
From there we go to therapy for James. We all go back to begin with, to the play therapy room. Leave the kids in the play area while R and I go behind the mirror to watch them and talk. Then R meets with James on his own. Jayden was particularly upset to be leaving the doll house. So sorry kiddo. Once James is done, we swing back by the house. I use the potty (this is pertinent later it's why I'm sharing), I grab James' glasses, which need to be fixed and the overdue library books. And off we go again.
Get to the optometrist and the place is PACKED. It's always that busy. They are one of the few places in town to accept Medicaid. The only state assistance we get is Medicaid for the kids. Thankfully on that part. They fix James' glasses for free. YAY! Off to Wal-Mart.
I pick up some soil for my flower beds, some more herbs for my herb garden. Some perennials for the perennial garden that really disappointed this year. That's also what the soil is mostly for. Plant food, gloves for James, under shirts for James, panties for Jayden, Mt. dew, Cheese, rolls, Pringles, cottage cheese. That was our entire list. I get to the check out, and reach for my wallet and realize "OH SHIT! I forgot it!" I have the cashier, a nice young lady named Robbie, ring it all up and then have Joanna suspend the transaction. Rush out of there to come home.
On the way home, I remember I had left the house WITH my wallet cause I had paid for lunch. The entire trip home I am hoping it didn't fall out somewhere. It falls out when I use the bathroom at work. I was wearing pants similar to the ones I wear at work. It MUST be at home, on the bathroom floor. We get home, Izzy is crashed out in the back, I unlock the door so James can go in and check, and YES! it's there, phew!
By this time, Jason is home, so I leave the tired and cranky Izzy with him. James, Jayden and I head back to Wal-Mart where we procure our beloved purchases. Then on the way home, I realize I didn't buy lunch meat. We were having a no cook dinner. Subs, cottage cheese, and chips. So I stopped at Hardings and hit up the Deli there. It was a nice dinner. The cool felt so good after the hot hot day.
Jason had started filling up the kiddie pool while were gone. Jayden and Izzy played in the water. James thought it was too cold so he opted to ride his bike. Jason stayed outside with them, while I went in to enjoy the cool a/c. We have 2 window units that cool the main floor of the house. One is in our bedroom, the other is in the living room. For the most part, all the rooms get cool, aside from the office because it's at a weird angle off of the other rooms.
The kids clear the dinner table and pick up food off of the floor. Izzy likes to throw food and our kittens like to eat it off of the floor. The stupid animals are having a hard time with litter training as well. UGH, they annoy me some times! I digress. While they were doing that, I informed them that because it was getting cooler out, we were going to go upstairs so they could pick up the play room. It was trashed. Part of why it was trashed was because of me. I had told the kids to take all the toys from the cubby area where the toy boxes were and put them all in the middle of the room in the play room. There were all kinds of things in that cubby that shouldn't have been there. On previous occasions, when told to clean the playroom, they had picked things up and just tossed them there instead of actually putting them away. I wanted to remedy this situation.
This starts the downslide which shall be known as The Hour James Lost His Ever Loving Mind. We all go upstairs, well James, Jayden and I. Jason has put Izzy to bed because he is being a cranky whiny screaming pain. He napped a grand total of 15 minutes today. From the time it took us to get from Wal-Mart to Home the first time. James starts SCREAMING at me because has to clean and he just doesn't want to. That ladies and gentlement is the ENTIRE reason for what took place for the following hour. THE ENTIRE REASON. I didn't hit him, yell at him, scream at him, nor threaten him in any way, shape, or form. He didn't want to clean.
James SCREAMED at me. Not scream. Not cry. Not yell. HE SCREAMED! All caps screamed. He had that high pitched voice the bad guys on cartoons get when they get really worked up and start monologuing like crazy. He was telling me how I didn't love him, how I didn't care about him. How I should be the one to clean up the mess. How I should just throw everything out. How I torture him by making things he doesn't want to do. How I never do anything for him. How he does everything for me. How I didn't deserve to be a parent. How he wanted to be adopted. How he wanted to go live with Homer. All because I wanted him to clean up the playroom.
Now, let me explain a little about the rules in my house. I don't expect much. I have a standing rule that you can be upset at what I ask you to do. You can vocalize your frustration, anger, and upset as much as you want. As long as what I have asked you to do gets done, you can be as pissed as you want. You can scream, yell, cry, throw things (as long as they are ONLY your things), whatever, as long as what I have asked you to do is getting done.
James was screaming at me. I was sitting on the couch up there taking it all. I kept reminding him to pick stuff up. So he'd pick up a toy or two and scream and scream and scream. I'd remind him again, and it would start all over. After 45 minutes of this, I called Homer. I figured I'd let him tell James about it all. So Homer talked to him. Tried to explain that James would have even more rules there because Homer's wife runs a daycare. None of it mattered to him. All James perceived it as, in that moment, as Homer hates me, and he won't let me have what I want either.
By recommendation of MF Jenn I had James get ready for bed. By the way MF means my friend. Katy's step mom Jenn will now be KSM Jenn. This had been carrying on for a good hour. I was worn out, emotionally drained. I couldn't do any more. As it was, I had Jason go upstairs to "relieve" me for a bit. After James had brushed his teeth and gotten his meds, as he was walking by the office I said "Good night James, I love you" as I do every night. That just started him off on another screaming fit about how I was just saying it to make him feel better and yada yada yada. UGH.
I went out MF Jenn to Bennigans. We had a drink a piece and shared an appetizer and a dessert. Neither of us needs either of those things on our own. It was a nice repreive. Here's hoping tomorrow is a calmer day.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
To Comment or Not To Comment, Part 2
My explanation, my thought process, my reasoning, what I wanted to say got too long for a comment, so another post it has become.
To answer your question, yes it would make a difference if you had a "name" associated with your comment. It wouldn't have to be your real name. Gods know Serial Mommy isn't mine, it's in fact Jamie. If there were a name I could say "George/Anthony/Michael/Bob this is for you" instead of directing it toward EVERY annonymous soul out there. I like a name. A name gives you a face. When I speak, I like to speak to a face, a person.
Jason doesn't like James much. Here's the big secret. Neither do I. I love that boy dearly, as I do all of my children, however, more often than not, unfortunately, I don't like him much. If I were a kid, or he were an adult, he is not the kind of person I would hang out with. He's not the kind of kid I would encourage other kids to hang out with. I am relieved that he has the social ineptitudes he does because I don't want to deal with other kids' parents when James hurts the kid in some way.
Does this mean James will go and physically hurt the kid? Honestly, maybe. While I'm around, that becomes a distinct improbability. James purposely does things to piss people off. He does things, says things to hurt people. He honestly does not care about anyone else. The way that the wires are crossed in James' brain makes him not form the bonds that you and I take for granted. James loves his cat, a statment he has professed himself time and again. However if Ringo were to accidently scratch him, James has no problem with kicking the cat across the room. He will have no remorse about the act. When asked why he did it, his answer, quite simply is "He scratched me. " It doesn't matter that the cat didn't do it with intent.
The frustrations of life and parenting build up. There are days where it just doesn't seem worth it. When Izzy is screaming at the top of his lungs because he wants something and doesn't have the ability to communicate it. When Jayden is crying at one little thing or another. When James has only snide and hurtful comments coming from his mouth and is more than willing to shove and push others around. When stress over money and making ends meet collide.
With the way Jason's and my schedules go for when we work, there are many days and nights where we are, essentially, a single parent. Admittedly, I spend a great deal more time with the kids on my own than Jason does. Jason allows me the weekends to sleep in. Every other day of the week, they are who wake me. Jason is up anyway because of habit from waking early for work the rest of the week. Sunday was a morning where I got to sleep in. I woke to Izzy screaming at Jason. When James yelled at Izzy, it became too much for Jason. It's that simple.
I suppose if I sat and dwelled on the idea that James is so fucking screwed up, I'd think it was sad too. There are many many days where it pisses me off. He got fucked. He looks like a "normal" kid. He doesn't have any obvious malformations, aside from his very small size. He's not in a wheelchair or walking with a limp or blind or deaf. He is not what is considered "disabled". Medicating him only works to an extent. Along with limiting his intake of sugar. Short of a lobatomy, there isn't anything other than medication that medically can be done for him. As of right now, he doesn't even qualify for Disability Assistance.
My son is a very good looking guy. He's smart, and funny. He's a talented artist and amazing at math. His brain is like the proverbial sponge. He remembers things amazingly, second to only myself in our family, and I'm sure some day he'll surpass me. However, all of those over adjectives that people like to see about others just don't apply. He isn't nice, thoughtful, considerate, or caring. That's not me being a mean old bitch. That's me stating the simple facts. I have to look at it as simple facts. It's how it is and no matter of crying and ranting and raving will change it.
My point is simply this, my life may be sad to you, my son may be "sad", someone to pity. But don't waste your time feeling that way. We don't, and we live the life every day.
To answer your question, yes it would make a difference if you had a "name" associated with your comment. It wouldn't have to be your real name. Gods know Serial Mommy isn't mine, it's in fact Jamie. If there were a name I could say "George/Anthony/Michael/Bob this is for you" instead of directing it toward EVERY annonymous soul out there. I like a name. A name gives you a face. When I speak, I like to speak to a face, a person.
Jason doesn't like James much. Here's the big secret. Neither do I. I love that boy dearly, as I do all of my children, however, more often than not, unfortunately, I don't like him much. If I were a kid, or he were an adult, he is not the kind of person I would hang out with. He's not the kind of kid I would encourage other kids to hang out with. I am relieved that he has the social ineptitudes he does because I don't want to deal with other kids' parents when James hurts the kid in some way.
Does this mean James will go and physically hurt the kid? Honestly, maybe. While I'm around, that becomes a distinct improbability. James purposely does things to piss people off. He does things, says things to hurt people. He honestly does not care about anyone else. The way that the wires are crossed in James' brain makes him not form the bonds that you and I take for granted. James loves his cat, a statment he has professed himself time and again. However if Ringo were to accidently scratch him, James has no problem with kicking the cat across the room. He will have no remorse about the act. When asked why he did it, his answer, quite simply is "He scratched me. " It doesn't matter that the cat didn't do it with intent.
The frustrations of life and parenting build up. There are days where it just doesn't seem worth it. When Izzy is screaming at the top of his lungs because he wants something and doesn't have the ability to communicate it. When Jayden is crying at one little thing or another. When James has only snide and hurtful comments coming from his mouth and is more than willing to shove and push others around. When stress over money and making ends meet collide.
With the way Jason's and my schedules go for when we work, there are many days and nights where we are, essentially, a single parent. Admittedly, I spend a great deal more time with the kids on my own than Jason does. Jason allows me the weekends to sleep in. Every other day of the week, they are who wake me. Jason is up anyway because of habit from waking early for work the rest of the week. Sunday was a morning where I got to sleep in. I woke to Izzy screaming at Jason. When James yelled at Izzy, it became too much for Jason. It's that simple.
I suppose if I sat and dwelled on the idea that James is so fucking screwed up, I'd think it was sad too. There are many many days where it pisses me off. He got fucked. He looks like a "normal" kid. He doesn't have any obvious malformations, aside from his very small size. He's not in a wheelchair or walking with a limp or blind or deaf. He is not what is considered "disabled". Medicating him only works to an extent. Along with limiting his intake of sugar. Short of a lobatomy, there isn't anything other than medication that medically can be done for him. As of right now, he doesn't even qualify for Disability Assistance.
My son is a very good looking guy. He's smart, and funny. He's a talented artist and amazing at math. His brain is like the proverbial sponge. He remembers things amazingly, second to only myself in our family, and I'm sure some day he'll surpass me. However, all of those over adjectives that people like to see about others just don't apply. He isn't nice, thoughtful, considerate, or caring. That's not me being a mean old bitch. That's me stating the simple facts. I have to look at it as simple facts. It's how it is and no matter of crying and ranting and raving will change it.
My point is simply this, my life may be sad to you, my son may be "sad", someone to pity. But don't waste your time feeling that way. We don't, and we live the life every day.
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