I'm BBBBAAAAACCCCCKKKKK!!!

Well, people who read this blog, I'm back.

"Why??" you ask. Because my facebook peeps keep telling me that I really really need a blog, and I have one, I just haven't written in it for two years. It is sitting here all lost and alone in the internets. Waiting patiently, or maybe not so, for me to come back and care about it.

I am hoping writing will be easier--theraputic, perhaps.

And since I'm spewing forth little and big pieces of my life, I'm hoping someone finds my writing interesting.

And now for the disclaimers--and there are many:

I graduated from high school in 1986 and didn't finish college. I stay home all day and clean, cook and shop. You want proper grammar, spelling and the like--leave now. I am going to write like I talk and I'm sure it won't be pretty.

I cuss. A lot. I am not proud of it, but it is me. Sorry. Consider yourself warned.

There is no topic that is completely off limits.....my period, my mood swings, my political views. If you want me to write about something, let me know.

I will NOT fight with you. If you hate me, then hate me quietly and leave me alone. I've got a lot of shit on my plate and the last thing I want to hear about is how my children could be better citizens if I would have taken the time to breastfeed or vote republican.

Other than that, I'm going to bed. Tonight was my weekly Go-and-buy-crap-from-Target run and I'm friggin tired.

I Love the Smell of Inaugural in the Morning

Ok....maybe it wasn't love. I voted for the other guy. And of course, he didn't win. I'm not claiming to be an expert in all things political, but I think I just agreed more in what Mr. McCain was hoping to achieve.

That's not to say I don't like President Obama, because I do. He gives one hell of a speech and I could seemingly listen to him talk forever. He actually spoke less than a half mile away from my house.

I didn't go, because, well, I voted for the other guy. But I listened to his speech from my front porch and yes, I could hear every word--clearly. How's that for doing things halfway???

So, I was excited but not about the inauguration. Excited more for Matt than anything else. It was his first presidental election and he was all for President Obama. He has an Obama shirt and hat and told everyone he could that it was time. Time for an African American president. He really wanted him to win. And I'm glad he did. Of course, the Obama supporters who showed up at our door up to 3 times a day during the last two weeks of the election could have swayed the boy a bit. (Never saw a McCain supporter--John, you think that's why you didn't win?)

Anywhoo, I had the radio on, the TV was on, and I was trying to get on to CNN Live so I could do the interactive thing on facebook. The feed didn't work. Thanks a lot CNN.

I also had more pressing matters. Namely this. (Yeah, you tried my lame attempt at a link right???? Got nuttin??? That's because after trying for like half an hour to get the damned thing to show up, I gave up. Sorry.) Isn't it pretty?? (Yes, Vera Bradley java blue mini bowler bags are pretty.) I got it on my beloved e bay. For less than $20--it retails for over $50. Because the auction was ending right about the time President Obama was taking the stage. I spent about God knows how long running from my living room back into the kitchen back into the living room and so on. If something sounded interesting, I'd run into the living room, watch it and then come back to the computer and hit the refresh button to see how much time was left in the auction. Then I would click on to the CNN window and facebook to see what everyone was saying. All this time I was having to listen to the action on the radio because the feed wasn't working. Then I'd run back into the living room, watch, run back into the kitchen and the cycle would repeat itself.

But in the end, I won. Gotta love democracy in action.

PS. How do you like the new look???? Let me know. Please.

All I Want for Christmas is a Little Peace (and Quiet)

Hello Internet People,

I'm about ready to lose my mind. Actually, most of it has been lost for quite a while, but what little is left is about to be lost, if you know what I mean.

You don't know what I mean???

How about I paint a picture for you???

My house--done. Party supplies and party plans for preschool and first grade party--purchased and done. Cookie ingredients--purchased and in a bin with recipes ready for next week. Cards--3/4 done. Santa has directions to my parent's house and will be there X-mas Eve. I have about 2 hours worth of mall shopping. But that's ok....

So, what's wrong with this picture???? Why am I going to lose it any moment now????

One word--Quinn.

I don't know if his preschool is feeding him crack or what, but the past two months have been nothing but crazy with him, and God knows, I can't do much more crazy. He runs around like he's been wound up too tight. In circles. Like a crazy man. From the moment he wakes, until his head hits the pillow, he goes and goes and goes. He gets into things he knows full-well he shouldn't, he destroys his room and anywhere he goes, leaving a path of toy pieces and broken stuff in his path. He's four and a half--not 2.

God help me, but when he leaves in the morning, I'm almost relieved. I know I should be shot for even saying that, but it is the truth.

The hardest thing: his preschool teacher. I really like her. She is a great teacher. But she is of no help to me when it comes to seeing if this is just a phase or if I should seek help for him. Because she sees nothing. He's just fine according to her. She said the same thing about Nate. And I believed her. Sortve. I mean, I knew they wanted him out of special education, and I had concerns about his age going into kindergarten, but she swore he was great and he'd be just fine.

She was wrong. Nate has aspergers and ADHD. I spent hours on the phone with his teacher, his classroom aide, his principal, the cafeteria ladies..... Finally a diagnosis, as plain as the nose on my face, but his preschool teacher. saw. nothing.

Believe me, I've done this before--twice now. I know full well the administrative side could care less and puts pressure on the teachers to turn a blind eye to problems. I know. I just keep on hoping that this time things will be better. That somehow, these people who have gotten the education and dedicated their lives to teaching will suddenly give a shit. I even know that this will not happen.

I am not sure I even have enough fight left in me anymore. You know what the scary part is??? Really. A doctor could diagnose any of my kids with anything and I'd still love them and be ok. The thing that is going to drive me over the edge is dealing with the school system.

Autism???? Been there. Done that. Same with ADD, ADHD, aspergers, mild mental handicap.....Bring. it. on. Will I be sad??? Yep. Will I be mad???? Disappointed??? Will I scream why my son and cry????? You betcha. But I'll get over it, because I love my kids and want what is best for them.

The. one. thing. I. cannot. handle.........Case conferences, IEPs and all the special education crap for another. thirteen. years. I literally want to throw up just thinking about it. There are few things in life I hate.....racism, discrimination, hate itself. I try to find the good in people. Really. I don't really hate anyone except Hitler and the administration of our special education cooperative. I'm not even comparing the two, because that would be an insult to Hitler.

Yep, I hate them that much.

In reality, I will grow a couple and live to fight another day, but it is just sad that I should have to fight. Educating children with special needs helps everyone in the long run. Spending a little more now saves a lot more later.

My kids and yours deserve educators who are truthful and care about doing their job.

I'm Sick, Crap Fairs and Quinn on Crack

Last Thursday, Quinn came home from school and just sat down. He didn't eat hardly any of his lunch (nachos, and veggies) and he just continued to sit and watch TV. I was perfectly happy with this, especially since I had emptied out his and Nate's room to reorganize (read--throw away old toys) and clean it up. I kept an eye on him, but I wasn't really worried because he had fought going to bed the night before and I figured he was tired.

About halfway through the cleaning up, he got up and went into my bedroom to take a nap. Something had to be up, because this kid is NOT the type who just naps. He fights sleep. So I went in and felt his forehead---HOT. Oh, shit, I thought, there goes the rest of the day. His temp was 104. I called the doctor and got ready to leave. Get this--Paul took all the cash we had on hand to work (idiot), he also took the insurance card (double idiot), and left me barely enough gas to get to the doctor and back. I called him and gave him a wee small piece of my mind. The diagnosis: strep. Antibiotics and rest. He is fine now......

I however, am not. I'm sick. I don't have a fever and probably don't have strep, but I've got the cold symptoms and can't sleep. Nyquil you say??? Oh no. Not unless I want to be in a coma for the next 2 days. I love me my Nyquil, but unless Paul is going to be home, I can't do it. So Quinn is great and making up for lost time by running around our house like a crazy man. I, on the other hand, am doing nothing other than sitting on my way-too-big ass.

Yesterday was a good day. My Auntie Jean and I went to the local craft fair. Paul and I call them crap fairs. I love looking and making the occasional purchase, Paul would rather do almost anything than go with me. When Auntie Jean called and asked if I still wanted to go, Paul saw this as a sign from the good Lord himself. He couldn't get me out of the house fast enough. I went to take a shower and went into our room to find he had layed out my clothes, made sure my cell phone was charged and had put money into my purse. Even my coat and scarf were ready for me. Auntie Jean picked me up and we went to the fair. Lots of nice stuff. We didn't really need anything, but I got her a small snowman, and she got me a big one. We then went to the dollar store to get a couple of tins she could fill with cookies and give away. Then lunch--yummy.

After that we went to the Lake County Visitors Center to see their Christmas display. The 1983 movie "A Christmas Story" turns 25 years old this year. It was set in Hammond. My hometown borders Hammond, Indiana, (it is called Hohman in the movie--in reality Hohman is a main street in Hammond). Other than being on Lake Michigan and making steel, northwest Indiana isn't known for much--except this movie.

Our visitors center got the Macy's window displays that were done in honor of the movie. They are selling leg lamps. The movie will be shown, there's an ugly lamp contest, autograph signings with a couple of the stars--all that jazz. We looked at all the displays and then came home. I'm taking my kids next weekend. Santa sits on a big deck and after telling him their wishes, kids have to go down a slide to leave. If you haven't seen the movie, I'm sure you are thinking I've lost my mind, so go and see it. I haven't met anyone who hasn't loved it.

So, what do you do for fun around the holidays??

Everything Started Out OK, and Then.....

I went shopping Friday evening--just as I do every Friday evening. ALONE. That's the best part. I don't have anyone throwing a fit because I'm not buying toys, or CDs or whatever.

Last year, I made a master list of everything we use or could ever need. I run one off once a week and circle what we need. Then I go to my trusty coupons and pull out the ones we will use and put them in the front of my organizer. Now before you think I'm completely anal, I am, but that doesn't mean I'm completely rigid. I do go off the list from time to time. I just want to make sure I'm not forgetting anything.

I went grocery shopping, to Target for underwear and shampoo and then to Costco--oh how I love the Costco. Sigh!!!! Almost as much as I love Target, but that's another post.

After a good 3 hours of retail therapy, I came home to find Paul looking rather sad. I figured he was tired and the boys were all over him. So when I asked him how the boys were and if anything was wrong he said, "Nah, nothing's wrong, but your Auntie Jean called. Larissa wants to see you."

At that point, you could have knocked me over with a feather. I called my Aunt, thinking Paul must have heard her wrong or something. But he was right. Larissa wanted to see me.

People tell me how much they hate hospitals all the time. Duh!!!! I have yet to meet anyone who actually LIKES hospitals. Maybe doctors and nurses, but to sit around visiting someone sick--no love lost there. I done it way too much. My grandmother had heart problems, then Paul's parents both had cancer and other health problems, then my Uncle Don, my mom....way too much time spent in the hospital. But I'm really good at putting on my happy face and getting a special get well gift and sitting there. My reputation precedes me--lonely and want someone to sit with you when you are sick??? I'm your girl.

I do it because I love my family. When I had my boys, I had visitors (not my mom) and I was glad to have them. As I have said before, I am not a big fan of hospitals and having visitors took my mind off of being there.

Larissa wanting to see me shocked me. Donnie and she are private people and I thought she'd want just her son, grandson, husband and my aunt around her. But she was looking for me.

I remember meeting her when I was around 5 years old. She was really cool (and 16 years old). She was nice to me and didn't treat me like a baby. I've always liked her. She's loud and funny and she makes me laugh.

My Auntie Jean warned me she might or might not know me, or even remember I was there. I told her I understood and I was prepared. My MIL and Uncle Don both died from brain tumors. There isn't much I haven't seen.

She was asleep when I went in. My cousin Donnie (her husband) was there and we talked a lot. When she finally did wake up, she was really groggy and told Don, "God, that looks just like cousin Sheri." "It is me, you crazy woman!!" I said. We both laughed. I was there over 4 hours. She is lucid at times and at other times, has no idea what is happening to her.

She was still able to eat on Saturday and asked her if she wanted me to get her some pierogi from Pierogi Fest. She giggled and said yes. And I told her I'd be back.

I went back yesterday, pierogi in hand, only to find she can't eat solids anymore. She is still lucid about 30% of the time, but is going downhill quickly. She might get to go home today. There is nothing more the hospital can do for her. Treatments would just make her sicker and the tumors will not shrink anymore.

She is going to die soon. And the only thing I can do is bring her mashed up pierogi.

Respect the Van

Ahhhhh. Weekends. Life is good on weekends. Paul is home to help with da boys. Paul is home and WILLING to help with da boys. I get to do some serious retail therapy.

We only have one car now. Actually, it is a minivan. I gave up years ago, people. I love my minivan. We did the SUV thing for a couple of years, but needed that third row seat and didn't want to have to pay our annual salary to get it.

Having one car--ahem, minivan, makes it hard during the week. I have two choices. I can either stay home or I can take Paul to work and then pick him up. Since Paul has to be up and outta here at 2-3:30 am, option 2 will only happen when I absolutely NEED to be somewhere. So, Monday through Friday until 5 pm, I'm stuck.

Being stuck isn't such a bad thing all the time. Even if we did have that elusive second car, I wouldn't be doing much more than I do now in terms of going anywhere. We are within walking distance of 3 parks, the downtown area, and a little grocery store is two doors down. We don't live in da country.

Just imagine, if you will, being told by your doctor that you can't have, oh I dunno, lunchmeat anymore. You aren't a lunchmeat eater, maybe a sandwich a month or so, but now, you can't have it at all. What's the first thing you are going to want upon arriving home from the doctor's office???? I'm willing to bet it is a bologna sandwich with a salami chaser and a shot of honey ham and turkey. That's sortve what it is like for me. I don't really have to go anywhere during the day, and the van would sit in our driveway all day long, but you know, just having it there makes me feel better.

My biggest concern is when school starts. I'm gonna need something for going to PTC stuff and then there's the room mom meetings. I could walk I suppose, but in rain and cold weather???? Um, I don't think so. Fat girl wants her car-um, van.

We have been looking. Surprisingly, with gas prices going up up up, used minivan prices are NOT going down, down, down. And if it weren't for crap credit, we'd have no credit at all. So, the search for a 3-5 year old minivan with automatic seats and air is on. Hopefully, we won't have to sell a kid or a kidney to have one within the next 3 weeks.

Wish us luck.

Mother of the Year

OK....when I was a total bitch to Matt last week, I felt like maybe Aunt Flo would be moving in for her monthly appearance soon. Yesterday was soon.

I am going to be one of those crazzzy bitches who complains about her period, but I'll stop, I promise. So if you can't handle it, go down a couple of paragraphs....really. Pinky promise.

TMI: I have awful periods. The carniage....I wear overnight pads because that is the only thing that can handle the stuff. And I cramp up like hell. Now, mix any kind of pain killer with that, and you get ultra carnage, so I try to suck it up and do without. Usually though, around day 3 and maybe 2 pairs of ruined underwear later, I give up and then all hell breaks loose.

I HAVE been to the doctor about this. They can do nothing. Even an increase in my synthroid doesn't do much. When I first started taking it, yeah, things got better--if you count better being 5 days a month wearing a diaper instead of 8. And my cramps went down to the "almost tolerable" instead of the "give me a spoon so I can scrape out my uterus myself" variety.

Hey, but I'm all about the fun right????

It is 9 am here. So far, I've emptied my dishwasher, made some coffee and feed my kids a vanilla shake for breakfast.

Yep. A. vanilla. shake. I've officially entered the I-don't-give-a-shit-anymore land. They thought they could ask for smoothies, and I don't have any of the stuff to make them now, so they happened upon the ice cream. Begging and pleading ensued and they won.

You can vote me in for mom of the year any time you choose.

I just want to state for the record that the other oh, 27 days of the month, I put a lot of effort into raising my kids and making sure they eat a combination of healthy foods--lots of fruits and veggies, milk, 100% juice. I cook a lot. I am not perfect, Friday's are pizza night. We eat McDonalds once a month. We do crafts, play outside. Read, run around and go to the park.

There will probably be none of that today. I have hit a brick fucking wall.

So, Internet, the mom of the year application will be on my fridge. Feel free to stop on by and fill it out. Just make sure to take one or both of the little kids with you when you leave--oh, and while you are here, you can borrow a dog or three too.

Have a nice day. I'm going back to bed.