First days of school

14 more years of this to look forward to.

Happy Birthday Alex!

Finally posting this two weeks late...

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How is it possible that you're 5?

I love that you still smash your face into your cake, just like you did on your first birthday.

You even got it up your nose.

I'm glad you had a good day...

NyQuil blackout

Dave pokes me and says "Hey you wanna get busy later?"

"Um sure but I'm still kinda feeling like shit so I better go hunt through the medicine cabinet and find something that will get rid of the sludge in my head. Oh and the new season of Top Chef starts tonight so you'll have to wait until that's over." I'm all about the romance.

DayQuil and NyQuil are my only options. DayQuil gives me the shakes so I grab the NyQuil and convince myself I can shake off the drowsy feelings.

20 minutes later I can feel the pressure in my head lifting.

Another 5 minutes and I'm knocked out cold on the couch. Apparently Dave let me sleep on the couch for a couple of hours, woke me up and told me who won Top Chef Masters, I brushed my teeth and climbed into bed.

I have absolutely no recollection of anything past the Quickfire Challenge and this morning it feels like I got a donkey kick to the head.

Fucking NyQuil hangover.

kindergarten

When we took Alex to his new school last week for Back To School night I wanted to turn around and walk back out. All of the kids looked so HUGE.

I was blown away as we made our way to his classroom. When did elementary schools start needing lockers?

I didn't have to wake him up on his first day of school, he was too excited to sleep in. I didn't have to push him to eat breakfast or to get dressed.

We took pictures, walked to his classroom. Hugged him and kissed him and left him.

Dave and I spent the next 6 and a half hours anxiously waiting to pick him back up. We fought every urge to go to the school and just peek.

Yesterday, his second day of school was a little easier. We had done it once and I didn't have to worry about him making it through the day.

Today was the hardest yet. Parents were supposed to stay outside. No more walking him into his classroom. He was on his own.

We pulled up to the curb, I got him unbuckled, handed him his backpack and lunch box, made sure he knew which way to go and watched him start for the doors.

HOLY FUCK. THOSE AREN'T KIDS. THEY'RE NBA PLAYERS. The kids streaming into the school looked even bigger than they did on back to school night.

I didn't cry on the first day but I did today. I held it back long enough for him to walk through the school doors then let loose. It felt so wrong to drop him off at the curb and see the apprehension on his face every time he turned around to see if we were still there.

Two hours left before I can go get him. Back to watching the clock.

The Scofflaw

Working from home isn't easy. Its tough to balance work and home and not ignore one side too much. So I start very early, so early the birds haven't started singing yet.

This morning I flick the power button on my laptop and stare at the computer trying with my uncaffeinated head to remember my new password.

sonofabitch.

Without it, my work laptop is less useful than a brick thanks to the hard drive encryption software my company forced me to install. What, they think I have sensitive data and that I'm irresponsible enough to let my laptop get stolen?

ok. maybe they're right

Tscreen taunting me with "incorrect login" also includes the helpdesk phone number. Good thing they do, I wouldn't have the slightest clue how to get a hold of them because all of that information is in the laptop.

"We're sorry, the helpdesk hours are from 6am to 9pm mountain"

sssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhIT. hour and a half to wait. I'm an all powerful administrator but I still cant get into my own damn computer.

I spend the time trying every possible curse word combination I can think of because that's how I roll. It helps start my morning off right when I get to curse at my computer as I'm getting started.

90 seconds after the helpdesk opened I was dialing their number.

I spend the next 20 minutes on the phone using their secret backdoor account and password into my computer.

helpdesk lady: normally windows would give you a prompt to change your password but since you're at home it wont and you'll be locked out of your computer again the next time you reboot. You'll need to be in the office to get it reset. Just call us back and we'll do this again

thanks a pantload lady.

After I got the kids up I loaded them into the car so they could take a trip down to my office to call the helpdesk. again.

We barely make it a half mile when I notice a cop car has pulled up behind me and is following very closely.

SHIT. the tags are expired. I was planning on getting them yesterday. you know when everything else was going down

me: Hey Alex, check it out. We're about to get pulled over. Wait for it... wait for it... Ahhh there's his lights.

Rolled down my window when the cop walks up and a light bulb goes off in my head.

me: I know, my plates are expired. You're Tony right? Dave is my husband. You were at my wedding.

cop: Hey, I knew the registration that came up on my computer was familiar. How is Dave? Is he still doing the pistolsmithing?

a minute or two of chatter continues...

me: do you want my license?

cop: nah, you're good just get them taken care of.

hell yes.

Dave forwards me a text a few minutes later. The cop had tattled on me.

"Just stopped your wife!! Lucky I know her or I'd throw the book at her!!"

Lucky for me Dave still has friends on the police department.

sadness and disappointment

The ED and her boyfriend have broken up and their separation has taken every dramatic turn possible. Alex was home with us while most of the pot flinging and cop calling was going on. Unfortunately, the transfer day came and she still wanted him back with her.

I feel so totally guilty watching and playing with Alex knowing that his life with her was flopping around and there wasn't anything I could do to prepare him for the change. Dave and I were not going to be the ones to give him the bad news that the home he knew with her was gone and that they would have to move in with her parents and her sister and his cousins. I feel guilty that I saw this train coming and knowing he would be crushed with the blow.


I knew Alex would be crushed, the boyfriend was one of very few things he liked in that house. He has been in Alex's life for over 4 years. Alex has no memory of life before this guy. I knew he would feel abandoned and I knew he wouldn't understand why her boyfriend didn't want them in his family anymore. Its not much different than the hurt of a divorce.


He lasted less than 24 hours with her before she called asking us to come pick Alex up. Alex had quit eating and cried himself to sleep. He got on the phone Dave scared that he would be gone too.

It was pretty clear Alex was letting out some stress by finding the oddest things funny and they would send him into uncontrollable laughter. Just the words "googly eyes" left him gasping for breath.

We let him pick where we had dinner and he attacked his corn dog and fries like a seagull on a Dorito.

We got home from the restaurant and got the kids ready for bed. We figured they could both use a good night's sleep. Alex talked for a couple of minutes on what he was sad about then we spent some time trying to come up with good things about his new home with her. 3 minutes after we covered them up they were both passed out. No talking, no screwing around, no sneaking out of bed to see how far they get down the hall before they're busted and sent back to bed.

13 hours later I still had to wake Alex up.


The ED called this morning and since Alex was doing better she wanted him back. "I'll be there at noon and take him out to lunch" Another phone call mid afternoon confirmed again that she would be here by 12.

Alex clearly didn't want to go when we told him she was coming to get him so we sweetened the deal letting him know she was going to take him to lunch.

Noon comes and goes and there isn't a word from her. Play outside waiting for her to show up. She doesn't have a phone so we have no way of contacting her.

1 pm comes and I fix Alex some lunch apologizing that she wasn't there to take him out like she said.

2 pm comes and goes and we spend more time playing. Dave and I are having piggy back races up the driveway and Alex thinks is hilarious that Dave keeps cheating to guarantee their win.

3 pm comes and she finally pulls up in a car we've never seen before with no explanation of where she was or why she's so late.

More promises to Alex that we will be here whenever he needs to call us even if its 4:17 am. We tell him we love him and that we will see him tomorrow.

She drives away and Dave and I are back to drumming our fingers on the table waiting for the first opportunity to get him back.

Hard day's work

Today, at work, I have accomplished...

• compared 4 different state parks looking for just the right place to go camping.
• made camping reservations for me and the kids.
• purchased airline tickets for Dave and I to go to Atlanta
• made car reservations to drive around Atlanta and then drive to Florida.
• got Dave's panties in a twist by lying and telling him our car rental did not have cruise control.
• made 6,802 calls to my mother, sister and Dave to discuss all of the plans I made because I'm excited therefore they should be too.
• 2 conference calls that totalled 30 minutes.
• submitted my time for the day.

Rhyme Time

Alex: "Hey Mom, lets rhyme words"

Me: "sure, how about... blue"

Alex: "true"

Me: "um, water"

Alex: "hotter"

me: "Toad"

Alex: "chode"

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

me: "whoops, how about load, mode, code?"

Shake it

The last couple of nights Olivia has crawled up on my lap and wants to rock for the last few minutes before bedtime. The moment she gets settled her eyes start to droop.

I'm faced with the choice, keep her awake and cut snuggling short, or enjoy the moment and rock my sleepy girl until my arms fall asleep then try to hold her (still sleeping) on the toilet and get her to pee without letting her fall in.

I can't bring myself to kick her off my lap.

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I was listening to my ipod cleaning up after dinner. Olivia wanted to listen to music just like me. Turning on the radio wasn't good enough, she needed earphones too.

Of course she needed earphones... and like a good mom (sucker) I spent 20 minutes tracking down a pair that doesn't fall off her head.

I clipped my little ipod shuffle I use for running on her shirt, checked the volume and crammed most of the headset cord into her shirt so she wouldn't trip on it.

I ran through a mental list of songs I had on the ipod while she danced around the kitchen and I crossed my fingers that a couple of songs wouldn't come up in the play list.

Next thing I know she's shaking it pretty good and kind of humming.

I knew exactly what she was listening to before she sang a single word.

"Shake it like a Polaroid picture"

3.

Holy crap she's three.

Its going by way too fast.

The day she was born everyone was waiting for a tornado to drop right in the middle of Omaha.

Who would have guessed she was tornado.

Tween

Last year I read Eragon and loved it. When I went to the bookstore to get the second book I had the embarrassment of being led with all of my judgemental attitude to the tween section by a gum snapping little teenager. I remember leaving the store thinking I would have been better off borrowing the books from my 12 year old niece.

This past weekend my sister borrowed some books from the very same niece and started reading one aloud in the car on the way home from Minnesota. She was reading Twilight.

(Getting read to helps break up the drive and saves us from playing a competitive Alphabet Game in sparsely populated northern Iowa.)

It was clearly another tween book. The writing was kind of juvenile and the story is predictable. I still couldn't help but get sucked in. I was getting giggly and twitterpated at every hint of romance.

We were a little over a third of the way through the book when we got back to Omaha and it killed me that I would have to wait for my sister to finish the book before I could let it take over all of my free time.

She called me yesterday morning (a little over 12 hours after she stopped reading to me in the car) to tell me she was done and offered to drop it off at my office. It sat on my desk behind me for a half a day before I picked it up and wasted the rest of my day reading.

I confessed to Dave last night that I had a new book obsession and he will probably see the book within arm's reach for a while. It didn't take long before he had it out of me that it was my niece's book, and its about teenage vampires. Dave couldn't stop laughing at me.

Sadly, I've stopped writing this twice to read a couple more pages and just knowing its less than 2 feet away is very distracting. So much for the promise I made to read only my lunch hour.

At least this time I know I wont have to face another teenager in book store. I can go directly to my niece for the rest of the Twilight Series.

I've been fired

The kids were playing in the dirt while I was pulling weeds in the garden. Alex asked me to put the corn head attachment back on his combine for the 4th time in 5 minutes. I told him to bring it to me and I would do it as soon as I was done pulling the little patch of weeds in front of me.

Apparently that wasnt good enough, so he fired me. For 4 whole days.

me: "If I'm fired, does that mean you're making dinner tonight?"

Alex: "No since I fired you I get to pick who makes dinner and I pick Dad."

me: "So who's going to give you a bath?"

Alex: "Dad will and he'll put me to bed tonight too."

me: "do I get to do anything?"

Alex: "no, and in 4 days I'll un-fire you and then you can help me again."

me: "sweet, lets go tell Dad."

thanks for translating

Olivia was totally zoned out at the table after dinner.

me: "Are you ready for a bath?"

Nothing. She didn't even blink.

me: "Olivia, are you ready for a bath?"

Still nothing.

Pull her chair out and set her down on her feet.

me: "Are you ready for a bath?"

BBBBBRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTT Huge massive fart.

Olivia: "my toot says yes"

call me chompers

I saw the oral surgeon last week. They took more X-Rays then gave me the bad news. He called the two bottom wisdom teeth "severely impacted" The little piece of paper they handed me describing everything had the removal labeled as "unusual difficulty" which of course jacked the price up 150%.

The teeth have also had enough time sitting in my mouth to fully develop and the nerve that gives you feeling in your chin, lips and jaw runs right past the teeth. Its possible to hit the nerve and loose feeling for 6-18 months or maybe forever. For most people that chance is 2%, for me? high risk.

Off to the CT Scanner they conveniently have set up in their office to get an idea of where exactly the nerve is. Make another appointment and let me dwell on it for a few days.

I was back in their office yesterday to get the results and discuss my options.

My screwy mouth takes over again. The nerve is on the outside of the tooth and apparently that's bad. He doesn't have enough space to remove the teeth and the likelihood of nerve damage is even higher. Higher than high risk.

They will only take the top one out and wait and see what happens with the bottom.

Hang on, I have my sad face around here somewhere...

The truly sad part will come next Monday when they take the one tooth out. I guess my insurance wont cover getting knocked out for a single tooth. I'll get to stay awake while they surgically remove the tooth with a local anesthetic. I can hear the ripping noise already.

I bet I can talk them into a Valium before they start.

Bionic Woman

Dave decided it was time to clean out his dresser cabinet to make space for shorts. Out goes the jeans he hasn't worn for almost two years and the 20 pairs of black socks he used to wear while he was a cop. Out it went onto the floor right in front of the dresser.

"I'll get that cleaned up..." he promised.

I was pretty patient waiting for him to clean it up and find a place to stash the stuff. I was even vacuuming around it.

I finally couldn't take it and told him I was going to pack it away downstairs with the kids winter clothes.

"Huh. I was waiting to see how long it would take you to say something or just clean it up. I thought it would only take a few days but its been 2 and a half weeks. I've been making a point to walk a big circle around the pile just to see if you would say anything."

GAH!

That was 3 days ago. Guess what pile is going to sit there until it rots?

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Nebraska is flat. Very very flat. Stand on a soup can and see the whole state kind of flat. Omaha is amazingly hilly. Especially the older part of Omaha. There are very few streets in my area of town that are flat for more than a block or two. Lots and lots and lots of hills.

I set some ridiculous benchmark in my head based off of what I was running 20 months ago and I didn't want to see how much I sucked in comparison so I've stuck to the treadmill and the junior high track and twice on a bike path.

Today was the first day I tried running the neighborhood. 20 months ago I was running the 3 mile route at a 12 minute mile. Today I ran the 3 miles at a 10 minute mile.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

I might be bionic.

Its official. I'm a bitch

Dave and I were trying to bust out a fast bike ride today. More like I was trying to go fast and Dave was trying not to run into the back of me while he got bored.

The bike trails are pretty popular so I try to be courteous and holler "left" so they know I'm passing them and say "thanks" as I go whipping past them. When someone is coming from the other direction I squeeze to the right and only fake like I'm going to throw an elbow.

I could see them from a long ways away. A gaggle of teenage thugs fucking around on their bikes not paying attention. As we got closer one by one they looked up and moved over. Except for one little fuck. He just sat there on his bike moving forward staring me down playing chicken.

I get within 20 feet from the turd and yell "MOVE!"

It was just enough to make him break his eye contact. He jerked a little bit then swerved over. Just as I passed him he dug deep and came up with a single insult. Bitch.

Come on you douche. You can come up with something better than that.

I am glad it turned out that he was a little chicken shit and I didn't have to ditch. Dave would have gotten all manly and fought for my honor. I would have spent the rest of the night showing my appreciation with food and backrubs. This way I got to skimp out and feed him leftovers and I get to fall asleep whenever I'm ready not when he's ready.

Jaws

My dentist has spent the last two years gently urging me to get my wisdom teeth removed. This last week he moved from a gentle nudge to flat out saying I needed to make the appointment. I have 3 wisdom teeth. All three are turned sideways up against the sides of my molars and one just pushed through my gums.

I nutted up and called the oral surgeon's office to schedule the evaluation appointment. The lady gave me an appointment and asked me to fill out my patient information on their super handy look how new age we are online forms.

I poked around the site for a few minutes then landed myself into a panic attack over one single word.

Spacers.

That one word brought back a flood of 6 years worth of orthodontics all starting with the most horrific torture device ever forced on a kid. The Frankel II Appliance. It wasn't even called a retainer. It was an "appliance".

That fucking thing filled my entire mouth and puffed my cheeks and lips out. If I was feeling particularly self conscious I could squeeze hard and just barely get my lips to close. Unfortunately I spent a lot of time trying to keep my lips closed. Anytime I had to take it out to eat I could guarantee a wave of groans, ewwwwws and yucks.

I even had my very own special glass and box of Polident effervescent denture cleaning tablets. Oh how goddamn special I was.

I had trips once a month into the Orthodontics office to get it adjusted. That bad boy had screws in it that could be adjusted to put more pressure on my mouth to keep the teeth moving.

How bizarre does that sound? They moved bone around using pressure.

When I was finally released from the Frankel, I was put through several months of prepping for braces. Little rubber rings jammed between my teeth to try to make enough space for the braces.

Can't eat anything sticky or it will pull those lil bastards right out and you have to go through the process of getting them back in again.

Last but not least was a couple of years of braces with monthly adjustments on those too. Every adjustment was 3 days of pain. Aching deep in my teeth while my mouth got used to the new tension on the wire. I also cant forget the rubber bands attached to the braces that strapped my top teeth to my bottom teeth. Open your mouth too wide and *SNAP* right on the tender insides of your cheek.


I felt a little bit of a kinship with Jaws....

I spent so much time in the orthodontist's chair I should have had one all to myself. A little bronze name plate screwed into the back of the chair to let all of the other whiny crying kids that thought they had it rough with their little retainers that they had NOTHING on me.

I spent so much time there I can tell you the precise location of every single shaving nick on the Dr's face and that his breath ALWAYS smelled like coffee.

I'm an adult, I've quit growing, but I will also have this on the back of my bottom teeth. Forever and ever amen.

Obviously I would be WAY more unhappy if I didn't get that much money dumped into my mouth. I would have serious snaggletooth and probably not feel comfortable with full on open mouth laughing. And my parents would have driven MUCH nicer cars.

we'll always have fried rice

Alex is a wonder boy.

I love watching him as he searches the crowd looking for me and Dave then gives a wink and thumbs up when he finally spots us in the sea of faces and cameras. I love watching him sing his heart out trying to keep up his hand motions to match the teacher's.

Except I dread nights like tonight. Preschool end of year program with a pot luck thrown in at the end. It means two hours of uncomfortable silence with the Egg Donor sitting across the table from me. It means I have to try to keep Alex at just the right distance. I can't give him attention or we will end up with a fight over how much time he spends here. I can't keep him at a distance either. I would break his heart and the ED would be angry at the way I treat him.

Really, I can't win.

The whole situation is pretty uncomfortable but Alex handles it like a champ. He doesn't stop calling me Mom and he doesn't treat me any differently. He still wanted me to help him fill up his plate and when he was done he ran around the table, pulled on my arm and wanted to show me the fastest way to the dessert table. Anytime I got up he got up too and wrapped one arm around my leg and walked with me.

he.makes.my.heart.burst.

I finally felt like I didn't have to make an effort to make any kind of conversation.

I had my own little private joke throughout most of the meal. She did a lot of sampling and took a little of just about everything that was laid out. Most dishes she picked at, took a little bite then shoved it to the other side of her plate.

Mine? She ate everything she took. Chicken fried rice. Its all in the ginger baby.

I didn't get any kind of chef-tastic ego trip off of it. I know I'm pretty good. What I got was to sit there and have a little sing song in my head... "You ate my fooo-oood. If you knew it was mine you wouldn't have touched it."

leaking

I had a really shitty day at work. REALLY SHITTY. Good thing I had an off thought yesterday morning to grab my running shoes huh? Quick run after work and go home in a much better mood. These smart thoughts occurred to me after I left work of course. It was tricky changing clothes in the car right next to an industrial plant while people were leaving work.

The run didn't seem as easy as it did Sunday so I'm going back and forth between calling myself names trying to spur myself on and coming up with excuses. Oh its about 20 degrees hotter... Its later in the day... Dave's not here to make me feel more competitive...

I pushed myself hard as I round the last corner to get to the end faster. I came to a dead stop at the end of the sidewalk, bend over with my hands on my knees to catch my breath, and felt a little bit of pee come out.

I stood up and tried to squeeze every single muscle to make it stop. Nope. It just kept coming.

All name calling and excuses were replaced with one thought only.

AHHHRRRRGGGHHHHHH! PLEASE DON'T SOAK MY SHOES

I wish I could say this was the first time its happened. The first time was a little over a year ago right before I was taken off of running. I was at the gym trying to get myself weaned off the treadmill and back to running outside. At the end of my run I bent over to get a drink of water from the fountain and out it came. I got to take the walk of shame from the basketball courts, through the weight lifting area, past the treadmills to the locker room.

I know I'm not the only one that experiences this problem but its pretty apparent I need to spend some time working on my kegels.

lil bits

Sad. Two weeks have past. I made this blog to get everything out of my head when I need it out but sometimes I'm afraid of facing what's in my head long enough to get it out.

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We called the child victim line to get more information on what we can do for Alex and we were told we have to wait until he has a visible mark. Which means we cant do anything. Yet. Alex will start getting baths the moment he gets home so we can see every inch of him.

There are no words to describe how it feels knowing what is happening and not able to stop it. Yet.

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Dave's surgery affected us in ways neither of us expected. He started going to bed with me and waking up with me during the few days he was forced to take it easy. Turns out he really likes it and has changed his schedule to match mine. The last time we kept the same schedule for more than a couple of days was right after we were married.

So this is what its supposed to feel like... I like it.

******************************************************

This weekend we went for our first family bike ride. It felt picture perfect. Alex surprised the shit out of me and pushed us into going further than we planned on taking him. The kid went a little over 3 miles on Saturday. I'm so proud of his tired little legs. Turns out the wide bike path was just what he wanted. Flat and fast.

Olivia is in love with her bike trailer. She kicked back, propped her feet up and yelled to go faster. She should try pedaling if she wants to go faster.

The next day Alex was begging to go on another ride we we hopped on a different path where we would be shaded most of the way.

I nutted up, gave up the security of the treadmill and went head to head with Dave and the kids. I ran, they biked.

3.3 miles and I kicked their asses. :)

Oh and by the way...
Fuck you foot.
I win.

redirected frustrations

I've written and edited and edited and edited then finally deleted a couple of posts. All fluffy shit about how wonderful the garden is and how great life is but really I'm mad and scared and I cant stand how stupid and fake I sounded.

Tomorrow is the big V day. Dave is getting a vasectomy and I'm still a fence sitter. I'm not sure why I'm still debating. I think I have enough to handle right now and a baby plus all of the hormones that goes with it would push me over the edge.

Maybe I just don't like being told I'm done. I don't know.

Maybe its that I have no control over Alex's future and wanting another baby would be yet another way of trying to feel like I have control over something.

Maybe I would feel better if I had known that Olivia would be my only pregnancy.

Then I tell myself to shut the fuck up and be grateful that I have two kids and no stretch marks.

I'm also over the top worried about Alex whenever he is not at home. Alex let something slip while talking to the ED about belt spankings. When Dave questioned her about it she openly admitted she uses a belt to punish Alex and her other kid.

Her reasoning was "I'm too small, too tired, and my hands aren't heavy enough"

Her hands aren't heavy enough to hit a kid... I wonder how long it would take her say "uncle" if she was on the receiving end of the belt.

Dave tried to gently talk to Alex asking him about it and to let him know that it isn't OK to be hit with a belt and to please let us know if she does it again. His response was a generic preformed answer that sounded just like the ED. I think she's threatening him not to tell us.

It kills me that he will have to be hurt again AND have proof of it before we can do anything about it.

My frustrations are being taken out on yardwork, landscaping and running.

Good news is the house is looking awesome. Bad news is I'm having to admit I'm NOT the bionic woman and my foot can (and will) slow me down. I'm not 100% yet and mornings like this morning make it pretty evident that I need to take it down a notch.

hells yes

Goodbye forever foot doctor. I'm not going to miss the co-pays and bad news.

I'm off to go running. :)

I'm a competitive jerk

Dave and I compete at almost everything. I think it keeps our marriage healthy.

A new game on the iPod means Dave and I will play it nonstop for 3 days to see who can set the absolute top score that neither of us can beat.

Starting the slow and steady process of building up running again has inspired Dave to try running (again) to drop a few pounds and get rid of the roll he calls a backpack. I'm up to 2 minutes of running one minute walking for 3 miles taking it slowly so I don't fuck up my foot again.

(I told Dave all he probably had to do was switch the 3-6 Sam Adams beers he has every night with water and it would probably melt off without any effort. He didn't like that answer.)

Dave had his third run yesterday. He told me the route and how long it took him and while he was still talking I logged into MapMyRun.com to figure out how far it really was and what his pace was.

Last night I was laughing about my score on a dumb Facebook IQ test. The moment I left the room he was off hunting down a IQ test we could take to see who is smarter. I got to gloat for 10 minutes over my 134 score until he finished his test, scoring 4 points higher.

I'm going to have to come up with some kind of bake off where I can stack the deck and finally kick his ass at something.

a new kind of weapon

I spent the whole 20 minutes the pizza was in the oven patting myself on the back over the best pizza dough yet. So stretchy I could get it paper thin and see light through it without it tearing.

Perfect.

Almost.

What do you get when you forget to put yeast in the dough?

Unleavened, hard as a rock, pizza.

Passover Pizza.

9 of the 10 plagues inflicted on the Egyptians could have been skipped if they just started chucking some of my pizza. Thrown just right this thing could have taken someone's head off.

the dirtiest word of them all

How many times in one day can I say "What the Fuck?"

The ED called Dave to figure out how to handle transferring Alex back to us. She was planning on dropping him off at our house but 3 hours early.

Dave: "ok"

ED: "I'm getting my hair done then I have an interview for a J-O-B cuz we need the M-O-N-I-E"

So that is what constitutes a dirty word in your house. All regular swear words and racist statements are thrown around without a second thought but HEAVEN FORBID you say the dirtiest word of all. job.

A few minutes later Dave gets a call from the place she has an interview with and the ED is beeping in again. The interviewer says she will call back in a few minutes.

ED: "I forgot to tell you I put you down as a reference but I don't remember what I said you were. It was either clergy or instructor. Say nice things bout me OK?"

I hit the roof and ranted and raved for a few minutes until the interviewer calls back.

Dave: "***** is my son's biological mother. I do not feel like I can have an unbiased opinion about her reliability"

She might have to continue looking for a J-O-B.

Sick sucks

The kids and I are sick. Some kind of nasty chest cold thing that makes us hack up little evil aliens and fever attacks that come and go. It has been here for almost a week without an end in sight.

The kids just want to sit and cuddle with me and I don't want to be touched.

Dave was trying to lighten the mood in the house and picked up bicycle horns for the kids.

I know exactly where he can stick those horns.

sign language

I started learning sign language when my niece was born.

Some would say "Oh how nice that is..." Me? I say I'm a dumb fuck for not learning it earlier for my sister in law. Instead I made her try to read my lips.

The more I learn the more I realize I have to use it every day all day or I forget signs and look like an idiot.

Like at the grocery store when I wound up in the checkout line with the guy that has a cochlear implant. Obviously he knows sign language so I try to show off my new skills. He knows I'm learning so he tries to guess what I'm trying to say.

I'm standing there fanning myself with my hand because I'm hot and sweaty from hauling ass through the store.

He thinks I'm saying I'm happy.

I tell him I am happy but I'm really just hot and trying to cool myself off. Except instead of saying "I'm hot" I said "I'm gay hot". I didn't know what I said until a few days later when my sister in law clued me in.

The checkout guy's laughter makes a whole lot more sense now.

Dave has tried teaching Olivia HIS version of sign language too. Unfortunately she's picking it up a little too fast.

You know its going to be a bad day

You know its going to be a bad day when you...

...want to rip your uterus out.

...have to use hand lotion on your face because you fucked around with your hair for too long and ran out of time getting ready so you brought your makeup to work and left your moisturizer at home.

...fuck around with your hair for a long time "trying something different" then undo everything and go back to the same ol' thing.

...have some serious road rage and yet its early enough that no one else is out driving yet.

...run out of quarters and have to pack both front pockets full of dimes to feed the parking meter.

...realize the office coffee shop closed a month ago and you just now figure it out. Even the security guard that sleeps all day knew it was closed.

Random

I don't know what to say lately. There is so much in my head right now I'm having a hard time finishing one full thought let alone write it down.

**********************************************

Did I seriously sit in a 2 hour meeting this week with my company's CEO and the only thing I remember from the meeting is he looks a little bit like John Ritter. but older.

**********************************************

Dave wants to schedule a vasectomy. Its all feeling so final... A few pangs of regret and I'm wondering if I could (or should) talk him out of it. I would be WAY more OK with this if I knew Olivia would be my only pregnancy.

**********************************************

Now that I'm back on the treadmill its a little reminiscent of when I first quit smoking and I would see Dave's cigarettes on the counter.

My hand hovering over the speed button having a pretty serious internal debate. 1 mph faster wont make that big of a difference will it? Shut up and wait. But I know I can do it. Shut up and wait, only 3 weeks left before we see the foot doc again. BUT I WANT TO.

**********************************************

Dave has his workshop in the basement. Occasionally metal shavings work their way upstairs and we sometimes step on them. It hurts but they're usually quick to yank.

Olivia had a big one stuck deep in her foot and we tried everything. Bribing, coaxing, distracting and letting it sit for a week to see if it would work itself out. It got sore enough that she wouldn't even walk around on her tiptoes anymore. In the end Dave had to hold her down so I could dig it out.

That was two days ago. She still hasn't forgiven Dave and she reminds me a couple times a day that I hurt her foot. It doesn't matter that its better now, she feels betrayed and I feel pretty fucking guilty.

Dave is still trying to bribe his way back into the sunshine of her love. After he gives her something she tells him "I don't like you".

miracle fruit

I was telling Dave about this article I read about a miracle fruit.

Me: "So you chew this thing and for like 20 minutes it makes everything taste sweet. Lemons taste like candy, that kind of thing. I guess food tastes like ass to cancer patients so they're trying it out on them."

Dave: " I should keep some in the nightstand."

taxes part 3

Dammit.

The IRS accepted our paper taxes. Absolutely nothing changed between filing them electronically and licking the envelope.

This means we will be facing a full blown audit when some underpaid government drone happens upon the error of Alex's social security number being filed twice and now we won't know when its coming.

fucking IRS.

Add the accountant fees the audit will cost us plus the legal fees we'll be paying to take the ED to court and we're pretty well fucked.

Go after the ED for our out of pocket costs? What would they garnish? the child support we pay?

GAAAAAHHHHHHH.

a little too late now

Google is a useful tool.

a VERY useful tool.

Had I Googled before I created... I would have figured out that half of Europe would land here on my blog in search of adult women wearing diapers.

hobbit feet

Sweet Jesus I have hobbit feet.

The past few days have been warm enough to ditch the lesbian sturdy boots I've had to wear since I was released from the fugly boot and put on some sorely missed strapy sandals.

I got dressed in the dark both Monday and Tuesday morning...

While sitting in the foot dr's office waiting for him to come in, I slipped off my sandal and glanced at my foot.

HAIRY FUCKING TOES and toenails that could be mistaken for claws.

I was horrified enough to pluck my feet as soon as I got into the office.

seriously, who the fuck has to pluck their feet? apparently me.

maybe I should check my back.
gross.

maintenance

We're being put on a maintenance schedule because Alex is doing so well in his therapy.

Good right?

except it PISSES ME OFF.

I have always looked for some way to take the ED back to court AND win full custody. I really hoped this lady could help us with the custody aspect as well as helping Alex manage his feelings.

The second therapy session she sat in front of me and told me it was obvious to her that he doesn't want to be with the ED and that she could help us in court. How is she helping if we're seeing her every 4-6 weeks?

I thought a door had magically opened for us and that we found the yellow brick road that led directly to a win in court. Looks like that door has closed and I am back at square one knowing the only chance we have is if the ED really screws up and starts dealing drugs out of the house or we find physical evidence of abuse.

As I let my hope grow, I became more and more patient with the situation telling myself it was only a matter of time. We are stuck in the same ol' fucking cycle and going nowhere.

I will give the therapist credit for gently pointing me and Dave in the right direction. We are remaining calm instead of reacting to his anger with anger and Alex has been vocalizing his feelings more.

The transition between the houses is still just as difficult. Alex is now starting the process with trying to negotiate staying with us longer before he moves to tears.

***************************************************

I did get to see the foot doctor again this morning and I walked out of that 5 minute appointment in a much better mood. Not only did I get the OK to start walking for exercise but I also got to shed the guilty feeling for being an ASSHAT the last time I was there.

(Its the good ol Catholic upbringing that helps me hold on to my guilty feelings for so long.)

The foot dr walked in and I didn't give him a chance to say anything before I was apologizing profusely. Apparently I wasn't as rude as I gave myself credit for... I'll have to work on that for the next appointment in another 6 weeks.

power washing

Dear Alex.

What the fuck. Seriously.

You thought you needed to clean the toilet while there was still poop and toilet paper in the bowl just because there was a shit streak on the side? You do realize that you and dad would have spent the rest of the night trying to power wash it off every time you peed? That has got to be WAY more fun than swirling the toilet brush in shit water.

For the next few days I will now think of the shit water and toilet paper mess every time I have to sit in there and feel like I have a ring of ick on my ass.

Thanks a pantload.

Love,
Mom

one hell of a mess

I was having a good time poking fun at Dave for the mess he makes in the kitchen when he decides its time to have a house full of cookies and doesn't want to wait for me.

And then I pulled all of the pictures off the camera and found Dave had documented the kids after they "helped" make pasta.

I am officially shutting my pie hole.

cookies make everything better

We met with Alex's therapist again Monday. Dave and I talked with her first to see if we could help narrow down what direction they should go in.

Alex has done a complete 180 going from an angry kid to pretty happy with random unprompted compliments, super helpful and seeking out Olivia to play with. Any angry hitting has halted and play hitting is directed at pillows only. He is showing more and more how much physical attention he needs. He wants more hugs, kisses, tickling, wrestling and cuddling.

He doesn't eat rainbows and poop butterflies 100% of the time. He's just a kid and just like any other kid we have grumpy spells when he's hungry or tired.

Unfortunately the other change we've seen is a harder transition when its time for him to go to the Egg Donor's house.

Its the first thing he asks when he gets up in the morning. "Am I going to *****'s house today?" As soon as we say no he's relaxed and happy. If we say yes he tries to negotiate how many more days he should stay home.

We've figured out it doesn't matter if the ED picks him up or if Dave drives him up there. At some point he breaks down. He hangs his head and we get silent tears as he buries his face into either Dave or I.

When Dave talks to him on the phone while he's up there, he begs Dave to come pick him up.

The biggest recommendation the therapist had was for Dave to be the one to pick him up from Preschool on Mondays and take him directly to the ED instead of coming home and having a few hours before the transition. She believes a big part of the difficulty is leaving me. The hope is that not having those few hours to get settled back down at home with me will make it a little easier on him.

I'm a selfish ass and I will have a hard time with that adjustment.

She also suggested we kind of set up the ED to fail. Give her more responsibilities and wait for her to fail. It feels a little like I would be throwing Alex under the bus trying to trip her up.

She also suggested we ask Alex's preschool to document anything they can. Was she late in dropping off or picking up? Is she saying anything inappropriate in front of Alex or any other kids?

Dave and I are on very friendly terms with the preschool teacher. She and I have gone out to lunch together and we like her a lot. It didn't make it any less humbling to tell her about the problems we have with the ED and ask her to be our spy.

This week the schedule was shifted yet again and Alex didn't leave for the ED's house until last night right at dinner time. A cookie bribe worked and he headed out the door seemingly happy. Then they arrived at the ED's house. As soon as the truck was put into park his breakdown started.

Dave is a better person than I am. I don't know that I would be able to carry him crying to the door and hand him over to someone I know he doesn't want to be with.

The ED called late last night to tell us Alex cried for about an hour and a half. I think it would go a long way if she showed him a little compassion.

potato chips

I took a crack at ho-made potato chips last night and loved them. Why the hell haven't I tried this before? I can make 'em how I like 'em. Thick.

Everybody loved them. I swore to myself I wouldn't ever buy potato chips from the store again.

When I woke up this morning my kitchen smelled like a shitty greasy spoon. The overwhelming smell of used oil was a little too much to take at the ass crack of dawn when all I really wanted was a cup of coffee.

I pulled out the seven scented candles I have leftover from wedding presents and lit up the house. The floral smell was enough to choke a donkey but still better than old oil.

After a little research I found I could have just poured a bowl of vinegar and left it out. Within a couple of hours the vinegar smell dissipates and it takes the crap smells with it. That would have been a lot more pleasant for everyone else when they rolled out of bed.

taxes take two

We have officially had our taxes rejected. We knew it was coming but it still sucks.

Our next step was to file them again in paper form. We know they will be rejected again but the accountant says mailing in a paper copy fulfills our April 15th deadline obligation since this is likely to drag out way past April 15.

And back to the waiting game...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We have another meeting with the family therapist on Monday. I've started to question myself if we're doing the right thing bringing him. Why do I have any kind of expectation that this lady can help? Why do I think she can gain a level of Alex's trust that I don't have.

I used to feel like the stability Dave and I have here made up for the anarchy with the ED. Lately it feels like we're slowly slipping and all the hugs and kisses we give aren't enough.

I need more friends

Last night my sister invited me to go to a party with her in a little over a week.

Its at a professional photographers house... complete with wine and cheese and other fancy shit.

Real non-coworker adults to be around.

I'm already counting down the days and trying to figure out what I want to wear.

I think I need more friends.

pound the crazy out.

The foot doc must think I'm insane. He told me exactly what I expected to hear and I still burst into tears...

I quit wearing the fugly boot about a week ago. I hit the limit of my tolerance and couldn't bring myself to put it back on. I went the 6 weeks required so I didn't feel all that bad about it or feel like I was jeopardizing my foot's ability to heal.

To look like a good little patient, I slipped the boot on right before my appointment and walked in.

Unfortunately for him I was already uptight and ready to snap when he came in.

doc: "Lets go ahead and wean you out of the boot, here's a schedule to follow..."

uh yeah

doc: "how does it feel?"

me: "I don't know. Its sore but there's so much going on down there I can't pinpoint anything"

doc: "I don't feel any catch in the joint movement. I only want you to wear stable shoes and I want to see you back here in 4 weeks. Its going to be sore. Sore at night, sore walking, sore in the morning. It wont be normal when you come back in 4 weeks, but it might be better 4 to 6 weeks after our next visit"

and here is where I turn on the waterworks...

I *should* be happy, but you know something? IT STILL SUCKS. By the time I might be normal it will have been 18 months since this shit started, over a year since I last ran, and I NEED that outlet. I need to turn on my iPod, shut out the world and go pound pavement until I don't have the energy to be uptight, worried, or just generally crazy.

I know its not the foot doc's fault and I shouldn't direct my frustration in his general direction. He really is trying to fix me and get me back to running. He's just an easy target, especially when the bills for this latest surgery have started to roll in and the total from the very beginning to now is almost $20,000.

That is one really expensive fucking toe.

a punching bag could come in handy

I had one of those mornings. You know the kind... if it wasn't for love your husband and kids would probably be buried in a field somewhere.

It was a normal Sunday morning getting ready for church. Dave was still sleeping and the kids and I were pretty laid back until the last 10 minutes then its balls to the wall trying to get everyone into their coats and strapped in the car and hope like hell we wont be late.

We walk in right as they start singing the entrance song and its a race for us to get into our pew and shake our coats off before the priest starts talking.

The kids pull the kneeler down and that's when the trouble started. Olivia absolutely HAD to touch Alex. It didnt matter how she touched him, she just had to keep some part of her touching anything on him.

I gave it 30 seconds before I put Olivia on the other side of me. I then spent the next hour dragging her ass back to her side of me. If I tried paying any attention to mass, she would shoot behind me to get to him. I would pull her back, she would jerk to get down and start crying.

I know they have a cry room in the back of the church for just this kind of situation but I've made it 4 years without the kids learning what that room really is for and I am sure as shit not going to teach them they get a free pass by turning into a banshee.

So there we sit, feeling like a spectacle. I can feel all of the old ladies sitting behind me trying to kill me with their eyes.

The process of getting up, gathering all of our crap and shoving the kids out the door would have outed myself as the source of the disturbances to the entire church.

When Olivia decided to scream/cry into my shoulder through the ENTIRE consecration I thought my head would pop off.

Church finally ends and I get the kids coats on as fast as I can trying hard not to make eye contact with anyone afraid I would get some sympathetic soul try to make me feel better and I would have to sit smile and nod when really I would rather just punch them in the face.

When Dave gets up 3 hours later he asks me how church went. I said it was bad. Really bad.

Dave: "Lots of wiggling?"
me: "yes"
Dave: "Lots of screwing around?"
me: "yes"
Dave: "wow, you're still pissed. What exactly did Alex do?"
me: "Alex was perfect, it was your darling daughter."

The look of disbelief I got from my husband was enough to want to punch him too.

valentines

Not a single snowflake yet and schools have been canceled.

WTF.

Don't they realize I tortured Alex last night doing everything I could short of duct taping his ass to his chair so he would finally finish writing his name on the 30 valentines we had to make for preschool?

Preschool valentines suck. When I was in school it was a simple perforated card with some cute little kitten with a heart that said "Be Mine" and maybe a heart candy or two taped to the card. Now its a competition between the Alpha-Moms to make the best valentine PACKAGE. Seriously? A package? We don't need any more decorative pencils, shitty heart erasers, cheap little necklaces or bracelets, and stickers. You wanna put something in there I do need?

CHOCOLATE people.

I can talk myself out of buying it, but when its given to us its easy to collect it all, stick it in the cookie jar and strap the jar to my face like a feed bag when the kids aren't looking cuz its not fair to eat it in front of them ya know.

Back to the fucking valentines... The number of valentines we needed to make is bullshit. Screw the fact that his class has a total of 11 kids. The teacher wants to spread the love and have every kid give a valentine to all other kids regardless of whether they are in the morning or afternoon class or going on M/W/F or Tu/Th.

I couldn't control my competitive side and I joined in the race for the best valentine package with the other alpha-moms. I went all Martha Stewart and crammed heart shaped straws, stickers, chocolate, and all 30 Iron Man valentines Alex labored over into cute little plastic bags tied closed with red ribbons.

I should be ashamed of myself but I'll probably hold in my feelings of regret until I scour his valentines next week looking for a package that's better than mine. Uh, his.

Death of the magazine

Dave got me an iPod for Christmas. A super cute little silver nano that I loved.

Then he borrowed it when he went to a conference and decided he loved it more than me and wouldn't give it back.

He started feeling pretty guilty and that guilt worked in my favor. He came home with an iPod touch.

It is the coolest gadget. ever.

The commercials wern't kidding, this thing can do anything.

I think I'd like to read a book... There's an app for that.
I wonder what the weather is like on the other side of the country? There's an app for that.
Would I like to track my menstrual cycle? Yes, they have an app for that too.

A few nights ago I was getting ready for bed and playing with my iPod. Standing in the bathroom brushing my teeth, and washing my face, while checking email and updating my status on Facebook. Sit down for one last pee before bed and wander over to the YouTube app. Full access to YouTube conveniently organized to bring me straight to the top 25 most viewed videos and an enormous list of videos they're featuring that day.

Thanks to my iPod and YouTube, what should have taken me approximately 20 seconds to accomplish lasted long enough to make my legs go numb and make a ring indent around my ass.

I will never have a need for a magazine in the bathroom again.

ewwww

My company has decided to move my desk to a new floor. I figured I could shed some weight and throw out anything that has dust on it.

Holy crap. My desk may looked relatively empty but apparently, it wasn't.

I have found:

• Boy Scout popcorn expired 04/02
• Easy Mac & Cheese expired 01/19/05
• Policeman Pez dispenser that I haven't seen in about 5 years with one pez candy left in it
  
• Sleeve of crackers from when I was pregnant 3 years ago
• Generic ibuprofen bottle filled with what I can only assume is Vicodin
• Comet cleaner - why in the hell would I have Comet at work?
• My pink fuzzy gloves I thought I lost last winter
• A picture of me, drunk, trying to climb a palm tree in Nogales Mexico while on a business trip to Phoenix
• a pile of floppy disks that probably outweighs me
• old-timey picture of some unknown family from the Nebraska Historical Society. Looks like they wanted the whole family so they included two horses and the cow that's standing on the roof

*shudder*

Empty bed

I really didn't expect the end of the tax conversation to be the end of the arguing but I also didn't expect the retaliation to come as fast as it did or the way it did.

I took Alex to preschool like any other preschool day. Hug and a kiss and "I'll see you right after preschool". He gives me a quick wink and a thumbs up and runs into the classroom.

Two hours later my phone alarms goes off telling me its time to get my ass in gear to go pick him up.

As I'm pulling into the parking lot I see the Egg Donor getting out of her car. She looks right at me and heads in the building.

I have absolutely no legal right to say no and take him home. I call Dave and tell him she was there. He calls her and 30 seconds later calls me back. "She already has him, come home."

So I sit in my car dumbfounded at her bold move not able to drive away.

Then I see Alex walking out of the building in front of her crying "I'm not supposed to go with you. I'm going back to dad's house" and she puts him into her car. No booster seat and no seat belt.

I felt very closterphobic sitting in my car watching Alex climb into hers hoping Alex didnt feel betrayed when I wasn't there knowing there wasn't a fucking thing I could do.

When I get home Dave tells me that she called him right after they left the preschool to yell at him for cutting Alex's hair "Don't you know he has a huge head that looks like a basketball and he needs a lot more hair to hide it???" and hearing Alex in the back telling her "Only Dad gets to cut my hair."

To poke at Dave she has successfully stomped that little boy. Dave and I talked about what to do next and decided not to fight with her over the phone when we have no control over where Alex is in her house and what he would be listening to. Instead we decide its best to talk to Alex and apologize to him and make sure he's ok.

Dave gets Alex on the phone and says "Alex buddy, I'm so sorry. Mom and I didn't tell you ***** was going to pick you up. "

Alex says "That's OK Dad, I know it wasn't your fault. I'll be OK."

GAH.

When the parenting plan was being set up they went through several versions. The only thing that changed from version to version was the support amount we would pay her every month. When we finally hit the magic number she signed.

So the parenting plan they set up has never been followed. We have adjusted schedules based on her whim because it has ALWAYS worked out better for Dave and I. We have always had more time with Alex than what the parenting plan spells out. According to the parenting plan schedule it was her time. Legally we couldn't do anything about her just showing up and taking him yesterday.

I also can't believe she put preschool in the middle of this. She put those teachers in a terrible position knowing either Dave or I were supposed to pick him up and having her show up and take him. They also didn't have a choice but to let him go.

Olivia is now taking the brunt of my feelings of helplessness. I'm compensating for my inability to hug Alex by wanting to hold her tight keeping her as close to me as I can today. Several times last night I woke up and couldnt go back to sleep so I snuck into the kids room and laid down with her. I would lay there as close as I could without waking her up staring at Alex's empty bed.

Taxman

I am so uptight today.

As if taxes were not stressful enough, the Egg-Donor is furious that she can't claim Alex. She and her boyfriend have decided that our offer to give them the difference between what they actually file and what they would have received if they claimed Alex isn't fair. Something about they're both claiming head of household and they also want to be the recipient if there is another stupid stimulus package.

Alex's insurance is through my job and the only way we can keep him covered is if he is on our taxes. The legal parenting plan Dave the Egg-Donor agreed to and signed states Dave will claim him every year.

Dave argued with her for about an hour last night. He couldn't get it through to her the problems she will cause. She thinks its totally acceptable to drop him off of my insurance and put him on medicaid and have him see doctors through the ER or at the free clinic.

She is off and running today as fast as she can to H & R block to file her taxes complete with Alex as a dependent.

We will ALL end up getting audited and she has herself convinced the IRS is going to "take her side" because she has claimed him in the past AND they need the money more.

Dave will be meeting with our tax guy today and will have to warn him.

AAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH

I HATE HATE HATE HATE this. I feel like David Banner trying to suppress my inner Hulk when really I just want to punch something (her) as hard as I can.

I'm thinking we should take her to small claims court after this is all done to make her pay for any accountant fees we incur because she's so effing stupid.

American Psycho

Dave comes upstairs while I'm grinding some meat, gives me a funny look and walks on through the kitchen.

I look around and realize the grinder has been splattering further than I was expecting. Past the double sink, past the coffee pot, almost to the stove top.

I felt like I had to go return some video tapes.

taking the pasta machine out for a test run

This here is the sexiest pasta I have ever seen.



It does seriously suck when my little crank helper ditches me for the Backyardigans and I have to try to feed a sheet of pasta dough the length of my arm through, catch it as it comes out AND crank the handle all at the same time.

I rule.

bouncing boy

When I started on antidepressants almost a year ago I felt damaged. There was something wrong with me that I wasn't taking care of and I needed chemical help to balance out. Lots of therapy sessions later I was handling life.

When I tried to take myself off the antidepressants in October I felt broken. Life was fine yet I still couldn't exist without chemical help. Two weeks off the medication and I felt like I was thrown even lower in the hole questioning my ability to EVER live without it. Will I ever be able to live my life without having to pick apart every aspect trying to analyzing where I'm fucking up?

This week I feel like a monumental failure. This time I haven't failed myself, I've failed Alex.

Alex transitioned between the two houses handling the arguments, differences in rules, schedules, and stability like someone WAY beyond his years. I could tell it was hard on him but he seemed to be happy. He was a typical boy climbing up anything, playing ball and pretending to be super heroes. He would play with Olivia and help her when she was too short or

This amazing little boy that always bounces back is no longer bouncing back.

Lately he has become an angry little dude and I haven't been able to pinpoint what changed. He is lashing out in physical ways that scare me. The random punches to Olivia, the right hook I took in the face this week while playing, the absolute defiance to any instruction, correction or discipline has me floored. It is SO VERY unlike him. Where once he would hide his face when he got in trouble, he is now trying to stare you down and refuses to accept authority. He's actually trying to hurt my feelings. I feel like I'm talking to a pubescent teenager in a 4 year old little body.

So what the fuck changed? Am I not paying enough attention to him? Is he not getting enough one on one attention with Dave or I? Has something happened at the Egg-Donor's house that we are not aware of?

Dave and I have finally had to admit we need help. We have made an appointment for child counseling to see if Alex will tell them what he wont tell us. We meet with this lady next Wednesday and will have 4 different conversations, the three of us together, Dave and Alex, Me and Alex, then Alex alone.

Dave and I ever so briefly whispered (because it feels like a dirty secret we have to keep quiet) about fighting for full custody and it scares the crap out of me. I want him with us, but it is a guaranteed ugly fight. Shoving bamboo shoots under my fingernails would be more pleasant.

What would Alex be subjected to during a custody battle?

drunk ballerina

My mom and sister came over late last night because they love me and surprised me with a late night latte. Yum. The kids were just about ready for bed so I thought I would act all cool and tough I am by showing off my incisions. (because the pictures were not enough??) Alex is a little freaked out by them so I was waiting to unveil them as soon as the kids heads hit the pillows.

As our night time routine progressed Alex started complaining about his stomach hurting.

me: "Pain kind of hurting or throw up kind of hurting?"

Alex: "throw up kind"

As he's circling the living room groaning he's blowing out huge farts every other step.

me: "Its gotta be gas pains. He'll be fine. Time for bed" because I'm anxious to show off my war wounds...

The kids went straight to bed. Off comes my boot and as I'm unwrapping my foot I can hear Olivia talking to Alex.

Olivia: "you ok Alax? your belly hurting? you ok Alax?"

Alex begins to cry.

Uh oh.

Dave heads in and Alex says he feels like he's going to throw up. Dave brings him into our bathroom and sits him down and heads off to find a bucket. Why? I dunno. he was already sitting next to a toilet.

Alex begins to cry louder, Dave is downstairs and I'm the dumbshit with my boot off and foot unwrapped. I do a one legged hop as fast as I can down the hall, round the corner into my room and I smell vomit.

SHIT

Get to the bathroom doorway and there stands Alex, toilet lid down and vomit covering the toilet, splashed up on the wall, and covering his poor green footie jammies.

Fuuuuuuck

Trying to balance on one foot and strip down a poor little kid freaked out about the vomit everywhere could be a sideshow in the circus. Dave takes him to the other bathroom and gets a bath started.

I do my one legged hop again to get to my boot so I can clean up the bathroom. Trucking right along at a pretty fast clip and my fucking foot catches the edge of the rug and I go flying through the air like I'm trying to sack the quarterback. As graceful as a drunk ballerina I get one extra hop in and land my ass in the rocking chair.

"holy crap that was close. I cant believe I didn't wreck."

I lowered my head and shamefully wrapped up my foot again. So much for showing off how tough I am, instead I showed off what an asshat I am.

Poor boo.

creepy toe

I was pretty apprehensive when the nurse was cutting off all of the bandages from my foot. I figured I would see a big stubby grotesque club foot.

Meh... didn't turn out too bad.

Olivia had a different feeling when I pulled the bandages off when I got home.



Surprisingly enough my foot had very little swelling.



And the underside...



I finally got to ask some questions about the surgery. I started to really worry that I had my foot unnecessarily cut open extending this whole process by a lot. The joint was fine so was there some other way of fixing the instability without creating a creepy toe?

Apparently not.

He said an MRI wouldn't have shown us what was going on in there and he was totally floored when he opened the joint that there was not a flap of cartilage hanging loose in there. My creepy toe made a liar out of him in the operating room.

My last question was about the tendon itself... Is it more like spaghetti or linguine?

Linguine.

we used to be BFFs

Dear boobies,

I decided to take you bra shopping today as a peace offering. I know we haven't been getting along lately and I thought this little jaunt out would help restore the bond we once knew.

4 trips from the dressing room out into the store to fill my arms with different brands, different styles and different sizes. A full hour of standing half naked in front of massive mirrors and bright fluorescent lights trying on bras. All for you.

You let me down. I even broke down at one point and tried the Playtex "nearly" sizes hoping to fit into something... anything.

You have completely destroyed my ego.

We are no longer on speaking terms.

C.

33 going on 80

I'm turning into an old biddy.

I realized last night I have spent the majority of the past 5 days sitting in a rocking chair crocheting and my hip hurts from my funny walk with my boot.

Next up, funny old lady smell and 64 cats.

He's only mostly dead

I'm finally able to tolerate the fugly boot for more than a few minutes. This means I'm able to make dinner (no more nasty frozen pizzas because that's the only thing Dave learned how to make during his single days) and move around the house without hopping on one foot or navigating the toy landmines with crutches.

Dave is doing much better this time around but its still frustrating he wont let anyone come over and give us a hand but he gets frustrated taking care of the house and the kids without his normal quiet time in the shop. I had to laugh on Thursday after the kids were put back in bed for the third time when he came into the livingroom and slumped down in his chair with a loud sigh.

Dave - "I am dead. No, I'm not dead, I'm run over and run down."

Me - "Now imagine if I asked you for sex..."

Dave - "I'm going down to the shop."

That's what I thought.

post surgery

One day post surgery and it hurts more than the last one. The foot doc said the first surgery was a success and the cartilage looked good so no drilling. WAHOO!

So what was the pain I was feeling? Very likely instability in the joint. He went ahead and redirected the tendons and worked the joint until it moved the way it should. I'm still stuck in the fugly boot for 6 weeks and get the creepy toe.

I asked the anesthesiologist if they knock people out faster if they start to cry. He laughed and said no but when I started to freak out walking into the operating room he told me he could knock me out fast if I wanted him to.

Kids are napping so I think I'm going to take another pain killer and pass out for a while.