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.