The radish woke up very upset this morning. He was mad because he was short on sleep and someone kept calling him half the night. He went on and on about how rude that is to wake someone up like that, repeatedly. I gently reminded him that I understood, as this is what happened to me (via HIM) most of the days that I had clinicals. He had the balls to tell me that it wasn't the same. Apparently, it's not the same thing since he didn't mean to wake me up, and I was able to fall asleep with his noise/chatter. I gently reminded him that the result was the same, regardless of his intent, and that after the first time he was yelled at it did indeed appear intentional and rude on his part. He still maintains it really isn't the same thing.

I truly can't get my coffee deprived brain around that one right now. Stupid me, I decided to 'catch up' and take both doses of wellbutrin yesterday, both after 5pm. Although extended release, I had only taken one dose on Saturday and none on Sunday due to poor planning (code for laziness) on my part. I wasn't able to get to sleep until close to 4am. I managed to drag my butt out of bed around 10am, but have the feeling I'll be dragged out most of the day.

I have managed to solve the coffee problem, as I roasted--beautifully I might add--a whole bunch of coffee this morning. To my delight, I found several bags of raw beans that had just a tiny bit left and I'm roasting a 'blend' right now. I know my dear, sweet stud will get a kick out of that. One of my quirks is mixing partial batches of everything. Lotion, cat/dog food, butter, margerine, shampoo, conditioner, makeup, and even coffee. I suspect it's a hold over from when my mom would buy compulsively. It drove me nuts. She'd go to the store every week and get the same things. We'd end up with 4-5 bottles of laundry soap and fabric softener. While I did enjoy the well stocked soda fridge and we always had convenience foods like frozen pizza in those days, the rest still bugged me. She'd randomly grab a bottle of soap and use it, so we'd end up with lots of partially full bottles. I'd combine them, when I was unable to stop her at the store. She always denied having anything wrong with her, and the word Huntington's disease was taboo.

Not so with my brother, thankfully. However, he is planning a 'surprise' wedding. Funny thing is, his fiance does not have HD, and she's going along with this. We already knew she was nuts anyway, it's just not killing her.

I'm so weak, I ungrounded DS this afternoon, simply because his moping about the house whining is really getting on my nerves. I admitted this to him, to which he replies "cool, it works!" CRAP!!! The radish non-chalantly walks out onto the deck tonight and comes back in smelling like smoke. He calmly empties his pockets--despite my explatives, which I'm not proud of--and nothing. Wow, clearly we were wrong! DH found the cigarettes on the deck. This will be his fourth smoking ticket this year.

Exercise=energy!! It felt so good to get back into the garden/yard today. After roasting beans, I set up the sprinklers and weeded this afternoon. I also found that I have big pumpkins and tons of corn! I can't believe my 4' high corn is actually producing. Surprisngly the weeds were insane, after only a few weeks hiatus, at which time things were well under control.

Follow my analogy here...it's not always a straight line when I do this: I planted veggies with the expectation that with a little fertilizer and TLC, they would produce. Along with the fertilizer, there a few weeds start growing. I keep pulling the weeds, but here and there they manage to reproduce, so I have to keep after the weeds. The radish reminds me of this. Although his behavior has improved with TLC, I've managed to drop a few weeds (mainly my filthy mouth and bad temper along the way). This seems to be what he clings to, throwing it up in my face whenever it suits him. If I could only see some fruit amongst the stunted growth, I'd have more energy to keep pulling the weeds.

This came up with the social workers today. They finally admitted he isn't making progress, and acknowledged what a difficult job we have with him. Yet the SW in charge refuses to look at additional/alternative services other than individual counseling, which any idiot can tell you won't, can't, and doesn't work with radishes! She did say that she didn't think residential was the way to go with him anymore, again showing her ignorance of all things mental health. She even lectured both boys about rebuilding a relationship with their psychotic mother. They have enough sense (self preservation instinct) to refuse to do this. Thank God for that!

Food note: Another good day: Natural ovens bread with natural peanut butter, a bowl of cereal, nearly a whole pot of coffee with milk (mostly, but some cream), a bowl of raspberries, hash browns with cheese, mashed potatoes (instant, low fat) and pot roast, very lean cuts of meat. I do notice the lack of veggies, but one day at a time, one habit at a time.

Teenagers really are clueless

Most of our weekends are filled with lots of errands. I often try to combine these with the boys' work schedule, but since DS got fired from his job here in town, and the other two keep taking off of work, I was finally able to go to the store I like to go to, which is cheaper than the store I've been ending up at. My stud was able to come along too, I can't remember the last time that happened! It must be close to a year ago. I do recall a mall trip earlier this spring where we gave the boys their spring clothing money. Just tells me we don't get a lot of time alone. Ever. We used to shop together all the time.


Food update: The last several weeks sucked. My dietician AKA the Food Police would be very disappointed if he could see my food logs. However, today was much better and I used my actual hunger as a guide. It helps that I'm feeling a bit better too. Food for today was a 6" sub, a bag of baked chips, a yogurt, caramel high rise, a bowl of cereal, and three squares of homemade pizza.

I also canned marinara sauce, using tomatoes purchased from a local farmer's market and a mix. The finished cans are now happily popping on the counter. My black lab is unhappy with the noise. He can't figure out what it is!


Something has been bothering our radish all weekend. Turns out, he couldn't figure out if he should go back out with a girl who dumped him for "no reason". Something tells me he's not worried about getting hurt but rather he was weighing his options and trying to figure out if he would get something out of this relationship. Since he has the "emotional range of a teaspoon" to quote Hermione Granger, I doubt that he's looking for emotional closeness or even anything remotely close to what most teenagers are looking for in a dating relationship. I worried about what he does want from her.

Overall, a very quiet weekend that ended late, about 2am. I had to be up early, but much later than the last eight weeks. I started my pt job training today. What a freakin' joke! Although there is no doubt in my mind that this will be a good to build my total patient care skills, the 'training' was geared to the lowest common denominator. At one point, I almost walked out, it was that demeaning. I managed to focus instead on what my dear, sweet stud had told me: This will be good spending money for me, or pad our Christmas fund. However, it really ticks me off that I spent the last 8 weeks being completely responsible for patients' well being but have to be supervised by a licensed RN, who has to check my meds before I can give them and now I spend 1/2 hour reading do's and don't's of med distribution and I can pass meds as a personal care worker. Something does not sit well with me. First off, the lowest common denominator...and than after 1/2 hour of unsupervised reading and a few multiple choice questions I'm qualified to do this unsupervised??? WTF? If this is how we are getting more people into the least restrictive care setting I have a serious problem with it and question the quality of care provided.

As usual, I sell myself short. Although I tend to have unrealistically high expectations of my own performance, my poor self esteem sells me short on actual jobs. I'll take it as a good sign that today's 'training' pissed me off.

I burned off my frustrations by laughing at the misfortunes of our radish, who ended up in town all day after screwing up his work schedule again. I did manage to take pity on him and bought him some chicken fingers at the deli. Did he take any money with him? No, of course not, he expected to fill up--FILL UP--on free root beer at work!! He didn't eat breakfast, he didn't pack a lunch, and I really, really, really debated getting him anything to eat.

My McDonald's bag guilted me into it.

After getting home, I tried to clean the house as quickly as possible. I hate coming home to a mess and even though my sweet stud doesn't seem to mind, it can't hurt to try and have a clean quiet house for him to come home to, can it? I even managed to shampoo the living room rug before he got home. While I'm working up a sweat, DS is whining on the couch about how bored he is. One would think he would have learned not to say such things, especially when his mother is cleaning like a madwoman. He clearly has some form of ADD that permits him to forget such things. I managed to guilt him into taking out a bag of garbage and feed the dogs.

Update: Even though he's watching a movie now, I know he's bored to tears. He's picking at his toes, and I can only thank God right now that he's lost the flexibility to get him into his mouth. He used to chew the toenails, a habit that made me nauseated every time I saw him do it. I know how often he washes those feet!

Things I hate

1. Mucus

2. The nasty feel of morning mucus

3. Trying to brush the morning mucus out of my mouth, and gagging.

4. Dry, crusty boogers

5. ungrateful children

6. ungrateful childern who wake me up in the middle of the night, not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES.

7. Those same ungrateful children, who have the nerve to accuse use of waking them up at the un-godly hour of 9am.

8. Not having the energy to clean my house

9. not having the energy to love my stud

10. plugged up ears.

I think the picture says it all.

Cold or allergies

I'm strongly leaning towards cold. I've tried lots of the usual allergy remedies. Man, I hope I don't get the baby we were with yesterday sick. So, another day of laying low. I would love to be abel to get outside and so something active today, but I'm just feeling too dizzy and crappy. Instead, I'm just going to camp out in front of the tv, on the 'puter and maybe with a bowl of noodles.

The dogs are missing spending time outside. This is an old photo, but another example of why the kids can't be left alone with our pets for a long period of time. Our sweet Palmer is just too obedient! I'm also reminded that I should use that camera more, time slips away so fast. Every day at clinicals the song 100 Years, by Five for Fighting would go through my head:

I'm 15 for a moment

Caught in between 10 and 20

And I'm just dreaming

Counting the ways to where you are

I'm 22 for a moment

She feels better than ever

And we're on fire

Making our way back from Mars

15 there's still time for you

Time to buy and time to lose

15, there's never a wish better than this

When you only got 100 years to live

I'm 33 for a moment

Still the man, but you see I'm a they

A kid on the way

A family on my mind

I'm 45 for a moment

The sea is high

And I'm heading into a crisis

Chasing the years of my life

15 there's still time for you

Time to buy, Time to lose yourself

Within a morning star

15 I'm all right with you

15, there's never a wish better than this

When you only got 100 years to live

Half time goes by

Suddenly you’re wise

Another blink of an eye

67 is gone

The sun is getting high

We're moving on...

I'm 99 for a moment

Dying for just another moment

And I'm just dreaming

Counting the ways to where you are

15 there's still time for you

22 I feel her too

33 you’re on your way

Every day's a new day...

15 there's still time for you

Time to buy and time to choose

Hey 15, there's never a wish better than this

When you only got 100 years to live

My stud hates this song, because its sung in falsetto. But I love the lyrics. Each of the people I cared for was an echo of this song. One woman in particular, who said "but you just don't know--you can't know you're not 80." when I offered her sympathy for her aches and pains will stick with me. Still, I'll be glad when we're done with geriatrics. I still have four weeks of that to go, and although these people have blessed and enhanced my life it'll be a relief to be done.

I'm hoping to get a lot done around the house the next month. This cold is not a good start!

The ignorance of youth

Surprisingly, this rant is not about my kidlets, but rather dh's second cousin. After a wonderful lunch paid for by his aunt, his 19 year old cousin announces--with her 5 month old baby in her arms--that they are ttc'ing #2. WTF? She says her dh is already working long hours, often 16 hours. And they think another baby would be a good idea. I have no doubt she's a good mother, I've seen that first hand. Youth is lucky, most of the time they walk around clueless. There are a few out there that lose that ignorance early. They are usually easy to spot. Serious, and they look older than they really are. I think I'm one of those people. This cousin, on the other hand, gives the appearance of innocence, despite coming from a divorced home and a mother with a drug problem. If only she didn't seem like she was just playing.

In other news, DS announced he's sick of the other boys leaving dishes in the basement. I gently reminded him of the cup 'o cereal he forgot about several months back. By the time my stud and I found it, there was no hope. The whole glass had to be thrown out. Although he admitted to it "opps, sorry, hahaha!" he now maintains that he's not guilty because he "NEVER" used those mugs. He ONLY used the regular glasses. Yeah, and I never overeat. Ever.

To quarterback Michael Vick: You have how much money and your prefered past time is to bet on dog fighting? You sick bastard.

Back to the modest dress thing, the women I saw walking who I found so interesting. I quick Google search "modest dress" came up with:

1 Timothy 2:9-10 "In like manner also, that women adorn themselves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety: not with broided hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly array: But (which becometh women professing godliness) with good works". Followed closely by: Slacks or pants on a woman are also immodest, because they reveal the form of the body. I know that some people consider slacks more modest than a dress. But if the dresses are long enough, a woman can do many things without appearing immodest. For someone who has only worn slacks for many years, it does take some practice to learn how to work in a dress. But it can be done.

Finally, I ran across a christian message board where this was being discussed. One argument used was that immodest dress is something that's new. HA!! This only works if you go with the argument that immodest dress started when women started wearing pants. So, my question is, ever been to a local Renaissance fair? No? Oh, no wonder you think that all pre-1940's dress was modest. That's like saying "but we all used to do it, so it must be right". I have to resort then to the parental argument of "If all your friends jumped off a bridge would you?" These same individuals use the wine wasn't as strong back then and now in the 21st century all alcohol is evil argument in regards to drinking. If it's such a strong conviction, why not just say that? why not just say because I want to dress this way. I don't get why if someone is willing to make such a public statement with their clothing they can't just say that. When hiding behind scripture to defend it, it would be useful if the scripture actually made sense to what the action is. Otherwise, you jsut end up looking like a quack.

Dear social workers:

Please think back to a time when you wanted to become a social worker to help children and vulnerable adults. Do you remember that? Was it so long ago that budgets and bosses are now in the forefront of your mind while children and foster parents are the annoyance of your day? My boys need you to remember that at one time you wanted to actually help them. My boys ask that you not insult us, and remember that good foster parents are as rare has Harry Potter's invisibility cloak. Consider for a moment that we didn't just randomly breed, but actually had your boss' blessing to care for children. We passed background checks, had personal references from loved ones saying we actually were good people, were grilled by people just like you to insure that we were indeed qualified to care for children. You all know we are uncommonly good at what we do.

By the way, although you might have children too--they are not like the ones you send to live with us. Many of you seem to be forgetting the fact that the children who grace our home will punch holes in walls, smash glass into the carpet, poison the dog, try and have sex with anything they can, and try to literally swing from the chandeliers. Do your kids do that? No? Well, we've managed to work hard and get them to stop most of those behaviors and when we say we need more help, we are not kidding! We don't ask because we are lazy, we don't ask because we want to waste county or state money. We ask because we see a child's fragile life, a child who HAD a chance, being thrown away. You've asked us to 'manage' the behaviors. Why? Why do you want to manage behaviors? Why do you want a child to suffer, and to get to a point where he will be unable to heal. Think for a moment, if we manage him until he's 18, then what? Who is going to manage him after that? Oh, that's right the state corrections board. Hey, wouldn't it be ironic if it's your house, car, etc that he vandalizes next?

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Last night, FIL was here, and we were standing outside talking to him. Three women were out walking, all in long skirts. It got me thinking about the religious convictions that they hold, as this is meant to be a sign of modesty. For these women, it would be wrong to be dressed in pants or shorts, this would not only be immodest, it would be sinful. As a lover of all things flowy and feminine, I get it. Looking in the mirror, however, long skirts on 5' and fat is just not flattering. I guess that means I'm not modest. OR it could mean that I don't think God cares what we wear, as God looks at our hearts, not our outward appearance. More on this another time. It just bugs me...that's why there will be more.

Note to self: Don't argue with a former lit. professor about any book-even Harry Potter.
Note to lit professor: Don't make a religious analogy comparision unless you mean it. Because if you're going to go there, even with Harry Potter I WILL quote scripture.

Ah! RADishes

So I turn the TV channel to The Cosby Show, because I love watching old sitcoms. Who doesn't like watching all of life's problems solved in 30 minutes? Actually less because there are a lot of commercials! So one of the radishes is annoyed:

Radish: Why are you watching this?
Me: Because I like this show
Radish: Why, it's stupid
Me: I said, because I like it...I like old sitcoms, I watch them all the time.
Radish: Yeah, I know they're dumb.

At this point, I really, really, really just want to tell him to stuff it. As if I like watch ESPN all day, I usually feel my IQ dropping. 10 minutes later, he comes downstairs again. He starts babbling about nothing:
We have cereal again?
Did you buy cereal?
(me not answering, but thinking: No, the cereal fairy, who is a second cousin to the super glue fairy once removed planted it there. It's actually magic cereal. No calories. Perhaps I'll have a bowl of no calorie super glue fairy leaving cereal before I go to bed.)

Next he picks up a bottle of benedryl:
Is this what you took? Do you have a cold?

I interrupt: I know what you are doing, I changed the channel (he saw all of 15 min. of a movie my stud left on) and now you are chattering absolute nonesense to get on my nerves. He hides a smile while pouring Fairy Cereal.

Well, he says, you changed the channel. I don't like this show. I told him to go to bed. Meanwhile, Bill Cosby is sure Vanessa is going to fall out of her strapless dress. My father wouldn't even acknowledge the possibility that the lumps in my strapless dress were breasts. I think he would have gone blind on the spot if had seen my prom dress. The tampons left on the truck seat, after all, where 'things' I had to get out of bed to remove from the truck seat. Clearly, such a manly truck would not operate correctly with tampons on the front seat. Acknowledging even a simple function of the female body was too much for him.

DS decided to rat out the radishes for waking him up at the unheard of *GASP* 11:30 am. DS is working his way through the rest of the Fairy Cereal, he makes my binges look like a light snack.

Speaking of Radishes, the only way I've been able to deal with the younger radish lately is to ignore him. Clearly, this is not going to accomplish any bonding. I really don't think that's going to happen anyway. I should probably feel sorry for him. Perhaps when school starts again I'll be able to, and perhaps I'll be able to be a treatement parent again.

Light bulb moment: I know why I've been so bingey the last couple of days. I feel like crap! When I have a cold I just can't seem to stop. I have to keep eating in order to keep the junk in my throat down. Bendryl and booze mix pretty well...not as good as booze and vicodin, but still pretty good. Stupid, but now that I know why I've been eating so much, I kinda gave myself permission, and I can get rid of the guilty feeling. I doubt Pam will appreciate that, she'll tell me to pull out the list of alternative self care activities, but none of those get rid of the yucky throat feeling. A 12 pack of ice cold coke would work too, but in the meantime here come the bing cherries.

These kids must be vampires! The don't sleep at night at all. I'm curious if after three bendryl I can stay up longer than they can.

When I think about you...

I bet you were expecting "I touch myself".

We have been living together for 13 years now, and the number 13 might be unlucky to some but not to me. It means that we've been sharing a life for over 1/3 of the time we've been on this planet together. Next month celebrates 14 years since I first saw your gorgeous blue eyes, since I first knew without a doubt you were the man for me. It was as if there was an angel (not Trey) tapping me on the shoulder saying "Pay attention, this is THE one". Despite my obviously poor choice that evening, by the next afternoon I was telling Sarah "I think I like him". I have no idea why I told my dad just a few days later that I'd met the man I was going to marry. The angel on my shoulder was the one dialing the phone because I sure as hell couldn't remember the phone number.

That first year was tough, I wanted to be so perfect for you. You were so patient with me, and I doubt either one of us realized I was in a deep depression. Still, as frustrating as that must of been for you, you loved me. ME!!! Some days I still can't believe my luck.

The past 14 years have been amazing. We were just 20 years old--not even old enough to drink. We were working food service jobs, and trying to get through school. Some things never change, but thank God the cooking and waitressing are behind us, eh? We've been through a lot together--for richer or poorer, and sickness and oh, well relative (mental) health. Now you're sticking with me through all this food BS, well, I'm just so grateful. I'm afraid you'll wake up one day and say "she's one f'ed up chick, I can do better" cuz you probably can. But thanks for not looking.

I truly do think you're the best and wouldn't want to do all this without you. I love how you just listen (tune me out perhaps?) to me babble about school and clinicals, and all the crazy people I deal with every day. I love how you just let me vent about social workers and the kids. I love how you never tell me I'm wrong but just let me get it all out and work it out for myself.

My love, my confidante, my stud muffin, you're the other half of my heart, the part that makes me whole.

9 1/2 Hours

Today is mom’s birthday again. I hadn’t thought about it until I awoke from a nap. Bummer. I was hyper all the rest of the weekend too. Two years ago, when Half Blood Prince came out, it was little more than a distraction. A welcome one, but still just a distraction from the hurt I was feeling. Deathly Hallows was one I eagerly anticipated, but was sad to finish. Since 2003, when Order of the Phoenix came out, I’ve waited for the mail on the release date, just about stalking the mail man. This year, he snuck up on me, but once I got that book in my hands there was no stopping me. I finished it in 9 ½ hours, I knew there would be no sleep until it was finished. The book was great, but JKR promised that there would be no loop holes. I guess that depends on how you define a loophole. As I see it there are tons of unanswered questions:

1. What happens to the Malfoys? Do they do time in Azkaban, and does Harry testify to Narcissa's betrayal of Voldemort, although it is for selfish reasons?
2. Who does Draco marry?
3. Where do Harry and Ginny live? My guess is Godric’s Hollow.
4. Ron and Hermione? My guess is right next door to Harry and Ginny.
5. What are their jobs?
6. Does McGonnegal take over as headmistress?
7. What does George do without Fred?

For me, this means no end to the hours of discussion, the theories, and the possibility of ‘spin offs’. JKR might be done with Hogwarts and the world of Harry Potter, but the rest of us are not. I look forward to a generation of kids who have never heard of Harry Potter. Kids to whom I’ll be able to say “oh, this is a good book; I think you’ll like it”. Having them enjoy it, being able to talk about it to a new generation who weren’t around at the inception of Mugglenet. Of watching them wonder what’s going to happen next, and being able to say “just keep reading, you’ll see!” I liken it to when my Stud was a child and saw the original Star Wars. He had to wait years for the second one, something my nephew and our little darlings found hard to believe. In their world, the obvious question is when is the sequel coming out? The answer was usually next summer. We’ve been fortunate, the movies have been only about a year to a year and a half apart. The original Star Wars had three years between each of them. My thanks goes out to Rowling for at least trimming that down a bit. I wasn’t introduced to the Potter series until 2001, so I only had to wait 2 years between each of the installments.

Speaking of my introduction to Hogwarts, it was due to a young boy who was reading these books in his extremely conservative Christian school. I still find it hard to believe that anyone has objections to these books on the basis of “witchcraft”. When’s the last time anyone saw a pagan witch or wizard saying “oh, JKR has really got us pegged! How did she know about our wands?” The world of fantasy has been around since human beings have had imaginations. Wizards, potions, spells, wands, magical creatures…goblins, unicorns, giants, dragons…the list goes on. Interestingly enough, JKR addresses this very issue in her books. There are wizards who hate muggles, and muggles, like Harry’s aunt and uncle, who hate magic, that which they refuse to try and understand. Huh, wonder where an idea like that ever came from.

It is sad that the series is at an end. Those 9 ½ hours flew by. It was a welcome distraction, again, but for very different reasons. This time, it was pure escapism for the enjoyment of it. Our lives are changing rapidly, yet again, and I can feel it happening. Part of me is saying stop don’t do it! Part of me is looking forward to the next adventure that is on the way for us. A strange sort of melancholy has settled on me, a feeling I have trouble putting into words and understanding. If I’ve learned anything about myself I know it means that I need to exercise more, and write more. Nothing centers me more than these two things. I’m just anxious to get through this part. I miss my days home alone, I can’t wait for that first Monday when the boys are in school. I’m nervous about starting a new job, I nervous about new teachers again. Telling myself I’m being foolish doesn’t help.