For my Beloved

Happy 10 years of wedded bliss! And happy 15 years together. Can you believe it's been 15 years since we first met? A few things to think about...



-OJ was arrested the summer we met.
-We were still in college
-I lived with Penny and Paulette
-You lived with Jeff, Jeff, Dan and Chris
-Gas was just over a dollar a gallon. I could fill up my car for about $15.
-The World Trade Center had been bombed,
-I really did know that I'd met my soul mate when we first met.
-I didn't 'get' the internet

With you, I've learned to golf, been introduced to Chinese food, Indian food, and a few other yummies that escape me right now. You've helped me stand through the loss of my mother, and my crazy family. Together we've survived the Keenans, Kahlow, 3M, Pace, AND Braun. We held each other through financial difficulties, diabetes, depression, and infertility. Oh yeah, and camping in Canada with your Dad.

Which brings us to the Great Parenting Adventures. We survived poopy diapers, magic marker on the carpets, bio parents that were critical of ever single thing we did, our families who thought we couldn't (or shouldn't) be doing foster care, and the nuclear bomb that was the Big D. El Chupacabra and our dear drug-addicted RADish have worked hard to try and undo our family, but we remain strong. With glass smashed into the carpet, dents kicked into cars, drunk kids, stoned kids, kids smoking on the deck, punching holes in the walls, sneaking out, hanging upside down outside the house, setting off smoke alarms while "cooking", nudie pics of girlfriends (what a fun converstion that was with those parents!), how many dirty magazines confiscated, the stealing, the lying, and the doors kicked off the hinges it's a miracle we've survived.

Not only have we survived all that, but we survived despite the best efforts of social workers! It's also spurred us onto new careers, and I'm excited to start this next chapter together.

Beloved, you're stuck with me for richer (ha!) or poorer, in good times and bad, in sickness and health. You can't get rid of me.

Gas costs are such that a fifty dollar bill pulled out of a wedding card wouldn't have filled the tank, OJ's a free man, and the WTC is gone. The past 15 years have been a crazy ride, and I'm looking forward to the next 15.

You're still the one, my love.

Get a life!

This morning I wake up 'early' for me, which is actually late for most, around 9 am. I wake up to find el chupacabra in front of the tv, with a mess in the house, and he's asking me if I want muffins. It's like a little bit of sand in my shoe.

I'm frustrated. I find this child to be so annoying, I debated going back up to my room and staying in bed. It wouldn't be the first time.

I can't change him, I can only survive him at this point. Unlike DS, I don't have any family building memories with him. He's a very effective RADish.

I don't want to be bullied by him into being miserable. I'm watching "The Pursuit of Happyness" and there's a line that says "How did they know to put that line in the declaration of independence, that line about the pursuit of happiness...is it something you can only pursue because you can never catch it?"

Then I'm back to what Beloved says, Happiness is a decision. It's hard when 50% of the family has firmly decided they will not be happy. No, not hard, virtually impossible.

Lord, change my heart.

memories

Lately a lot of old memories have been popping into my mind, at seemingly random times. Tonight I was remembering how when a new child would come into our home, DS would give them the tour of the house. He would tell new kids "no matter what, you can always knock on their bedroom door, it's really okay". That warmed my heart to hear him say that because it meant he knew that too.

With all the turmoil/teen angst this past year, I haven't been doing a lot besides look forward to the day he turns 18. I've realized what a nasty attitude that is, and have been praying "Lord change my heart".

It seems like remembering better times is how my heart is being changed.

I remember him weeding beside me in the garden, proud.

I remember him sitting on beloved's lap in long johns, on Christmas day.

I remember family dinners, with Sting on the stereo.

I remember asking the kids "What are you grateful to God for today?" DS usually replied "recess" or "school's done".

I remember them being pleasant to be around.

I miss that.

Denials?!?!

Parent: You smelled like booze last night
RADish: We did not smell like beer
Parent: Well, actually you did
RADish: Did I slur my words? Did I walk funny? NO
Parent: Yes you did
RADish: Prove it! Oh wait, you can't because I wasn't drunk. Give me a piss test
Parent: That wouldn't show anything
RADish: Fine, I'll do a blood test
Parent: Well, you appear sober now--so unless you're still drunk or just had a drink, nothing will be evident.
RADish: That's cuz I wasn't drinking.

They're convinced we really are that stupid. I wonder if I'll be there when the world bites them in the butt. I really hope not.

Sad thing is, we'll continue to play this game with them, and we'll continue to let them get away with it. I don't have the energy to fight them, nor do I have the desire. I'm satisfied to not have animosity towards them.

Sounds like the Radishes have been successful at pushing me away.

Bad news

My dear nephew is now awaiting a bone marrow transplant. Obviously this was not the news we wanted to hear, but our faith in God is intact. Whatever the details of God's plan for Michael are, I cling to the promises in Jeremiah: Jer 29:11 (NIV) "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

The future is unknown to us, but not to God. As much as I want this ache in my heart to go away, as much as I want God to do what I want, I will continue to praise Him and say "your will be done."

But oh how this hurts!

Now Cancer?

Thursday we received the news that my nephew, age 18, has chronic myelogenous leukemia. From everything I'd read in my nursing texts, the prognosis was fairly poor--three to five years. At 18, three to five didn't sound like nearly enough time. I thought I would be sick at the news, and felt everything from rage to devastation. However, pending the outcome of a few tests that will be back sometime today, he's been given a very good prognosis. Apparently the newest treatment is amazing, and unlike chemotherapy, treats the source of the dysfunction in the gene that lead to this.

Yet again, I feel like there is a before and after. This sense of before and after has happened numerous times before. First with mom being diagnosed with Huntington's disease, second with beloved's diabetes, third with our infertility, and finally when our IVF failed three years ago. Each time there was a feeling of lost innocence, but this was somehow worse. It has to do with the fact that he's only 18, full of promise for the future, getting ready to leave for college.


The uncertainty is horribly unsettling. So far, things look as okay as they can considering the diagnosis of cancer. He's gotten two units of RBCs, has not felt sick at all, and the leukophoresis treatments have proven quite successful in reducing his WBC count.


When our IVF failed three years ago (hmmm...July again?) the feelings of powerlessness were nearly maddening. Going back to school was the way I found power again. Now that my schooling is just about to bear fruit (and I've had a taste working as an LPN), I'm reminded again that this power is simply an illusion--God is in control and always has been. Everything I have is because of His grace. My beloved husband, our home, my brains, our jobs, and our extended family--all gifts and blessings from my Creator.

So as I try and process this, I'm going to try to refocus on God, and I'm trying to remember how much life means, like the Chris Rice song says..."Teach us to count the days...Teach us to make the days count...Lead us in better ways...That somehow our souls forgot"

That's my prayer for now, that and a cure. God says we are to come boldly, well, boldly I'm asking for a cure.

Depression

I haven't been writing lately because I've been more depressed. I finally went to the dr and got my prescription switched because of the headaches I've been having, and I'm down to only a few HA a week. That's much more do-able. Plus, I got a 'script for celebrex which hopefully will help the foot pain. Hopefully, I'll be able to start exercising again. Yes, that was my latest most long standing excuse for not working out. But it's also the truest, and the most reliable. I'd work out for a few weeks and then slack off because I'd be so sore, among other reasons.

I got weighed today to, which does NOT help my depressed state. I'm back up to 225, with jeans on. But I've been eating just about anything and everything I want. I'm going to try one day at a time. It's such a daily uphill battle. I don't want to fight myself anymore, just the eating disorder. Slowly, I'm beginning to see the difference between me and the ED. Not that I don't still think I'm responsible for it, but I do think that the two are separate; I just could see where one started and one ended for a long time.

So...day by day...hopefully I'll carve out a few minutes each day to write too, it always helps to write down what I'm thinking and feeling. It's the single most useful tool I've learned in therapy. Not that there haven't been other tools, but this one is my favorite.

Biggest Girl in the Room

I often think I'm the biggest girl in the room. Today, I watched a girl I know who has an eating disorder go through the ritual of unwrapping a pack of crackers. Her mannerisms were...interesting. I've done the same sort of thing many times myself when actively dieting. I created rituals to make the process take more time, be more involved, and God only knows why else. I sure don't have it all figured out. It certainly struck a cord with me to watch her. I have a feeling she has also felt like shes the biggest girl in the room. Which makes me think of something else.

I don't WANT to be the one that sticks out in the crowd. Now I think I do stick out in the crowd for being fat, but perhaps the eating/weight gain was related to wanting to hide. However, one of my reasons for wanting to be skinny is to blend in. Hmm. Isn't that ironic? I don't think I losing weight is going to solve all of my problems, or that life is suddenly going to be sunshine and roses. On the contrary, I think I felt worse while I was part of weight watchers. The initial momentum and loss created som euphoria. That was the fun part...but then it wore off. And overall, I felt worse. It was hard work. I had a lot left to lose, body distortion problems, and had lost my favorite coping mechanism.

The idea, of course, is to develop new and improved coping mechanisms. My head gets it. Boy does my head get it. My head is freakin' sick of getting it and not knowing how to follow through. My heart is horrified at the weight gain. If I am developing new and improved coping mechanisms, then why the gaining? I think the therapist would say the disordered thinking is fighting back. Sure it is, it's so deeply ingrained WTF am I (or it) supposed to do? We are entwined. I'm not this eating disorder, and I do think I'm able to recover fully.

In the last year, there have been a number of times where I'm unable to finish a plate of food. This is way out of character for me. To be therapeutic, it's the eating disorder made me do it. Now I'm finding that more and more often I can't finish a plate. That's happened at least 3-4 times this week. I'm bewildered. This big part of me seems to be getting smaller and smaller. I don't know what's going to take it's place. It's scary and more than ever I feel vulnerable, raw, and wide open. A piece of me is leaving, missing, and there is nothing in it's place.

Not my problem

DS's biomom called me last night. She believes DS is holding a grudge against her and that he needs to get over it. What a self-serving selfish biotch! She portrayed herself as the victim in all of this, completely ignoring the fact that she's the one who is responsible for his pain in the first place. Then she comes to me for support. DS shared with us a comment that she made about us. It wasn't negative. It just showed how very threatened by us she really is. I find the mother bear instinct rising up to defend my cub.

I got the impression she wanted me to validate her feelings. I think she wanted me to help her 'gang up' on DS. The problem (for her) is that I don't care how horrible she feels. Plus, DS knows how to get rid of her. She puts too much of her guilt on him and he either can't tell her how he feels or he takes on too much of her guilt. For him, it sucks. He has no voice left. The little comments about us don't help either, he's automatically put in the middle. So he does what always worked to get her to back off--he acts like a jerk. She falls into line, plays the victim and boo hoos to anyone who will listen and blames it all on him. She could choose to give him the space a 16 year old boy wants. She could choose to let him come to her but can't because she's just too CLINGY!

While I hope he could be able to tell her how he feels, she's still not going to listen. She can't possibly hear him. I'm not going to try and make him either. I think he needs to talk to someone other than friends and other than us about all of this. I think he's healthy enough to do one on one counseling. Now if I can convince him...I'd like for him to consider medication again too, winter is so hard for him. Plus he's mentioned that he's been feeling depressed at other times, like mot of the summer. He wants to blame it on the other kids--but that just ain't the case. I doubt if he understands all of the reasons why he's so down.

My poor sweetie.

PSA: Eating with a kitten

1. Stretch well ahead of time
2. Wear long underwear under your pants, remove all strings from the clothing.
3. Consider gloves.
4. re-stretch to make sure you can eat with one hand over your head--this is wear you will be holding your plate.
5. Practice moving the plate or ball back and forth between your hands. Speed counts.
6. Keep a few things handy to toss at the dogs, since they are sure the kitten's prescence near your food is an act of treachary against them.
7. Learn to eat formally hot foods at room temp or better yet, straight out of the fridge. If it stays cold, the aromas may not be as prominant, therefore it might take longer to attract said kitten.
8. Assume you will need a spare set of silverware. You'll probably end up tossing the kitten off of you with fork in your hand. Experienced pet owners won't mind the extra hair.
9. BONUS! Food rubbed off the fork onto the kitten. Now eat as fast as you can while she licks it off of her fur.
10. Don't count on eating standing up. This is why you are wearing long underwear--it helps deter the claws.

Ouch, there's a knife in my back

In all actuality, I don't think the knife is truly in my back. It came from a completely expected source. The hurt feelings come from other sources--all the classmates who believed that I would be such a nasty biotch as to try and get someone kicked out of our program. So, my vent on the Big Fat Liar.

First, you suck. You're not a good nurse. You're completely self-absorbed.
Second, I know why you have so much drama in your life. Bad things happen to you because of karma. Think about it.
Third, you're constant medical dramas are boring the hell out of everyone. NO ONE CARES.
Fourth, duncan hines, cool whip, and cherry pie filling don't equal a black forest cake. You may as well mash 3 different hostess cakes together--your choice be creative! and make ghetto cake.
Fifth, It's not always about you. Truly, there are other people in your surroundings. Try paying attention to them you might surprise yourself.
Sixth, I had a good laugh over you're little card. I debated between laughing and ripping into little pieces and throwing it in your face. You suck.

Wow, that felt good! Amazing what a little venting can accomplish.

Happy Monday

I love Mondays. My one day of the week that I vow to do nothing. I do end up doing stuff, but only when I want to. Sadly, my to do list is lurking in the back of my mind and my Happy Monday is getting a bit depressing.

-renew CPR cert. Call ambulance service to arrange
-work on Kidney project
-order senior pics.
-finish buying Christmas presents for two nephews, a step nephew, and a BIL. Look for a Birthday present for my niece.
-Start planning for the weekend--get wedding present.
-Do budget

It really doesn't look like all that much, except that the drive is 300 miles, and I'll be doing it alone. The family BS will start since I'll be attending along, even though I'm pretty sure the rest of us want to be anywhere else than with the Bridezilla. Too bad she doesn't have the bridezilla excuse the rest of her life.

Food report: I'm happy to say I only had one hard day. I blame the apple dumplings. What triggered the binge? Well...before I analyze that, I'm going to figure out what I all ate.
-three apple dumplings
-1 cup pretzels
-8oz prime rib
-potato with butter/sour cream
1 1/2 pieces of garlic bread
1 1/2 cups of gnocchi with alfredo and chicken
broccoli

So how bad is that? More calories than I need in a day, I'm sure, but volume wise I don't think I can truly qualify this as a binge. Compulsive, yes...again, I blame the dumplings. I've classified sweets as 'bad' and therefore forbidden, therefore something that I'm likely to think about compulsively.

I also struggled with *NOT* working out for three days in a row. I went back and forth in my head, wondering if this was 'bad' or if it was my perfectionist nature kicking in. Okay, I'll face it, it was my perfectionist all or none nature kicking in. It was most 100% definately the part that wants it fixed now nature happening.

Therapist thinks this is going to contribute to the vicious cycle--now I'll feel bad, and this will lead to another binge. Perhaps that was true in the past, but I don't think that's what is happening now. The thoughts are becoming fleeting, and the rebound is quicker.

I'm still not thrilled with food/eating, although Friday night's meal/desert was the first I had been able to enjoy pretty much since I saw the therapist last. Otherwise, it was all just an effort. The dumpling were fun, once I got going, but overall...cooking, something I normally enjoy, has lost it's luster. The feelings are just all mushed up and nasty.

Just a food journal

10/4
McDonald's biscuit-egg-cheese-bacon & hashbrown
Honey nut cheerios/skim milk (2 servings of cereal, one of milk)
Turkey burger
Mixed fruit
Yogurt
coffee/milk
leftover scalloped potato/ham
toast/butter, 2 slices
1/2 cup of cheddar pretzels

10/5
8oz prime rib
french onion soup w/ swiss cheese
broccoli
1/2 large baked potato, 1 butter pat, sour cream
coffee, four creamers
Cold Stone Creamery banana caramel crunch, like it size, 1/3 chocolate dipped waffle cone
6" chicken bacon ranch sub on wheat, with cheese
1 serving bagel chips
cereal (two servings) with skim milk
2 sticks of string cheese

Yoga at 220 is a heck of a lot harder than at 175. The principle of use it or lose it has been drilled home. It's not the first time this principle has hit home for me, but I miss being able to fold myself so easily, and I miss the strength I had in my arms. One of the leftover body distortions I have (hopefully on the way out) is that I thought my arms at 175 looked the same as they did at 232. Logically, I knew there had to be some differences, yet I distorted the image in the mirror quite a bit. My stomach gives me problems with some of the bends, but it's a lot worse now. I feel like I should apologize to my body.

MIL is amazing in this respect. I don't know if she's just naturally hyper, or if it's an effort for her like it has been for me, but she looks amazing for 67 years old, and is in fabulous shape. The woman works out several times a week at "silver sneakers" not to mention all the golfing. No cart, of course. Unless I can make sufficient change, I'm far more likely to be in rotten shape like my father and sister, who get winded walking across the street.

It's time to realize that working out for 3-4 days and then doing nothing for a week or two isn't going to cut it. I wish I could understand why it's so hard to keep motivated. I know I'm not alone. 32 million obese people are right behind me with the same struggles. This, I think, is something I'll need to ponder for awhile.

Can anyone hear me?

Or am I talking--shouting--to the empty air, sky, and universe? It sure doesn't seem like anyone is listening, which makes me wonder if anyone can hear me. My therapist needs to know the following:

I've worked damn hard the last year and half, and you need to take a look at where I've been, and how far I've come if you are going to be remotely close to getting me the rest of the way to my goals. Otherwise, we won't be able to continue this relationship.

First, where I've been:
Wallowing in self-loathing and self-hatred.
Wondering if I'm crazy
Thinking I have to be super mom, super wife, super daughter, super aunt, and super sister.
Depressed when I couldn't live up to any of the above Supers
Living in fear of having Huntington's disease
Grief-filled over our IVF failure

Where I am now:
Liking or loving myself most days
Knowning I'm not crazy
Knowning I'm not a Super woman in any respect, and being thankful that I don't have to live up to any ridiculous standards.
Able to say "no"
Knowing my limits
Having confidence in my abilities, which are many
At peace with our infertility
Still afraid of HD, but not afraid to live
No longer needing constant validation for my existance, being able to provide my own self-validation. This has resulted in appearing to be shy and quiet, but also more geniune.

Right now, I am pissed off--no, I'm well beyond that. Infuriated, shakingly, screaming at the top of my lungs pissed off. The kind of pissed off where I want to break something. Will it do any good? Of course not, but that is what I'm feeling. I come out of therapy feeling weak and helpless. That makes me mad because nothing could be further from the truth. You're trying to sell me on the fact that an eating disorder is a disease. I'm not buying it. It's a problem, yes, and in the sense that it's created physical problems for me....yes, it's a disease. Many diseases have a cure and I'm including this eating disorder in the category of curable diseases. It's not like bipolar disorder or diabetes that can be managed with medication. On the contrary, this is something I started, something that I could count on for comfort at a very specific point in my life. After that it became a habit and I believe other influences on this habit lead to a vicious cycle.

Dieting, for one thing...this lead me to feeling deprived and in a sense lonely for that which once brought me comfort. That in turn lead to binging and compulsive thoughts about food. Find me someone who doesn't think about food compulsively when on a diet! Do they all have an eating disorder? NO OF COURSE NOT!!! I never developed alternative coping mechanisms, which is what my main focus is right now. I have a list of things that feel good to me...including bathes, wine, lattes, massages, pedicures, and shopping. I'm very tactile...that's why this list has so many touchy-feely things on it. These are all very good wonderful things for me. Things that require active effort on my part to make happen. Sometimes I'm good at this, other times I'm not.

The society I live in is food focused. Constant commercials for food, restaurants, dieting, and even a FOOD channel. How on earth can I not think about it? But that is one thing I've been asked to do, and it seems impossible. There is a difference between being obsessive and having 'normal' thoughts about eating and food. Seeing as how I can't survive without it, I don't have a choice now do I? How do I know when my thoughts are 'normal'? What's the metric?

Next we have therapy and the ED program. While not entirely food focused, my eating habits are in the spotlight right now. It feels like the goal of not obsessively thinking about food is in direct odds with keeping a food journal. The end result is that I'm pissed of to the nth degree and really want nothing to do with food. I don't want to cook, which I normally love to do. I don't want to eat, which I obviously love to do. I get mad when I get hungry. It's just a reminder that I have to deal with this yet again, and that I have to find a way of feeding myself something decent, nutritious, loving (loving, LOVING? Are you for freakin' real when you said that part?), oh yeah, but try not to think about it too much, and try to eat before you get TOO hungry, and try to distinguish between emotional and physical hunger. ARE YOU F'ING KIDDING ME?

Let's review what I can do:
-I am the person in charge (mainly) of meal preparation in my home.
-I can tell the difference between emotional and physical hunger, even if I don't always choose to *NOT* eat when the hunger is emotional
-I have a goddamn brain in my head--I can use it
-I can and do practice (with varying regularity) self care in the form of naps, bathes, massages, pedicures, and all the other things I've already mentioned.
-I can break this vicious cycle.

But don't give me conflicting advice. Please, all it does it makes me angry, and makes me think you can't hear what I'm saying. Know that I'm frustrated with how my body looks, and sad that I did this to myself. I'm afraid that I'm wrecked my metabolism, and that how I want to look is not going to be possible. I'm sad, frustrated, and a little scared at the effort it's going to take to get my body strong and healthy again. I'm sad that it came to this. I need support in the active effort to rebuild that strength. I want to have a sex drive again, I want to feel pretty if not sexy in my clothes. I want to be able to wear all of the clothes in my closet.

I want how I feel inside to be reflected on the outside. The outside still looks like how I felt years ago.

Hire a teenager now

Speaking of drama mamas, DS has been a class act in this regard. I'm sick and tired of it. Teenagers are so hard, if I was this hard on my parents I owe them a huge apology. In addition to being unemployed, he's now decided he's too good for the golden arches. Even though he's mom worked there, he's decided it's just not for him. He can't handle the thought of it now that has had a "real" job. Oh yeah, the one he got fired from. It amazes me the lack of cause and effect thinking. Couldn't do the work = fired. They called him back and offered him a lesser position but pride prevented him from taking it. He's hoping to get a job through his non-dating girlfriend. Despite the fact that McDonald's hired him, he's just not willing to work for minimum wage now.
In addition to his workplace snobbery, he's decided that DH and I are "ruining his life" for doing foster care. He had a huge fight this week with one of the boys, after trying to kick another kid out of the house. I really don't care about the other kid getting kicked out by DS, I do care about the fight AND getting blamed for his inability to get along with others. DS's problems with peer relationships, and his lack of tolerance for anyone who doesn't have the exact same opinions, likes, and dislikes as him is becoming an obvious life obstacle for him.



He's claiming depression, perhaps that's true too but he's using it as a crutch. In otherwords, medication, therapy, and/or talking to DH or myself is not an option for him. He will open up to us occasionally, but not enough to make an impact on depression issues. This quarter his grades will be fine, by Christmas they'll take a nose dive and he'll blame seasonal depression as the reason why.



I haven't noticed, but I should talk to beloved and see if we've had these sort of problems around his birthday before. I'm just wondering if there is grief/loss that's triggered by his birthday each year. Totally normal, but he's got to learn to process it in a healthy way. All I'm able to offer is irritation at an unjustified attack. He has the skills and tools to do better--but it's more work, therefore unlikely to be used unless pushed to do so.

inventory

Today's food totals, in backwards order:

• 4 pieces of cheese pizza, from a large pie
• 2 large pieces of german chocolate cake
• 1 'double' cosmo
• 1/2 ham & cheese sand.
• 1 latte
• 1 handful of pretzels
• 1/2 cup of coffee with cream
• 1 egg
• 1 piece of buttered toast
• 1 sausage patty
• 1 cup of hashbrowns

I have no perspective on the amounts...too much? Probably calorically. Too much volume. Maybe a little bit, but this damn headache has me trying anything I can to ignore it. Aspirin, tylenol, and alcohol...also my neck warmer. It felt good, but it didn't get rid of it 100% of the way.

This week starts the 6th week of classes. I'm almost 1/2 way done with the semester. It's getting easier. The demands/volume of work is still there, but the actual time spent studying is less. School is pretty darn easy for me. I've been keeping track of Big Fat Liar, she missed clincals on Friday. So far, since school has started, she's had her classes cancelled, her financial aid messed up, her son's surgery, her dh's surgery, is recovering from her own surgery, missed a day of LTC clinicals, was late 3 times (at least), her DH had shingles (supposedly in his eye also), he was out of town too, and this created huge problems for her own daycare situation.

Speaking as someone whose life is almost always chaotic, I really don't believer her. She is a major drama mama and constantly looking for attention. Several pat answers do tend to stem the emesis as it flows from her mouth:

-Gee, are you going to die on us today?

-Do we need to send a priest to your house for last rites?

-Gosh, whenever I get overwhelmed with all the chaos in my life, all I have to do is think about yours and I feel better.

Perhaps that last one feeds the monster a little, but it IS a jab at her lying and drama mama act. She's fat too.

School is pissing me off. Not my school, the high school. The 18 year old has a lit test tomorrow. He HAS to have computer access to study for this test. Bravo to the teacher for joining the 21st century but it’s making my life a living hell. The 18 year old wants to use my computer to study. Never mind that he had access to the ‘puter at school for an hour after school, or that the ‘puter and the library is available. He’s trying to tell me that the studying will take longer, therefore, he’ll get kicked off the library ‘puter. Right now he’s playing football. So he can use my computer later tonight. I don’t think so. I printed the powerpoint slides, not looking at how many there were before I started. 106. I didn’t set it to print multiple slides per page, or in notes form with multiple slides per page. Nope, dummy that I am, I just hit print even though I never, ever do that for my own stuff. 106 pages down the freakin’ drain used for virtually no reason because I know damn well he’s not going to study. He never does.

The RADish is having a fit. I think he’s ready to shit a kitten out, he’s that ticked off. I grounded him because he has an F in language. It looks like he didn’t get credit for an assignment, but I don’t know why, how, or when he actually did the assignment he showed me. Therefore, until then, he’s grounded. I’ve been burned on the following “it’s not my fault I’m flunking” with the following excuses:

-The scores are figured from the total for the quarter, so EVERYONE is flunking at this point (never did buy this one)
-The teacher forgot to give me credit. It’s not fair
-The teacher lost it. It’s not fair
-That worksheet is in, she just didn’t record the grades yet (yeah, that’s why it’s in the gradebook as a zero…hmmm) It’s not fair
-I dropped the other class and picked this one up, so I didn’t do those first 4 assignments. It’s not fair.
-The teacher screwed it up because she told us to put in the red folder and it was supposed to be the blue folder so none of us got credit. It’s not fair.
-It’s not my fault. That other kid was copying my homework and I forgot to get it back from him to hand it in. He was going to hand it in for me. We weren’t cheating though, it’s not fair or my fault.
-They don’t like me. (but it’s not because I cussed them out, wrote threats on the bathroom wall or stole lots of money from three of my classmates. Or even because I text in class or spit every chance I get) It’s not fair.
-The teacher’s got something against me. He/She is really hard on foster kids. It’s not fair.

Speaking of not fair, the RADish washed his phone for the second time in less than a year. I find this hysterically funny. I think that makes me a cruel person but oh well. I can live with that. He also thinks the new kitten is “really cool”. Unlike many RADishes, he’s not cruel to animals. Annoying to animals, yes, but not cruel. I think the kitten situation was something like this:

-The kittens ran away from home because her mother was abusive. The mother is single, you see, and has quite the reputation for being a whore (that’s what I heard, apparently some cats are real whores). So the kitten ran away. The mother would only feed her milk, and had a real issue with her going to the wrong side of the gutter in the barn, where all the cool cats hung out. So she just took off. Luckily, she managed to find my boys and bummed a cigarette off of them. They bonded over that cigarette (and a little tuna) and the kitten was able to tell the RADish “man, my mom is so mean…” and from there her reputation as being a cool cat was set. The kitten does have a couple of serious issues. Perhaps sensory integration problems due to her rough upbringing and early life on the streets. She likes to bit noses, and can scale a pair of pants, while on the wearer, in about 3 seconds flat. Come to think of it, her time on bare legs is just as fast. She has a serious junk food addition. Good thing I already banned Hot Pockets and Pizza Rolls! Like an infant, she has her days and nights mixed up. I recall a similar situation with our firstborn furbaby, and have actively worked on changing this situation this afternoon. Sleeping kittens at night will not bite my nose, fingers, or toes. This is a good thing.

Food has been an issue for me too. I think that’s why I haven’t been writing as much. I’m frustrated, conflicted, angry, and sad all rolled into one. I got the eating disorder is a disease lecture, complete with comparison to alcoholism this week. She didn’t want to buy my story that I’m responsible for what I put in my mouth, not some alter ego known was Eating Disorder. If indeed, I’m not responsible for this behavior, but rather it’s my eating disorder, I then clearly have an alien in my body that needs to be evicted. That she liked. I still don’t think that’s an admission…I don’t like the idea that I didn’t cause this to happen. I think it developed as a pattern of behavior to a situation I didn’t know how to otherwise handle. I see the program and the therapy as a way of recovering—not of being “in recovery”. I don’t like the idea that I’ll always be in recovery. Unlike alcohol, I’m always going to need food to survive. We use it to nourish, to celebrate, and at times as a reward. I add in coping and comforting as well. I want to get rid of that part…

The sub-culture of the program bothers me. While I can see that it’s helpful to know that I’m not alone—and I do—I don’t think it’s healthy to have one’s world revolve around the recovery program. It’s not healthy to have my life revolve around food, obsessive food thoughts, and binging/compulsively eating either. But will I have really reached a healthy point if I rely on therpists, nutritionists, and a support group for the rest of my life? This is something that’s bothered me from the beginning. Some of the group members have been attending for 5 years of more. Perhaps that’s their limitation, but some of the conversations that revolve around this give me the willies. “Oh, I used to see that therapist, she’s great, but that was while I was still take this other med for anxiety. Then I saw this other therapist but I had to go on MA and she didn’t take MA. Um, no thank you. I want to be done at some point, have the skills and tools to cope ON MY OWN or with support from loved ones, not a paid professional. Right now, the paid professional is the tool and I’m fine with that. I’m not fine with it being that way forever. My therapy goals are to reduce binging, the compulsive thoughts surrounding food, and deal with the body distortion issues. Also, to develop new coping skills to replace eating as a coping skill. And MY goal, which is not part of this program, is to lose weight. They won’t let me have that as an official goal. As long as I don't quit, I'm doing okay, right?

The trumpet sounded, the angels sang, and the sun shined brighter than ever before. Why? BECAUSE THE BOYS ARE BACK IN SCHOOL!!! Thank you, thank you, thank you God, now they can spread their love around.

The week has been good, bad, hard, wonderful all rolled into one. After seeing my brand new nephew's picture, I couldn't help myself. I got sad and melancholy thinking about what our babies would have looked like. All of my nephews (and niece) look like our side of the family, with the exception of one. You can see it at birth. So my mind wanders...dh's curly thick hair or my stick straight? Big beautiful blue eyes, or my boring green ones? Tall or short? My cute nose or dh's wide one? I should...not...go...there. I once heard it said in a movie that "everyone has a sadness" I guess this is mine. Infertility sucks. Recently a former infertile said that it's very painful, and I got ticked. How dare she! How patronizing! Don't discuss your sorrow and 'not being able to have another one' and expect my sympathy.

Still, I find our IF being slowly resolved. Despite carrying the hurt around, it's lessening and I like having moved on. I see freedom from our rugrats on the distant horizon and I'm looking forward to it. Huh, who'd have thought that would happen. It doesn't mean I wouldn't welcome a surprise pg'cy, but IF tx'ments are no longer a pressing need the way they once were. I'm moving on. I'm NOT ready to try with our last embryos, but I do still want to. Pretty see-sawing isn't it? I have a feeling a lot of these feelings have to do with the fact that our entire parenting experience has been with very hard children, who have not provided the desired parenting experience. I love all of our kids, with the exception of a few, but I will always have in interest even in them.

BUT. THEY. WERE. HARD. NOT. NORMAL.CHALLENGING.PITA.

School has been good and bad both. I love clinicals, even if I don't really like LTC. I'm finding the good parts about it and I'm focusing on that. The a-holes in the group are emerging, and I'm trying to go undercover to avoid them and their gossip. I've gotten myself in trouble in class a few times with the jerks, because I'm GASP! Willing to participate. What a concept. Thankfully, both of my teachers are receptive to that.

Today is our anniversary. 9 years of wedded bliss, with all of the ups and downs of life. Without beloved, I don't know if I'd have gotten through it all as well as I did. Life with a partner, with THE partner that's clearly been created for you is amazing. Thank God we found each other so early in life. He's absolutely the best.

Here's to the next 9, dearest love of my life.

Welcome to the world, brand new nephew. Today is an amazing day, what a wonderful early birthday gift for your mom! I was kind of hoping you'd wait a few more days so you could share that day together. There are so many wonderful thing waiting for you to do and learn. You have a terrific big sister, and the best ever big brother. You hit the jackpot with your oldest brother! Your other brother? Well, he's a lot like your mom, and she really loved me. Weird to think that you and your brother are 5 years apart in age, just like your mom and I are. Plus you have a special sister and brother who will be joining the family soon too.

Now, for a few secrets about your grandpa. He comes across as gruff and little stand offish, but he's thrilled to have another grandbaby. With very little effort, you can have him wrapped around your little finger. He will buy the moon for you if you ask. Just wait, since you're the last and youngest grandbaby...you are in the best spot, almost as good as your big brother had when he was the only grandchild! Since he'll be leaving for college next year someone needs to fill that spot!. Trust me on this, as a former youngest grandchild. Not to mention being the youngest in the family. This is a very, very good thing. At times it might not feel like it, especially when it seems like everyone else gets to do more and is so much more grown up. But, you will be the last to leave home. You'll get special time alone with your mom when your sisters and brothers are in school.

Your uncle and I are thrilled you are here, even if we won't get to see as often as we'd like. We will always be here for you, the distance doesn't matter. The love in our hearts does matter, even if we have yet to meet you.

May God always be a force you can feel, and may God's footstep's always guide you. May you always know love. I know there is a celebration in heaven this morning, and your Grandma and Great Grandma are leading the party.

With lots of hugs, kisses, and love,
Aunt Sunny