Update on All My Children (mine, not the daytime drama)

Some of you have asked for updates on my children. Ready? GO!

Light
Light is 28 years old now. She finally graduated with her Masters of Fine Arts about a year ago. She still lives in western Pennsylvania (where it gets seriously cold) about an hour east of Pittsburgh. The barista job was a good one, but she outgrew it. She's now a baker in a bakery two blocks from her apartment. I got a call from her last week: "Mom! It was 60° yesterday and today I'm walking to work in 4 inches of SNOW!" From all accounts, she loves her job. One of her bosses is a French man who loves me. I know this because he speaks with a French accent and he gives me sweet baked goods every time I visit.

And she's getting married!! In April. In Pennsylvania. To a transgender man. It's fitting, since Light is bisexual or possibly pansexual, I'm not sure if it matters, but marrying a trans man, kinda getting a bit of both? Anyway, he's a lovely young fellow, a couple of years younger than Light, named J. He graduated with a BA in religious studies and some kind of English composition thing the same semester Light graduated. He wants to go to grad school for to be a writer of poems or maybe fiction I think. The grad school he most wants to go to is in Nebraska. I'm not crazy about the idea of Nebraska. Not that there's anything wrong with Nebraska, necessarily, but it's far far away from South Carolina.  J has some health issues, possibly Rheumatoid Arthritis though that hasn't been diagnosed. I worry about him. He says I worry too much.

So I'm focused on the wedding. I will be making her wedding dress. We have the fabric, the pattern, and I made a "muslin", a trial run with the pattern in some unimportant fabric. It needs tweaking. And it's time to start seriously working on it. Yeah, as soon as I can move again. (Creak, Groan, Other Old Lady Noises)

Twitch
Twitch will turn 27 years old on Valentine's Day. He's doing so well! I'm proud of him. He's always been a bit behind the curve socially. I'm sure he's on the Autism Spectrum, though high functioning. He also has Tourette's Syndrome; thankfully he has grown out of a lot of his more obvious tics. He's got a great job now. He worked at Arby's for a few years after he graduated from college (with a degree in graphic design, a profession he's never worked in). Last year he achieved employment at our favorite brick oven pizzeria and beer micro brewery. By all accounts it's a fantastic place to work and he does good work. He's in the kitchen making sandwiches and other entree stuff. The pizza station is behind the bar, very public, everybody watches. Twitch, his mother's son, doesn't like being on stage like that. He can make the pizzas but prefers being in the kitchen.

The crew there has a family style closeness. Employee turnover is rare, slow, whatever ya' call it. Twitch seems to fit in well. He's a unique guy, kind of an acquired taste, and I think the crew accepts him well, uniqueness and all.

Twitch has the adulting thing under control. Yes, he's young and makes choices I think aren't as wise as perhaps they should be, but overall he's truckin' along. Pays his bills, fulfills his obligations, helps out his mom and dad occasionally. It's good.

Diva
Oh boy. The Diva lives in Greenville now, in her own apartment I think. That's what she tells me anyway. OMG she showed up on our doorstep one afternoon last spring. I opened the door and stood there staring at her, stuttering, opening and closing my mouth in goldfish fashion. She laughed at me (kindly, not cruelly) and said "you're speechless!" I'm rarely speechless. We hadn't seen nor heard from her in maybe 18 months. I kinda freaked out. Ended up taking her out to IHOP for late lunch. We made friendly conversation.

I haven't seen her since, though we have communicated by email a few times. Her birthday is December 4th, and I sent an electronic birthday greeting. She wrote back, mentioned a book she was reading (reading a book?! Oh wow!) and wanted the next book in the series, so I ordered it from Amazon and had it sent to her. In doing so I learned her address. Looked it up on Google street view. It ain't fancy, but isn't gross either. She's working in fast food still, perhaps two jobs, I'm unclear about details. She also said something about being a manager. I think she means assistant manager, but I could be wrong. The girl has moxie, chutzpah, and a tenuous grasp of reality so she's likely to try things that I doubt she has aptitude for. Perhaps I'm underestimating her and she can do more than I believe of her. Her book smarts are weak, but she's got a particular social intelligence that takes her places.

Superman wants nothing to do with her. A brief synopsis: when she left home at 17-and-three-quarters, he helped her get into an apartment very close to the store where she worked. The deal was she would pay two thirds to three quarters of her rent, he'd pitch in the rest. They had specific monetary amounts in this deal. Since she wasn't 18 yet, she couldn't sign the lease, so of course Superman did. Then, surprising no one, she reneged on her responsibilities. Actually didn't pay a cent if I understand the situation. Ended up, after rent payments and penalties and fees, he was out over $3000. Even worse was the betrayal. She seemed to be so capable, was acting all responsible for a minute, and he had great hope. But true to form, she broke the faith. She broke him, a little bit. Definitely broke that relationship.

I now approach her with caution. I want to remain in contact with her, to check up, see how she's doing. I care about her well-being. But I know from sad experience how much she can hurt me, how she's turned on me every time in the past. I don't want her all up in my bid'ness, do NOT want the drama that constantly surrounds her! Pretty sure she doesn't want me in her business either. But it's good (bittersweet?) to know where she is and how she's doing.

Sproing
Sproing. Now there's a topic. Cut to the chase: he's in prison. Big boy prison. The real deal. Projected release date August of 2019. He'll be 21 years old then. Now, there's a possibility he'll get out earlier, but I don't know and neither does he. He's incarcerated in the Turbeville, South Carolina facility. Before he went there I didn't know that Turbeville, SC existed. I don't think there's much there except the prison. Florence, SC is the closest city.

He's in prison now because he violated probation. This is for his 2nd degree burglary charge he got in August of 2016? I think. He's been on probation for two years and hasn't fulfilled his obligations, but did fail a drug test. He smokin' da weed, mon. Not that I care about it, but this state does. His probation officer does. I'm not sure if it was the drug test or failure to pay any restitution that put him in prison. But there he is. He had a court appearance in mid September to review his probation and the judge said "Nope. Do not pass go, do not collect jack shit, go to jail." Prison, actually.

I was in Florida at the time helping my Mama move from the Orlando area to Merritt Island. And avoiding hurricane Irma. Can't remember where Superman was, but iirc he was out of town, too, for a couple of days. Anyway the dog and cat needed tending and Sproing was gone. Think I called Twitch to come do pet duty until his dad got home.

I don't even know what to say about Sproing. I'm disappointed, nay heartbroken that he has gotten himself into this situation. I strongly suspect racial profiling plays a part in how he got to this point, but he did in fact commit burglary in the 2nd degree. The young'un has aligned himself with criminal peers, gone to places where he would look suspicious, and blatantly broken the law a number of times since he was still a juvenile.

Sproing talks about wanting to get his GED, go to college, play college baseball then try the pro's. That baseball talk sounds implausible to me. He could probably get his GED if he concentrated and applied himself. I know he could get into college with a GED, but whether he'd succeed there is another matter. He's smart enough, but unless many things change, he's not disciplined enough. He also talks about wanting to help out around the house, help take care of Superman and me.* But when he's here he's rude and disrespectful, reluctant (or blatantly refuses) to do any kind of chore we ask of him.

In conclusion
Superman and I now have the house to ourselves! Well, plus the cat. Did I tell you the dog died? It was very sad. He was only four years old when he got sick last November (October?). We didn't notice anything amiss until he was very sick. No, it was in September when I was still in Florida. I spent most of September in Florida. Superman took him (Oreo the dog) to the vet, who ran blood tests the results of which came back with weird numbers. Like, the leukocytes outnumbered everything else so that they couldn't find the other blood component they were looking for. iirc. Honestly, the details escape me now. Oreo had Leukemia with complications, like some kind of serious infection that couldn't heal. Oh, he was bad. Superman and I took him to the vet to be euthanized. It was sad. Hard. He had been such a good dog, Sproing's dog, and Sproing hadn't taken good care of him. Of course we took up the slack providing for him, but he didn't get the kind of attention and exercise he needed.

So, to get back to my story, see, we're left with just the cat, who is right now sitting on my forearms as I attempt to type this. She's kinda heavy. Although successful, it isn't easy. Black Fuzzy Cat don't give a shit.

But let me tell you, we LOVE the empty nest! We do not at all miss having young people live in our house. When Sproing gets out of prison he will NOT be moving back in. (Dunno what he's gonna do; we'll worry about that as time approaches.)

Oh! P.S. Diva is 20 now, and Sproing turns 20 this Wednesday, January 24th.

*It's Superman and me because if I left off the first person mentioned, the sentence would be "... help take care of me." It's not difficult to figure out. "Help take care of I" is obviously, painfully wrong. So, simple check, if you were to only mention yourself, would you say "I" or "me"? Whichever fits there is also the word to use when saying "(the other person) and I/me". Thus ends the grammar lesson.

Thoughts on depression and not being so depressed

So I was talking to Superman this morning while I was painting the firewood rack in our backyard. We were talking about my increased motivation and the lessening of my depression. I said that I'd had brief episodes of feel-good-motivation-to-get-stuff-done (hereafter referred to as "motivation") surrounded by lots of mope-and-not-getting-much-accomplished (hereafter referred to as "depression"). I feel as though I've been depressed for probably 30, maybe 35, of my 52 years. That's total periods of depression interspersed with days/weeks/years of feeling pretty good and motivated, mostly in bursts of days or weeks, not months or years. Superman remembers it a bit differently, that I was motivated more often than depressed until about seven or eight years ago, which would be when Diva and Sproing (who are now 16.5) began to get really difficult, and when Twitch was in the worst of his teen years. Now that the kidlets are in the worst of their teen years (and have been for at least four years) things are still bad. Refer to, oh hell, most of my blog archives, since I started this blog in 2007 when I was already in the dumps.

I painted the firewood rack this morning. I asked Twitch to do it last week and he just never got around to it. He had lots of excuses. Excuses are his speciality. He's a lazy son of a bitch.

Oh, and did I tell you that Manny is back?  We sprung him from the repair shop on Friday, IIRC. $550 for bail, or repairs in this case. Damn. Ron the mechanic said I really need to get this oil leak fixed, too. It's in the lifter area, evidently the gasket on the lifter head leaks. There are other oil leaks, but he says probably 90% of the oil is coming from there. That repair will probably cost at least $400.

Manny's clutch appears to be fine, it was the bracket holding the clutch and brake pedals that broke, causing the clutch to slip badly. This is what Ron the mechanic says. I really don't know much of what I'm talking about. I don't know the difference between a broken clutch and a slipped clutch. I do know that he's shifting just fine now.

And I feel the need for a trip. I'd love to go to western PA again to see Light, but I could be happy with a weekend camping trip in the mountains, perhaps a day driving the Blue Ridge Parkway.

It's late, I'm tired, and all sorts of other things. So goodnight, and I'll see about writing more before too long. I'd like to blog at least once a week rather than the once or twice a month I've managed recently. Motivation, people!!

Good intentions

Of course I've been meaning to write. Almost wrote a post last night, but was too tired.

I got a lot of good work done yesterday. I fixed a rather elaborate dinner. It wasn't all that fancy, but I ended up spending a lot of time in the kitchen. It was a good meal, too. Roasted chicken, low fat sweet potato casserole, and a simple salad that Superman made. Oh, and homemade yeast rolls. It's the dessert that took so much time and used so many eggs. I made an angel food cake, using a dozen egg whites. That left me with a dozen egg yolks. So I made a big double recipe of chocolate pudding. Have you ever made pudding from scratch? It's time consuming. Not terribly difficult, though not  simple either. Anyway, I had fun with it. Dinner was a success, the food part anyway. The table conversation, not as much.

Because the kids were at the table with us. Diva and Sproing got deeply involved in a spat. Again. For the second night in a row. Twitch didn't help, adding his opinions to the fray. And right now, honestly, I can't even remember which particular mess happened last night or the night before. And I don't remember details of the arguments either.

One of the things I was going to say last night is that I'm doing better with the kids. I've been more involved in the household, spending a bit less time hiding in my room. That seems to help some. Sometimes. And yesterday morning I woke up before 5. I lay in bed thinking about making waffles, and finally got up and did that. That's one of the things that kept me in the kitchen for so long yesterday. I made a huge quadruple batch of waffles, with plenty of leftovers to freeze. Think Eggos, only better. That used 8 eggs right there. Yeah, I went through about two dozen eggs yesterday, all things considered. The sweet potato casserole used one, the dinner rolls used another couple. I had a brief nap after lunch, but had to get up to pick up Sproing from bad kid school. He gets out at 1:45. School starts around 8, more or less. I can't remember exactly. Superman takes him in the morning, I usually pick him up in the afternoon. It's a relatively short school day. Shorter by an hour than the elementary schools. Think of it, though, a whole school program full of troublesome students like Sproing. They don't hang on well throughout the day (Sproing's medicine wears off early sometimes) and who wants to deal with that much grief for a long time? So yeah, they only have about five hours of school. I guess that qualifies legally as one day's instruction. They have to get their required 180 days in. Except for when the kids get suspended. Which Sproing did last week. Did I mention that? Yeah, he got suspended from bad kid school for three days. What a mess. Kinda like this paragraph, which is a huge mess. Let's leave this particular travesty and begin another paragraph, shall we?

So, better at dealing with these kids, right? Well, maybe. Or not. Let's discuss today. (Must we?) (Yes, Java, go ahead and get it out. It'll be alright. Take a deep breath, be calm, etc.) This morning I got a call from the high school, from one of the assistant principals. Diva was in trouble and needed to be taken home. Her regular assistant principal was out of the office today, so another one had to fill in. Diva was not suspended or anything, just sent home for today. Because she was not cooperating in class or something. What she did was get up and walk out of a class after the teacher refused to allow her to leave. That's the mood she's in. She got into some argument with another student or students before school and let this attitude affect her behavior. So she was sent home. Except she wouldn't come out to the truck when I got there. So I went in to get her, but she wouldn't go with me, she wanted to see her guidance counselor. Fine. We go in to see the counselor. She doesn't want me to go with her. Tough, I'm your mom and you don't get to choose these things. She told the counselor about the drama with the other girls. He said something like "OK, I see that problem, but look at your choices now. You are the one who's letting this attitude affect you. You can't change their behavior, you can only control yours." You know, that sort of thing. She huffed out his office and went back to class. WTF? She's been sent home, she can't go back to class! I didn't know where she was and asked the nice lady in the attendance office to help find her. Yeah, the kid went to her next class. The nice attendance lady (she really is a nice woman. I like her.) sent someone to escort Diva to the front office where I was waiting to take her home. You can imagine Diva's attitude by now.

We got in the truck, I told her to put on her seatbelt, and she refused. Good gods, is this how it's gonna be? So I turned the truck off. We aren't moving until you put on your seatbelt. Fine. We sat there for 45 minutes. In the heat. (Thankfully it isn't as hot and humid as it has been.) I ended up calling for the school resource officer to help. He got her to fasten her seatbelt. We came home. I told her she is grounded for the long holiday weekend (they are out of school Monday, oh my aching ass). She wouldn't give me her phone, but called her boyfriend (he's 13. Where is he that he can talk to her in the middle of a school day?). Anyway, a bunch of yada yada yada like this shit for a while. Superman came home. He tried to reason with her. Nope, no good. So he spanked her with his belt. No good. She ran off. We called the police to report her as a runaway. She actually came back home, was in the back yard but we didn't know it. Sproing saw her back there. So the nice police officer came over, talked to her, talked to Superman and me a bit.

Before Superman went back to work he talked to Diva again, this time she listened. She did her laundry (one of the things I told her to do) and said she would clean her room and the bathroom. I haven't checked up on that yet. I keep thinking I'll get up and go check, but alas, I can't seem to motivate my butt off this bed and away from the computer. Yeah, I'm afraid of her. My defenses don't want to subject me to her presence.

I took away the curtain from her window. I took away her rat (hamster, but whatever). There isn't a whole lot that she has that we can take away. Oh, about the phone. She refused to give the phone to her dad, so he went to the mobile phone store and had it disconnected. So she might have the physical phone, but she has no way to call, text, etc. anyone she wants to talk to. I think she can still call the emergency number, so that's good there, I guess.

Superman called a few minutes ago, asked about supper plans. I have some stuff I can throw together for dinner, but he wants to go out to our default location. So he's picking up some cheap nasty take out pizzas for the ne'er-do-wells and we'll go out tonight. I wonder if that's the best decision. Perhaps we should stay here to supervise the mayhem. But I can't think clearly right now. He says he's considered it, and the best option is to get away from them for a couple of hours. Hopefully pizza will placate them for that long.

I really don't know what else to say. There are some other things happening in my life, I think. I sewed some this week. Made a dress that I plan to paint. It's a plain muslin thing I put together to test the pattern. I want to use the pattern on other fabric, but want to make sure the pattern works for me. So I have this white dress that, for the most part, works pretty well except the color. So I'm going to paint it so it looks fantastic. That's the plan. I have to be more calm and sane than I have been today for that to work at all. I tried to do a couple of other things this afternoon, but was too frantic and scattered to accomplish anything except sitting here playing Mahjong Titans and surfing the 'net. I hate this crazy feeling. I really thought I was starting to get my shit together better than this, but I didn't count on the Diva Explosion. I suppose I should have. She always does this eventually.

Hell, I don't want to talk about her anymore right now. I'll post this, change my shirt, put on some shoes in preparation for going out with my wonderful husband. Yeah, that's the plan.

I'm back

Betcha didn't notice I was gone, huh?

I ran away for a few days, got some mountain therapy. I went camping all by myself not too far from the Blue Ridge Parkway. On my way home yesterday I drove a couple of hours on the BRP. And by "on my way" I mean more than 100 miles out of my way. But that's my way.

I have pictures. Yes, I got a new camera. I'd take a picture of it, but it can't take its own picture, right? Ah, never mind. Look it up. It is a Canon little blue thing. Canon with some letters and numbers after it. A quick and dirty point-and-shoot because that's my way. I'd post the pictures now, except I haven't downloaded them yet and I can't reach the camera from where I'm sitting. I'm also somewhat cat stuck, so of course I can't get up.

Can you tell I am lazy today?

I had to get away from the little troll monsters. I was just about over the edge. I had a fine time and felt much better while I was there. The damnedest thing, though, is that I came back and here it was, waiting for me. Sproing was here when I got home, and he was a total asshole to me. Diva was at the skating ring (as she calls it) and I was in bed when she got home, so I didn't see her until this morning. She's acting all nice and friendly, which just pisses me off. There's something about her that creeps me out. She can be nice, but she's so often cruel to me that the nice seems like the worst kind of hypocrisy and/or cover-up.

I'm home and irritable. Except Superman, everyone else in this house irritates me. As Superman says, "I want them all gone."

Did I tell you that C lost his job? He has worked at the donut shop for nearly two years, off and on. The owner's daughter works there, too, of course, and (or but) she has a bit of a drug problem. She evidently has been skimming from the till. She has even admitted it before. Well, two weeks ago there was some money missing and the owner blamed C for it and fired him. He says, of course, that he didn't take it, and he probably didn't. (Once you're lied to so many times, it's very difficult to believe anyone. C doesn't lie to me, I think, but so many other young people do that I have a hard time believing anyone any more.) But the owner fired him nevertheless. So right now none of the young adults in this household are working. Actually, Superman is the only one with a job. It's a bad position to be in. We've given the guys (including Twitch) some significant home improvement and landscape jobs to do in lieu of rent payment this month, but so far none of them has even started. I am pissed.

I need to stop talking about this right now, I'm getting too worked up. I'm trying to remain chill. Hard to do around here.

I was away from home for three days. I left Tuesday afternoon (if I recall) and got home late yesterday afternoon. Whilst I was away Superman had to leave work for at least 1.5 hours each day to take care of Sproing or Diva's needs. Diva had a doctor's appointment, Sproing had to be picked up from school. (Did I mention he's going to the "alternative" school now? No transportation except us unless we can show need.) Yesterday Sproing was complaining of back pain and couldn't sit in his desk without pain. So he says. Superman had to pick him up early, then didn't get away from the house for over an hour.

Superman was commenting about how  much of his time they needed during the day, and I said yeah, that's one of the main reasons I don't have a job. I feel a bit guilty, or bad, about not bringing in any income, but I know how much running around I do during the weekday taking care of these kids' needs. I need him to validate my significance for that sometimes. He told me he appreciates all that I do so that he can stay at work. I feel better now. (maybe a little bit, anyway)

Tomorrow is Mother's Day. I have a problem with Mother's Day from a mother's perspective. I'm fine from a daughter's perspective. I'll call my Mama either tonight or tomorrow and all will be well. I gave her a gift when I saw her last month in Florida. No, it's my kids. The only kid I enjoy spending time with lives 600+ miles away. The other three who bug the crap out of me to varying degrees live way too close. Diva asked me today what I'd like for Mother's Day. She wants to cook me dinner. I'm OK with that, but have to decide what I want. But like I said previously, she kinda creeps me out and I don't trust her when she's being nice to me. As for Sproing, we had a brief interaction yesterday and he was unbelievably disrespectful to me. Superman had a talk with him and came away confused as to why Sproing seems to hate me so vehemently. I don't know. I wish we could ignore Mother's Day around here.

I've been having dreams recently in which I'm being attacked my small children. I used to love kids. I wanted lots. Be careful what you wish for. I'm so bitter and cynical about children now, and I hate it. Honestly, I am afraid of children.

I'm worried about Superman. He is under incredible stress. He was talking to the family therapist while I was away this week, and the therapist said if he doesn't relieve some of this stress it's gonna kill him. Kill him. Dead. I really really really don't want him dead. I need him desperately, I love him deeply, he is a large part of who I am. He needs to not be dead. And this kind of stress will kill a man. I've seen it happen before. With our recent brush with mortality (my Daddy) I'm even more aware of how fragile life can be.

The kids are putting us in danger, mentally, emotionally, and even physically. It makes sense to get them out of the house. We've been trying to get Diva out of here. We've looked into group homes and such, and due to her behavior history she doesn't qualify for placement in most of the places we can afford to put her. The state hasn't helped much. At all. We have yet another meeting with the Continuum of Care folks on Tuesday. Maybe there's something yet to be done.

Damn, I'm depressing myself. When I started this post my intention was to be cheerful and shit. And really, I had a lovely time in the mountains, even when putting up the tent in the rain (almost). (Almost a good time, not almost putting up the tent in the rain. I did put up the tent in the rain.) Thursday and Friday were gorgeous weather days. The drive yesterday was spectacular. Then last night I got to sleep with my husband (and also "sleep" with my husband) and that was lovely. The cat is affectionate, as if perhaps she missed me. She's getting fine black hairs all over me, but that's one of the ways she expresses her love, I like to believe. Oh, I also read a few books while I was gone. Lovely gay romances, mostly. I stayed up all night reading one on Wednesday night/Thursday morning, didn't go to sleep until maybe 8 in the morning. And no one was there to deride me for that shit. Love my Kindle!

Plans for today are to stay away from people as much as possible and perhaps get some more sleep. Lovely time in the mountains, not quite enough sleep. Eh. It's my way.

Oh, also, I bought a new "Welcome" mat to go in front of the tent in order to reduce the dirt going into the tent. Our front door mat is old and useless, so when I got home we threw out the old one, replaced it with the new one. The new one actually says "Welcome" on it. As introverted and, perhaps, unsocial as I am, I really don't like my door mat to say "Welcome." The old one said "Wipe Your Paws." That was better. I've seen one in magazines that says "Go Away" which suits me even better. Maybe I should get a plain mat and paint something like "Enter at Your Own Risk" on it. Although actually I like "Go Away" better.

Be back here soon, hopefully, with pictures from the trip.

'Twas a couple o' days before Christmas...

Feeling groovy. Ish. I'm not taking the high power pain meds anymore after my hernia surgery. Today I was finally able to take the bandages off the incision site. It doesn't so much hurt as itch like a sonofabitch. The area was covered with a gauze bandage and stuck on with one of those large pieces of clear plastic adhesive stuff. Superman called it a "plaster" and says the entire English speaking world calls that a plaster except the U.S. Anyway, I've had that adhesive stuck to my belly for six days. The skin doesn't like that foolishness. Now the whole area itches. I've got dissolving stitches covered by steri-strip bandages. Those will come off on their own, says the doctor. That part itches, too, but the worst is the freshly released skin all around my navel. I'd rather it itch than hurt, though. Being off the hydrocodone, eating real food, and taking a bit of laxative has helped the bowels behave better.  And as you know, a happy bowel contributes much toward general happiness.





Light and Twitch are home now. It was wonderful; Light stopped in Charlotte to see Twitch, and decided to bring him home so neither Superman nor I had to drive to get him. She's a good kid. That was Friday. She stayed the night (we took her and Twitch out to our favorite pizza and beer place) and left early Saturday morning for Charleston, where she met up with a good friend and went to the wedding of a friend of that friend. They stayed in Charleston last night and came home today. Tonight she and her friend and another good friend of theirs, all good buddies from high school, have gone out to the drive-in theater to see "The Hobbit." This was a picture the middle one put on her Facebork page tonight celebrating the reunion of these particular three musketeers. Light is on the right, the one with the biggest silly grin. :-)

(Warning: boring paragraph about cooking follows)
I'm back in the kitchen again. Haven't done much cooking since last weekend. Last night I fixed my favorite macaroni and cheese recipe, double-and-a-half, to make enough for this big hungry crowd. It was well received. Today I started some red sauce for lasagna, but never got around to putting together the lasagna. Perhaps that will be our Christmas Eve dinner. C made some red sauce to go with some penne for a late lunch for him and his he-wishes-he-was-his-boyfriend-but-right-now-they're-"just-friends" and I added his leftovers to my pot of stuff. I haven't tasted it yet, but I suspect it will be wunnerful. There are stealth vegetables in the sauce. I processed some carrots to just shy of puree and added them to the sauce. That might add a hint of sweetness, too. There's no way I'll ever be able to replicate that sauce.

Also, I baked some more bread. And I'll be making stuffing (or do you call it dressing?) to go with the turkey for Christmas dinner using a variety of breads. I'm getting excited about doing stuff again. For the last couple of weeks my give-a-shit has been hobbled. For the next week or two (or three?) I'm limited in how much weight I can lift. Five pounds. That's it. Do you now how many things in the kitchen weigh more than five pounds? My favorite cast iron skillet, for one. And the food processor. (Full disclosure: Superman actually  ran the carrots through the processor.) (He also scraped them into the sauce pot because if he does it all the carrot pieces get into the pot. If I do it a lot of carrot bits are randomly strewn around the stove top. And beside the stove. And probably other unlikely places.)

If there was more I intended to say I have since forgotten it. I could regale you with recent infractions of the law perpetrated by Sproing and/or Diva's trouble with her big mouth as relates to staying at school. A lot of that kind of shit happened while I was on my blogging sabbatical. It was depressing, and I didn't want to talk about it. It's merry happy holiday time now and I don't want to talk about it. And since I can't remember what else I was going to say, I guess I'll stop now. This rambling has gone on long enough for one post.

Thursday stuff

Doesn't seem like Thursday to me. Actually, I'm disconnected from days right now. I had minor outpatient surgery two days ago. A small hernia repair that the doctors seemed to think was necessary. I blogged about that recently. The surgeon disabled my pop-up timer. Yeah, I'm sore. It's a localized soreness, there at my navel. I'm fine if I don't move. Also taking Lortab. Hydrocodone. So yeah, I'm disconnected from days and a few other things as well.

Just talked to an old friend of mine. Received a Christmas card from her yesterday with a brief update letter to let everyone know their house burned down!! About 2.5 weeks ago their house burned down. They've lived there 20 years, raised five kids in it. It was an old farmhouse, and evidently there was some electrical short or something in the living room wall that started the thing. No one was in the house, but she and her youngest daughter were on the property. Poor gals had to watch their house burn down. They got the pets out before it got too smokey. I'm freaking out about it, but hell, it wasn't my house. I talked to her for maybe 20 minutes, and she sounds numb. They're managing. Going to rebuild. Have received a lot of help from friends and neighbors and the Red Cross. They live close to us, the next county over. She does our taxes.

The young kids are home now, on winter break. Or Christmas break, whichever term seems appropriate. I don't care what it's called, I just care that they are home. So far it isn't too bad. Had my surgery the last day of school, so I've been drugged and out of it since they've been home. I'm leaving them alone and they're mostly getting along.

I'm supposed to drive to Charlotte to bring Twitch home for Christmas. Was going to do that tomorrow, but might need to wait until Saturday. My boo-boo needs a bit more healing time before I drive for five hours. Light is leaving Pennsylvania this evening to head this way. She'll take a nap at Twitch's place on her way down, then she's going to Charleston before coming home. The weather between western Pennsylvania and here is a bit dodgy right now, raining with snow in the forecast. Hopefully she'll be far enough south by the time the snow hits so as to avoid it. I'm worried about her driving so far under such conditions, but hell, I've done the same thing myself many times. So I'm going to pretend not to worry.

If there was anything else to say I have forgotten. Kinda spacey. Might be nap time again. Sleep helps the healing process, right? And it's a cool, rainy day, the kind that 's good for naps. Yeah. Nap.

Random snips of insanity

~First off, the weather. What the f**k is going on? It's weird. I'm afraid my Bradford pear tree is going to burst into bloom any minute now. It was 75F degrees this afternoon. According to my sources, which are inconsistently reliable, we should have unseasonably warm weather through the weekend. This feels a whole lot more like Florida than upstate South Carolina. 

~Our utility bill came today. As I may have mentioned, I saw the meter reader come through the yard on the day C and S moved out. This month's bill reflects power and water usage with the boys in the house. We aren't running the air conditioner (duh) or the central heat, though we have electric space heaters in some of the bedrooms. The bill is $332.11. Remind me to compare this to next month's bill. 

~Today was the final day of school for the kids until January 5th. Diva and Sproing have been unpleasant company this afternoon. Sadly, I can't say I'm thrilled about school being out. Perhaps we can work to cheer things up tomorrow and the rest of the holiday. Today I'm too tired.

~And speaking of tired, I'm very tired again today. I can't remember when I went to sleep last night, and I woke up at 6:00 this morning to take the kids to school. Later in the morning I had to take a nap, I could not stay awake. I'm tired again now at 5:30. 

~Because of some medication I was taking 18 months ago my blood pressure became elevated. The doctor took me off that medication and put me on Avapro to control the blood pressure. It has performed exactly as advertized. The doc wanted to see me for a recheck on this blood pressure thing. I went yesterday. Everything is copacetic with the BP and he wants me to stay on it for maintenance because I have "other risk factors." Translated, that means I'm way overweight and too sedentary and my eating habits are unhealthy. All of this is true, so I told him I'd continue taking the Avapro. 

I also mentioned that I am very tired all the time, and I want him to check my iron levels. Well, he jumped all over that and told me he wants a complete blood workup. Fasting. So I skipped breakfast this morning and went to the office after I dropped Twitch off at school this morning. The cute little asian nurse sucked my blood from my arm. Since Christmas is only a week away I suspect the test results will be a bit slower coming back. I should get the results next week or the week after. 

We also discussed my CPAP. I think the pressure needs to be increased. I've had the machine for 7 or 8 years and it's never been serviced. I'm older and a bit heavier than I was when I got the machine. I have an appointment early next week to see somebody, I don't know who, in some office in that new medical park on the south side of town. She called me, all chipper, and I had no idea who she was. She had to explain that she works for that company/organization which does all this CPAP stuff. I'm supposed to take my machine and all its trappings to her office on Monday. I have no idea what she plans to do, but perhaps my CPAP will work better when she's done. 

~I still feel all Bah Humbug about the holidays. 

Mother's Day Rant 2008

I get like this nearly every year. Forewarned is forearmed.

Disclaimer #1
For my mother, my mother-in-law, my stepmother (oops, forgot about her until just now) I have no trouble honoring them on Mother's Day. I do so in a simple, non-complicated, not-commercially-motivated way. Same for my grandmothers, but there aren't any left now, unfortunately. This has everything to do with those whom I mother, not those who are mothers to me.

Disclaimer #2
The opinions expressed in this rant are mine and mine alone, and are in no way a reflection of my feelings toward anyone else and his/her opinions on the topic.

We shall now proceed to the rant

[this bit is mostly preamble to the rant]
I am a mother. This means many things. I gave birth to two children and adopted two children, so there are four children who share my last name and for whom I am legally responsible. More than that, though, I have taken two more young people into my home (non-legally)(which is not to say illegally. big difference!) and I am a surrogate mother for them. Many years ago I was a temporary foster mother for newborn babies awaiting adoption. These are a few of the ways in which the term "mother" applies to me.

I also am a mother in an active sense. I mother. Verb. I tend to mother many people in many situations. Most of the close friends of my children receive some of my mothering. I acted motherly with the students on my bus. I have also done some mothering with many blog friends. Sometimes I mother because it is my nature. My excuse: I'm a mother. It's what we do.

I'm a mother. It's what we do. As a mother and when I mother I want respect. To me, respect means to be nice to me. You (the subject of my mothering efforts) don't need to agree with me. Unless you are my minor child, living in my home and are my legal responsibility, you don't have to listen to me or do what I suggest. If you ignore my advice that is your decision and I (probably) won't take offense. If you'd rather I didn't voice my opinions in a motherly fashion, kindly tell me. I will attempt to honor your request. The key word in this paragraph is "kindly." That's what respect means to me.

I have been told by many people that I am a good mother, that they wish they had had a mother like me, or even that they wish I had been/would be their mother. I am very honored by this.

[this is where it begins to get rant-ish]
My distress comes from those I most actively mother. Maybe it's the daily drudgery, or the familiarity, or that the better they know me the more they see my faults and the less respect they have for me. Whatever the cause, the children (including the adult-aged children) in my home do not show me respect.

The children in my home are the ones who mean the most to me. Well, them plus the one of my own who usually lives away at college. I'll include her in the "means the most to me" category, but she doesn't fit in the "has no respect for me" category. My Light is the light of my life (one of 'em!) and makes me so proud! But I digress.

[here comes the vitriol]
To continue: The youngsters who live here show virtually no respect. Ever. (virtually. some exceptions, though rare) Maybe I shouldn't, but I take this as a personal affront. Rarely do they care about my needs, they blatantly ignore me and often are directly disrespectful. They are rude to each other, inconsiderate, slovenly, destructive, mindless, dense, lazy, greedy and selfish.

Tomorrow is Mother's Day. Some of these children will attempt to be nice to me tomorrow. It rings hollow when on one day of the year they act all loving and thankful to me. If you don't exhibit these qualities every day, or at least make an obvious attempt on a regular and frequent basis, do not come to me with pretty cards and flowers and boxes of chocolate and smile disingenuously to tell me how much you appreciate me! Bullshit! If the only time of the year you can force these lies through your teeth is on Mother's Day, then forget it. I don't want to hear it. I am interested in honesty. What you do speaks louder than what you say. What you do on a typical day means more than what you pretend on one "special" day. If you truly want me to know that you appreciate me and what I do for you, then show me in the way you conduct yourself at home and in your daily life every day. Otherwise, shove it up your ass.

Others of them, I suspect, will completely ignore me and the contributions I make to their lives. In a small way I see this as a sign of my success. I'm doing so well they don't notice what they might otherwise lack. In a larger sense I realize they are ungrateful, shallow, and selfish. I don't expect, neither do I desire lavish displays of appreciation. I would like them to voluntarily and without prompt simply thank me for trying to take care of their physical and emotional needs. This specifically applies to the ones for whom I am a surrogate mother. They are old enough to realize and appreciate my efforts at least a little bit. It is very important, necessary for the honesty of it all, that they do this completely without prompt. S sometimes reads my blog, and if he sees this, it will be his prompt. C'est la vie.

To give them credit, the boyz do occasionally express appreciation. S more often than C. S goes through stages where he's concerned about me and does a pretty good job looking out for me, trying to keep me from frustrating myself more. It isn't easy work! But there are also many times when I feel he is taking me for granted. Love may be a many splendored thing, but it's hard, too.

I know they love me, these children/young adults who live with me. And I love all of them. But if I only see expressions of love on Mother's Day it just makes me mad. I feel even less appreciated if they have to be forced by this "holiday" to make the attempt.

Do Not Have Children - reason # 379

Twitch is 17. Diva is 10. Twitch outweighs Diva approximately 2:1. He is allegedly more mature than she is. She is immature for her age. Diva is a fairly typical prepubescent girl. She can do things that are generally annoying.

This morning I'm sitting on my bed reading the paper. Diva comes in to tell me about yet another fund raiser they are doing at school. Twitch comes in, stands about 4 feet from her. I don't even remember why he came to talk to me. She did some damned something to annoy him, most likely unintentionally (this time). He lifts his big booted foot and kicks her! Right here, beside my bed, with me watching!!!!! Oh. My. God! What the hell does he do when I'm not watching? (Don't even tell me, I don't really want to know.)

Superman and I get all over him, telling him It is WRONG to kick. Anybody! And he comes up with excuses like "but she is annoying! Sproing was hitting me, and being sassy." Pardon??? Sproing is being sassy and annoying, so you need to come kick Diva. There is NO WAY for that to make sense. There is no way for ANY excuse to make sense. It is just plain WRONG!!!

It is amazing how he kept trying to defend or excuse himself, and to redirect the conversation away from his responsibility onto the 10 yr. olds' responsibility. No, son, I am addressing you and your behavior now. This is not about them. This is ONLY about YOU! He loves for things to be only about him as long as it doesn't involve him getting into trouble.

I don't understand how the mind of a 17 year old boy works. I have my suspicions that it just plain DOESN'T work.

I'm not handling this well. I am in the midst of a minor breakdown right now anyway, and I can not handle this crap. I sent them all to church. Maybe they'll learn something, though I doubt it.

After they all left, S comes in, sits down on the bed beside me, and says "Well, now, let's start cleaning."

I threw him out. Should have thrown him out the window.

I've had a good cry now, and am on the verge of another one.

And how is your Sunday going?

A brief history of my last 20 years book four

How we got here

Why we got here

What we're doing here

Book four

That last bit ended with a spot of bad fortune. Stress out the wazoo; evicted from our home, a new job I wasn't sure I could handle, children struggling to survive in the jungle that is school, and a looming law suit. And to think I survived to live another year. Let's find out what happened!

Being the Mother that I am, my first thoughts were of how to make these large changes in our lives with the least amount of upheaval for the kids. School had just started, and the youngest three kids were enrolled in schools they had been in the year before. I didn't want to change that, so I felt it necessary to stay in the same school zones. We needed to move quickly, but wanted to buy our own place. Buying a home is not something one should do under time pressure! So we moved into an apartment.

It was small and icky. The apartment complex was just across the street from the day care where Diva and Twitch went after school, and only 1.5 blocks away from the middle school Twitch went to. The elementary school was just down the hill from the middle school, so that was very convenient. The complex itself, however, was nasty. Not the worst in the city, but pretty bad. We had a 3 bed, 1.5 bath unit. I left Twitch and Light with their own rooms, because that was how they lived in the big house. Diva and Sproing shared a room. Superman and I set our bed up in the living room. It was far from an ideal situation.

The house we left was 4000 square feet. It was older, needed significant updating, but was by golly big enough! The attic alone was probably as big as this tiny apartment we moved into. We had a yard sale to get rid of a bunch of stuff, rented a storage unit to store the excess, and squeezed the necessities into this apartment. There was barely any room to maneuver. Most of the apartment had a simple path to get from one space to the next.

I zoned out while we were there. The only thing I really remember about that time was my work and looking for a new home. When I was in the apartment I pretended to be elsewhere. My brain went into self preservation mode. I'm afraid I wasn't a very good wife or mother for those 6 months.

Work was going well, all things considered. I was able to substitute long-term on two different special-needs bus routes when two of the drivers had to be out following medical procedures. I got a taste for the special education system in the district, made friends and contacts with the teachers and some parents. That experience was the only real positive part of my job.

After Christmas break, however, I was assigned to a regular bus route. That was … educational. And really hard. My problem is that I'm too nice. The students, many of them, didn't respond to "nice." I got to know the kids and became fond of most of them, even the difficult ones. Sometimes especially the difficult ones. They have spunk that many easy-going kids lack.

Toward the end of November and into December Superman and I ramped up our house search. We had a few location requirements, but I didn't worry too much about keeping the kidlets in the same elementary school. I knew that if we made it half way through the school year they would be able to stay where they were for the remainder of that year. I did want to stay in the same high school zone, but since there are only 2 high schools in town and the one Light was in is bigger, that left us much real estate to chose from.

I'll tell you this about me. My second most important criteria for location was a short distance to Superman's workplace. If we're close to his work he can come home for lunch. Or, preferably, "lunch." With all the kids in school now, and my work hours leaving me free in the middle of the day, a mid-day twist of the sheets is a very good thing. A very very good thing. J

We put an offer on this house we're in now on New Years Eve. Closing was the end of February, if I recall, and we moved in the first of March. In truth I hate this house. It is way too common for me. It's a rectilinear brick ranch in a subdivision. The location works, though. The young'uns walk to school and it's less than 2 miles from Superman's work. And we were able to move away from the apartments, thank the greater powers!

Life proceeded to transpire. Summer came, the kids got out of school. All of a sudden they were home all the time again. It was easier when they were always home all the time. Once I got used to them being away for most of the day, it was hard to readjust to having them home all the time. By the end of the summer I was really glad for school to start!

And I went back to work. I have always thought of this job as a temporary position to fill my days and help with the bills. I have a love/hate relationship with the job. We will explore this further in later posts. Be warned.

This is now autumn 2005. Everyone is settling in, getting used to home, work, school. I was busy, in addition to work, as a leader in a Brownie Girl Scout troop for Diva. This was one of my "good mommy" activities. I'm glad I did it, but wouldn't do it again. It took a lot of time and especially a lot of emotional energy that I just didn't have to spare, frankly. With the experience of a dozen little girls running around a church classroom or a scout camp, plus dealing with a bus load of 25-50 kids of all ages, I came to realize I don't do well with large groups of children.

I've always liked children, theoretically. When I was younger I had much more patience and stamina for these tasks. I still like children, but in a more theoretical, less practical way. And definitely in smaller groups. Like one or two at a time. As I've grown older, my children-of-preference have matured. Now I am much more comfortable with older teens and young adults.

So of course the powers-that-be put that to the test. In the late winter, early spring of 2006, Light brought C into my life. Let's see how that happened…..

Mildly amusing

My mother, Mama, remember her? She's a wonderful lady, especially so in that she is taking me on a cruise. Mama likes to forward email to me, stuff she thinks is cute or funny. Most of the stuff I get from her is pretty good. Rarely does she send that overly sappy crap. Every once in a while she'll send something truly hilarious. This isn't truly hilarious, but I thought it was kinda sweet.

ANGELS EXPLAINED BY CHILDREN
I only know the names of two angels, Hark and Harold.~~~Gregory, 5

Everybody's got it all wrong. Angels don't wear halos anymore. I forget why, but scientists are working on it.~~~Olive, 9

It's not easy to become an angel! First, you die. Then you go to Heaven, and then there's still the flight training to go through. And then you got to agree to wear those angel clothes.~~~Matthew, 9

Angels work for God and watch over kids when God has to go do something else.~~~Mitchell, 7

My guardian angel helps me with math, but he's not much good for science.~~~Henry, 8

Angels don't eat, but they drink milk from Holy Cows!!!~~~Jack, 6

Angels talk all the way while they're flying you up to heaven. The main subject is where you went wrong before you got dead.~~~Daniel, 9

When an angel gets mad, he takes a deep breath and counts to ten. And when he lets out his breath, somewhere there's a tornado.~~~Reagan, 10

Angels have a lot to do and they keep very busy. If you lose a tooth, an angel comes in through your window and leaves money under your pillow. Then when it gets cold, angels go south for the winter.~~~Sara, 6

Angels live in cloud houses made by God and his son, who's a very good carpenter.~~~Jared, 8

All angels are girls because they gotta wear dresses and boys didn't go for it.~~~Antonio, 9
(Well, some boys, anyway! :-) )

My angel is my grandma who died last year. She got a big head start on helping me while she was still down here on earth.~~~Lynn, 9

Some of the angels are in charge of helping heal sick animals and pets. And if they don't make the animals get better, they help the child get over it.~~~Vicki, 8

What I don't get about angels is why, when someone is in love, they shoot arrows at them.~~~ Sarah, 7

And, on another note:
Electile Dysfunction: the inability to become aroused over any of the choices for president put forth by either party in the 2008 election year.

Interesting goings on in Scotland

Sex lessons must start at age five

That's the top headline in today's Scotsman.com website.
It goes on to discuss sex education in Scottish schools, how it needs to begin earlier because so many young people are getting the information after it's too late. The headline, though, is a shocker. I guess that's the secret to successful marketing.