Summertime, and the living is instructional

Lander's summer term began today. Like most colleges, they divide the summer term into two halves. I refer to these as summer A and summer B. I'm not actually sure what Lander calls it. They also have an all summer long term, so some classes are taught for the whole summer, rather than just half. I don't know what that's all about, but whatever. 

But let me tell you about my summer school. I am registered for a total of three courses, only one of which is taught in summer A session. It's another English class, and is taught completely online. How cool is that? This is my first online class, so I'm interested to see how it will work. I received an introduction to the class from the professor, and an assignment to introduce myself in the online discussion forum for this class. I have also read the first assigned short essay and completed the small written assignment. There is a larger written assignment due by noon next Monday, and I made a glancing effort to begin that. 

The professor is the same one I had for my English class last term. I'm glad, because I already know her and I like her. It is easier to do this faceless online thing (coursework, anyhow) if I know who I'm working with. Blogging facelessly online is a different matter. I do that all the time. 

She may introduce blogs as a topic of study. I know that she did when she taught this class in the spring. Since we've got such an abbreviated term, she may not. I am still undecided as to whether to invite her to read this here bloggie thing. Once again I will threaten to start a new blog, one for general consumption. I'm still thinking about it. If I do, it likely will be much blander than this one. Probably. I don't really know yet. 

My gut has been making occasional indications of mild ickiness for the past two days. Well, it finally gathered enough steam this afternoon to be more insistent. So I'm feeling more than less icky now. Practical translation: don't get between me and the bathroom. 

Things I did for myself today:

After I went to school to buy my books and take care of the few random beginning of term errands, I took a drive around some neighborhoods. I like checking out houses. I was looking for anything that may possibly be for rent, anything large enough that we could pretend to make it work for our family. No real reason right now, but sort of a just-in-case. The point in this paragraph is that I rode around in the cute little car looking at some interesting neighborhoods and enjoying myself. 

In this paragraph, we will discuss why I might want to look for another house. Superman and I had a discussion this weekend about selling this house. I have never liked it. It's a nice little place, for all practical purposes. I just don't like the practicality of it. It's too square, too ranch style, and has too much hold on us. I feel now like I want to be ready to spring when the time is right. When I finish this bachelor's degree I want to move elsewhere, and I don't want to be waiting around for the house to sell. So let's get it ready to sell now, move into something we can rent, and be ready to blow this town as soon as possible. 

Oh, I think I hear Superman arriving. Ah, yes. He's home. I'm going to go ramble at him for a while. TTFN.

P.S. My "f" key doesn't want to work. I keep typing "or" instead of "for." Aggravating. 

Five things I have done for myself

But first, a little bit of rambling and some newsy-ness. I wasn't online at all yesterday because I went with Light to get the rest of her stuff from college town. Superman and Twitch got almost all of it on the truck Thursday evening, but there were just a few things they couldn't fit on the truck. So Light and I went back to get those few things. 

Which, while necessary, was really (for me, anyway) an excuse to get some good Hot Fresh Now. 

We don't have any good doughnut bakeries in my little town, but college town has Hot Fresh Now Krispy Kreme. Glazed heaven. 

And no, buying myself some hot fresh glazed doughnuts is NOT on my list of things I have done for myself. 

There has been some discussion as I prepare to compose this list as to the definition of terms. Things I have done for myself - intentionally? or just things I have done with other motivations that have turned out to be good for me? Patrick and I decided that these things didn't count. That leaves out a lot. Another question: just how recent do these things need to be? Most of what I have done for myself, I did 25 + years ago. I'm going to include some of those, since that may be the only way we'll actually get up to five. And I'm only considering things that are significant enough to have made a real impact on my life. So let's do this thing.

Five Things

1. I went to Boston. In the early spring of 1982, when I was a sophomore in college, I had an opportunity to help a friend drive up to Massachusetts from Macon, Georgia. It would require that I skip a whole week of school, since the timing didn't coincide with Spring Break that term. She was to be in a friend's wedding somewhere in central Massachusetts, but I wanted to go to Boston because my boyfriend at the time, Rohan, was attending MIT. I went, spent the week with him, did all manner of interesting things, and had a wonderful time. I ended up flunking one of my classes, but I had taken it Pass/Fail anyway, since I did not get along with the professor, so the "Fail" didn't affect my GPA. I'm no dummy. 

About a week after my return to Macon, I met Superman. That changed the course of my life in a most astounding way, but I had no active role in the arrangement of that meeting. It doesn't count as one of the five. 

2. I married Superman. Hell, I backed him into proposing to me. (I might tell that story sometime.) I will include this in my list because it was an active decision on my part, and I guess I did it for me. The truth of the matter is that I just had to marry him. Not "had" to marry him as in I was "in trouble." When I called my dad to tell him we were marrying, he asked with a snippy tone of voice "Are you pregnant?" No, I wasn't. I just couldn't live without the man. It was compulsory that we marry. He proposed on November 2nd, 1982, and we married on March 17th, 1983.

I stayed married to him. That isn't numbered because it technically doesn't belong in this list. It was a very good thing to do, and it benefited me greatly, but that's not what I was thinking when I made the decision(s). There were a few times in the first few (10?) years of our marriage when the thought of leaving his sorry ass did cross my mind. Deciding to stick it out was motivated by my unhealthy martyr complex more than any good will toward myself. As it turns out, being married to Superman is the best thing about my life now. 

3. I put my kids in public school. I did it for me, but also for them. There again, I had pushed myself to the brink of insanity with homeschooling the older two and trying to care for the toddlers/preschoolers Diva and Sproing. Those two have never been easy to parent. Keeping them out of trouble while successfully educating Light and Twitch was more than I could handle. I put the two oldest in middle school, and the next year Diva and Sproing were in all-day kindergarten. The 2003-'04 school year I was without specific employment. I enjoyed a year off. The following year, 2004, when the kidlets were in first grade, I took the bus driving job. 

4. I quit my bus driving job. That was only last year; March of 2008. Really, though, I should have stopped driving the bus at the end of the previous school year. By the time I finally did quit, that job had sapped nearly every bit of emotional stability out of me. After Spring Break last year (March 2008) I just could not make myself get back on the bus. I figure this entry is a little bit fudged because, like getting married, it seems more like a compulsory action than a self-benevolent decision. 

5. I went back to college. That, obviously, is very recent. Since I graduated from Mercer U. in 1986 I have wanted to return to college. I really want my master's degree, but right now I'm getting a second undergraduate degree. That has more to do with where I live and what's available to me than what I really want to do. The idea is that when I earn my second degree I will go into a graduate program more to my liking, both in academic subject and geographic location. 

So there you have it. I think only the first and last items really belong in this list, since the middle three I only did when I had finally worn myself to a complete frazzle and didn't have too much choice in the matter. 

What do you think? 

The boy

He is making this decision a lot easier. 

Superman and Twitch are up in college town moving Light home for the summer. That leaves me home alone with the dynamic duo. She's being sweetness and honeycomb. He's being the demon spawn. Again. He did this last night, too. Tonight I'm on my own with him. Since I am typing this right now, it's obvious that I am taking a break from the drama. He is in his bedroom now, throwing things against the wall again and screaming, yelling, insulting the world. He isn't crying, though. It's just angry yelling.  Oops! I spoke too soon. He's crying now, too.

He pulled the "slave" card on me tonight. I laughed heartily. "I'm just a slave. You treat me like a slave. I'm nothing to you." I told him he was my son, and that sons help out with chores for the good of the whole family, just like everyone else does.  What was particularly funny about this discussion was that while we were talking, Diva was on her hands and knees in the bathroom scrubbing cat turds off the floor. 

We pause for a moment...

to consider the disaster.

I have tried to stay calm tonight. I started out being pleasant to him. I have tried to ignore as much as I can. It's like I'm watching this from two perspectives. On the one hand I'm in the thick of it. But there is a sense that I am a casual observer to the train wreck. 

I lost it. He finally went into his room after tearing around the house banging things, throwing things, slamming doors, etc. I told him to stay in his room, and quit breaking my house. He came back out and railed on Diva, then slammed himself back in the room. I got a spatula from the kitchen and sat outside his bedroom door, waiting for him to try that shit again. I didn't have to wait long. When he opened the door I walked him back into the room and spanked his sorry behind with the spatula. I'm quite proud of myself. It was just a spanking, and not a very long one. I did not lose all of my shit and beat him until I was exhausted. There is a temptation to do that sometimes. 

No, tonight I gave him a couple of perfunctory swats then took the spatula back to the kitchen, where I got his medicine. He's has now taken his evening medication, which help to calm him down so he can sleep. After he took his meds, I stood beside his bed and told him all about it. Loudly. In his face. This is the gist of what I said: The misery he is experiencing is all his own doing. And he's sharing the wealth of misery with the entire family. And I'm sick sick sick sick sick of it. What he will not do is back-talk me the way he was tonight, or refuse to come in when I call him, or throw things against the wall, or slam doors (I need to stop modeling that behavior myself. oops) or scream at me or anyone else in this family, or... I don't remember what all I said. I was on quite a roll. And I don't regret a bit of it. 

On to other things now, Lewis suggested in the comments on the previous post that I make a list of five things that I have done for myself. I really like that idea, and that was going to be my next post. Sproing preempted that, so now I'm saying that my next post will be a list of five things I have done for myself. 

Gloom, despair, and agony on me

I'm working on the other one, the story of how I broke through John's wall of "duh" in order for him to notice me. But right now I can't concentrate on that.

Because I'm depressed. It doesn't matter how much I know, or how well I can intellectualize this mess, my heart has it's own message. The heart doesn't necessarily agree with my head. 

Last evening I talked to a woman from a group home for children about getting Diva and Sproing placed there. It was a lovely chat, and she was most kind. Today I started the legwork. I arranged for the kids' school and the psychiatrist's office to send info, reports, etc. about the kids to this home for wayward youths. I thought I was doing OK with it all, but this morning, as I actually put forth the effort to begin the process of temporarily removing the kids from my home I had a harder time than I thought I would. My heart is now overriding the voice of reason in my head. 

I can't take care of my own children. I have, at least on some level, failed them. I am shirking my responsibilities as their mother by sending them away. I'm reneging on the promise I made at their adoption hearings to love and care for them. I really don't want to do that. I am committed to being a good parent to these two younguns. But I can't do it. I have failed. 

I know all the right answers. I'm smart. My head knows these things. "I am being a good parent by getting them the help they need."  "I have done my level best, but we just need more help." "It's only temporary." "I am not giving up on them." "I'm doing this to help the whole family." 

Bullshit. I'm dumping them on someone else's plate. Let the group home deal with the bad attitudes and misbehavior because I'm tired and don't want to do it anymore. 

This conversation has been going on in my head since last night. It's getting louder. You see, when these voices start this kind of shit it rolls downhill, gaining speed and debris. I am generally worthless now. Worthless and undeserving.

Oh, and to make matters worse, I saw my physician this morning. I needed a refill of my acid reflux medicine and he wanted to recheck my iron levels, since I had some iron deficient anemia a few months ago. He checked my blood, and I have some. Iron level is good, but the blood sugar level is pushing the upper limits of normal. He's very concerned about my blood sugar, as I am quite overweight and am at risk for adult-onset diabetes. I think he is surprised I don't have it yet. I have gained 14 pounds since the last time I saw him (about 3 months ago, I think). He is not happy about that. He wants me to get regular exercise, and to cut down on fats and carbohydrates in my diet. He assures me that regular exercise will improve my mood, as well. I have heard of that, but have never experienced it myself. The only thing exercise has ever done for me is make me sore, hot, and sweaty. I don't like that. 

I don't like myself very much. I'm fat, lazy, worthless, an incompetent mother, and a slob. I look around me, at my home, my life, my body, and there is a lot of evidence to support these claims. 

I heard once upon a time that eating disorders are a form of very slow suicide. That makes a lot of sense to me. I overeat. I'm a stress eater, not that that is any excuse, but it is a reason. I've been under a lot of stress recently, and I have been eating a lot of high fat, high sugar foods. It's no surprise that I have gained more weight. 

Being in this state of mind prevents me from being as coherent as I want to be. This post seems to wander, ramble, and I think it just got stuck in a brier patch. I'm going to shut up now before I get myself stuck any worse than I already am. Besides which, it's time for me to get ready for my appointment with my therapist. Boy, is she ever gonna get an earful today.

Also,

I'll tell you what was the best most wonderful part of Mother's Day (the good parts that didn't involve Superman, anyway). I heard from an old friend of mine. He and I went to high school together! I have so very few friends these days anyway, and to reconnect with a friend from so long ago, my stars, it's wonderful. His name is John and he lives in Los Angeles now. 

We met each other my senior, his junior year of high school. He was (and still is, I think) a class A nerd. I had a crush on him, of course, and he didn't even know I existed. Of course.  We were in physics class together. Shall I tell you the story of how I got his attention? I'll go ahead and give you the spoiler: I didn't end up with him in the long run. I married Superman instead. So, do you want to know the story? 

Oh, and I gave him my blog address, so he may be showing up here soon. I hope so! John! Say "hi" in the comments, will ya'? (If you're not too shy)

Reflections on Mother's Day and some other stuff

First of all, Mother's Day: it was pretty good. Nothing spectacular from the kids, but I like it that way. Sproing was a little pain in the ass, and Diva was obnoxious, but that's to be expected. It wasn't extreme. Twitch was very sweet. And Light texted her felicitations in. Ah, the modern age.  

The best part of Mother's Day was the time I spent without the children, having some "quality alone time" with their father. It was very good "quality alone time." 

Secondly, the kitten: Last week she had her baby-making parts removed. Did I mention that already? I can't remember. Anyway, she is healing very nicely. It took her a day and a half before she was jumping up onto the high shelves again. She isn't meowing plaintively at the door, trying to get outside to hide under the house anymore. I like this whole spay-and-neuter-your-pets initiative. 

In the third part, the new little car: We've named her Eva. Eva the Aveo. It flows melodiously off the tongue. Superman filled up her gas tank last week. She filled up completely for less than $20, and got 26 miles per gallon of in town driving. This is so much better than the van's 9 miles per gallon on a $60 (or more) tank of gas. I like this. 

And that's about all I know today. I'm unaccountably tired, but I have these days occasionally. I'm not going to worry about it much. I may go take a nap. 

TTFN

Cat Stevens!

Do you remember Cat Stevens? What was your favorite song? What does it remind you of? 

This new day

First of all, thank you! To all of you who have commented, written, and even called to express your sympathy and support, I greatly appreciate you. 

Things here have cooled to a low simmer. I had a conference with Diva's teacher, the school nurse, and one of the resource teachers yesterday. Diva is doing very well in her academic endeavors. Her reading and math are both within the 5th grade level, only slightly below where she should be here at the end of 5th grade. This is a vast improvement for her. She has been one to two years below grade level in reading especially, and somewhat below level in math since the end of the first grade. I am very impressed with that aspect of her development. 

The teacher, however, is concerned about her social/emotional behavior. She does not work well with her peers. The teacher is also very aware of how manipulative Diva is. It's very nice to talk with her and have her understand exactly what I mean when I voice my concerns about Diva's, um, "limitations." She has her own Diva stories to add. 

The nurse was able to inform me of some of Sproing's actions. Yesterday he had a very good day. He helped the 5th grade teachers in a group thing the classes were doing, and earned himself a free soda. He was named the most helpful child of the day, or some such honor. I made much over that. He seems to be really trying hard. But he gets discouraged easily and has his little emotional fits. He did that again this morning, though it was a small one. We haven't had a huge screaming crying fit in days now. I'm pleased. 

Anyway, I have spoken with a few people at the school and in the psychiatric office where our counselors and doctors work. I have some idea of the things I need to do; mainly research some of the residential care facilities in the state. I haven't done it yet. I have spent most of the last two days distracting my mind with trivial frivolities. Passive Aggressive Notes, y'all. Hilarious! 

Now let's discuss Mother's Day very briefly. (oh-oh. It seems every time I say "briefly" I end up rambling on for paragraphs and paragraphs. I'll try to do better today.) As far as honoring my mother, I'm fine. She may not think it's enough, but right now I don't care. I do what I do. My issue, however, is with being the mother receiving the honor. Ugh. I am not even sure what upsets me about it, to tell you the truth, but I dread the day. This year the whole mothering thing is so terribly difficult and unrewarding that I don't even want to be reminded. And I despise all the praise and "adoration" when it comes from my children who, on every other day of the year, are so damned disrespectful. That of course does not apply to each of my children, but it does fit well on some of them. 

They have in the past (but not this year, yet) asked me what I want for Mother's Day. I tell them that I want them to behave, treat me with respect, and treat each other with respect. Eh. That's too hard. A box of chocolates is much easier. While I think chocolate is always a good idea, it is no substitution for genuine respect. Harumph. And that's all I have to say about that. 

On a nearly unrelated note, Scheherazade had her baby-making equipment removed this week. She was not very happy about the process, but seems to be recovering very quickly. I took her in Wednesday morning and Superman picked her up Wednesday afternoon. She slept it off until about 3 a.m. when I let her out of the crate to have some water and move around a bit. Then yesterday she was jumping around almost as actively as before. She threw up (on our pile of dirty clothes!) last night, but aside from that she seems to be better than new. Or she will be better than new once her shaved belly regrows its hair. (I know, it's much better for her to throw up on our dirty clothes than on our otherwise clean clothes. But still. ) 

The attempt at writing about "bad"

It's the kids. Sproing and Diva. I don't even feel like using their blog names now. It seems too "fun" or something. So I'll just use the "he" and "she" pronouns for now. 

Because this isn't fun. 

I don't remember what might have started it, or even if there was a specific precipitating event. It started last week. Oh, wait, I do remember something. He came home one afternoon last week from playing with friends. He was very upset. We finally got him to tell us what happened. A few of his "friends" had played a "game" with him wherein they took turns punching him in the chest to test how tough he was. They held him down while taking turns punching him. By technical definition that is a lynching, by South Carolina law, anyway. This is some serious shit, y'all. 

lynching noun  [Execution of a person by mob action without due process of law, especially hanging The police with difficulty prevented the swaying mass from lynching him on the spot. - Jerry Stokes by w:Grant Allen, Grant Allen] not this one. Look at the next one. Any act of violence inflicted by a mob upon the body of another person. Any act of violence inflicted by a mob upon the body of another person and from which death does not result shall constitute the crime of in the second degree and shall be a felony. - South Carolina Code of Laws Section 16-3-220

That's only half of it, though. Turns out his sister was among the offenders. We didn't find out that little piece of information until after the police officer (whom we called) was questioning them. The officer suggested that we not press charges since she did it to him and they are in the same family and it's all fucked up and the legal system would.. I can't finish the sentence clearly. Try to figure it out. Or keep reading. Maybe at some point I'll make sense again. But I doubt it. 

He has been hard to deal with. He comes home from school in a mood. He won't cooperate with anything. He gets over-emotional, overreacts to every little thing, then cries and screams for an hour or so. Every fucking day. I try to talk to him. I try to help him. He says he hates this family, hates his life. Last Friday he threatened to kill himself. He drew a picture of his sister dropping a cinder block on his head. He wants her to kill him? I am afraid she would participate in a scheme like that if he proposed it. 

And that's the other part of the problem. Her. She knows no bounds. It seems as though she has no judgment about stuff like that. Maybe she just has no judgment at all. I'm not even sure. She's very strange. She seems fine on the surface, but then she'll come up with some off the wall idea or action, and WTF?? 

And dammit, I am a good mother! I doubt myself sometimes, as has been chronicled here many times. But y'all, I am doing everything I can for these two. It is wearing away at my sanity, and I mean that in all seriousness. Am I just not very stable? One could make a valid argument on that point. But it is more than that. These kids are not well. There is something seriously wrong with both and/or each of them. 

I could spend all night second guessing myself. Does he manipulate me? Does she? Yes, I'm sure they do. Is all of this shit "faked" for my benefit? I doubt it. Can I outsmart them at this manipulation? Nope. I can't tell what is a put-on and what is real. I can see their actions, though. Empirical evidence demonstrates that they are both extreme. If it is all an attempt to manipulate me and Superman, and they do it to such an extreme, then that in itself is evidence of mental/emotional instability (and not just mine).

Late last week I was pretty messed up. Saturday was particularly bad. I'm beginning to have some obsessive thoughts and behaviors. I can't concentrate very well. I can't make decisions. For example, I just retyped that last sentence a dozen times trying to make it say what I wanted it to say in a way that was as perfect as possible. Obsessive and indecisive. 

I ran away to college-town to spend the day with Light. She took good care of me. I hate that I'm such a weakling that my daughter has to take care of me, but I'm mighty glad she can and does. I had a good time, I guess. It was more theraputic than "good," per se. I slept. We went out to Panera for lunch (a big treat for me, as we don't have such fancy places here in hicktown) then she suggested we go back to her room so I could lie down. I didn't even realize I needed to rest, but I really did. All day Saturday I felt so crazy. Insane. Disconnected from reality. 

Part of the problem was hormone induced. Aunt Flo showed up Sunday to explain that to me. But it is so much more than that! At least I think it is. I am too close to the situation, I suspect, to be able to see clearly. 

We actually are trying to do something about the kids, though. Superman and I met with the psychologist at the hospital on Monday evening. She will be giving Diva a battery of psychological tests to determine what the fuck is wrong with the child. 

Today I called his psychiatrist, telling her that there is something seriously wrong with the boy. She offered to call in  a prescription for more drugs to sedate him. SHIT WOMAN!! Stop shoving drugs at the poor boy and give him some real help!! Dammit. I asked her to set up psych testing for him, too. He needs it. They have both been tested before; hers was two years ago, his was a little bit longer ago than that. Things change fast at their age, though. (both are now 11.5)

Back to the psychologist at the hospital: She's wonderful. I really like her. Let's call her Dr. Good, since she's the only good one I know of in this town. We've worked with her before, both with these two and for Twitch. I have a whole lot more respect for her than I do for the docs in the psychiatric practice in town. We were discussing Diva, and because he's an integral part of the family and germane to the subject, Sproing. Dr. Good delicately broached the subject of placing the kids in alternate care. You know, like a home for troubled children or something. 

I have discussed this with you recently, haven't I? I think so, but am too lazy to go check the archives. The boy's principal brought up the idea a couple of weeks ago when the boy was misbehaving so much at school. So yes, only very recently we have begun to consider placing them in some kind of residential home-type-place. I'm not sure exactly how to go about it. We asked Dr. Good, and she said we'd get the results from her testing and take it from there. 

Problem: the girl-child won't even go in for testing for another month. That's as soon as they can get her in. Then there's the wait for the results, and only then can we move on a placement plan for her. And for him, since I only today started the psych-testing-ball rolling, it will be even longer. At this rate I suspect it will be mid- to late summer before anything actually happens with placing either of them in a residential program. 

I have a confession to make. Summer vacation starts for them on the 4th of June, and I am scared. I do not want to be home with them all day. Right now the two or three hours between when they get home from school and when Superman gets home from work is living hell. How will we survive them being home all day? And I will have started summer classes by then, myself. 

Here's the kicker. Here's the thing that stabs into my mother-heart. I. Can. Not. Do. This. Whatever they need is more than I can provide. Love is not enough. I have tried and tried and tried until there is barely anything left of me. 

Does this mean I have failed? The brain says "No! You have not failed. You have done everything within your ability, and it is good. You are seeking help for them now. You realize they need extra help and you are doing what you can to get them the help they need. That proves that you are a good mother."  Yeah. But my heart says "You can't help them. You have failed." (She's a real bitch)

And there you have it. That, my dear friends, is what I mean by "bad."

Trying

I'm going to try to write about it. 

Haven't posted in a few days because it has been bad. 

Having trouble forming sentences again.

It has been bad.

Still is bad. 

Posting this now, and will continue trying to write about it. I need to write about it.