Penguins are some of nature’s great defecators.

Bet you didn't know that little factoid. Here's more from that source.*

Penguins are some of nature’s great defecators. In order to avoid messing up their feathers and their nests, they point their bottoms out of the nests and can shoot their poo up to 40 centimetres away. Researchers at the International University Bremen in Germany calculated that in order to do this the birds squeezed four times as hard as humans usually do. The colour of the birds' poo is important for researchers; if it's pink then the penguins have been eating krill, while white faeces point to a diet of fish. Green poo indicates a diet of algae, a food of last resort that usually means other foods are in short supply.

Heart In Hand (Rox) asked me to post something new so that the penis faucets aren't popping onto her screen. So I give you Penguins.

I will now update you on the Diva Drama, of which there is much. Last you heard, she was in jail. Her bio dad Robert did not actually come to get her out. Taking with birth mom Janice today, she said Robert talks a big talk but isn't so good with the follow through. Diva was release from the county detention center Saturday morning. She spent four nights in jail. Is that enough of a deterrent? I don't know. Don't know if deterrents work on her anyway. As I've said so many times before, that child ain't right in the head.

When she came home she told us she wasn't going back to Janice's house. Shit. She didn't like the lack of privacy or the other kids going through her stuff and taking things. HA! She's been doing shit like that to her siblings for years. Anyway, Superman talked to Diva Sunday and convinced her to go back to Janice's until after my surgery and recovery. (Surgery for a complete hysterectomy is scheduled for this Thursday, Feb 5.)

This morning shortly after 10:00 Diva and I left for Janice's house. Here's the plan: drive to Janice's, drop her and her small bag of stuff off there, high tail it home. Unfortunately things didn't go so smoothly. Janice texted she had a job interview** and wouldn't be home (after telling me at 9 a.m. that she'd be home all day) so I should take Diva to Janice's friend Phat's house. Yeah, Phat. Whatever. Said Diva knows how to get there. So I ask Diva, she said she knows where Phat lives but doesn't know how to get there, and doesn't want to go there anyway. She said she'd rather go to her older brother's house, and she does know the way there.

We go first to Janice's house to 1) see if Janice is still there and 2) give Diva a familiar starting place for the drive to her brother's. Janice wasn't there. Diva directed me out of the neighborhood but soon missed the part where I was supposed to get on the interstate. Five miles later she says we missed the turnoff. WTF. So we go back to the interstate, and I ask her whether we need to get on Northbound or Southbound. She has no clue what I'm talking about, says that the sign says Asheville Highway. But that sign is on the interstate, of course. In which direction? Seriously, she didn't grasp the concept that there are two directions the interstate runs. I stopped at a convenience store to ask directions. It didn't really help. We drove north too far, then came back south too far, and never saw the Asheville Highway sign. We phoned the brother's baby mama for directions, and that didn't help enough. I asked her what the highway number was. Her response: huh? I don't know.

At that point I checked the maps app on my slow piece of shit phone and found Asheville Highway (176). That still didn't help enough because I was on the wrong piece of interstate. There's a business loop off the main interstate, which is where I should have been but wasn't.

After driving north and south and north and south for over an hour I finally connected with Janice, who by then was finished with her interview and wanted to go home. We met at a McDonald's. I passed Diva off to Janice. Praise the heavenly host.

By now it's after 1:00, my phone battery is almost dead, and I'm hungry and thirsty. I set out to find real food (did NOT go into the McD's!). Had a lovely omelet at IHOP. I inadvertently left my phone in the car, and when I returned I saw that I had missed a call from Janice. Well, I called Superman to let him know where I was, then turned off the phone. I didn't want to hear what Janice had to say until I got home. It was a good move.

The whole trip should have taken no more than three hours. I got home five hours after I left. Came in, plugged my phone up, called Superman. Oh dear. He had heard from Janice. And someone from Department of Social Services (DSS). Seems Diva had one of her shit fits shortly after I dropped her off. Janice called the cops. I'm a bit fuzzy on the details, but they ended up in the DSS office. The upshot of that was that since we are her guardians, we have to go get her and bring her back here. Oh, shit. I 'bout lost it. I was shaking and tearful. We have been through the ringer with this little bitch for so long, and here we finally thought we're rid of her. Oh shit.

So I called Janice. We had a nice little talk. She said to call her back when Superman got home from work and we'd discuss things. Which we did, and Janice agreed to keep Diva for now.

I'm scheduled for surgery in three days. I'm emotionally fragile right now anyway, and expect it'll be worse after the surgery when I will be basically defenseless for some weeks. It is a very bad idea for Diva to be here now for many reasons.

I talked to Janice after she'd been at the DSS office. Superman was on the speaker phone with the lady from DSS, so Janice heard a lot of information that was new to her. So when we spoke, she'd had some time to ruminate on the new info. She indicated that the shit fit Diva had was much milder than what she usually does for us. I get the impression that Janice wants to see what she can do to help Diva, to "fix" anything that's messed up due to Diva living with us. And frankly I am thankful for that. Anyone who's read this blog for a while knows that Diva is messed up and Superman and I are so far over our heads with her that we can't see the light. Yes, we've messed up. We have done everything we know to do to make things right, but she's a mess. If Janice can make a difference, I hope and pray she does. For right now, Diva isn't here. And Janice and I have been discussing going through the legal process of giving her legal guardianship. I would love to do that, and told Janice today that we plan to call our lawyer (probably after my surgery) to get the ball moving on that.

I would like Superman to fill in some details about his conversation with the DSS lady.

Thank you, Babe. Okay, then. I might get a thing or two out of sequence, but this is the gist of the conversation.
So I'm sitting at my desk, minding my own business (well ... technically I was minding Capsugel's business, but you get the idea) when my phone rings.
Not recognizing the number, I answered with my name.
"Sir, this is [Jane Doe] with Spartanburg DSS.
All right, picture with me if you will a very large, formidable, dour, scowling, severely-dressed maiden aunt with her hair in a tight bun, who is of the opinion that fun should be illegal. That is the voice that spoke to me. Then "Spartanburg DSS" sank in, and I sighed. "What did she do this time?"
"Sir, I don't think you understand. I am here with [Janice] and we need for you to come and get Diva."
It took me a few seconds to process that, too. "What?"
"Diva can't stay with [Janice]. She is not Diva's legal guardian. You are."
"Legally, ma'am, I'm her father, not her legal guardian, but that's details. Would you tell me what's wrong?"
Janice spoke up, "She started pulling shenanigans just as soon as Java's truck was out of sight. I can't take care of her if she's gonna act like that."
More processing of information on my part, interspersed with dealing with the psychic punch I just took to the gut. "What made her change her mind?"
Jane Doe paused for a second. "What do you mean?"
"She was all fired up to go to Spartanburg to be with Janice. She's been of that mind since they first met back last fall. I'm curious to know what changed."
"I have no idea if anything changed, but [Janice] is not her legal guardian. She gave up her rights to Diva when she placed her for adoption."
"Yes, I know."
"Then why would you try to make [Janice] take her?"
At this point I'm wondering if Jane is even listening to me. "Ma'am ... I have been trying my best to preserve the peace and balance what Diva wants with what is best for her. That is a very difficult thing to do when Diva has such a loose grip on reality."
"Well the law is very clear in this case, and you can't force ..."
"Ma'am, I didn't force anything. I was trying to help Diva get what she told me she wanted. She hates living with us. She has for a long time. It makes for a VERY tense atmosphere in the house and no one is happy with it, but as you stated, we are responsible for her. We have been doing the best we could ..."
"You could have gotten her some help. That child is out of control!"
I stopped and absorbed that. Excuse me? FUCKING EXCUSE ME?!? "Ma'am, she has been a client of the mental health system since the age of nine."
"You should try counseling."
I took the phone away from my ear and looked at it, then resumed the conversation, understanding that she wasn't paying very close attention to what I said. Another 'gubmint' drone with an agenda and a tight ass. "Ma'am, I need you to listen to me."
"What?" She sounded offended.
"Diva has been in counseling since the age of nine."
"Well, you should do family counseling."
"We have. On many occasions. Family, individual, with several different counselors. Some of it court ordered because of her violent tendencies."
"... Uh ... have you tried ..."
"She is in the state mental health system. She has been seen by private counselors. She was admitted to a mental hospital for threatening my life. She spent thirteen months in a residential treatment facility, and they gave her back to us because they said they couldn't do anything with her. She has attacked Java. She has attacked multiple classmates. She has a history of stealing whatever she can get her hands on, and has been doing that for better than a dozen years. My wife and I have counseling ourselves, just so we can have some clue how to deal with her."
"... Oh."
I was sort of on a roll at that point. "If she doesn't like the way reality is panning out around her, she just discards it and makes up one of her own. She's done that most of her life. She has five clinical diagnoses, including Impulse Control Disorder and Reactive Attachment Disorder. She doesn't consider us her family and never has. Now, there is a physical, organic basis for some of that because she has a congenital brain defect, periventricular leukomalacia, which means part of the brain is missing. It's the part that contains that little governor that says, 'Now wait a minute and think about that before you do it.' It helps explain her problem with impulse control and stealing. But please believe me when I tell you that we have done everything in our power to help her and to adapt to this hellish situation. And let me also state that I am sick of being cast as the Bad Guy because I had the gall to try to help her achieve her goals.
"I see. Well. I'm, uh, very sorry sir. But you still have to come get her."
"Fine. Janice, I guess I'll see you this evening, then."

So there's that. And as I said, Diva isn't here, at least for now. And I hope, pray, beg, plead that she stays away. Perhaps I'm a bad mother, but dammit, she's a bad child and no one has any idea what it's like to raise a kid like her unless they've done it themselves.

*There are a bunch of interesting penguin facts at that link, hardly any of them having to do with poop. Check it out if you have a minute. Or more.

**She got the job! She's been unemployed for a few weeks and really needs that job. I'm happy for her.

We interrupt this program for breaking gaiety

This you have to see. This is what I call nice hardware.

I was perusing the interwebs, mustering the courage to write the update on the Diva Drama, when I found it. And oh, my, is it a doozy. I'm so glad I have this blog and you wonderful blog readers with whom to share this. I first thought to post it on Facebork, but naw, I have fb friends who just wouldn't appreciate the fine quality of this workmanship. If you know what I mean.


I think the longer curved spout is my favorite. But the drawer pulls are wonderful, too.

I'm not as fond of the barware, except perhaps the beer tap handles.

They have the advantage of being nice and large. Ten and a half inches! That's quite a handful.

The link at the top there has the full assortment of products. I recommend checking it out.

I swaney, as my Grandma-in-law used to say.

Ugh - Now With Updates!

Diva is here tonight. Superman and I had to get her from her birth mom Janice's house this evening. She has her court appearance (for third degree assault and giving false info to police) tomorrow morning and Janice couldn't bring her here, so she texted me this morning asking if we could provide transportation.

So at 9 tomorrow morning (Tuesday) I'll take her to the courthouse, then sit there watching the parade. If the judge lets her go, I'll take her back to Janice. If the judge sentences her to jail time, I'll leave dancing a jig of mourning.

I will update this post with the results of our adventure in the next day or so, so stay tuned.

As I write this update it is Wednesday afternoon. In completely unrelated news, our auto insurance expires and renews today, but we haven't received the proof of insurance cards yet. Either that or they came and the envelope was misplaced. A likely scenario in my world. 

But I'm stalling. 

Diva isn't here right now. Yes, Slugmama, I danced a jig of mourning as she was hauled off to the county detention center. The jig was more of a thought exercise than me actually bouncing my fat ass in the county municipal building. 

The judge dismissed the assault charge - nolle prosequi, which I've always pronounced nolo process, but I'm no JD. They nabbed her on giving false information. For those of you just tuning in, she was in a fight on the school bus a week after she turned 17. The cops were called, she told them she was 15 to avoid being charged as an adult. Then of course while processing the report it came to light that she was actually 17. She was arrested right here in our living room on New Years Eve. It was the most exciting thing we did on NYE this (last) year, but we're boring. 

The fine, I guess it's the maximum fine but we didn't know that, was $1092 or 30 days in jail. The judge reduced the fine to $175 or 10 days in jail. Well, we aren't going to pay one thin dime for her mess. We've suffered enough expense, both monetary and emotional, on behalf of this child for the last 16 years. Diva tried to call her bio-dad, Robert, but he wasn't available. She texted Janice, who couldn't do anything about it but asked Diva if we were going to pay. HA! When she couldn't contact anyone else, they took her across the street to jail. I was giddy! I giggled all the way home. (Which little piggy does that?) 


Robert called me in the afternoon when he got a free minute and we had a very nice conversation. I like Robert. He indicated that he was going to come down to Greenwood from where he lives near Spartanburg to pay her fine and take her home. Not my home, mind you, but either Janice's or his. I talked to him again last night and he said he'd be here in the morning to get her, but I haven't heard anything from them. She brought a few things here when we got her Monday night and I expect she'll come by to get them. Maybe not. 

I spoke with the clerk of court (I think that's her position) about Diva's sentence. She said Diva will only spend 5 days in jail unless she acts up. Time off for good behavior. So 30 days really means 5. Good grief. Also the fine will be reduced a bit for every day she stays in jail. That makes sense. 

So right now I don't actually know where Diva is. She might be in jail, she might be with Robert. I really don't care (much*) as long as she isn't here!

* She's my daughter. We tried (Lord knows, we tried) to make this family work, to integrate her into the family as befits a daughter. She has resisted our efforts almost from the first, when we got custody of her on February 4, 1999. Almost 16 years ago exactly. I have invested so much in this relationship, in her. We have 16 years of history together. It is impossible for me to divorce myself from her emotionally. I mourn the family that we could have been. For my health and sanity I'm letting it go (shaking it off, as is so popular these days) inasmuch as I am able. It is a complicated relationship, and she will always to some extent be my daughter. So of course I will always care about her, what happens to her, what she does. But I will no longer wrap my life around her. 

Further news from the front lines

Three things I want to talk about specifically: Diva, Sproing, and my health. Let's start with my health.

For those of you just tuning in, my previous post explained the diagnosis of endometrial cancer. Or actually, precancerous atypical cells in the endometrium. They seem to have caught it early, it's likely restricted to the endometrium inside the uterus, a complete hysterectomy will probably be the only treatment I'll need. Unless the cancer has spread, which is unlikely and I'm studiously pretending that it hasn't. No use worrying about something that probably won't happen.

I saw the gynecologic oncology doc last Wednesday. I like him. And he comes highly recommended. Both Superman and I feel a lot better, more secure, less nervous having met him. My surgery is scheduled for the 5th of February.

I have to get my cardiologist to sign off on the surgery first. I had a few episodes of Pre-Ventricular Contractions (PVC, also known as Poly Vinyl Chloride) last year. The cardiologist seemed to think it's no big deal, the PVC won't affect my heart's function at all. But the surgeon won't cut until the cardio says it's OK. The cardio appointment is the 3rd of Feb. We're cutting it kinda close here, guys.

I get to do bowel prep the day before surgery. I asked about that, even, and it is standard procedure. After having some of my guts removed I DO NOT want to be straining to empty my bowels anytime soon. So the magnesium citrate will clean me out before and I shouldn't have to worry about anything for a few days thereafter. For some reason that gives me great comfort.

Any more questions? Ask in the comments and I'll try to post again with answers.

OK, let's talk about Sproing. He is incarcerated in a "camp," a dreary flat sandy compound of low flat gray buildings. It ain't luxury, but then this is punishment, so good for it. He seems to be doing well in that well structured environment. He's mostly behaving himself and is working toward his goals. There was some question in his mind (but no one else's) as to how long his sentence is. He thought it was 1-3 months, but everyone else was saying it's 1-6 months. He keeps asking me to check with the local probation officer, so I finally did earlier this week. His sentence is 1-6 months. According to the case worker at the camp, this was fully explained to him last week. I think he didn't like the answer so he asked someone else. Sorry, chump, the answer remains the same. Anyway, at the rate he's progressing through his goals, he'll likely be released in early to mid March. He was thinking February, but not so fast. I'm glad he's not getting out when he thought he would, because that's when I have my surgery. I don't need him to help me recover. Contrarily, I think he wouldn't help at all.

In related news, my relative is in jail. My oldest nephew, now in his late 20s, is awaiting trial on a drug charge. He spent a while in jail not too long ago on drug charges. According to his father, this time he will probably get 10 years in prison. Prison is not jail. Jail is relatively short term or temporary housing, like how my nephew is in jail awaiting trial. If one has a short sentence to serve (like Diva might. More on that in a minute.) then one spends a few months in jail. For long term incarceration, it's prison. Neither is pleasant, but prison is way more hard core. I feel bad for my nephew, but he's been stupid enough to get himself into this situation. I have no doubt that he is guilty of some drug related shenanigans, if not exactly what he's charged with. We shall see. My brother is about too frustrated with his son after all this time. He and I share a sense of resignation about the fate of our children. We've done the best we knew how, with every good intention, but these kids make their own decisions about stuff and shit happens.

Now on to Diva. A lot has happened in the last few months, and I know I'm not going to hit every point here. As mentioned in past posts, she got in touch with her birth mother Janice in late summer/early fall. Diva spent almost every weekend with Janice to begin with. Then it was every other weekend, or once a month. But both Diva and Janice talked about Diva moving up to Spartanburg County to live with Janice. Of course Superman and I thought that was a stellar idea. The tentative plan was to move her up there after the school semester ended here. And that is what happened. The closer we got, the less enthusiastic Diva was about the idea. She did not/does not want to live with us. She has made that clear over and over again for years. She would like to live with her friend Shi and Shi's mother.

Shi just turned 18, dropped out of school as soon as she was old enough, which coincided with her 9th grade year if I recall. She was quite a bit older than her 9th grade peers, having been held back a few times because of failure to attend school. See a pattern here? Shi's mother is a high school drop out. Says she's got her GED, but I don't believe her. They got kicked out of public housing, though I never found out why. Over the three or so years we've known them they have been evicted from every place they've lived, and each place is more wretched than the last. Last week they were evicted from one of the nastiest little trailers I've ever known of, for not paying their rent. And Diva wants to go live with them. They are staying with Shi's grandfather temporarily, but are technically homeless. So no, we don't think it's a good idea for Diva to stay with Shi. She wouldn't go to school if she lived with them, and we very much want her to get her high school diploma.

Janice also wants Diva to get her diploma. As I've gotten to know Janice over the past few months I really like her. I appreciate her efforts, and agree with what she says are her priorities. (The proof is in the pudding. She says a lot of hopeful things, but time will tell if she really means it. So far, though, so good.)

The local school district ended first semester on the 14th of January. I took Diva to withdraw her from school. She was supposed to have been in school that week to take her final exams, but since she'd missed so much school already, she failed all her classes due to absence. So we withdrew her, and took her up to Janice the following Sunday, Jan 18th. She's been gone a week now. Oh My Gods you have no idea what a relief this is! Superman and I feel almost giddy with relief, freedom, release.

Janice took Diva to enroll her in the local school district on the 20th, the day after Martin Luther King Jr. day. Funny story. The district looked at her transcripts and decided to put her in the alternative school due to her excessive disciplinary write-ups. Last year Diva almost went to our alternative school, but because of her Individual Education Plan (IEP) accommodations they decided to leave her to disrupt the "normal" school. But not now! Oh, also, they didn't let her start last week. This Monday will be her first day of school. I don't know what she's been doing for the past week. Maybe driving Janice crazy.

And did I tell you that Janice has five more children younger than Diva? She had two more girls after Diva, then three boys. And Diva has an older brother. Don't know if the older brother lives with them, but with Diva there are at least six children in the house, and it isn't a big house. I'm just snickering.

But get this: today Diva called us and said she doesn't want to stay there anymore. "Tough shit, bitch!" No, I didn't really say that. I was very sweet when I told her that no way in hell was she coming back here. I said all the plans are now in place for her to be there and she needs to stay. "But I haven't started school yet." But you're already enrolled up there. She didn't get the response she wanted. Sucks to be you, girl. We weren't on the phone long.

So let me tell you about Diva's legal trouble. Four days after she turned 17 (this past December) she got into a "physical altercation" on the school bus, one serious enough for the bus driver to call the police. When questioned, Diva said she was 15. The point here is that at 17, young people are treated as adults when they commit crimes. The consequences of fighting on the bus are very different at 15 than at 17. As an "adult" Diva was charged with assault of some kind. Third degree assault, Superman tells me. And because she gave false information to a law officer, that's another legal offense. If I remember correctly, it was the day after Christmas that law officers appeared at our door with an arrest warrant for the Diva. They took her downtown for her arraignment before the judge. Superman followed a few minutes later, as the cops told us she'd see the judge and be done in a few minutes. Each of the two offenses carries a fine of $1092 or 30 days in jail. For each offense. There is a chance for her to participate in the pretrial intervention program for first time offenders, but that costs $350, of which we won't pay any. Not for her. And she doesn't have the money. She has to apply for pretrial intervention before her court date, which is this Tuesday the 27th.  And now she lives an hour or so away.

Diva says her birth father won't let her go to jail, and will come up with the $350 for pretrial intervention. They'll have to do that on Monday if it's to work. At any rate, she needs to be in the Greenwood County court house at 8:30 Tuesday morning or she's in contempt of court (or whatever that charge is). I've washed my hands of the whole affair, except for the part where I'm following closely to see what happens. Of course if she isn't there and hasn't applied for pretrial intervention, she'll be arrested again. She just doesn't seem to comprehend that she can't do whatever she wants with no consequences. It makes me sad, but mostly I'm sad because I'm not as upset as perhaps I should be. She has dumped so much shit on us for so long, that she's used up all my give-a-fucks.

Right now I am focused on my health. I am so grateful that neither of our youngest children is here to mess with my head and distract me from this priority.

This is it

It came Thursday, a business size envelope thick with papers. Right, all the forms the doctor's office wants you to fill out when you are a new patient. Until that envelope arrived part of my mind still pretended it wasn't real. The return address: Gibbs Cancer Center and Research Institute.

I got the news on Monday, 12 January, from my gynecologist. My appointment with the oncologist is next Wednesday, 21 January. I must have those forms filled out by then. It's Saturday night and I haven't opened the envelope.

For the last few months my... I hate talking about my menstrual cycle, especially with men. But this is the story, so here it goes. For the last few months my menstruation has been messed up. A period that should have lasted about five days dragged on for three weeks. Not all heavy bleeding, but not stopping as it should. The next time my period started, it lasted five weeks. Again, no huge loss of blood, but still. So I saw my gynecologist. This was three or four weeks ago. She scheduled an ultrasound, which we did two weeks ago. The images looked like shades of gray and black splotches, but I'm no expert. The expert said the lining of the uterus looked too thick for as much as I've been bleeding recently. I said it was too thick for my age (I'll be 53 on 22 January, the day after I see the oncologist for the first time.) I should be well into complete menopause by now. My doctor said I was an overachiever. I laughed.

Because the lining, the endometrium, was thicker than it ought to be, my doc took a sample to biopsy. Right there in the office. No big deal, except boy, was that uncomfortable! That was Wednesday the 7th. I made a follow up appointment for two weeks out, next Tuesday, the 20th. Except that on Monday morning my doctor's nurse called to tell me that the biopsy report had come back and the doctor wanted to talk to me, how about 2;00 this afternoon? Doesn't everyone know what that means?

When I got to the office early afternoon Monday my blood pressure, which normally is 120/80 give or take ten points, was 150/90.

The doctor told me that there were suspicious cells in the endometrium. Did she actually say cancer cells, or was it pre-cancerous? I don't remember exactly. My official diagnosis is atypical hyperplasia,* whatever that means. (I have studiously avoided WebMD for the sake of my blood pressure.) That diagnosis is grounds for hysterectomy right there, she said. But more than that, it's the presence of those pesky cells that shouldn't be there. They indicate cancer or what will probably very soon be cancer. My doctor had her people book the next available appointment with the best doctor in the southeast. (So says my therapist. She knows these things.)

All I really know is that I will have a hysterectomy, probably very soon. I hope very soon. Now that I know this uterus is diseased, I want it gone as soon as possible. Also, the damn thing continues to bleed, and I'm SO over that mess! I hope to get a surgery date when I see the gynecological oncologist (say that out loud, then try it three times really fast) on Wednesday. I'll let you know.

There's lots of drama going on with Diva, some news on Sproing. Very briefly...

Sproing is in a military style "camp" about three hours east of here in the flat and sandy nowherelands. Superman and I are going to visit him tomorrow (Sunday). He's doing very well there, and will likely be sprung (Sproing gets sprung) in February.

Diva is supposed to move in with her birth mother this weekend. Today, even. She's got all her stuff packed, Janice (birth mom) has things set up for her to start school up there on Tuesday (Monday being a holiday). But Diva is at her friend's house near here. Superman went to pick her up this afternoon and she refused, loudly, to go with him. Don't know what we're going to do about it, exactly. We have all her stuff, holding it hostage here at the house. I'll try to update this clusterfuck as soon as possible, perhaps with some juicy detail.

*OK, I looked it up, but on the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists website. That link up there goes to a clear explanation of endometrial hyperplasia.

Stuff keeps happening

It's been busy around here. Lots of drama. I should have posted earlier, but damn, I've been kinda overwhelmed.

Let's start with Sproing, because his drama just culminated today. I'll start from the end; today he went before the family court judge (where Dept. of Juvenile Justice cases are heard) for a probation violation hearing and was sentenced to further probation until he is 18 years old (January of 2016) and remanded to kiddie jail. He will be at the evaluation center/holding tank until a bed opens in an alternate placement. There are many of them around the state. Some are wilderness camp-type places, some with more of a military philosophy, and I'm not sure what all else. He will be at the eventual placement until he meets that facility's requirements for completion. As I understand it, each program has a certain level of accomplishment, like a number of points or something, that he has to reach to be considered acceptable for release. You know, until he has rehabilitated himself. Or something.

The kid has been incorrigible for months. He is failing all of his classes, refuses to cooperate or do any classwork in his English class and I guess is just lazy in his other classes. He actively despises his English teacher. She expects him to participate in class and do his work, heaven forbid. He has been suspended 14 days in the first nine weeks, so even in the couple of classes he was (barely) passing he has now fallen so far behind that it's overwhelming trying to catch up.

Sproing argues with us almost constantly. "What you fail to understand..." is his opening statement. We don't understand anything, evidently. He has responsibilities and obligations that he isn't meeting, but it's never his fault.

About three weeks ago Superman was out of the country on a business trip. The Tuesday he was gone Sproing and Diva got into an argument that turned violent. He hit her a few times, she threw half of our living room at him, piece at a time. Threw a side table at him, breaking the table and traumatizing the poor dog. She grabbed full drawers out of a plastic case thingie that had some of my craft supplies in it, and hurled the drawers at him, still full of stuff. There was craft detritus strewn all across the living room. I tried as much as possible to stay out of their way, as I had no desire to get hit. I told them to go to their rooms and calm down, which advice was of course ignored. I was in my room and Diva came in, hysterical. She locked the door behind her and Sproing banged on it, demanding to be let in. He's in a rage. You think we want him in here? Hell no! But he kicked the door in. So now not only are their bedroom doors broken and nearly ruined, mine is damaged too. The little fuckers.

There is a little bit more I want to say about Sproing's anger and argumentative spirit, but I'll go into Diva's drama first because his relates to hers.

Diva successfully contacted her birth mother. Through Facebork. A couple of months ago she found her mother's Facebork page and sent a friend request. Her mother, Janice, evidently doesn't check Facebork very often and only saw the friend request a couple of weeks ago, at which point she accepted Diva's request and was thrilled to be back in touch. The feeling was mutual. Janice has seven children, Diva being her second. Janice also has a double fist full of siblings, correspondingly large numbers of cousins, aunts, uncles, etc. Everyone was super excited about finding Diva. The first day they connected, one of Janice's sisters drove down here (an hour+ drive) that evening. The next day Janice came down with all of her younger children to see Diva. Was it that weekend or the next, I don't remember exactly, that Diva went to spend the weekend with her birth family? She's spent every weekend since with them. Last weekend she met her birth father for the first time. I overheard her talking to her father on the phone last night. She called him "Daddy" and she calls Janice "Mom." Interesting, in that she calls me and Superman "Mom" and "Dad" respectively. Sounds confusing.

Anyway, lots of big drama. Janice's family is kinda ... high maintenance from a drama drama drama standpoint. And it turns out that one of the assistant principals at Diva's high school is distantly related to her. She (the principal) was married to Diva's uncle once upon a time. I've had a couple of good discussions with said principal, and she tells me to be careful when engaging with that family. Drama, drama, drama. So far, and it's been maybe three weeks, things seem to be OK.

I am genuinely happy for Diva that she has connected with her birth family. This is something she's wanted for a very long time. I'm happy for Janice, too, because she eventually regretted placing Diva for adoption. It was the only choice she could see at the time, and did it in part (as I understand it) to prevent children's services from taking custody of her two children. So she gave Diva a good home (theoretically) and was able to parent her older son. Then she had five more children (two more girls and three boys) to make up for? replace? the one she'd released for adoption. I don't know. The whole thing is much more complicated than that, but I suspect that's one element.

As I said, things are going well so far. It's the honeymoon period, and Diva does honeymoons very well. I think Janice hasn't told her "no" about anything significant yet, or hasn't made any demands of her that Diva doesn't agree with. When that happens, oh boy, watch out. It'll get dramatic, I suspect. The first weekend Diva was with them, they bought her quite a few clothes and pairs of shoes. So Diva thinks they're heaven sent. Last weekend her birth-daddy gave her a cell phone. (We gave her a phone a couple of years ago and she immediately started sexting with much older guys, ranging in age from late teens to early 30s. Nekkid pictures were traded, meetings were set up. We took her phone away. After a few months we tried again, and the same thing happened. Repeat. So she doesn't have a phone from us anymore.) Right now they are spoiling her. This is the set-up. Soon they will expect things from her, things she isn't willing to do or provide. That's how I see this mess working out.

If you've read this blog for any time at all, you are aware of Diva's explosive disposition. She comes by her demeanor and personality honestly. The nut doesn't fall far from the tree, as the saying goes. So as, um, dramatic as she is, I expect similar behavior from the rest of her family. This has the potential to blow up. I hope it doesn't, but I'm expecting fireworks.

I don't really know how I feel about the whole reunion with the birth family. As I said, I'm happy for the girl and the family, but for myself? I'm not sure. In a way it's threatening, but at the same time something of a relief. We have had Diva for close to 16 years, through ups and downs. More recently things have been very difficult. If she wants to hang with her birth family and show them how bloody difficult she is, more power to her. Then I expect they'll blame us for her waywardness, but whatever. I'm almost past caring. The thing is, I really do care about her. I love her. I don't like her very much most days, but I always love her. I want what's best for her, and often I am not sure just what is best for her. Or for Sproing, either. He's in jail now. I hope he does well, learns important lessons from the experience, grows into the responsible young man I know he can be.

Diva reconnecting with her birth family has raised some issues with Sproing. All of a sudden he was asking about his birth family. Unfortunately we don't have much information for him. His was a closed adoption, so we don't even know his birth mom's name. We have records, court documents, etc. but her name is blanked out. I showed him what we have and he got very angry. He accused us of hiding things from him, for lying to him for 16 years. WTF? He hasn't even been curious about his birth family, hardly. Every so often he'll ask a general question, but he's never had the burning desire for contact that Diva has. I don't lie to the kids. OK, sometimes I may fudge the truth a little, or leave out a few details, but never do I tell big lies.

I understand that Sproing is angry. I think he feels neglected, left out, ignored. Or maybe he thinks we're taking advantage of him or something. I don't know, and he won't talk to me. He won't open up to me and let me know how he feels about anything. I try to start conversations with him, totally open and nonthreatening, but he immediately goes on the defensive. And he gets angry so very quickly. As I said, it's arguments every day for hours, if I keep engaging him. I tell him that we don't agree so there's nothing more to discuss, but he won't drop it then, he wants to keep yelling at me. Wears me out.

Diva will turn 17 one month from today (the 4th) (Happy election day). At that age she no longer is compelled to stay at home. If she runs away before she's 17, law enforcement can haul her back home. Once she turns 17 she's allowed by law to leave home. One month. By a show of hands, how many think she'll move in with her birth family in a month? She has been threatening/promising for months (a year or more, maybe even) to move away, in with friends once she turns 17. Now that the birth family is so eager and willing to have her as part of their lives, it's a real possibility she'll move there. Will that be a good thing? I don't know. Will she choose to do so? I don't know. To her benefit, Janice encourages Diva to finish school. Janice never did. She dropped out very early, getting pregnant at age 13 or 14. Janice wants Diva to get her high school diploma. I'm grateful for the encouragement. Janice also tells Diva to respect us as her adoptive parents. I like this. Will Diva listen? I don't know. Diva has a pretty strong opinion of us, and it isn't positive.

Diva will have to come to terms with her birth family on her own, learn about them, how to deal with them, how to not be overwhelmed by them. I don't know how long that might take, if she ever succeeds. I wish her luck.

Update featuring "bad" children

I wish the kids were mature enough to be civil responsible citizens, but alas, emotionally disturbed 16 year olds act like ill-behaved adolescents. Both are on probation. Sproing is currently in violation of his probation, but Diva is about a month away from being off probation. She's done a bit better recently. However, just this Tuesday the two of them got into a fight here at home. They traded punches and threw things (including furniture) at each other. It was a loud mess. Property was damaged. But through it all I remained calm. It's gotten to the point that whatever they do, there's not much I can do to make a difference. Through the fight I calmly told them to go to their rooms and calm down. They totally ignored me, as usual. I'm just trying to survive until they grow up and move out. It makes me feel like a bad parent, but I don't let it tear me apart like it used to. When I was earning my recent psychology degree I remember in either Adolescent Development or Adolescent Psychopathology class I read that "bad" children lead to "bad" parenting. OK, it wasn't that simple. Difficult children make it much harder to do the "good parenting" things. I find that to be a very true truth. 

Superman is out of the country on business this week. He'll be home Saturday evening. It's been a long week. He's in Belgium, where those Belgians make some of the best chocolate on the planet. As usual when he goes to Belgium, I don't allow him back in the country unless he brings me chocolate offerings. After the week I've had, I need it! 

"Need" might be overstating things. I'm an over-eater. Some people drink too much alcohol, and "need" booze to help them through difficult times. In like manner, I "need" chocolate. I had a lovely bowl of chocolate ice cream this afternoon. In related news, I've gained about 20 lbs. since the start of summer. I'd lost about 60 lbs. but am up 20 now. I need to get a grip on this shit. There are more effective ways to deal with stress. But dammit, I'm too stressed (or maybe too depressed) (or both) to invest the energy into eating right and exercising as I should. That's bullshit, you realize. I am responsible for my own actions (or inaction, in this case). It is all my fault and it's my responsibility to get my shit together and do the right thing. But damn. A bowl of ice cream is easier. Also, the depression thing causes me to not care about myself enough to do the right thing. But then I feel fat and stupid and want to lose weight. It's an evil cycle. 

Just this week I was able to talk to another mother with a difficult child. Her kid is only 7 years old, poor thing, and has serious mental/emotional problems. There is nothing I can do to provide practical assistance, but I can listen and sympathize. It's amazing how much help that can be. I understand her feeling of helplessness. She's just beginning to get a clue that she is a parent of a special needs child. It's extremely difficult to accept that designation. It's one thing if your child is born with an obvious birth defect. This kid looks perfectly normal. But when the behavior is socially unacceptable, the parent looks like a fool. It really isn't the parent's fault, per se, it's that the kid is abnormal. That's not what Joe Schmo on the street sees, though. My point here is that I feel useful when I'm able to talk to the mom, or more importantly listen to the mom, and assure her that I know what it's like, have similar experiences. 

And I heard from one of my former professors asking for the same help. She knows a woman with a difficult child and asked if I would talk to the mom, maybe help her connect to local resources to help the child. So now I'm waiting on an email from this mom. I do know a few resources that can maybe help the kid, but I suspect just connecting with someone else who understands will be as much help as anything else. 

I haven't had any social connections recently. I'm not doing anything these days, and I feel useless. Well, I am doing stuff, but it involves taking my children to appointments and such. Oh, I failed to mention that Sproing has been suspended from school all this week. The fool (he's really very intelligent, but painfully unwise) got himself six days of out-of-school suspension. So this whole week while Superman has been out of the country I've had to deal with Sproing all day, every day. And his attitude stinks. He's a pain in the ass, except when he wants something from me and then is very charming. He has charm out the wazoo. 

Speaking of chocolate, I read yesterday that the price of chocolate will probably go up soon. The African countries with Ebola problems supply much of the U.S. chocolate. Ebola is the real tragedy. Chocolate is a meaningful and unfortunate side effect. Chocolate impacts my life more directly than Ebola. For that I am thankful. 

Baseball is in the post-season playoffs now. I like baseball, and have been watching the playoffs when I can. The Kansas City Royals won the American League championship, and currently San Francisco and St. Louis are battling for the National League championship. The score in game 5 is tied at 3 in the 9th inning. Sproing has been in here arguing with me for the past two hours, criticizing me for not paying attention to him. And he's arguing about stupid stuff. So I told him to go away until the game is over. I hope he won't want to argue with me anymore when the game is over. I don't like to argue. The boy does. A lot. I'm emotionally exhausted.  

Meh

It's like this... nuthin'. I got nuthin' going on, nothing interesting to say.

My brain is full of cotton fluff. Nothing interests me, my primary motivation is to stay out of the way of the people in this house. Except maybe Superman. He's nice. Everyone else is annoying at the very least.

Sproing got himself suspended from school for mouthing off to an administrator and refusing to cooperate. Typical Sproingish behavior, I see it all the time. The assistant principal was not amused. Now Sproing is home until next Wednesday and I am not amused. I can't talk to him. When I try he gets very angry and won't listen.

Diva came home from school in tears today. The usual suspects are picking on her again. They're threatening to jump her... after graduation. She's repeating the 10th grade, and if she passes all her classes this year and next she will be eligible to graduate in June of 2016. So, over a year and a half from now she might get jumped by these girls who don't like her. But to her it is a big thing, and I can't dismiss her concerns. But she won't tell me who these girls are and she refuses to inform the authorities at school. So what the hell am I supposed to do about it? All I did today was make sympathetic noises. Really, it's all she allows me to do.

I'm not a good mother anymore. I think I used to be, to the older children who were good at behaving themselves. To the younger ones when they were real young. I have no idea what to do with them now. I've lost most of the respect they ever had for me. I feel used. This feeling of being used is probably typical of parents of teens. No matter, is sucks.

So my only purpose in life right now is to love my husband. I can do that. I enjoy loving my husband. He's a great guy. Not perfect, of course, and I try to ignore his imperfections. I can live with that. I'm supposed to have purpose as a mother, but my children won't let me. Whatever. I just wish they wouldn't argue with me. It hurts.

I don't post here very often anymore. There isn't much to say that doesn't sound pitiful. But I figured I'd check in, let you know that I'm still alive and I plan to stay that way.

Did She Survive the Summer?

I don't know. The verdict is still out on that one.

The kids are back in school and I am still alive, so if those are the measurements, yes I survived. But who am I now? I don't know.

I'll tell you a little bit about the kids. Sproing is already not doing well at school, and they've been in for seven days. We have a teacher conference with his English teacher tomorrow afternoon. Also he's failing math already. I don't know what it is about this boy, and I don't know what to do with him. That's what his English teacher says, too.

And now for Diva: she has contracted another STD, this time a biggie. She's got genital herpes. Or the way she says it, general harpies. You'd think she was an uneducated idiot. Maybe she is, though I've done everything in my power to enrich her life with educational opportunities and good moral teaching.

I don't know who I am. I feel like I'm about three feet tall with the strength of a four year old. No, I know too much to have the strength of a four year old. They have the benefit of ignorance (very different from idiocy) and naivety which increases their particular strength. I'm a useless mass of non-confidence. Or a non-confident mass of uselessness.

Can you smell the depression? And when I'm depressed I don't post on my blog very much. I also don't read blogs much, so I have no idea what anyone else is doing. Slugmama, bless her heart, sent me a message today (or was it yesterday?) inquiring of my situation. You can thank her for this post, such as it is.

I don't even go online much these days. Just this week I've checked my email almost every day, which is a huge jump from the once a week or so I was active last month. I had been doing the Facebork thing pretty regularly, but that tapered off sometime mid summer. I just don't care about much anymore.

The kids will be home any minute now and I want to be done here first, so this is what'cha got today.

A brief scream in the middle of an otherwise quiet blog presence

Still not connected, still on a hijacked computer

I did a load of laundry today. This amounts to rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic that is my household.

The kids are screaming ugliness at each other at top volume. Diva has caused a small flood in my kitchen and is now doing I don't know what in there. There are a handful of large, loud teenage boys in my living room. I just took an Ativan, so I won't be worried about it much longer.

I have no control over my household, my children, much of my life. I have no sense of agency. I don't even know how to work this damned computer belonging to Superman. It doesn't respond to me. If I were more comfortable with the computer I'd link "Ativan" to some drug information and "agency" to the definition that refers to one's ability to take action, or to effect action, or something like it.

There are no answers, there isn't even a question. I need nothing by way of comments. I just needed to scream out loud for a minute. I'll be fine.

School starts in three weeks and four days.