punkin head

What is it about little kids where they don’t understand that you can’t carve a pumpkin to have tiny little flowers all over it?  I say “draw a big face on the pumpkin” and I get a forest of 1/2 inch daisies.  Can daisies form a forest?

Anyways – we have to get these pumpkins carved.  I scooped the seeds out almost 3 days ago and they’re starting to get a little funky.  The sooner they’re carved, the sooner I can put them outside.  (Yes I am being a halloween party pooper.  Deal.)  My ass had the clever idea of giving the kids sharpies to draw on the pumpkin with so it would be all awesome and theirs and stuff.  We’d all laugh and be happy and take pictures.

Reality is they somehow have a way of getting sharpie all over themselves, the table, the dog, the kitchen floor, the computer monitor behind them, and the bottom of the stool.  What is on the pumpkin is this:

: – )

It took about 3 minutes for me to go OK, WE’RE DONE.  GO MAKE FACES ON PAPER AND I’LL DO IT!!!!!   After that, I got one lopsided face in 30 different colors and something that looked like hashmarks.  My 4 yo is coding his pumpkin in binary.  (If you say this out loud you immediately hear “what’s a binary?  Is it like a bicycle?  Can I have a new bicycle for my birthday?”)

LJ asked me yesterday “wouldn’t it be awesome if you were a preschool teacher?”   I’m trying to think up ways to say OH HELL NO without totally making him think being a pre-k teacher would be absolute hell.  Really, for me, it would be hell.  I’d have the kids marching in formation by the time the first day was up.  The kids would tell their parents “Miss Cyndi said that the fly on my shoulder has more status than I do.  Then she called me soldier.”

I’d like to say something about that driving me to drugs and drinking, but that’s not true.  I’d just get all martial arts instructor on their asses (because that’s the only way I know to deal with more than 3 kids at a time) and they’d be in sync and counting in Korean.

Because the problem with little kids is that they have no pattern to their thoughts.  If you were to map their neurons, you’d get a spatter pattern with a heavy emphasis on cookies.  Find the average idiot and you’d at least get a few steps to obtaining cookies.  Map my German Shepherd’s thoughts and it would be like Pinky & the Brain overthrowing the government to get a way to lift them up to the top of the fridge and get down the box of cookies.  The Great Dane has 2 steps – look cute, get cookie.

I guess I’m going to go carve hashmarks into a 20 lb gourd.  I really hope my doctor called in my meds today.  I’m gonna need them.

Good Deal

Back to a serious post… if anything that goes on here can be considered serious.   We go from OMGWTF? to HAHA-AWESOME! in less time than it takes to butter a piece of toast.

The kids are starting to get a lot of our sense of humor (finally) and we haven’t even started indoctrinating them with Monty Python and Mel Brooks movies.  They have seen Down Periscope multiple times, so that helps.  It’s pretty awesome to see them crack cynical, sarcastic filled jokes and it’s even better to see them understanding and using puns.  LJ is a LOT like me – he says “puns work because of a misused homophone.”  Absolutely child.  Absolutely.

Me and LJ – we have an odd sort of relationship.  It’s been hard for me from the beginning with him.  There was a time where we almost refused placement with him – it was that bad.  See, I’m an alpha female.  I have been since the moment I was born and everyone in my family will tell you that.  LJ, when he first came to us, was under the impression that a woman’s job was to cook and take care of the younger babies.  This woman who will never exist was supposed to see a 7 year old boy as having more status in the household than her.  (I know I’ve written before about how the household is like a dog pack.)  Well… as you can tell, this attitude didn’t work.

So, over the 2 years we’ve known him and he’s come to live with  us and become our son, we’ve been working on this.  At times I’m overbearing and at times, he is.  For the most part, he’s figured out that he doesn’t get to tell A&E what to do and I try and give him responsibility over himself.  (I do get to overrule stupid things like wearing shorts to school when it’s 50 degrees outside.)

We meet at loving books.  He loves to read and so do I.  We’d rather read in our bed than talk to anyone.  The problem is that he’s not real sure where the lines between fiction and reality are.  He told some teachers at the school earlier this week that a dragon had bitten him on the neck.  Of course, no one believed him, but the counselor called home to tell me what was going on.  He’s had some pretty big stuff come up in the past few weeks so she knew this may be something we need to discuss.

He and I sat in the car and talked while in the carpool lane to pick up his sister.  We talked and talked and talked.  He didn’t understand that the words he says to people cause reactions – no matter what you say, you’re going to get a reaction.  We talked about how if people knew he just made stuff up all the time that no one would listen to him if something was actually wrong.  We talked about believable stories – dragon bit you?  Obviously not true.  (though, it’s probably better to make up a story that can’t possibly be true than say something equally untrue but believable.)

We talked about appropriate things to share with people (conditional boundaries) and what would happen if those boundaries weren’t respected.  We talked about kids in the foster care system (when we were picking up our AA check at DFCS, he saw some classmates in the waiting room) and the different things that could cause a child to need care.

We spent a lot of time talking about severity and differences – not all kids go through the same thing he did.  For some kids, they had an easier time of it.  For some, they had a time that was much worse than his.  We talked about how everyone, everywhere has something in their past that hurts and how we deal with it determines the kind of person we are.

After all that – we made a deal.

Until November 15th, he is not allowed to either make up fantasy stories or read fiction novels.  He still has to read every night – but he gets true stories.   He’s involved in a biography of Cal Ripken Jr. right now.  I’ll probably go to Goodwill today or tomorrow to pick up more kiddo friendly non-fiction books.  If not that, then we’ll visit the local library.

Things have been moderately better since then.  He’s been meeting my eye and making jokes with me.  He’s been helpful and respectful to the little bits.  Last night, we even put everyone to bed with the sound of laughter even though it was an emotionally difficult day for everyone.  He woke up this morning and told me – amazed – “I didn’t have any nightmares last night, Mommy!”  Awesome.  Pure awesome.

This morning we talked about how to say “its not your business” to people who made them uncomfortable with questions.  We talked about whose business it is – the family’s and the doctors.

After going through foster care and adoption, this is something all of us need to rebuild.  We all need to work on appropriate levels of privacy for ourselves and each other.  We’ve all just gone through so many years of having to report every little thing by phone and in writing.  There were always people in and out of our house – I couldn’t let the laundry go or not load the dishwasher because at ANY moment, someone could pull up and get to judge our worthiness.  This is partly why I’m so open on the internet – it would be hard to rape our privacy and background any more than what it took to become a foster/adopt parent.

Now, we’re having to work on telling people it’s not their business.  Truth is, most people aren’t looking to help – they’re looking for gossip.  Shaun and I are also having to relearn to trust our own judgment.  We’re both grown but we’re too used to having every move picked apart.   That causes stress and anxiety for all of us – we can’t just relax and have normal everyday fights.  Everything is a possible catastrophe.  Everything is caused by this event or that event, and everyone has a different opinion of what caused what.

I mean, I just want my child to feel free enough to scream “I hate you – you’re the meanest mom EVER.”  Right now, we’re still all worried about what we’re saying and trying to use proper communication skills.  In foster care, if they said “I hate her – she’s so mean” to a case worker it wouldn’t be about whether I confiscated the Nintendo DS – it would be “are you feeding them properly?  Whats your discipline policy?  We need to have a face to face meeting about this placement.  I need to talk to my supervisor.”   Basically, if you get mad and immature, your whole life could be turned upside down  (and immature is probably 30% of my personality.)

I want to be able to say “I don’t even want to see you right now” without it meaning “she may not love me enough to keep me.”  No, I just need some time not seeing YOU.  I’ll get to where I want to see YOU again but first I need 5 minutes to look at something else.  Every word that I say has to be examined from how they’ll receive it and how it will sound if they repeat it or how it will sound when I tell the therapist about it (because I can’t lie worth a shit and they can tell when something is going on.)  Then the kids see that I’m uncertain and they start thinking that maybe I don’t know what I’m doing and maybe they don’t have to listen to me.   Or something.

For now, it’s just repeating “I’m your mom.  I was your mom yesterday and I’ll be your mom tomorrow.  I’ll be your mom next year and the year after that.  I’ll be your mom when you get old and have babies.  I’ll be your mom no matter what.”   If we say it enough, maybe we’ll all start to believe its not fiction or fantasy.

appearance of intelligence

Me:  Sometimes I wonder about our kids’ intelligence.  It’s like they’re super smart most of the time but sometimes they just do the most retarded things!

Shaun: I know what you mean.  I bet our parents said the same thing about us when we were little.

Me:  They probably still do.

your hard work is about to pay off

I’m consolidating all the little “do this” lists that are on my workstation, and I just found a fortune from a fortune cookie:

your hard work is about to pay off

God, I hope so.  I’m so damn tired.  I’ve been trying to stay upbeat and focus on the blessings instead of the distance we still have to go, but it’s so fucking HARD.

We’ve had some major breakthroughs these past couple of weeks with regards to LJ’s therapy.  He’s finally starting to talk about what happened to him at the group home he was in.  He’s been doing therapy two or three times a week since there was a BIG ISSUE and he finally started to talk about it while we were dealing with the BIG ISSUE.

It’s really too much to know… I couldn’t imagine living with that secret inside me, thinking that terrible things would happen if I told.  Now that I know part of the “secret” its hard to see it in a non-emotional way.  I’ve counseled and mentored sexually abused children for what seems like forever and this is by no means the worst I’ve heard.  It’s a fairly common story.

It is really just hitting me hard.  This is MY kid.  MINE.  I could decimate every person or circumstance that enabled this to happen.  I could sit down and cry for a week.  Neither Shaun nor I are able to sleep without nightmares and we’re always listening through the baby monitor because he’s been having nightmares.

Thank God for our therapy group, though.  This center has been the absolute best place.  They deal with foster and adopted kids, and they know the system.  They also haven’t lost their ideals.  This isn’t the first time they’ve had to report to the state about something that’s come up in therapy and mostly it goes without ever being checked out, but this time they flipped shit.  The proprietors involved with running the home didn’t seem to care one way or another what was going on.  They actually said that LJ was “a damaged, retarded kid” and was probably lying. (This is from the home that had him classified as autistic and mentally retarded.  He’s not autistic and his IQ is in the 120s.)

When this asshole said that to the lady who runs our local center, she… well… the Bible says “vengeance be mine, saith the Lord” but God sometimes subcontracts.  I would not willingly set foot in her path while she’s pissed off – and I’m one of those people who would stare down a hurricane.  So, now the COO of the national treatment center is making a report to the group that runs the DHR – which is over DFCS.

(Yes, this is the same home that called DFCS on me because of a facebook status where one of my friends joked that I was a dominatrix.  Didn’t you know that I’m a harlot because I have short hair, wear makeup, and have tattoos?  Well, I am, and that means any sort of deviance from the straight and narrow means I’m a BLASPHEMER!!!! AND OMG, I HAVE KNEE HIGH BLACK BOOTS!!!  I’m obviously a tool for the Devil himself and my facebook updates should never go unnoticed.)

So, back to LJ.  He seems happy during the day – almost carefree.  He’s a very somber kid so this is really a shock.  He has gone back to soiling his drawers and hiding them, throwing tantrums, and forgetting personal space b0undaries.  It’s expected… it’s not acceptable behavior, but it’s expected.

We’ve been talking a lot about what to do when you have scary memories that seem real.  (PTSD flashbacks, for us grown folks.)  We talk about how to get to a safe place physically where you can’t hurt yourself or other people, and then find someone who you can tell about it.  I told him the important thing is to talk.  It doesn’t matter who – and we’re not going to spread it around like “oooh, guess what LJ remembers!”  He just needs to get it out before he does something stupid.

We also have been talking a lot about other people having scary memories that seem real.  A (chickpea) has flashbacks during October and last year scared the living hell out of LJ, so this year we’re talking about how its normal for people who remember scary things to have this happen and also what to do if a flashback does happen.

I’ve had to tamp down most of the talk about Halloween.  LJ is so excited about it, but because he was separated from chickpea for so long he doesn’t realize what Halloween means to her.  Her little brain learned the routine: dress up for Halloween, get candy, eat dinner with family, then get sent to live with a new mommy.  She LOVES pumpkins and getting dressed up and the pretty colored leaves, but she gets so amped up thinking that she’s about to have to leave again.  She’ll get in trouble and scream “I’m bad so I have to go to a new house!”  I told her that I’m much worse than she is and I’m not in a new house yet.  If she doubts it, she can ask Grandmommy and Grandpa exactly how bad I was.  So, we’ve been talking a lot about how adoption means she’s my kid forever and how hard we worked to get her and that no one was taking her without a fight.  A very messy, nasty fight.

It seems like we’ve talked about good touch/bad touch 500 million times and its still an issue.  We’ve talked about “games” that predators play to make a kid think its ok to touch each other, we’ve talked about safety plans, we’ve talked about the rules that we have to have while they’re having scary memories… we’ve talked about secrets and about personal space and being respectful.

We’ve talked our little throats hoarse and still, we have to keep going “omg, wtf” then keep on saying it.  One of these times it will sink in and hopefully be remembered.

And E… poor little guy.  He’s taking a lot of crap from LJ and chickpea during this and he’s getting so mad.  He’s 4, but the size of most 7 year olds.  He doesn’t know how to process all this drama right now, so he’s acting out and destroying things.  He’s yelling and kicking and throwing tantrums.  He’s stealing food and lying.  Gah… It’s hard to even work with a 60 lb preschooler, much less try and peel him off the ceiling.

Next on my list is to write a post on my post-op appt with my OBGYN.  I won’t put it here because it’s absolutely not male friendly.

making lists

It’s been a really rough couple of weeks.  There have been amazing highs and amazing “omg.wtf.” moments.  Today my brain rebelled against all the lack of control and the OCD is upon me.  I’ve already vacuumed the floor, rearranged the kids books, hauled laundry from the hamper to the laundry room, and added 3″ to the hoodie I’m working on crocheting.

Things my doctor said I could do:  crochet.

I’ve also sorted several large piles of papers and found where our daughter has been hiding her homework and notes from school.  I also uncovered a stash of dirty, soaking wet underwear from our oldest.

Now, I’m trying to form all my lists and post-it notes from the past 2 weeks onto one page in nice categories.  Maybe I’ll feel a little better?  I hope so.   I’m hoping this will cut down on the crazy and I can do the productive things that will actually make a difference.

Then, maybe, I can write about the highs and lows of this bipolar last couple of weeks.  I don’t know if anyone will want to read it, but hey, at least it will be out and not rattling around in my brain.  Hey thanks, blog world – you get to be my therapist!

Internet superstar

It’s been an odd couple of weeks since my last post.  It hurts my brain just to think about it!

1.  Shaun and I went to my high school reunion.  In school, we used to say that no one would show up to our reunion because our class lacked school spirit.  Seriously, the student council didn’t give a rat’s ass and neither did anyone else.  It was 1999 and we were all facing going into college or into the work force with little to no money.

There were maybe 50 people at the reunion and I did see a friend who I’ve known since kindergarten.  We didn’t talk much in high school and I think I found out why.  She made a passing comment while we were catching up that stuck with me.  “Of course you’re doing well, you’ve always been perfect.”

I wonder how many people actually know that’s not true.  I screw up as much as anyone, I just don’t tend to dwell on it or get caught in the downward spiral of screwing up.  I’m not even an eternal optimist – I’m definitely not one of those smiley, cheerful people.  It’s food for thought.

2.  Sick kiddos.  Actually, only one was sick.  The other was faking it.  A had a fever and just laid down and stared at the TV.  Her school has had about 50 different viruses going through it, so we thought it was strep at first.  It wasn’t so it may have been a UTI (just a very small amount of bacteria was in her urine) or it could have just been one of those flu bugs.  She’s all better and back to her goofy, normal self.

3.  Ramping up for the “anniversary effect” of the PTSD.  A goes through the anniversary effect during October.  It seems like every time she had to move foster homes, it was right around Halloween.  That stuck with her.  Last year was TERRIBLE so hopefully this year we’ll be prepared for whatever comes.  I’m already stocking up on aromatherapy stuff and reinforcing the fact that she never has to go anywhere again.  She’s home.  She’s already started to panic a bit so we adjusted her morning medications and that seems to have helped.  We’ve also briefed the school and we’re keeping on them about her mental state – it took a while to get them to take us seriously but now it seems like everyone is on board.

With LJ, we’ve just seen more sexual acting out.  He retreats to this fantasy world inside his head and doesn’t seem to realize what he’s doing.  It’s not regression – it’s more like he’s living in a fairy tale.

He’s been talking a lot about “grandmas.”  His favorite kind of pie is the type grandmas make.  Grandmas make sweaters.  Grandmas take care of you and give you cookies.  Grandmas have white hair, wrinkles, and glasses.  Yesterday, I finally got fed up with it (in Goodwill of all places) and told him that he got his grandmas and they weren’t going to change.  Neither grandma has white hair, neither one knows how to make a scrap of clothing, and one of them couldn’t bake a pie if her life depended on it. In reality, there’s no such thing as a “perfect grandma.”

I grew up without grandparents being an active part of my life.  Neither set approved of my parents’ marriage and we most often just made it on our own.  He did spend a lot of time with his bio-grandparents before he came into state care, so I don’t want to ruin those memories but he’s taking them a little too far.  I don’t want him to get older and see them and realize how bad it was for  him.  They loved him – they just don’t have the skills to take care of themselves, much less a child!

We went through this a month or so after he moved in with regards to his bio father.  It got to the point that I had to sit down with him and ask if he wanted to know the truth of the matter or just continue to believe what he did of his dad.  He said he wanted the truth, so I told him.   I may have to enlist my dad to explain it to him.  My dad’s childhood is very similar to LJ’s and they have this great bond.  I think he’d take the truth better from Dad than from one of us.

4.  Sick mommies.  It’s been odd – very odd.  My grandma was sick for a bit, then my great-grandma passed away almost a week ago.  Then grandma went down to FL to bury g-gma next to g-gpa and she got back yesterday.  My sister has been sick and my mom was for a little bit but recovered very quickly.  Then a couple of days ago I started having a fever and today my throat feels like I swallowed some hot sauce.  I must have gotten that strep that was going around.  *sigh*  So, tomorrow I’ll go to the doctor and get more antibiotics.  I’ve only been off the antibiotics from the surgery for a week!

5.  Flooding.  Lots of it.  We live northeast of Atlanta and thankfully in the foothills of the Appalachians so our land is soggy and puddly, but we didn’t get any water inside the house.  Thank God!  Even 5 miles away houses were destroyed and the traffic accidents have been terrible.  We went to an antique store yesterday – it’s about 7 miles from our house – and on the way home saw two accidents happen. My heart goes out to everyone that lost their homes, cars, and in some cases, families.

6.  Big internet sales!  Since we’ve been home bound from the sick babies and the flood, I’ve been on the internet a TON.  We’ve sold a couple of pipes, sent some lace to Japan, mailed  out 6 books on bookmooch, and I’ve started uploading a ton of stuff to flickr.  I’m working on a pipe resource, so hopefully I’ll have that available soon.  I also want to get some pipe related merchandise up in the Etsy shop, but I’m missing my computer parts.  I’m spending time with a hard drive clock today.

7.  Got LOTS of fabric.  I love Goodwill.  Seriously.  I got a ton of fabric for an average of 30 cents a yard and I also got some bed sheets and pillowcases that I can use.  I found some gorgeous blue eyelet cotton that I was SUPER excited about.  Got some corduroy, some raincoat material, a ton of cotton, and some linen.  It’s going to be fun!

This has been a long, long post lacking in cohesiveness, so I’m going to end it here.  Hopefully I can pick this blogging habit back up so I don’t end up with 300 things going on at once.  Good times!

throw-away days

17 days post surgery

The past week or so have just been throw away days.  I’m supposed to be still so my body can heal itself.  I feel like a puppy that just got fixed and it’s KILLING ME to not run around and play.  This past week, I started bleeding and got my dad to take me up to the doctor where I just sat in the waiting room and shook for an hour or two.  My body had attacked one of the stitches and formed a huge clot around it so the dr took it out, did some blood work, then sent me home with another prescription.

I have mixed feelings about this doctor’s nurses.  They’re nice enough but they seem too caught up in their own office drama to actually give a damn that this is pretty serious – at least in my own opinion.  I’m sure they listen to a lot of bitching each day from cranky people but dang.  The nurse that took my blood got pissed off that a drop of blood flipped off the needle and landed on her pants – after she stabbed me three times looking for a vein that hadn’t been blown.  Apparently I was too stressed for her to find a good vein… of course, there’s no reason for me to be stressed at all, right?

So Shaun took the rest of the week off and he’s off tomorrow too for Labor Day.  He’s been enforcing the “chill out” rule.  I’m getting ill watching House marathons and I thought that would never happen.  So, I’ve done little stuff – crocheted and sewed, fixed clothing, watched every episode of Project Runway that was on the DVR and season 3 of Psych, every episode of House and seasons 1 and 4 of Bones.  We don’t have 2 and 3 on the HDMI yet, so I didn’t bother with the DVDs.  I dug out my most recent sketch book and put down some quick ideas for some uniform clothes for the chickpea.  Sorted buttons with chickpea and LJ.  Read Terry Goodkind’s new book.  Read my Real Simple magazine.  Finished Kathy Reich’s new one.  Upgraded to a Flickr pro account.  Ordered some business cards.  RSVPd for my 10 year reunion.  Threatened E-baby with ratting him out to Grandpa – E’s current best buddy – if he kept throwing tantrums and being a badass.

Oh yeah – that’s a good tip for all y’all parental folks.  Tell the kid you’re going to call in the grandparents and that was going to be SOOOOO BAD.  I remind the rugrats that the gparents raised ME and I’m meaner than a hornet so while they know nice grandmommy and grandpa who spoil their little asses – they really don’t want to see the bad side.  That stopped a full blown tantrum in its tracks last night.  Suddenly, E’s face wasn’t red or wet from crying, he stood tall and looked me in the eye like a big boy.

The chickpea has been stealing straight pins for some odd reason.  I think she’s interested in the fact that they’re sharp but small… she has the weirdest obsessions at times.  She’s super observant of stick pins but she thinks climbing the built in bookshelves won’t cause her any harm at all.  Um… that’s a little backwards, kid.  You could stick a straight pin all the way through you and you’d still not be hurt too bad.  If even one of those shelves breaks, though, that may be the end of it.  I’ve climbed them before (to show it really was anchored well) but still – you don’t take chances like that.

I need to get some real work done but I don’t like sitting at the computer for long right now.  I have about 15 things to get up on Etsy and I need to start working on a branding for Shaun’s antique restoration stuff.  If I don’t get something to do, I’m going to end up watching the Real Housewives of Atlanta and that would be very bad.

So, the time out was useful

I called my dad and he said “that’s what you get for using that fucked up carpet.”

He means this stuff.  We put in Legato tiles before the kids moved in for two reasons – I’m allergic to carpet padding and this stuff is really really nice.  We did both kids rooms for less than $500 and it’s PLUSH.  Also, if it stains, you just jerk it up and put down a new tile.  With 3 large dogs, 3 kids, and 2 cats – this is very useful.  Poop and barf are daily events in our house.  (This is also why all our furniture is leather and the rest of the house is done in laminate wood flooring.)

However, it also means that it only took me 10 minutes to repair the entire room – all by myself.  Once Dad calmed me down, I talked to the girl child about money.  If she’s going to tear stuff up, I’m not going to have any money to buy her pretty clothes or cool toys.  I let her know that if she keeps tearing up the house, I will take her existing toys down to the kids’ only second-hand store and sell them until I had enough to pay for repairs.  On one income, we don’t have enough to cover her tantrums.

She seemed sobered up by that, so we went out to do our errands.  We were going to take Dad to lunch but he was covered up at work and this migraine was already starting.  It’s one of those “everything touching my skin hurts” kinds so I’m not laying down for now.  Once the pain meds kick in, I may be able to.

We did, however, stop and see Dad at his shop.  Even with his hands covered in grease he saw what I had and snatched it up.  I made him a clock out of an obsolete Bigfoot hard drive and a hammered metal picture frame.  As I’m yelling “don’t scratch the drive!” he’s showing his buddies at work.  I told the kids to stay put (they don’t know shop etiquette yet) and caught up to him as he’s telling the other mechanics “look what Cyndi made – it’s a hard drive!”  I didn’t even get to get a picture of it before he ran off with it!

We hugged and he informed me that he would start taking apart his old hard drives for me to make stuff out of.  Two weeks ago, I had to practically STEAL the hard drives from him to make this batch of clocks.  We had the “if it’s got less memory than a flash stick, is it considered ‘good’” conversation.  He even gave me two nice torque drivers to take apart the ones from last time.  He apparently approves of their new functionality.

Bigfoot drives come in two discs, so the other one is on Shaun’s workbench.  I accidentally scratched it while adding some detailing, so I’m going to have to figure out what to do with it.  I’m thinking I’ll lightly sand all of it in a swirl pattern to give it a brushed metal look, then coat it with acrylic sealant.  I really hope it works because the metal detailing on it is beautiful. If need be, though, I’ll paint it.  The shape is nice enough to keep, even if I ruined the face.

The AC guy should be here soon.  If the central air did die, we’re just going to put in a couple of window units until our next tax return.  Dad has one he said he’d give me and we can afford another window unit.  The main part of our house is only 1100 square feet, so that should keep us from melting until we have a more secure income.

There was a conversation on Etsy about a week ago that is sticking with me.  It was about whether to give stuff to family or to make them go through the business.  I was on the 100% free for family side but it shocked me how many people said “if I were a retail store, I wouldn’t give them anything.  Why should I now?”  I just think that’s sad.  I know a lot of families aren’t as close as my immediate clan is, and I can understand that some people’s families are little more than genetically bonded.  I just know that if I didn’t have my family, I would be up shit creek without a paddle.  We support each other and if any single one of us is doing without, the rest of us are there chipping in.  It’s like a commune except for the whole living under one roof part – we have 4 roofs in a 15 mile radius.  We did only have two, but then Mom’s family decided to leave paradise to join the commune.  We do huge family gatherings every other Sunday and two days from now, even Dad’s mom is coming.  My family is the reason that me and my sister can stay at home with our kids.  It’s not easy, but it’s worth it.  To me, if Mom and Dad asked for everything I’ve ever made, I’d give it to them and call it a fair trade.

Family isn’t about whose blood you have.  It’s about who you care about.  ~ South Park

my brain, it’s about to explode

This is one of my forced “mommy time-outs.”  The girl child pulled all the carpet up off the floor in her room because I sent  her to her room for throwing a tantrum and ignored her.

My head may just explode.  This is why God made xanax and wine.

Caution: busy day ahead

I can’t believe we’re less than 3 weeks away from school starting.  May and June were crazy months and thank goodness we’ve been able to have a quiet July.  My goal in July was to bore the crap out of the kids so that they’d be excited to go back to school.  I don’t think it’s worked yet… they seem happy to sleep in until 9 am, hang out in pj’s, and watch PBS.

I found out yesterday that the charter school Alyssa will be going to did get their pre-K charter.  I called up and they had lost Ethan’s paperwork (not surprising since his name dramatically changed with the adoption) but they did go ahead and put him on the waiting list.  It would be the best possible thing for him to be able to go to pre-K there.  Otherwise, I’m going to homeschool him during pre-K.  He’s one of those kids that does not do well in a normal school environment.  He’s not quite ADHD like LJ is but if there are other kids around who are not focused, then he won’t settle.  His brain works a lot like mine – he absorbs info, files it away as irrelevant at the moment, gets bored, then creates trouble.  So, I’ll file his paperwork with them today so that hopefully he’ll get in soon.

For Alyssa to get admission, I had to register her under her old name during the last school year.  There are only a certain number of spots available and it’s further broken down by the child’s primary language.  It’s a dual-immersion English/Spanish school and they also teach Mandarin Chinese.  Hopefully it will challenge her enough to keep her out of trouble.  Pre-K for her was like a lesson in futility.  She already knew EVERYTHING they were teaching the other kids (she’s on a 1st grade level) and decided that meant everyone else was stupid and she was therefore in charge.  With some kids, they do that and get this air of bravado and adults think “he’s going through that arrogant stage.”  With her, she really does believe that we’re all here to serve her and suggesting otherwise  does not compute.  Of course, she is smart and beautiful which means people DO line up to give her things.  She had talked her teachers into giving her 3 lunches a day, THREE!, letting her roll around in the dirt during recess, taunting other children, and basically acting like we will not let her act at home.  It’s all ok with them because she’s cute and smart and gives you those big green puppy dog eyes.  All this does is reinforce the thought that she’s a superior being stuck in a smaller body.  Or something.

There’s a reason my kids act like civilized human beings.  I don’t fall for the BS and I have no fear of saying no.  I don’t use fear or intimidation to keep them in line, they just know the expectations and they know I’m not going to back off of them.  This does mean we talk a lot about the meaning of words like upset, disappointed, unhappy, discussion, responsibility, and who is in charge.  We can actually eat a meal in a sit-down restaurant with the kids.

LJ will be going to the school across the street from us.  He didn’t get accepted into the charter school, and that’s probably for the best.  He didn’t walk or talk until he was 5 and he’s still behind in language and social skills.  Because he was non-verbal, his test scores showed that he was mentally retarded and he was held back a grade and stuck in special ed.  There’s nothing wrong with that because he did need to learn the basics but he has made so many strides since then that you’d never guess he wasn’t always “normal.”  He was in a regular class last year and recieved speech therapy and social skills therapy several times a week.  This year, he’ll still receive services, but they’ll be integrated into the class so he doesn’t get singled out or pulled away from class.

I really hope he gets a young, active teacher this year.  Last year we had all sorts of trouble with his teacher.  He needs someone interactive – not someone who hovers and scowls.  Doing that puts him on defense and he retreats into his fantasy world.  Then everyone who wants to play ball during recess is stealing his stuff and every time someone bumps into him in line means they’re deliberately trying to knock him down and get him into trouble.  This causes meltdowns and tantrums.  Then he’s scared to go back to class because he knows that’s not a “good reaction” so he does stuff to get sent out of class.  Things like picking his nose until it bled so he could go to the nurse’s.  Making himself throw up.  Stomping on another kid’s foot.

When we figured out what was happening, we started playing games at home during homework.  When learning was a happy thing and he felt safe doing it he immediately started getting better.  He was making 30’s and 40’s before we started and after he was getting 90’s and 100’s.  Still, we couldn’t convince the teacher that he’s not a bad kid – he’s a scared kid.  She didn’t see anything wrong with her methods and would tell me “I have 20 kids in that classroom!”  20?  Really?  That’s all… huh.  That’s a TINY class.

Anyways, I have to register all three for school today since their names, birth certificates, and social security numbers have all changed. So I need to get them all ready to go while I fill out the paperwork here.  Thank God that it’s all online and all I have to do is print it out.

I also need to run to the post office.  We made a sale on Etsy!  Yay!  I also had a book mooched on BookMooch, so I need to send it out.  After all that, we’ll be back home and do lunch, then they get naptime and I get to list some more lace on Etsy.  If I get a chance, I need to go out in the garage and get a coat of primer on the keys.  Shaun’s going to do the metallic paint for me since he’s got a steadier hand and has more experience with oil-based enamels than I do. I also need to clean the bird cage, our bathroom, and my workstation.

The kids are up and the boys are already in trouble, so it sounds like time for breakfast!  Have a happy Tuesday, everyone!