Sunday, February 8, 2015

Standing In The Autism Line with My Magic Ring

" When did they stop putting toys in cereal boxes?
    When I was little, I remember wandering the cereal aisle (which surely is as American as fireworks at the Fourth of July) and picking my breakfast food based on what the reward was: a Frisbee with the Trix rabbit's face emblazoned on the front. Holographic stickers with the Lucky Charms leprechaun. A mystery decoder wheel. I could suffer through raisin bran for a month if it meant I got a magic ring at the end.
    I cannot admit this out loud. In the first place, we are expected to be supermoms these days, instead of admitting that we have flaws. It is tempting to believe that all mothers wake up feeling fresh every morning, never raise their voices, only cook organic food, and are equally at ease with the CEO and the PTA.
    Here's the secret: Those mothers don't exist. Most of us- even if we'd never confess-are suffering through the raisin bran in the hopes of a glimpse of that magic ring…

…If parenting is the box of raisin bran, then real mothers know the ratio of flakes to fun is severely imbalanced. For every moment you child confides in you, or tells you he love you, or does something unprompted to protect his brother that you happen to witness, there are many more moments of chaos, error, and self-doubt."


This excerpt is from the book known as House Rules by Jodi Picoult (one of my now favorite authors because of this book alone). Specifically, it is what Emma, the mother of the boy named Jacob who has a form of Autism know as Aspergers Syndrome, is thinking & explaining to the audience in one part of the book. I will tell you this…it's my most favorite book of all time. I legitly can say that, without any doubt & trust me--->that's a BIG deal when it comes to me & my books. But other than the book being my favorite thus far, this excerpt means so much more than me just liking it a lot & here's why…

My daughter's (Taterbug) father is in town, so he has had her for the last two days. There's a complicated & chaotic mess of a story behind all of that, but all you need to know is that every time he comes in & gets her I go into a downward spiral until I reach this massive ball of anxiety that actively consumes every square inch of my body very quickly. To take my mind off of the anxiety, I usually try picking up old hobbies that I haven't done in a while that used to relax me. For instance one time while he had her & Bubba was in school, I went running on the farm. I got to the back field (where it so happens coyotes have been spotted), did ten hill sprints up this enormous hill, & then got a phone call right as I finished my last hill sprint. Bubba had gotten sick at school & I needed to come get him since he couldn't ride the bus home because of his temperature. Needless to say, I was dying by the time I got back to my car. I showed up at the school looking like a hot mess in my sweaty nasty running gear. Another time he had her I decided to practice shooting my bow in the backyard while Bubba was taking a nap. Many a times I have gone back to working on old acrylic paintings I started way back when in high school. I don't know what it is about why doing these things are necessary to divert my attention elsewhere, but that's just the way it is. This time, I have been entrenched in this book.
I take care of Bubba & we play cars for as long as he is willing to interact with me, then he goes off in the living room floor playing his car & I sit on the couch near him & pick up my book. I read during nap time. I sit at the breakfast table & read while I eat. I stay up late reading just one more chapter. I hadn't read any in the past two months. Since Taterbug left, however, I've been reading every chance I can get. I read & I think about things. I usually try comparing myself to someone in the story that I can relate to in some way. In this case, all I can think about is how much I can relate to Emma, the mother of Jacob. A lot of the things she thinks & explains in regards to her children are a lot of what I feel on a daily basis. See, among many other things, I'm also a mother to a boy with Autism.



Bubba has been a miracle baby since before birth. From day one, I was told he wasn't going to make it to birth. I vividly remember going into my first ultrasound with my Nannie & Aaron, my son's father. The technician showed us a few things and then scheduled another appointment for two hours later with the Doctor to discuss the ultrasound because the Doctor wouldn't be back in until then. I, not knowing any better, thought this was the normal routine. Not a word was said about something being wrong with it or anything then. Two hours later, I'm sitting in a small exam room alone (Aaron had to go to work & I didn't pick up my Nannie because I didn't want to be late for the appt.) with a Doctor telling me my first born was more than likely going to die before he was even born. Fast forward to five years later, I have a four year old little boy who has proven every doctor, professional, & expert that has doubted him wrong. He has been through more hell medically in his life than most of us combined and still manages to be the happiest person I know walking on the face of this planet. This adorable, lovable, blue-eyed, energetic, always happy, peculiar little four year old boy is the light of my whole family. He is crazy obsessed over cars, buses, and a piano of any sorts. He has even somehow managed to learn to play "Jingle Bells" on the piano. He loves music. He hates most any food that is the color green. He loves school. He is petrified of Doctors. He will not sit still for longer than two seconds. He poops more than any kid I know. He can memorize a song tune after hearing the song just one time. He can sing the hell out of "Fat Bottom Girls". He has an internal alarm clock that goes off every single morning anywhere between 5 & 6:15 a.m. He is brilliant. His two favorite people in the world are his Papa and his Nannie. He calls his Diddy by his actual name instead of Diddy because his sister calls his Diddy "Aaron".
He is developmentally-delayed on a global scale.
He has Autism.


It's sad that most people see those two things as what's wrong with my kid than all the other aforementioned descriptions about him. The worst part is that most people don't actually "see" it. They see, instead, a kid who behaves badly, overreacts, throws insane tantrums, and doesn't mind his parents whatsoever. These people will keep their kids away from mine at the Doctor's office in the play area, on the playground, or at the toys in Burger King/McDonalds. " Don't play with him. Stay away from him. Don't do what he's doing or you're gonna get in trouble." That truly is heartbreaking. I sit there and watch as they criticize when they have no clue the number of surgeries that my blue-eyed oh-so-happy miracle boy has been through or the number of days that has added up to MONTHS of being sedated as a baby. The worst part is he has no idea. One of the traits of his Autism is that he doesn't like, know, or particularly care to interact with other children. He will try to briefly, but ultimately he prefers a room to himself with his cars. When the other kids tell him to get away, tell him they don't want to play, ask why he talks weird or ask what's wrong with him, I silently let out a little weep inside for him. If he takes their toy, it isn't because he just doesn't want to share or just wants what they have. He takes it solely because it interests/intrigues him. Regardless, he's mean because of that.


I'm not going to lie. I have mixed emotions myself about his delays and Autism. Yes, I do wish he didn't have developmental delays and Autism sometimes. *Insert worst parent of the year award right here.* I want him to be like all the other kids his age some kind of bad most of the time. BUT, it's not because it would necessarily be easier on me. Yea, it would. Sure, he'd be a ton more self-sufficient now at age four. I'd have a lot more time to focus equally on both of my children and everything else without having to worry about which of his sister's little toys he'll try eating next. Or whether or not he'll listen to me & come to me when I call his name outside as opposed to running straight for the road (gravel private drive) because that's where that big truck with those tires was just two minutes ago. It'd be much less energy & time consuming getting him dressed & in the car. That's not the reasons I wish for his developmental delays and Autism to be gone though. I wish it mostly for his sake. I've wished he was "normal" for the sake of not being bullied all his life. For others not looking at him as "lesser". I wished it because I want him to have friends. I've wished it for him to be able to get his drivers license or to go on dates with his girlfriend. I've wished it for him so he wouldn't have to keep attending these meetings where strangers test his knowledge, social, and learning skills ever year. I've wish it so that he could have actual conversations with me where I can understand what he's trying to communicate when he gets frustrated. I've wished it for him for so many reasons. Then I remember that he's my miracle boy and he's happy. He's got a crappy immune system, to say the least, but he usually rebounds from his sickness rather quickly despite how often he gets ill. So for the most part, he's healthy too. So why wish for these things? What if he was "normal" (if ever a state actually did exist)? He most certainly wouldn't be our Bubba anymore. He wouldn't fit into this family the way he does…which he does so extremely well. He's our "normal". That's all that really matters.

Showing off his bus, like a cool kid.
Sometimes, I feel like that mother looking for that magic ring while all the other mothers have found it. I'm searching through the endless amount of raisin bran just to find that magic ring, wondering why I even started this search in the first place. I know the ratio is severely unbalanced in this quest. I know that no matter how hard I work towards it, there are going to be more moments similar to the one where he had a breakdown because he saw a toy he couldn't have compared to the one where he picked out a toothbrush for his sister at the dentist office too. I know there's a good possibility that potty training will be a nightmare with him & I will be washing his clothes everyday for a year straight. I also know that when he actually gets the pronunciation of consonant letters down in his speech and can speak in complete clear sentences, I will cry…hard. Like, that happy ugly cry. So despite the fact that I wish all these "normal" things for him, the "normal" really isn't the magic ring. He's the magic ring. And no matter how much raisin bran I have to eat where he is constantly getting on his sister's nerves or chewing tires off of his one hundred & counting cars/trucks/buses, the magic ring will be there at the bottom of the box where he passes out in the floor at 9:15 P.M. or where he'll give his sister a cookie when I hand him two.

I recently read an article by another Blogger about her son's inability to talk. Throughout it, she discussed how she took him to get it checked out & how a speech therapist told her he was at a 3 month old level for language, so Autism maybe came into play. Later on, they determined it was actually something to do with the formation of his split uvula that was the problem & nothing to do with Autism. At first, the way she worded part of it just rubbed me the wrong way.  She said:

    " I felt giddy at the massive weight being lifted, and at having a clear problem with a clear solution for my son. I felt like I had been moved out of the laborious and winding autism line and into the speed pass line with a surgery quick fix. I felt guilty at leaving that line with scores of other mothers who were stuck there with their kids, confused and drowning under all of the mixed messages and complex treatments."

Waiting for the bus.
That facial expression!
I'm starting to look at it differently & not take it so personally (like I do with everything related to his diagnosis), but it still makes me uneasy. I'm not saying what she said was wrong or anything like that. I would probably be feeling the same if I woke up tomorrow & they told me that my son's current diagnosis could be fixed with a surgery quick fix (I should mention here that I don't see surgery as a quick anything. My son has endured numerous surgeries & I only remember one of them being relatively quick).  The thing that gets to me is saying that we were stuck in this line with our kids, confused and drowning. I'm not stuck anywhere with him, much less in some single filed line. Mostly, because he can't stay still enough to actually stand in a line (we've tried). Also, I'm here with him because I want to be. I fought for him through my whole pregnancy. I continued to do so with hospital visit after hospital visit. I still do as much as I can. I go to all of his school meetings & events. I have a massive binder full of activities to practice his letters, numbers, shapes, & writing. I'm also not confused & drowning. I have a choice in what messages I want to receive & treatments he gets. Currently, an IEP, a wonderful teacher, & a great relationship with the school system seems to be working wonders. If that starts to fail, we will reevaluate.

I don't know where Autism comes from. I have my theories, just like every other person/scientist/parent/professional/expert does. I think it applies differently to each particular case. In Bubba's case, I personally think it's something of a mixture between genetics & the drugs he was given as a baby while he was in the hospital. In reality, a lot of my qualities that are kind of "out there" or borderline OCD he seems to display at an enhanced level. I don't think none of this applied until after his longest stay in two different hospitals where he had to have major surgery to his throat & be sedated for a little over a month. Before that stay, he was saying Mama, Dada, & Papa. Afterwards, Mama was the only thing he could say for the longest time. Before, he was walking around & actively engaging with people at normal skill level. After, he was behind. I mean, he was on so many drugs to keep him sedated & to help him get better that we had to ween him off of them, Yes, my kid became an addict in the hospital. I wish there was another route we could've taken to prevent that, but his health issues were too severe to even consider any other options. His throat was almost completely shut, for goodness sake. So while I stick by the opinion that I think the drugs had something to do with it, I also want to mention that I also think my son would've suffocated from any one of his upper respiratory colds if it wasn't for the surgery he had to have to widen his throat. With that surgery was the necessity for drugs to help him heal properly. From a slightly educated perspective, however, I do believe that all of the drugs they used did have a drastic affect on the way his brain might've developed. I took a few humans envelopment courses in college & I know that development in the first year, especially the brain, plays a critical part in the long-term development. I believe that the drugs might have played a large part in shaping the connections & development in his brain, which in turn led to the interaction of overstimulated genes that displayed qualities of Autism. Of course, that's just my thoughts on it. I'm not a scientist or anything. There's also theories on a certain diet that's gluten-free & whatever else that'll almost cure Autism…yea, I'd like to see the creator of that diet try to get my son to eat that crap. He'd look at him/her like they were stupid or something.

" Are you being serious right now?"
" Hahaha. Yea right…not happening."
My Grandpa passed away this past Fall (October 2014) from lung cancer. He was extremely ill for the couple months prior to his death. The last time I visited him/saw him alive, he was to the point where he looked like a ghost of his former self. He remembered very little, mixed up what he could remember, could barely speak, & couldn't even hold himself upright sitting on the side of the bed. I had come because my Nannie asked me to. She said she needed to tell me something. What she needed to tell me was that they said (the Hospice nurse, not actual doctors…because doctors at the Veterans Hospitals around here are pathetic idiots) that he probably had less than a couple of months to live, being as that's usually when Hospice is called in. I only took Taterbug that day with me because I didn't want Bubba to agitate Grandpa or try to climb up on him & hurt him or something. I vividly remember everything that happened after Nannie told me that. I went to the living room to sit in a chair across from where he was sitting on the side of the bed. He looked horrible & was talking out of his head. My Uncle's wife & my Mother were standing on both sides of him supporting him every time he gave out. He asked Taterbug for a kiss & called her his pretty girl. He kept pointing towards the t.v. & mumbling something. My Uncle's wife kept asking if he wanted the t.v. on. He'd shake his head & repeat what he said. It clicked for me pretty fast, He was pointing to Bubba's picture on top of the stand & saying "my little Buddy". Nothing else he said afterwards regarding other subjects made any sense. That was as clear as day though. We left a few minutes afterwards. He passed away a week later. That is something that I have yet to get over. Of all the incoherent statements & thoughts he blurted out during him days ill & all the memories he forgot & mixed up in his head, he never forgot that. Bubba was his little Buddy.
It didn't matter that he was developmentally-delayed.
It didn't matter that Bubba had Autism.
It didn't matter that Bubba drove Grandpa up a wall by running through the house when Grandpa told him not to one thousand two hundred & forty-seven times.
He would hold him as a baby until they both fell asleep.
He couldn't stand Bubba crying when he was a baby.
He wouldn't smoke inside the whole time Bubba was at their house.
Bubba's birthday was the only birthday party of all of his Grandkids he ever went to.
He was amazed by Bubba's energy & happiness.
Bubba was his little Buddy.

Personally, I don't understand what makes up Autism or when it even started becoming a diagnosis. I have no clue why my son ended up having it & not the other umpteen kids in all of the NICU & two PICUs he stayed in. I don't really care. I don't necessarily like my kid having a diagnosis of Autism, but it is what it is. It's also a lot to do with who he is. It's a part of him, regardless. It's not a disease that's insta-curable with a little medicine or some surgery. He'll still continue to wake up at 5-6:15 A.M. He'll still line his cars/trucks/vans/buses up a certain way whether or not he can pronounce his consonants & write his name. He'll continue to play his electric piano until the batteries run dead. His sister will continued to be pissed off when he decides to chew on her new doll's hair or mess up her stuff in her room. She'll also sit beside him in her chair & "read" a book to him or tell him to back up from the t.v. when he's standing too close to it. He's her Bubba & she loves him to death. He's Grandpa's little Buddy. Nannie's little Buddy. Papa's Hotrod, Little Man, & Partner in Crime. There is no doubting that he is his Papa's favorite grandkid. My Diddy straight up tells everyone, even my siblings, that Bubba is. They all accept it too. MY adorable, lovable, blue-eyed, energetic, always happy, peculiar little four year old boy will go on being the light of my whole family…our little magic ring.

9:15 PM: Energy depleted.


Wednesday, February 4, 2015

In Life News Today… (Through the Looking Glass)

I love this outfit…which I pulled off as a last minute OOTD  last week. Go me!
Those leggings though….on point. Super soft & comfy!
Taterbug has figured out camera mode on my phone & learned the art of a selfie.
I was victim in this photo. #Selfie #IWasCompletelyUnaware #RestingBitchFace

She also has impeccable taste in clothes. And she rocks them adorably.
#SheKnowsShesCute #SheLovesCowgirlBoots
She's FABULOUS!

Last Tuesday we went out to eat with Taterbug's Nana & Aunt (from her Father's side of the family). Afterwards, we all went to the hospital to visit this cute little baby bundle of joy. I got an overwhelming amount of the baby blues & Tater played with the older cousin while I was doing so. Once we got ready to leave, her & her cousin held hands the whole time walking down the halls of the hospital. #CutestThingEver #GirlCousins #YesIAmAnAnnoyingOverusingHashtagPerson #DealWithIt

Bubba plays until he gives out. Literally. At 9:15 P.M.
He's not a night owl whatsoever.
Coloring has always been a pushed skill for Bubba. The "experts" say he needs to learn it so he can work on his tripod grasp for fine motor skills development as well as his attention span & focus. His inability to sit still & focus on things that require that much control stems from his developmental delays mixed in with his Autism. I remember crying at Shakers in Lynchburg, VA when he first decided to actually color on the sheet that gave him instead on eat the crayons, which is his usual response to being handed a crayon. It was only for about 10 seconds, but it was the first real time he voluntarily did it. I teared up something ugly. I also saved the paper. Regardless, he has never taken any interest in coloring other than maybe like three seconds…until this day happened.



Bubba found a new love for coloring…
on everything other than coloring books (a.k.a. my coffee table & their Innotabs.)
Despite how annoyingly difficult it is to clean out all the nook, crannies, & crevices of those Innotabs, I can't get mad at him. It took too much focus & control for him to sit still long enough to color all over them & my coffee table & not actually stick the crayon in his mouth. #YouWinSomeYouLoseSome
In other news, the crayon did come off without too much fuss. I remember when I was a kid, that crayon didn't come off no matter what cleaner you used. They just don't make crayons like they used to. #ThankYouBeejeezus


Crickey, mates!!! You'll never again see such a rare event happenin' in your lifetime.
Here we have the almost extinct species of siblings actually deviating from their typical hostile behavior towards one another. This is definitely one fer the history books!


So here's the story about this glorified *hideous* antique "bookcase":
I recently told my Diddy that all the boxes still left in my room from moving were full with just my books & that I was planning on getting a bookshelf for them instead of stuffing them in my closet. Around Christmas, he took me to this store called the Wooden Chair (it's in Lynchburg, VA) where they sell nothing but handmade furniture to look at bookshelves. The store itself is pretty pricey on mostly everything, but I am in complete love with it regardless. We looked at everything & they had a pretty good variety of bookcases. I found one I liked & one I LOVED. It was shaped as the top of a canoe. It fit me perfectly. There were three different sizes of it, but for all of my books I would need the largest one. Sadly, the largest was already sold & they said they wouldn't get another in probably until March sometime, if that. In the end, we left & didn't get a bookshelf. While I liked the other one, I told Diddy I would rather wait until after I got a new set of dressers for my room to get a bookshelf so I could try to find something that would look good with my dressers & the aesthetics of my room. (Note to reader: I have ancient dressers. I had a matching set that was ancient but workable at my old house, but the big one got mold on it from being in the basement so it went bye-bye. My son's father gave me another ancient one he got for free from a family member & wasn't using. Getting a new set is on my "To Get" list, but it's not a priority in my life right now. My son needs another dresser too so my daughter can have her complete set to herself, so his dresser is ahead of mine on that list. If the dresser works, I can deal. I'm just thankful to have a house that we all can fit in now without running overtop of one another.)
So the other day my Diddy goes on one of his cross-country adventures to every Goodwill & Thrift/Pawn Shop within a 50 mile radius to see what "treasures" he can find to add to his collection of junk. Yes, he has a collection of junk. Literally, think The American Pickers show kind of collection. He is bound & determined to be a picker on that show before he dies, fyi. Anywho, he takes off to Roanoke (about an hour and a half from here) & comes back with this "bookcase" he has told me about  on the phone for the last 45 minutes before he shows up with it. It's hideous. As you can see, it's a flesh brown color & has a God-awful fish scene painted on it. Yes, I promise you that horrible looking scene at the top of it is fish, not flowers. The doors open, the insides of the shelves are only half painted, the top lifts up, & there are scratches, dings, dents, holes in the back of it, & everything where you can't see. My Diddy loved the thing he bought for $25 tagged as an "antique bookcase". I did not. I'm all for bargain shopping, but I have my standards. Certainly flesh brown colored ugly fish "bookcase" cubby storage shelf thingy-ma-gig classified as "below standards". We argued about whether or not it was going in my room for a whole 15 minutes until Bubba decided to save my life by going to get his buses & putting them in the cubby holes. They fit perfect & he loved it. He decided to go get more of his cars & put them in the other cubby holes. Needless to say, it ended up being his "cubby storage shelf thingy-ma-gig" in his room & NOT my bookcase in mine. I will deal with the eye-sore only because it perfectly solves the problem of storage for his toys (so I don't have to go overspend on 60 bucks or more on one of them overly priced cubical storage shelf things) & because it is Winter. Come Spring though, it WILL get a makeover & be painted. Once up-cycled, I will love this glorifies "antique bookcase" that really is a "cubby storage shelf thingy-ma-gig". Currently in my future home makeover plans, I'm planning on his room to be a darkish blue with white trim. He'll have some red mixed in there as well, but not paint-wise. Any suggestions as to what color I should paint the "cubby storage shelf thingy-ma-gig"?


Superbowl Sunday news:
Bubba is in love with Katy Perry.
Mama loved reminiscing w/ some old-school Missy Elliot.
Papa was super upset about his Seahawks loss.
Mama thinks the Seahawks gave that Super Bowl away.
My son's father's hands & jeans the other day…sexy.
Yes, we still tell each other when we look good & look like shit.
We are still the best of friends & that's what best friends do.
Seriously, he was rocking some Luke Bryan jeans that day.
Also, I have a hand fetish. That's the very first thing I notice on a guy.
He's aware of my hand fetish just like I'm aware of his foot fetish.
I have hideous feet. That's why dating never worked out for us.
Just kidding. It didn't work out for other reasons.
I do have ugly feet though.
The Majestic beastly. (A.K.A. The Queen Furbaby)
#SheKnowsItToo #SheHasSeperationAnxietySomethingTerrible
These are my top 3 most favorite people in the world…like ever ever.
Also, no man could ever amount to my Diddy. When I find one that does or comes close,
I intend to marry him.

I'll end this post with the best picture in the world, little girl undies. Yes, it clicked for her. She is officially potty trained. She actually loves using the potty now. Last night when we stopped at Mickey D's to grab some dinner (I hate McDonald's, but I was overruled in votes), she even asked to go to the potty while we were sitting outside in my car eating our food. She held it the whole way into the restaurant too. She's never asked or told me she needed to before. It's always been me periodically telling her to go up to this point. I guess us being dragged along to THREE different Krogers looking for three different Hot Wheels candy edition cars for my Diddy to complete his collection was just too long for her to hold it until I told her to go. So what did I do to celebrate her big girl pottying? Naturally I went out & bought her more big girl undies. I haven't been able to find Doc McStuffins yet (she's been specifically requesting them for days now), but I may even go online in my search for them if they don't show up in stores near us soon. I really just want to throw a " Congrats on Your Big Girl Pottying" party. Is there even such a thing in the world yet? I wonder if people would even come for the over-the-top ridiculous potty party games? I think I need to contain my excitement. Potty parties seem just a wee bit over-the-top, despite my extreme amount of pride in my Taterbug.

Friday, January 30, 2015

A Bad Weekend Created the Restart Button

Current mood: Extremely irritated.

And I don't even know why, ya'll…

Actually, I do. But first, let me put into words my mood. You know that time (usually a day or maybe just a night) right before you start your nightmarish monthly thing? You are so freaking irritated at life & with everyone/everything in it (Yes, I'm talking about even the inanimate objects in your life) that you could legitly stab a cuddly kitten for being so damn cute. *Grabs my fork to dare a b*tch* That's how I feel…& fyi, it's nowhere near my nightmarish week AND it's a Saturday. Like WTF is going on…?

In my defense, I have a list of reasons why I'm irritable to the brink of losing my sanity. Not a good one, but a list none-the-less….

……

Okay, so this is a post I started Saturday. Like, last Saturday. I currently have three other "draft posts" saved as work-in-progresses, excluding this one which has now (hopefully) turned into an actual, real life, "bonified" post. This one I just got tired & really just couldn't put into words the reasons that would accurately express my bitterness that night. The others are more on serious matters so they have legit reasons for being drafts. I started this particular post in a bitter mood (if it wasn't noticeable already). It was actually a little longer as I started listing the reasons of why I was bitter. The top one was single parent potty training my daughter, Taterbug. It was a nightmare. It still is when she has "accidents", but nothing like it was that day. Add into that mix that my best friend whom I ain't seen in forever asked me out on a date night, girl version. She never does that anymore, guys. None of my other friends do either. It's an unspoken rule that all of my friends, including her, have long established that B.J. will either:

  • A) Not want to go out because she is too dirty/lazy/tired from spending all day with her kids. 
  • B) Not want to because she planned something else for the kids and herself already.
  • or C) Not have a babysitter available on hand, so she will be unable to go out.
Therefore, they just stopped asking me after the bajillion-th " Sorry, I couldn't find a babysitter. Next time though." I understand, really, I do. I don't blame you. That's the age old knowledge of the situations known as "the friend who has kids now". I've learned to accept it with open arms. Legitly, I am physically unable to stay out until 4 A.M. from going out and drinking all night to coming home and waking up at 6 A.M. with my eldest child. My 4 year old has that demonic internal alarm clock that sends out a shot of adrenaline through his veins exactly at 6. Sometimes the clock breaks & send it out as early as 5 A.M. I tried doing the adult outing like twice thinking I could make do & that nap time would be my life savior. Nope. Never again. I learned quickly it's better to say No unless you have the babysitter for a 24 hour window.

I realize now why I was bitter. I needed that adult night out & because she had asked, I had it set in my mind that it had to be that night or something. Maybe her asking just set my mind into overdrive towards the "ugly cry" meltdown I had that night after I was kneeling down cleaning up the pee from where my daughter peed in her pants for the fifth time that day. I don't know. You know what though? I got over it. The weekend was rough for me. Emotional even. I guess that happens a lot for some (if not all) single parents. I guess you are bound to have a break down here & there when you're going at the whole parenthood thing completely alone in life, especially when you had expected & anticipated for a long time to do it with the person that created this little being with you. But hey-when life's unfortunate series of events throws you a curveball, you just adjust your swing. Regardless, when your knee lands in a puddle of wetness that you missed while cleaning up the pee that had just came from this little being, bad thoughts are going to cross your mind & filter out through your mouth about how this shit was not what you expected. How life's not fair. How the other guy gets off easy & IS probably getting to go out with their friend tonight.

It was still rough going into the week, but it wasn't as bad. Babies were born everywhere (always makes me feel better & worse at the same time #BabyBlues). We It all of a sudden snapped into place one day for Taterbug to just go to the potty. She's had accidents since, but it doesn't sound like I'm murdering my child when I tell her she needs to go to the potty anymore. She also had a cousin born on Tuesday, so we got to go see the precious angel & I got a good dose of oh-so-bad baby blues.

Wednesday came & two things happened.
  1. I went to the gym for the first time in a long time. It felt good. I signed up to run a half marathon in March & so that was a good motivator to get back at the grind. Bubba's Diddy had off that day, so he offered to watch Taterbug while Bubba was at school so I could hit the gym up. I found this Half Marathon training schedule online that I was going to give a try. I hit my Nannie up & she volunteered to be my gym buddy. We hit the gym up for a little over an hour then grabbed some lunch at Farm Garden inside the mall that my gym is at. Best. Pita Pocket Sandwiches. Ever. The only thing that bummed me out a tad was that I couldn't finish the 5 miles of Walk Run Walk that was on the training schedule. I swear the treadmill mile is twice as long as a regular mile. I did 4 out of 5 though, so I count that as a semi-win for first day back. The "day after" legs about killed me though.
  2. I got my adult night out with Bubba's Diddy & one of his coworkers while my Nannie (Bless her !) watched the chil'ren. I went home, changed out of sweat-tastic clothes, freshened up, put on makeup (once a year event), got all sexy-like, & we dropped the kids off at Nannies around 5 P.M. We (Bubba's Diddy & I) hit up Big Licks with his co-worker. Apparently our waitress was Aaron's (Bubba's Diddy) friend's girlfriend I tried both the peach & the grape margarita. I prefer the peach, but both were hitting the spot. The live music was awesome. The alligator bites are to die for. #FatKidStatus My meal was delicious. His coworker was hilarious. That restaurant totally has my stamp of approval & I can only hope I get the same waitress next time I go. We picked the kids up around 9 & had them in bed by 9:30.
My bathroom sink actually looks like a real adult female lives in this house.
Usually men products outnumber women products. #MensStuffWorksBetter #GoneGirlie

Ever since then, I have been fine. It was like that one day was all I really needed. I didn't need to get wasted. I didn't even need that much time away from home or being completely kid-free. If I could afford the gyms that offers childcare, I totes would've taken Taterbug with me. It was just going to the gym to push all that negative out in energy that I needed. I used to do that on an everyday basis. I'm hoping I'll get back to that point. Regardless, that was just one day with two instances that I got to do something I thoroughly enjoyed & where I focused on me for a second. It's like, a reset button. Or the restart button on your phone that shuts it down then reboots it in hopes that it'll work more efficiently. Or whatev. It was great. Glorious even. I feel like every parent needs that "reset" day, at a minimum of once every three months. I mean, I commend the people who hate to leave their child's side for even one second…but come on, man. Don't you like that night where your husband (or your best friend who happens to be your son's father, but isn't your boyfriend by any means) takes you out to dinner without the kids just to eat and be merry???

P.S. I haven't been back to the gym yet since then. I was totally going to start an every day regimen with going again yesterday, but that didn't happen. Not because I didn't have the chance to, but because I just wanted to stay home with my daughter & have a lazy day of watching cartoons & cuddling. (Confession: That other workout whipped my ass too, no lie. Everything from the waist down hurt something fierce yesterday.) I probably won't go today either simply because I wish to stay in the warm house & cuddle with the mini army that I created. Tomorrow, it'll be a definite though. #HalfMarathonTraining #AKAImGoingToDie



Friday, January 2, 2015

Happily Letting Go of 2014

So, what stereotypical " New year, new me" thing can I start this off with?…

I'm ready to let 2014 go. It treated me pretty shitty & threw a lot of emotional curveballs that I really wasn't ready for…& I still ain't. I'm still trying to process them & it's taking a lot out of me. But before I get into all of the seriousness of my emotional & physical states of distress & how I plan to takeover the world in 2015...


How about this?

Doesn't she look thrilled about the new year? Bahaha.
#SoftKittyWarmKitty #LittleBallOfFur

Get Your Shit Together Kohl's

    The days after Christmas consisted up until NYE was mostly a bunch of playing with the new toys, reading (for me), & relaxation. We did go out the day after Christmas to do some returning, exchanging,  & shopping for extremely discounted Christmas decorations. Yes, I'm crazy. I have embraced my lack of sanity. Bahaha. I realize that going out the following days after Christmas is a extremely stupid idea & is known as a general rule worldwide, but in all honestly it really wasn't that bad. We went to all of three store and all of them were right on the edges of good ole Libertyville Lynchburg, so there was no need for us to travel down the road to hell, aka Wards Road. I will say, however, that Kohl's was horrific. Of course, this has always been my opinion since I worked there a little while after the store opened in Lynchburg…so I really wasn't expecting much to begin with. That mess of a store & lack of proper management was too much for my OCD to handle on a daily basis. It hasn't improved since & it's been years now. I couldn't find anything I was looking for (which is normal for there) & the lines were ridiculous (which was worse than when I worked there). This being said, I worked a Black Friday at this store. I know how bad lines can get. Let me tell you now that these lines were legitly 3 times worse than the lines I had on Black Friday. Come on, Kohls. Get your shit together.

Celebrating The New Year With Sick Babies

    New Year's Eve was relatively the same thing. I spent the entire day at home with my family. Surprisingly, my Diddy even stayed with us all day too. That's a rare commodity when he stays still & participates in the action known as "being lazy". That night after we laid the kids down for bed, my son's Diddy came over & went with me across the road to the neighbor's house to bring the New Year in with them. (Diddy spent the night at my house to watch the kids for me.) We ate good things, drank a little (Seriously, I had two beers. I didn't feel like dealing with the hangover at 6-something a.m. when Bubba woke up), & just had an overall great time with my new friends/neighbors. It was great. At around 1 a.m., I walked home (across the road…there's nothing better than not having to drink & drive when you can walk home. Bahaha.). Later that night/morning, my daughter woke up crying. Later when I woke her up to get her ready for her father to come get her (not because I wanted him to, trust me), she was shaking, crying, burning up, sweating, & wouldn't eat. Tylenol was dispensed & cuddling commenced until he came. I found out later that "family pictures" were taken that day…an outside shoot. It was not t-shirt kind of weather either. Exactly what you need to do with a sick baby. Who said sick kids need medicine & rest? Next time when she's sick & he's in town, she's just staying with me. #IdiotsEverywhere

Sick baby #1
 Then this kid started laying around everywhere & wanting to cuddle. My son doesn't lay around whatsoever…& he doesn't sit still long enough to cuddle. He's is legitly a ball of energy from the time he gets up (usually between 5 to 7 in the a.m.) to the time he goes to sleep. So when both happen, we automatically know he's sick without having to even check his temperature. Another sign he's sick: if he sleeps past 7 in the morning. It didn't hit him until after Taterbug left, so that didn't apply here.

Sick baby #2
Two sick babies on New Years…I'm pretty sure that's probably a bad omen of some sort for 2015. Oh well. It couldn't be any worse than what 2014 was. Knock on wood…
*knock, knock, knock* "Penny." *knock, knock, knock* "Penny." *knock, knock, knock* "Penny."

But Seriously, The Philosophical Shit

But seriously I'm so done with 2014, I can't even. *stereotypical white girl voice* Don't get me wrong. Good things have happened in 2014. 

Pros:
  • My kids grew a year older. 
  • I finally (only took a total of seven years) graduated from college with my Bachelors. 
  • My kids & I got our first home together. 

But in reality, the good didn't really outweigh the bad.

Cons:
  • My Grandpa started a fast decent in health that led to his passing in September.
  • I got my first job only to realize how horribly the mentally & physically disabled are treated by the employees there. So I quit…& haven't been able to find a job since.
  • I gave finding love a chance only to be reaffirmed that men are assholes & aren't worth the pain.
  • I lost something very precious to me that I will never be able to get back. I'm reminded of it everyday & it hurts in every imaginable way possible.
I can definitely say out of all of this, I have learned some very harsh but valuable lessons from 2014 that have been emblazoned in my brain for all of time. Other than that, you can not imagine how grateful I am that 2014 is gone. As for 2015, I'm hoping for anything other than a 2014 repeat. I mean, other than the sick babies, it's already starting to promise good things. My sister is coming into town in 14 days to visit, which is just the beginning of many more throughout the year. I'm planning on running *another* half marathon in March. Shoot me now, but my friend who I do these kind of things with is too convincing. At least I have an incentive to start getting my fat ass back into the gym. At one point I was going almost every day. I kept it up for three months. I'm hoping to beat that record. Plus the half marathon is at the beach on St. Patrick's Day weekend & it promises free beer at the end, so it can only be but so bad. At the very least, I'll be celebrating St. Patty's Day weekend at the beach. On a completely unrelated note, who wants to be my on-call "bail money" person if I ever happen to get arrested in the entire course of my life? Any takers???
I've put in A LOT of applications to jobs through the hospital, specifically to the child treatment center & psychiatric unit I interned at…so I'm hoping one of them comes through for me soon. I mean, I got offered a job at the psychiatric unit when I was interning there & couldn't accept it because I still had a Spanish class left to complete in the Summer for my degree to be complete. I feel like I have some sort of shot at getting offered some kind of position through them if that happened once, right??? *Positive vibes* If not, I'll keep searching. No biggie. I plan on embracing life a little more this year. I plan on more trips for my family & me, more pictures, more random rides to the playground, more physical activity from myself, paying of a large portion of my debt, etc. I'm not setting any specific resolutions because I feel like it's too demanding & if you don't reach it precisely the way you want, you just feel too defeated. Instead, these are just general ideas…concepts, even. I'll work on them a little each month & see if any progress has commenced by the end of the year. If I've gained any progress whatsoever in the right direction of these concepts, well then I've done what I set out to do.

" You don't have to be better than anyone else, just be better than you were the day before."

Thursday, January 1, 2015

A Gigantic Dollhouse & Fat for Christmas

Another New Year's post…#SoCliché #DealWithIt #NotReallyJustKidding #TomorrowsBlogPost

Today, a Christmas recap… #FashionablyLate
I attempted my own "Christmas pictures" since we didn't have time to get professional ones done.
I figured if I got just one good one in front of a tree, we could go later to get more done elsewhere.
This was the best shot I got of both of them.
#EpicFail

These didn't turn out too bad though.

First present of the year unwrapped. Of course she had to "help" him. Smh.

She got cowgirl boots…& didn't take them off the rest of the day. He made it to gift #3 then lost interest in unwrapping because, obviously, there was a dire need to play with that one & that one only.

Taterbug also got this from her Papa…a dollhouse that is freakishly huge. It takes up one whole wall in her room. It's so tall she can't reach the attic/baby room. (Side note: Why the hell would you put the baby room in the attic? Most neglectful parent dolls of the year award goes to the dolls who used to inhabit this dollhouse) Like wth…I move to a new house for more room & they just buy bigger toys. I can't win for anything.

I'm around 5'4" to 5'5". I'm sure you can guesstimate how big this nightmare beautiful dollhouse is.


After all was done at home, we arrived at my (our) Nannie's around 11 a.m. That's normally a whole lot later than usual, but we were just too busy with the oh-so-many toys this morning to worried about getting dressed or arriving early. Someone somewhere was watching out for me somewhere though 'cause there was still oyster soup left! Hallelujer, praise de lort!


Present unwrapping commenced as soon as my dramatic & always late sister finally showed up with my nieces.





This girl was more excited about opening presents than she was about actually getting them. She got done with all of hers, then went around asking to unwrap other people's presents…just because.

 Bahahaha! #Twinsies That's my Bubba & his father in the plaid lumberjack looking shirts. Before you asked, it was planned…all by me. Bubba had that shirt already & I got his father the shirt as a Christmas present. Coincidentally, they were #twinsies the day before too…both were wearing batman t-shirts. I couldn't stop laughing. I also couldn't get enough of the red bow on Bubba's head. It was too much.


My three nieces, my uncle, & my aunt-in-law.
 After presents, we ate like we hadn't in months okay, only a month 'cause I went food-binge crazy at Thanksgiving). I packed as much food into containers afterwards to take home for later. We left around 2-3 P.M. to head over to our Grannie's. I legitly dropped all the food off by my house & went to her house basically to eat some more…& packed some more plates full of food for later. No lie, I ate off of Christmas food for the next 3-4 days. #LikeTheFatKidIAm
And then…the kids played with their toys.

What did I get for Christmas, you ask? Well...

This is no lie. I plan on explaining this in more detail in a post later this week.
#LikeTheFatKidIAm
From my son's father…the whole series (with the exception of the last season, but it has slots for the last season's DVDs). Gaahhhhhhh! <3 This tied for 1st on Favorite Christmas Present of 2014.
This was my 2nd 1st place on Favorite Christmas Present of 2014. It smells like straight up sexy man…
my bff from way back since I can remember gave it to me. She knew it would kick my hormones into overdrive.
#DoesSomethingToMeFierce #MessingWithMyHormones 

This was the rest of my gift from her.
Can anybody tell what one of my favorite things in the world are?
Anyone?
Does anyone see the theme here?
Huh, huh…?
#SheGetsMe
I also got mucho coffee for my new Kuerig (gift to myself), Christmas knick-knacks for mi case nuevo, a lamp, a ChiAir hair straightener, another Jodi Picoult book, & a few other things here & there. I genuinely liked & was thankful for every single thing that I got. I would've felt exactly the same if I would've gotten nothing…or a wrench (the equivalent of something I would have no use for). 
I mean, isn't that the point? 
I was able to spend Christmas with all of my family, extended family, & friends. 
I was able to sit down & have a meal with them. 
To make memories.
To live through another Christmas, another year.
To spend the whole day with my children.
To see them happy & healthy.
Not everyone can say that.
Some people aren't afforded those luxuries.
Some people are & can, but just choose not to.
I'm just thankful that I am & that I do.

Hope your Christmas 2014 was a good one!


Tomorrow's agenda: Happily Letting Go of 2014