Driving Drunk Should be Legal!

About two-thirds of all accidents are caused by sober drivers!  So we need to focus on sober drivers instead of people who drive drunk.  Also?  "The campaign against so-called 'drunk drivers' is another feminist hate men program."

Yessss... there was really a serious news article about allowing drunks on the road legally in County Kerry, Ireland.  And I gleaned all that rockin' wisdom from the comments section.  But the local council reasons that allowing a few drunks on the road is a net social benefit because then these boozers wouldn't have to drink alone.  It will decrease depression!  Those poor rural men.  There is no way, I suppose, that an Irish man can socialize unless he's good and drunk.

I didn't say it!  But the article certainly implies that boozing it up is the only thing to do.  Have they not discovered basketball or golf in Ireland yet?  Pool?  Cards?  The Super Bowl?  I mean, really... there must be something else to do in County Kerry.  The Council thinks it's ok because nobody's been killed yet?

Thankfully the reaction from officials at a more national level has been more along the lines of, what the hell are you thinking.

Little Walking Feet

G had his ankle patched up after an accident in gym class last year.  A few months ago he started walking on the side of his foot and his orthopaedist made him wear braces and go to physical therapy.  It got worse instead of better.  It looked as though his tendons would need to be sliced, tightened and all this other stuff pretty soon.  We were referred to Dr. Bonar's place to find out what to do next. Her office was awesome.  We got an appointment within two weeks, and her people are friendly without being fakey-syrupy.  She told us to not use the brace and not do the special exercises.  I spent just under $100 on "hiking shoes" and if G isn't doing better in a couple of months, she'd like to see him again.  That's it.  G has been very happy this afternoon.  We thought Dr. Bonar was great, but we'd prefer not to see her again, you know?  Only thing is, there are times when "hiking shoes" are gonna look dippy, but that's the price you pay for good health I guess.

Tattoo - It - Yourself!

A good tattoo can be very expensive.  Why spend that money on a professional when you can order your own "tattoo kit" from several different online retailers, including Amazon?  Just doodle away!  So cheap!

Could you imagine tattooing yourself and all your friends in the comfort of your very own home?  Right at the kitchen table? What could possibly go wrong?  I wonder who on earth thought marketing equipment like this to just anybody was a good idea... but apparently this is the new thing to do...

A simple google search reveals that already we have some... consequences from this sort of marketing.  One woman passed out drunk during her session, and so did her tattoo "artist."  This story ends up with a gas can, a house fire, and 20 years in the pokey...  Oh.  And a very bad tattoo.

Maybe you're not the drinking, carousing and housefire-setting type.  Maybe you just want a little income on the side by having a "tattoo party."  I think I am busy that night and can't attend.  Sorry.

Bye-Bye, Tree.

My computer just died.  Won't even power up.  All my computer-saved tree-ly good pictures of my fave tree are gone.  Ah, well, here's a random shot of it through my kitchen window.  It will have to do.  The tree started becoming hollow up under, bark began to fall off and branches were dying.  The whole tree was in the dying process for a while, but I'm sure the hot, drought-y weather did it no favours, either.  So it was time to go before it fell and did some major damage.

Not the sort of thing you just do yourself, though.  The tree is absolutely immense.  I could squat down and take a picture straight up even from this angle, and the tree will still be up up up there.  We had to hire the professionals at Prentice and Bush to come out and do the job.  Jason climbs up the tree like a spider with nothing but a rope and a pair of spiky cleats.  He takes a chainsaw and a drink along, but it's almost like watching Avatar to see him scurrying about so high up.

A view from my driveway.  The tree branches are halfway down in this picture.  This picture does not give the size of my tree justice.  The websites I've encountered say "mature" pin oak trees are 70 feet tall, and the ones I have left on the side of my house are about that, but this one was a bit taller and closer to 90 feet. (I am guessing that 70 feet is an average and not a world record.)   Oddly only the trees on the west side of my house remain.  Others got sick or were dying and had to be removed over the years.  They would probably have been planted in 1964 when the house was built.

The bad thing about having to have this work done is now I have an in-your-face view of 1960's power wires, complete with squirrel nest and some glass-looking doodads.  Sometimes the squirrels electrocute themselves to death because they keep running about on the wires, but that doesn't stop the stupid things from building the same old nests year after year.  Kind of like the let's build a condo on the Florida coast mentality.  Whenever they do this, we lose power for a while.

Speaking of losing power, most of our town was in total darkness overnight because of a very large and sudden thunderstorm.  The silence during the outage was just amazing.  You never realize how much electrical humming and other noise is about you until it is hushed.  Our area was one of the very last to be up and running power-wise, so sleepy children had to find ways to light their way in the morning and stay safe.  Jason had been telling me when he bid our job that really, things were slow, they could sure use the work, etc.  I'm so glad the tree came down just before the big storm hit.  Right now, all the local tree service people are going to be VERY busy for a while.  Just saw six tree trucks going up and down our street doing work today.  Meanwhile, my newly-trimmed trees have just been rained upon so it's perfect timing.



Gooood Morning!

Wake up in the middle of the night because Woodjie is hopping about.  Sure enough, he has to poop. 

Good wiping and hand-washing are foreign concepts to this kid, so I have to get out of bed.  Tonight Woodjie is explosive, runny, messed up all his clothes and about half the floor... smelly bad. 

Aaaaand there is NO WATER.  Just air when I turn on the faucet. Ew ew ew ew.  I dragged up an entire mega-mega Sam's Club size of baby wipes and just did what I could.  Changed clothes.  Can't even flush toilet or wash clothes.  Ew. 

Repeat this scene about four different times in the night.  This morning we had a trickle of water so you betya we flushed/ washed/ bathed Woodjie and changed him AAA-gain.

*pa-yeeww*

Laundry.  More washing.  The air is just... heavy with this stuff.  I'm about to get breakfast for littles when an important phone call comes in.  Emergency level.  I MUST, within the next hour, dig up every known financial record I have for the state.  Including burial plan policy numbers, amount and account numbers of savings accounts, worth of the real estate I own, bla bla bla.  SURE, I just did this a few months ago, but that's not good enough.  I need to drop everything and get it done again, NOW.

 Kids are hopping for breakfast and I tuck them in bed (as if that's gonna work, but this was really urgent). 

I sure hope my paperwork is coherent.  Ever have to dive for stuff like this because someone made you JUMP?  First thing in the morning?  I sure hope it is done well...

Called city utilities after digging their number up to ask if the water is safe to drink.  This answer I swear is almost an exact quote:  Well, nobody told US it wasn't.  What?  Did we test the water?  We've been BUSY.  I guess we'll test the water... just that... thing is, we never got a chance.  So.  I think the water is safe to drink but I don't want to say yes or no about a thing like that on the record.

REALLY???  How much money do these people earn each year?  Make me feel safe.  Today we are drinking bottled water.   Also?  Woodjie is wandering about in nothing but underwear today.

The Cyclops Child

Have you read it?  A STILL PRACTICING physician writes of participating in deceiving parents into thinking their infant is dead, kidnapping him, torturing him by secluding him and amputating his finger, and waiting around for him to die after 13 days of life.  He refers to the child as a "monster" and even in his later "clarification" essay (yeah, people got outraged at his original essay, imagine that), explained that he never told the parents about the child or took pictures because really, no parent wants a momento of something so ugly and awful.

Well.

Ok, I have to admit that this was 50 years ago.  Also?  Google-image search "cyclops child" and you'll see some of these deformities - as well as the one described in the article - are not really surviveable.  They are hideous to look at.  It breaks your heart - be warned!  Children with ears in the middle of their faces and no mouths, or deformed mouths.  One giant eye.

Dr. Neuman further describes how it upset him that staff began missing work to avoid hearing the baby cry inconsolably from its hiding spot in a back room.  He goes into great detail about how he could have smothered it, exactly when he had a grand opportunity, but considering that smothering a baby leaves some telltale marks.  Maybe no one would really care, though...

"Over all the years that followed, I found myself thinking from time to time of that picture, my hand over the baby's mouth. I knew then, and I still think now, that the right thing to do would have been to kill that baby. It wasn't really a baby; it just sounded like a baby--that's what I tell myself.  But I would like to stop thinking about it. After all, the whole thing happened over fifty years ago."

I know.  It happened over 50 years ago.  But it's amazing to see even now a good number of people think that it would be the right thing to do just to kill the kid.  And thank God there's abortion on demand today!  Oh, wait.  It's a "secular" website.  Thank The Goddess, then.

These people are our neighbours, and some of them work in hospitals.

Poor Woodjie.

His left knee is so swollen and hot that he is crying occasionally.  He's been to the doctor and has antibiotics.  Now we just have to wait for them to work.  The area feels hot.  We were told it is probably a bug bite the got infected.  :(

Adultery is Like an Ice Cream Choice.

Old people were all sexxxy before they got dementia.  So now that they have dementia they should be able to go on with their sexxxy lives!  Just, you know, make sure it's consensual and all and then let Gramma go at it!  Go Grams!

Oh.  She's married?  Well, that's ok.  See, decisions about when and how and with whom to have sex are not serious decisions, like deciding whether to have a surgery.  It's more one of those not-so-serious decisions like what kind of ice cream to have after dinner.  So these old people who have dementia should be able to act out their feelings and whatever and have (ahem) fulfilling lives in the nursing home.  Nevermind that Gramma isn't sure what year it is.  She's horny!

One group of siblings just decided not to tell Mom that Dad was carrying on with some other wrinkly chick in the home she was using their life savings to pay for.  So what if Dad has lost most of his faculties and never would have done that before?  And so what about their marriage?  We need to empower senior living and, you know, the patient choosing when and how to engage in the act and all that.  Plus it's a "fundamental human right" to do the nasty.

I'm serious.

Door-to-Door School Harassment

Natomas Unified School District (CA) officials went with the news media door-to-door looking for "truants" and trying to force vaccinations on the spot.  Just imagine yourself at home, thinking the guy at your door is some salesman or something, and answering to find a camera in your face, your personal information being read aloud, and being grilled about your child's medical history.

One mom, who actually reacted about as nicely as could be expected under such a circumstance, is suing the school district.  Her daughter, Cayleh Morrison, was described on camera as needing the whooping cough vaccination and being out of compliance with the law.  No such legal obligation exists, as the family could opt out at any time. 

Of course, this was not stated on the broadcast.  We all know schools and medical professionals are generally INTENTIONALLY DECEPTIVE on this count.  I can't tell you of even one time that I've been given full disclosure of my rights NOT to vaccinate my children by school or medical people.  You have to somehow already know this.  I think the lying needs to stop if the schools/medical folks want the trust to start.

This is not OK.  None of the families of unvaccinated or "truant" students should have had their homes and personal data broadcast for the world to see (and for all eternity, really, via the wonders of the internet).

California has a serious whooping cough epidemic.  It isn't going to be solved this way.  By all means exclude unvaccinated children from public school during an outbreak if you feel you must.  If the kids' health is THAT important to you, and you realllly think vaccination works so well and that unvaxed kids carry cooties by their very nature, you'll be ok with losing that state funding for the day. 

Whatever. 

My take on it is that sick people spread stuff and we should REALLY come down hard on parents sending sick kids to school intentionally.  (We've all seen this.  Though I know sometimes the kids start getting sick at school and there's no helping that.) 

I think making families that don't vaccinate the enemy is unhelpful at best.  It makes people who don't want to vaccinate feel persecuted and form their own groups, support systems and information lines.  This cuts off any communication the medical community might have had with these families.  I also think that the medical folks need to realize that when parents flip out and say there are too many shots, maybe that's the time to push JUST the DtaP if that's what's going around, rather than push too hard and maybe see none done that day and/or win that day's battle, but find the parents are now playing herbal remedies when the kid gets appendicitis because that's more "natural" than surgery.  (I exaggerate only slightly.)

I'm biased in favour of personal choice, knowing that vaccines can be a net good societally but do not always work.  I also have vaccinated all my children against whooping cough (what, are the vaccines going to make the kids autistic twice?) and would encourage you do do the same. 

Good grief, but not this way.  I hope that mom wins a boodle of money and a court-ordered apology from the school district, to be posted at the upper right portion of its website, for one full school year.

Bad News.

I've started in on a cough.   Not a big one, but big enough that I was honestly concerned that I would tear. Then I took pain pills until the surgeon's office opened because a side effect of the heavy-duty pain drug I'm on is that it stops people from coughing.  I don't like doing that, using drugs off-label like that without seeing a doctor, but I had to get through the weekend.  The surgeon's office refused to see me for a cold yesterday, I went to our family physician.

He prescribed me still more pain drugs and said what I'd been doing is a good idea.  We sure don't want to upset the surgeon by opening this all up, he told me.  Well, ok then... I just don't want to turn into a junkie.

You won't, he said, because you don't have an "addictive personality" and you are using them for a set purpose and a short period of time.  I would tend to think a few weeks isn't a short period of time but I am not going to argue with him; I agree I can't be coughing with this huuuge opening in my gut just starting to heal.  I just can't.

I also checked in with my surgeon when I saw him today and told him what happened so that he wouldn't think I'm doctor-shopping for drugs.  Hey, but if your front office says I need to go somewhere else then that's what I'm going to do.  It's just odd, though, seeing the regular doctor over a tiny cough when really it's a surgery-related issue.  WHO would care about just going *cough* once or twice an hour otherwise?  Not me.

The surgeon told me to stay on the pain pills for about another week and then see if I still have a cough.  I like having a set time and also like having all the doctors be able to talk with each other.  I don't like not having people know what the other guy is doing and I'm glad there were no professional disagreements.  Just take the drugs, lady.

I was going to post what it looks like without the staples in but the whole thing, this whole gash is open and bloody and has LAYERS to it just like looking at the sides of a half-cooked steak.  It's THICK like a half-cooked steak, too. I mean, horror movie stuff.  I cried when I saw it... I could seriously whip off my shirt in a crowded place and scream that I've been stabbed and people would believe me, that's what it looks like.  Huge six-inch long gash, still bleeding a little actually.  And that is "normal" for what I've just been through.

Right now I'm on a lifting no more than 10 pounds restriction.  But the surgeon said I will never be able to lift more than 40-50 pounds. EVER again.  As in, I will never be able to lift my little children again.  I am so sad. I can't remember which time was the "last time" I got to pick them up, so I won't be able to have a goodbye picking up.  I don't know, that part makes me very sad.  And more than that, how am I going to handle things if I have to move to a new city?  OR even pick heavy stuff up at Sam's Club?  NEVER move over 50 pounds again?  How am I going to live like this?  People will think I think I'm a princess or something, making everyone else do MY work.  But I don't want to be back at the surgeon's place again.  These folks can patch you up, but you are never as good as new.  Each new patch is really not as good as the last one.

I'm not very happy about this at all, especially with the prospect of what if Woodjie runs away?  He doesn't understand about cars.  What if I am going on a trip alone?  I can't lift my own bag.  No fair packing bunches of stuff in different bags; it will still all weigh over 50 pounds.  I guess I'm in shock and have no clue how I will live the rest of my life like this.  I mean, it's not the worst thing that could happen to someone... there are harder things some people handle in this life... but I'm unhappy about it all.  :(

Age Discrimination.

I think sometimes it's ok. I do not want an 80-year-old teaching kindergarten, even if she's sharp, brilliant and a great teacher. Not without an aide. Sorry.

High school? Fine. High schoolers can go potty by themselves and get out safely if there's a fire. The good majority of them also know what to do in an emergency, which is pretty daggone important if the only adult in the room is over 75 years of age.

I realize it's an unpopular position to take, but depending on the job, I don't see where a physical exam shouldn't be required. If I'm in a burning building, I reallllly don't wanna hear about how Mr. Firefighter shouldn't be discriminated against just because he's diabetic and lost his sight. There really needs to be a limit there somewhere for safety's sake. I'm not sure just where that limit is, but I think there needs to be one.

This lawsuit sounds a lot like bull poopy to me. Listen to her doddering interview. Hey, the first sentence or two sounds fine... but listen a while and tell me whether you think she's really able to teach small children to speak coherently and keep 25 squirmy kids in reasonable order.

You know, I clicked the link thinking that the school was probably unfair and that I really don't care WHAT age this lady is if she can do whatever she needs to do in her job. But then I saw her stumbling about with her cane and speaking poorly and I changed my mind. Maybe I would change it back again if it were about a lawsuit involving a very sprightly lady of 85 who speaks intelligently wanting to teach that classroom of five-year-olds.

Hey, if she can do it, more power to her.

Come to think of it, I'm not sure what my opinion is. I just watched the video and thought, "No way." And maybe that's a snap judgment. Your thoughts?

Crazy Comment Monday!

I know, another video... but this is too good to pass up. (Warning: F-word at beginning. I didn't notice it the first time through...) These poor downtrodden young students, who ostensibly have gazoodles of money to spend or borrow for college, seem to feel that it is your responsibility to buy their birth control. They only want to be treated like adults. And it isn't fair that the government spends so much on defense and that Planned Parenthood is so derided in the news. Activism time! People giggling, holding silly signs and talking about how they have sex ("SEEEX!") helps you think of them as adults discussing an alternate point of view, right? Yeah. That'll do it. Tell you what: if you want to be treated like adults, fine. A rational, calm, non-giggly argument could be made for the public benefits of STD testing being made available at taxpayer expense. Slogans like, "We lube and we vote" probably doesn't qualify as a rational argument in most circles, however.

Being Vigilant

Ok, parents. You know by now that you must officially freak out over cough syrup. Don't worry, though... the government will restrict how much cough syrup you can buy. That will make you and your kids safe. Next up: bath salts.

I know. Every time I get a new batch of bath salts, I think, "I can't wait to get into the tub and snort these." Really. WHO on earth thinks of this stuff? Selling bath salts in little druggy zipper packets. I'd say, "Now I've seen everything," but I have a feeling I haven't. Missouri legislators, the article tells us, are seeking a general ban on these "artificial stimulants."

I don't get it. If they're marketed as bath salts, wouldn't you think the government should be restricted to seeing if, say, they caused horrible rashes if you used them in the tub? I have several children with eczema, and they need to use baby and kids' shampoo. YES, I have a kid who is ten who smells like a ten-month-old. Better than smelling like stinky foot.

But really. We need to legislate against bath salts? Apparently it's so bad that in Louisiana, over half the psychiatric patients of a given hospital were admitted after taking these salts, so it must be some serious stuff. I don't know that we can legislate against every stupid thing people are determined to do, but I SURE don't want more people dying, either. Here's hoping for wisdom and awareness on this problem.

I'll even be ok if you tell me it's an elaborate joke; I just hate hearing about people dying and getting sick over stupid stuff like this.

In other news, I checked my inbox for more questions from my readers. Someone emailed me with information on miracle cures for autism. Doggone nice of them; I can't wait to spend my life savings on dolphins (?).

Emperor's Allergies

Since we learnt about Woodjie's allergies, I've been getting each child tested when a regular appointment is warranted.  G, Elf, and Rose have been tested and are just fine.  But we just got the call about Emperor. 

Ready for a list?

He is very allergic to cats, and we have one.  She's 17, and we just won't get another.  Meanwhile, we've been advised to keep the cat away from him, have him wash his hands after handling her, and change our air filter frequently.  We could do shots for this and his bad dust allergy.  He has an allergy to dogs which is thankfully mild, so no problems there other than the fact that getting a dog wouldn't be such a hot idea.

We already have a documented nickel allergy.  This child has a severe, horrid reaction to nickel.  He had a little bracelet as a preschooler with a large nickel snap.  It took all my bravery to take that boy to the doctor because it sure LOOKED LIKE someone burnt him with a large cigar.  It only took a few days, and it realllly did look awful. 

He also has a milk allergy, just like Woodjie.  He had milk on his cereal and in his cup for breakfast this morning, but lunch was a sad affair.  Potato bread from Woodjie's stash.  Soy milk.  No chips.  You would think that barbecue or salt n vinegar chips wouldn't have milk in them.  (You'd be mistaken.)  He had some Fritos from Woodjie's stash.  Ohhh, some little boy has a lot of adjustments to handle.

D asked why he couldn't just go on eating milk and why bother not feeding him stuff he's allergic to if we haven't seen a major problem as yet?  So... I did some research.

For starters, loose or bloody stools are a common symptom.  Now, I don't search through anyone's stools, but seems to me you wouldn't want ANY blood in your stool, let alone wait for stuff to get so bad that you can SEE the blood in them.  And chronic snuffles.  Emperor is always just a little nasal there, but mind you, I'm guessing it's going to be hard to tell which allergies are bothering him when.

I know you're reading, so there you go, D.

Here's a link readers may find interesting:  there are several different ways to test for allergies.  The method we used for Emperor is called the "fast" method.  As implied, the "fast" method would show a pretty immediate reaction to the allergen in the blood.  To my mind, all the more reason to try to avoid the allergens or at least reduce them.

Hanako-san of the Toilet

Something must have gotten lost in translation. Apparently, in the third stall down on the third floor girls' room... everywhere... there is a lost ghost called Hanako. Don't go into the bathroom in that stall, because if you do, she will pull you into the toilet with her.

I would imagine that Hanako's parents would have reported her missing by now. One comment noted that the Japanese have a high-tech solution for everything and probably just push the button to flush when this comes up.

Ghosts don't inhabit boys' rooms, though. Snakes and possums and butt-eating monsters like to go there (get your post-it note out; when you scroll to the bottom of the article there are naked ladies' butts. fair warning...). When my little brother was small, he was afraid of a snake that would come up through the toilet and bite him on the rear end. My mom was mean to me and wouldn't let me tease him about it, either. She also made me give up ALL MY MONEY to my little brother after I traded him my big GOLD pennies for his little silver dimes. We were both happy with this deal until my mom TOOK MY MONEY, all of it, and gave it to my brother. It was my life savings. *sniff*

One final link: If you're travelling, you'll want to consult this website about where to find a public restroom anywhere in the world.

Homeschooling Through Family Crises.

One of our older children has had one problem after another and been in the hospital six times in seven months. Sometimes for a few days, sometimes almost two weeks at a time. The constant calls, visits and coordination of care can take a real toll on a family. Between times, we have about a zillion doctor appointments and discussions with providers on the phone about things all. the. time. I think he's going to be ok EVENTUALLY, but we're doing a lot of stupid treatments, and still others that sorta work, and others that don't really.

Well. He has the best of care, but I don't really want to blog about it out of respect for HIS privacy (Um, you read my blog... you know I have no issues with my own...). I just mention it to frame the story so that I can talk about how it affects our homeschooling.

It's shot! It's terrible! We've put the hours in, so I've fulfilled the letter of the law, but I see stacks and stacks of stuff NOT DONE. And sure, sometimes it's great to linger over a lesson, or do something else entirely. But honestly, we're only about halfway done, and the school year ends/begins on July 1. The kids are going to want to take a break SOMETIME this year.

They homeschooled all summer. I pretty much turned my homeschoolers loose and let them learn about whatever they wanted during that season. And yes, they did learn. And I'm all for that "discovery" thing. But to me there is a balance, and it's totally been shot to poopie-land over the course of the year as a whole. I had given them that time over the summer reasoning that there is plenty of time to get down to business later.

There wasn't. I can't tell you how much emotional energy it takes to battle insurance companies and yap with this doctor, that doctor, the other nurse for the whoosie-whatsits and then have to tell the public school YET AGAIN that this child will be out. Sorry. They've actually been very understanding. If you have a doctor's note, you can miss as many classes as you wish. NB: you will also pass said classes. I only wish I were kidding; this is an open secret. But thank GOD for some of those people at the public school being willing to work with our family because I cannot *imagine* how badly things would turn out if they didn't. I'm going to take the grace they have offered and thank them for it. Profusely.

In any event, I'm wondering if other families have been through this sort of thing before. Do things get better? And I wonder, what if they don't get better? What if this is a "new normal?" I cannot imagine putting the children into the local elementaries... and yet, I cannot imagine going through another year of this.

I hope to really, REALLY homeschool through the summer with perhaps a week's break in there somewhere. I start to wonder about sinking money into the five-billion dollar "leasing" of the DVD curriculum at this rate. School by TV doesn't sound bad at all compared to "school during times Woodjie and Rose are quiet and Mom doesn't have to be on the phone and Elf and Emperor are BOTH ready to listen."

Arg. If you've ever been through something like this before, I'd love to hear a little about how you managed it, especially if you also had younger children at the time.

Little side note that has little or nothing to do with the rest of this post: It's come to my attention through the Apples and Jammies blog that it's time to enroll in Pizza Hut's Book It program for next year. You get a free itsy pizza each month for students ages 5 -12 if you register here. We didn't enroll for this year because of the AFA boycott (we wind up spending $25 every time we go, free pizza or not!), but we will this coming year. :)

Blog Stalker Worries?

Do you post lots of family pictures and tell your readers pretty much everything on your blog? (I do.)

Do you disclose your last name, town and other identifying information on your blog, but think reallllly, only family and close friends are reading it anyway, so it must be ok? Or do you wonder a fair bit about "blog stalkers?"

I have some friends who post pictures of their house, their names and the name of their town. I get worried whenever they announce that they're going on vacation. They must have some super-great security system I don't know about if they're blogging this ... but just the same, I breathe a giant sigh of relief when I see the vacation photos have been uploaded from their home computer. That means they're ok. *whew*

Maybe I'm just naive, but I'm figuring really, not that many people are reading my blog. At least, not that many people NEAR ME are reading my blog. It would take a very determined blog reader to come out here from Australia, Japan or New Zealand just to take my sixth-grade math curriculum that retails for $158.00. I think since half of it's used, it's pretty much worthless resale-wise. Let's just say I'm not too worried about it.

I'm not popping my last name or our REAL names onto the blog, but certainly anyone who knows me well enough has my blog address. I think there's a balance there and for me, I'm ok with where I am right now. I have seen other blogs that don't even show the faces of their children. They can get pretty inventive with some of the poses, too!

Sometimes I look at sitemeter because it's just a lot of fun to see where people are popping in from and what they like to look at. Sadly, "smelly toe picture" or "used underwear" and the like are common sorts of search queries that lead folks here. My husband has a leatherworking blog and "leather wife" is the number one thing that leads people over to his place! Yes, make a "bracelet" for your "wife" out of "leather" and blog about it. Then see what happens. Yuccchhh.

But I'm sure there are plenty of normal people who must like looking at my blog and stay a while every now and then, but just don't comment. I'm not worried that they're stalking me. I can't imagine making my blog private because someone in Idaho likes to see what's going on at my house a few times a week. Truth to tell, if someone reallllly wants to kill me or steal that $158 curriculum, they're going to do it whether I blog about my life or not.

I read this little advice column and thought it odd. I didn't think the writer was a "stalker" of any kind, any more than you or I might be a "stalker" for looking up casual acquaintences on facebook. A true "stalker" isn't going to just peruse a blog, or even look forward to reading when a new post pops up in his reader. He'll obsess about the blogger, spend HOURS on the blog, and googlemap every place they talk about going and then... then he'll start showing up at those places and acting unbalanced.

Don't you think? That's what I'm guessing.

New York is Messed-Up.

I have family there, but that's not why. (Hi, guys! LOL) The laws there are so convoluted and wack that I can't imagine that they run under the US Constitution any more.

Take this case, for example. Ever have a nurse or someone perform some painful procedure on you, and you ask them to QUIT it, and they keep it up, and then you have to raise your voice... and they still keep it up? Hello, patient rights time, it's not unreasonable to yell after a good and fair shot at communicating your seriousness to the staff. I'm DEFINITELY not advocating staff abuse (do onto others AND not only that, please give the benefit of the doubt!), but I also think that listening to the patient and/or explaining why a procedure is necessary is worth a few extra minutes. I have had my share of kids before and I know that the nurse in question likely had to push pretty hard to find the fundus (top of uterus) and that it is just one of those things you have to deal with if you're in the hospital with these folks. The others? IVs, stupid questions about "are you safe at home," and the collection of totally irrelevant information like whether my great-grandparents smoked crack and/or got cancer. Sometimes I lie because I know the information is extraneous and you are being nosy. So there.

And sometimes I've heard loving parents call their kids greedy. In my home, when someone is being silly, I call them Dorcas Brain, as in, acting like a dork. The article makes it sound like calling someone a name is an instant custody loss right there.

And in the interests of mental health for EVERYONE, don't coerce people to give their mental health history and/or disclose the drugs they're taking. This blatant discrimination against the mentally ill will only serve to keep the illness in the closet and lead to a bad doctor-patient relationship. Want to know why insurance companies can continue to discriminate against the mentally ill? They're afraid to come out and demand their rights. Dang, people. If someone is on an antidepressant and it helps them FUNCTION, why is that fact then held against them in a custody hearing or CPS report? Wouldn't you think that someone with UNMEDICATED mental health issues would be way worse? Do you really want to go there?

Ok. And this story. Now I know you folks in New York value that personal freedom for each person, so long as each person decides to do what everyone else does. Let's stretch that really cool idea out just a mite. But as it stands now, folks must run lesson plans by petty bureaucrats and beg them for the chance to please, please let them educate their own children as they see fit. Failure to submit paperwork and bend over for a spanking (sign on the line that reads, "thanks! can I have another?") can get you into some trouble with the local ya-hoos. If you don't recognize the power they have before they get mad at ya, no telling what will happen after. The folks in the highlighted link could spend a year in the slammer for not filing their homeschool papers.

Now, I know you have to follow the law and that's brought up in the article as some sort of magical excuse to act like a mini-dictator. And you know, yeah, I guess it would be a danged shame if I were to, say, drive 36 miles an hour in a 35 zone. That would be wrong of me. Yep. Do you really have to sit on the streetcorner with the radar gun to catch me doing it, though, when two people just robbed the Qwik-E-Mart yesterday down the block? Do I really need to pay the $150 unlucky citizen of the day quota fee when there are big-bad criminals out there texting teenage girls and arranging "meetings?" Don't y'all have other things to do?

Don't you?

It really would be nice to feel that I could relocate to any area of the country, particularly if we had some sort of crisis and wanted to be near our family. But I just don't feel safe doing that right now. I hope the petty officials in the links lose their jobs but more than that, I hope some people with better common sense take their places. And that voters get some sense!!

The Boxer Fracture.

A little lower, and he'd be in surgery getting pins and metal bits inserted into his hand. WHEN will this boy learn to stop punching cement walls and/or banging his head when he's mad/ upset/ excited/ happy/ whatever? "Yay," G said, "My first broken bone!" Yep, none of the other children has gotten one of these before, so he gets to be the *first.* Kewl. More kewl still? We need to see an orthopaedic surgeon to look over the x-rays and perhaps recast/ recommend surgery. Hopefully not the latter. I'm sure I'll have a lot of fun bringing all the younger children with him to this appointment. Well... here he's striking a pose for the blog. In response to my question, it is NOT supposed to resemble Mussolini.

Happy New Year!

Here's a list, graciously provided by one of my sons today, of things I need to keep in mind. I think I'll post it on my fridge or my mirror, or better yet, my computer welcome screen, to help encourage me when I'm feeling down this coming year:


I am a bitch.
I am a jerk.
I hate my son.
I am mean to my son, and don't listen to his advice.
I need to shut up.
He will destroy the house because I have been so awful.
I need to go away.
I am fat.
No one loves me.
No one even likes me, I'm such a bitch.
No one wants me around.
Why am I still here? Didn't he just order me to go into the kitchen?


I got to hear all this (many times) while he was destroying some of my stuff, throwing things and slamming things. And why? I was in the process of making spaghetti for dinner and did not consult him as to what he would like to eat. Meanwhile I had other children downstairs crying for dinner and another teen watching them and hoping we don't have to call the police just as the garlic bread comes out of the oven. I mean, we wouldn't want our dinner to get cold again and everything.

Dang.


For those of you self-righteously opining that you would "never put up with" that sort of crap, I wish you just had to deal with a tenth of it so that you could see what it's like, cumulatively, from the time this child was an INFANT. I wish you could see what dealing with a child with genuine mental issues is really like. He started out with difficulties... there is only so badly you can mess a kid up by feeding him his Gerber Green Beans instead of Gerber Carrots, or making the kid wear his CAR jammies instead of the BEARS. People who like to chastise me for my crummy parenting have no idea how long "all this" has been going on, and the extreme lengths we have been going through to try to stop it.


And guess what?


We can't just get rid of our family members when they are inconvenient or disrespectful. YES, we tried raising the kid to get a consequence when he was naughty throughout his childhood. This is soooo far beyond that that any advice like that... sigh. Even advice like that is hurtful. It presupposes that DUH we have no stinkin' clue that this is behaviour that is undesirable to live with and/or ought be curbed... or that we are too busy getting drunk or high to notice that maybe this isn't acceptable.

And ya know... it would be understandable if one of us parents started up a habit like that. We've been actively asking for help since the child could toddle and bang his head bloody. (He still does that, you know.) We haven't really gotten very far. Think the average parent would get sick-n-tired, maybe discouraged even, after about a DECADE AND A HALF of this stuff? Hm?


So, dear neighbour/ stranger around town, if you think you know it all and this would never happen to you, I'd like to see you try going through what we have. Or just pick it up from this week if you're so strong. Try calling the mental hospital and hear about how they don't deal with autism and/or your insurance, tough crap, goodbye. Or YES! They do, but what you've been through, since it's become the norm, isn't a good enough criteria for admission. The wooden baseball bat he threw? Well, that was just an accident. Oopsie.


"You just shut up. You are a bitch. Why don't you just go away? Nobody likes you." You start to hear that wherever you turn for help. It's sure convenient to blame the parents, folks... and insinuate that Mom just messed the kid up. It makes you feel better that this will never happen to you because YOU have done things "right." It's part of the social contract, or the Old Testament, or something. God rewards "good" people with well-behaved children, because the "good" people magically trained their kids right.

Or, oh! My favourite lame-o excuse for personhood (I won't mention names) once quipped that of course God wouldn't test him that way, because he couldn't handle it. God should test me instead because I'm such a strong and Godly person. Pat, pat, pat... now go off somewhere else. Wow, with friends like that at church to pray for me, I feel validated! I'm gonna be sure to show up every week for this treatment.

Maybe I just read too much into a simple "no, sorry, we can't help you" from professionals or "sorry, I have NO idea how to pray about that" from church acquaintances now. Maybe I am overly sensitive; however, it's rather hard to deal with extreme situations like this not only alone, but while enduring the scorn and disdain of the community around you.

Ohhh... and she went on to have more kids? Mm-hmm... another son is THREE and doesn't even talk. Cluck-cluck. Tsk tsk.

See, though, Mrs. C is a Christian and God commands me to forgive you. Thankfully He doesn't call me to like you, or to not pray for God to pimp-smack you into the next century and humble you a bit. (Because I'm praying that for your own good.) And He doesn't call for me not to get annoyed when my fellow Christians say I'm supposed to be all loving to people who are rotten to me. It makes for a great sermon even if it is impractical.

You know what? I have a hard enough time loving my family when they're rotten. No offense, but I JUST do not have the energy to be all loving to stupid people outside the family who are also rotten. I'm figuring that if I'm going to be nasty to someone, I might as well be that way to people I don't have to live with. That's why I'm posting to the blog instead of yelling in the living room. :)

But maybe the "love is patient, love is kind" thing only goes so far. YOU try being "patient and kind" when it happens day after day over stupid things. And you've lost sleep. And you wake up angry or crying, and it takes you a minute to figure out why as you shake the clouds out of your head. And you keep having to get root canals... wonder why you grind your teeth so hard they break in two...?

But no, it must be all my fault. I must enjoy that sort of lifestyle somehow. (Root canals are fun!) I read in a parenting magazine once about moms who secretly enjoy "drama," 'specially around the holidays. The answer is to be more pleasant to the kiddos and let little things slide. One recent day at the Mrs. C house, there was much screaming and throwing of dishes because I said "please" too many times in my requests. I only wish I were kidding... can you imagine having a temper that awful... getting mad because someone nearby is too nice?

Maybe there has to be some other way, something we haven't tried yet, that isn't in the parenting mags, the doctors' offices or a pill bottle... but God hasn't shown it to me yet. God is about all that is left.


I do know my other children are growing up scared. I do know I am scared. I am reaching out for help and not finding much of it. I do know that going through all this has taught me to be far less judgmental of other families who couldn't make things better for their kid, or whose kid has done wrong. Yes, we've done allergy testing. Yes, we've done drugs. Yes, we've altered diets. Yes, we're continuing therapy. No, we're not willing to do hyperbaric chambers, leeches, bungee jumping and/or chelation therapy. Yet.


Truly, there is only so much you can do. One day, your child must make his own decisions as to whom he will serve. It is beyond humbling. It is humiliating, sad, frightening and a test of any shred of faith one might have left.


It's a new year. I can always hope that the next year, the next pill, the next therapy, the next technique might bring some relief. I cannot imagine that my son is having a rockin' good time feeling this way, either.


But how sorrowful to know that this, the child you have raised... well... you have done the best you can for him and you are still not sure what will become of him or the rest of your family. I am not sure of what to think of faith, hope and love... knowing the greatest of these is love. I am not sure what to think of people who think that "love" is putting up with someone who had a grumpy morning and forgot to say "I love you." Maybe what I live isn't real life, and that's a genuine struggle for other people. Other people have it easy.

Love is really, really hard to live out. Love is no cuddle-bug. Love is dang mean-looking sometimes, and it doesn't come with a bow. Love is hanging on when the person you care for hates you, and the world hates you for not doing a better job after you have done all you could.

Love is forgiving. Love is getting up tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day... and dealing with things again. Love probably also means I'll delete this post in a week, but here it is for now. Thanks for listening if you got this far.