5/11/04

Again comes the Spring....again comes the day.
'The Season of Grief', to which I have often referred any significant occurrence during this time.

It's been seven years.

7 years since the pediatrician denied the request for admitting him into the hospital. It was 'only bronchitis and not pneumonia'. She was right. But bronchitis can kill a child who has detrimentally developmental issues, and/or hypotonia....and it did. His weakened little body could not possibly come up with the resources required to clear one's own lungs.
And bronchitis did kill.
Kill.
My son.

After he died, someone told me not to make any Big Decisions within a year....and I didn't.
After he died, someone told me that it would take 3 yrs and 3 days to 'recover' from my grief.
After he died, someone told me that I needed to 'just let go'....
After he died, my life took on
a
new)}+
shape.

This is my history.
This is my life.


This is Ours to share or not.


I don't mean to get all.....
morose
or
overly poignant....

But this day was the day I said

'GoodbyeI'msosorryIletyoudownbylettingyoudie......'

And I am still sorry.
Because if a parent cannot keep their child alive, then what worth do they have??


But I am here.
And I am parent,mother,doctor,paper.

I am everything to them, I am nothing.

I have ashes in my cupboard.

I will survive this, because I choose now...

to LIVE it.



I will not passively let this day pass me by.

I will live it.

I will live every moment of it.

Acupuncture Saved Me Again

It isn't like it hadn't been recommended before.
It had...come up...it had...been suggested.

You know, you are carrying an overwhelming burden. Self-care is important. You are doing a great job caring for the children. You need to take some measures to reduce this amount of stress for yourself while protecting them from it all.... It's too much. What has happened could put anyone on the edge, let alone someone with the cumulative amount of shit you have had to wade through recently. This hits it out of the ballpark. Do something. Here are some numbers.

Yes!! Thank you for the great suggestions. I will just reach into my overdrawn bank account and pay a practitioner to help me.

But then the fabulous suggestion turned into a strong recommendation. One might even call it an insistence. Which manifested as a high-five and a heartfelt agreement.

Fine, I agreed. I took the numbers and called.
And I couldn't believe it when I called....was this for real????
Acupuncture on a sliding scale for $25 low end????

It's been rough here.
We're up; we're down.
Up was feeling so good.
Then: Unimaginable Pitfall
Lately...downish.
Too much.
Piled on.
Too much to digest.
Too much.

So I realized I had no more excuses. I had to go and try it out.
I hadn't been to acupuncture in more than a year, and this was a new practitioner.

It was a slightly different treatment than I remembered with the previous LAC, whom I saw for nearly 10 years - this guy tapped the needles in a bit more...err...firmly? I felt it, but it wasn't exactly a definable pain... and then he gave them a distinct twist, which felt like an electrical charge, which made me jump only twice. Or cringe. Or twitch. Any one of those is acceptable.
I was skeptical.
Then I was left to relax with those needles. I was glad for the blanket I had first politely refused - the needles can make you cold! Warm enough, I started to actually relax.
I breathed.
I thought.
I tried not to think so I could relax.
I remembered how badly I suck at meditation.
I tried breathing and tried to not remember how badly I suck anymore.
I think it must have worked to relax me.
Then I cried.
I don't like this bit.
But it wasn't overwhelming snot-wracked sobs or anything.
Just some quiet streaming tears.
I didn't like it a bit.
But yeah, I cried.

And you know what?
IT FELT GREAT.


I am going back.

I'll say it until it's heard. That's conviction, sir.

The following is why it pays to have paid for transcripts (when there was such a thing as a family court reporter):



THE RESPONDENT: I wasn't permitted by law to be at that residence or remove/retrieve my belongings at that time.

THE COURT (akaThe Presiding ever-changing-at-any-moment-but consistent-at-this-point-in-time, Judge S.): "Because of your conduct which led to the CLETS order, Am I getting that wrong?"
THE RESPONDENT: Yes, you are.
THE COURT: You didn't get arrested and convicted?
THE RESPONDENT: No. I was not convicted of a domestic violence. I plead no contest to disturbing peace.


bum

ba

dah

bum:


THE COURT: You are on formal probation?
THE RESPONDENT: Yes, I am.
THE COURT: Domestic violence counseling?
THE RESPONDENT: Yes.
THE COURT: A 52 week program?
THE RESPONDENT: Yes.
THE COURT: You are on three years formal probation ?
THE RESPONDENT: yes,sir.
THE COURT: That's conviction, sir.



That's conviction, sir.

This One is For The Haters

Oh HAI! You're still here?

Awesome.

Because, against all my better blogging judgment, there is something I wanted to say.

Remember how you called me cruel?

Well, afore-mentioned veterinarian friend met Sassy-kitten today.

Today?


'OMG TODAY IS A SUNDAY!!' you say....





Oh yeah I know that.


She was visiting us, so suck it.





"AWWWW....ZOMG she's GORGEOUS," said my dear friend who happens to be a veterinarian.


The friend who is bonded forever to me through her three daughters, whose lives she entrusted me with for over ten years; first through mutual agreement to obligation, and later by mutual agreement of mutual admiration and respect.


I just used the word 'mutual' three times in one sentence.


Go. me.





I told her about you.


You, the haters.





No, not you.





YOU.


Yeah, so she laughed at you.


My little girl's special birthday therapy kitten is in great hands.





That's all.








XOg

I'm Fractured

Today I found out that the doctor at the urgent care facility which I went to a week ago for a shoulder injury couldn't really read X-rays.
I was referred to an orthopedic PA, who pulled the X-rays up on the computer moments after I arrived in his office first thing this morning.
"Well, what you've got is a greater tuberosity fracture."

(.........................................there was a long pause..............................................)

And infused with the superpower of denial, I replied, "But it's not broken right?"

Oh yes I did.
Then I cracked up.
Oh - pardon the pun - I am not used to being fractured in this way.
He went on to say, "If you took a hard boiled egg and tapped it on the counter, it would crack the shell in different directions. That's the top of your humerus right now."
(please spare me those jokes which I do NOT find humorous)

My advice to you today is twofold:

• Do NOT slip on a broken muddy railroad tie when carrying a huge armload of firewood, thus falling directly onto your shoulder as your arms were too slow to release the wood, and,
• Do NOT live in a remote area 20-30 minutes from town if you are going to break something which renders you incapable of driving.

You're welcome.

Verizon Disney Mobile Magic part 2: Video Style

Remember how I told you about this?
My little trip to Disneyland?
(btw, no I did NOT call myself a 'top mommy blogger' Alltop already did that...shhh!!!)

In Honor of Domestic Violence Awareness Month

To the abuser;
If you want to apologize to your victim, I mean really apologize (as in, 'you have genuine feelings of remorse'), here is my advice to you.

1. Do not ever follow up your apology with a 'but...', thus rendering it no longer valid.
   
2. Do not go on to say - yet again - that your actions were defensive. Unless someone was hurting you physically, threatening you with a weapon, or physically hurting another person, your actions were not defensive. 2.a) Chasing someone into a house to violently grab them, shake them, keep them from leaving a room, bruise, batter and choke (twice) does not meet this criteria of 'defensive behavior'.
   
3. #2 actually takes what you may have convinced yourself was intended to be an apology, and turns it into just a really complicated and pathetic defense for your violence.
4. Do not confuse the word 'battery' with 'restraint'. (See 2.a)) I know that's a tough one, but it's not restraint when you chase someone who is trying to get away from you. In any reality.
   
5. Do not confuse the term 'battery' with 'grabbing and/or holding' someone.
   
6. Do not confuse claiming 'remorse' for actions with 'regret' for having a consequence. They are not one in the same.
7. Do not continue to emotionally abuse your victim via following up the apology defense with a novel's worth of manipulative lies.

Hello, California Legal System??

I would like to mention this little detail about restraining and stay-away orders....

He knows where I am. He knows.

But do I know where he is?
No, I do not.

Has he volunteered this information, in the interest of answering the questions? Or in the interest of goodwill?

No, he has not.


UPDATE 9/23/09: Did he use the information he got from this post to try and keep his address from me for months? Yes, he did. I am leaving it up. Be forewarned.

Be Careful What You Don't Tell People

I feel so overwhelmingly sad right now.

I can hardly find the 'poetic' and 'cryptic' words right now (which apparently describe my writing so well) to even write about this, as my style of writing and the mere fact that I do write, were attempted to be used against me today in court.
I don't want to feel censored, but if I remain a public blog, then I am and I will be. If something I say with heartfelt meaning can be used against me in a handy little twist, then yes. I will. You would too.


But for now, I cannot allow him to take away or hurt this one thing I have left.
Our children are ours. They will always be ours.
But this blog, these words?
They are mine.
This poetic license to be cryptic and have a quirky sense of humor?
All mine.

This is my blog. This is where I can tell my truth, where I can record the awesomeness that is my children, and even record my parenting triumphs and fails.
This is where I have been able to share the 'unspeakable'; the coping with parenting loss...this blog has been what even helped to keep me sane those years of cyclical arguing.
Sometimes people even pay me astonishingly low amounts of money to write things.
I write only the truth (which, perhaps upon reflection, is why the amounts are so astonishingly low).


Today I was told by a judge, that although it is obvious that there was a battery committed against me, he (the batterer) was offered a plea bargain which allowed to plead guilty to a lesser charge of 'disturbing the peace' instead of going to trial with the original two charges of 'battery' and 'child endangerment'.
So although he admitted to battery, and admitted to child endangerment, the charge was lowered.
He still gets DV (domestic violence) terms, which means there will be some court mandated counseling and a stay-away order, a small fine.
No trial.

I guess this is standard practice for a first time offender.
I have to tell you something. If it ever happens to you? Even just a 'tiny bit'? Even if someone 'just' shakes you or threatens you and doesn't do what you consider 'physical damage'?
Report it.
Do not hesitate to report it.
That was my biggest mistake. I didn't report the first time, or the second time. There were no bruises. Just fear.

Do not read this if the words 'dead baby cake' offend you...

The Bloggess, well-known by everyone for being one who, err.....turns on.....many things (like light switches!) and people (and sheep, and puppies), has turned me on to this video site.

And just in time too.


Let me point out, that while Jenny's movie is funny, it took her four and one half days to complete.

Whereas my movie took only seven minutes.

This Drama is Brought to You by My Girlie Bits

Let's just start with some simple facts today. You can put them together in a story however you wish.

• This time of year is always, in some form, anxiety-provoking for Gwendomama. This is in contrast to me the rest of the time; though some would consider me high-strung, there isn't too much that rattles me to the core. Other than this time of year sometimes, I guess.
• I almost always put off going to the doctor for anything, unless it is for my children, and this is compounded by my high pain threshold.
• I do not have a companion who shows his concern for me through outward gestures. Or emotional displays of support. Left to my own devices, I am capable of taking a weak moment and turning it into impending doom.
• I do have a companion who believes that all illness and pain is caused by stress and/or weakness.
  
• I have spent the past three weeks worrying about my symptoms, which are the exact same symptoms of ovarian cancer. Oh DAMN YOU, Dr. Google! In case you didn't know, ovarian cancer is known as a 'silent killer' because of its vague symptoms.
• It has been four months since I had a period. Oh shuddup, who wouldn't feel like they were having a secret vacation (for the first two....)?
• No, I am not pregnant. I know how to pee on a stick.
  
• I was told I would have to wait over a month for an appointment at Women's Health Center, where the cost would be minimal. (Cooter card)
  
• Of course my symptoms became worse. Waiting is not my strength. But, not being a wussy, I did recognize that I was having real pain. On my freaking ovaries. And it wasn't going away by my sheer will alone.
• I read too many pieces of misinformation about non-cancerous ovarian cysts not causing any pain or symptoms.
  
• I convinced myself that I could only have one thing: Terminal Cancer.
• Who the fuck isn't afraid of that? But I cried myself awake each insomnia-filled night with pain and the impending doom that would befall my children. Surely Supergirl's childhood didn't deserve to include the loss both a brother and mother?
• When I completely break down, I will then sometimes ask for a favor.
• I asked Ob-Gyn friend (from other office in other town) to HELP me PLEASE because I could not wait another 2 weeks for the appointment which would be covered.
• She, being about 62% saintly, offered to squeeze me in (past billing) on a busy day to monkey wand me and check it all out.
• I freaked out some more, having convinced myself that I have cancer, and sure that I am about to find out some horrible prognosis.
• Maybe if I would spend some more time reading the blogs of PEOPLE I KNOW and less time reading DR. GOOGLE I would have had an easier time....
• The BOS proved herself to be a great friend yet again, by not only driving three hours (each way!) to accompany me to my monkey wand appointment, but also by asking Ob-Gyn friend distracting questions such as, "So, I was wondering....how do you spell pus-y? I mean it can't be p-u-s-s-y, because that just isn't right." ...so I wouldn't concentrate so much on the condom-covered camera getting all friendly with my ovaries.
• My parts look almost good but not quite.
• My ovaries appear to be the host to some cysts who are ornery and causing me grief and pain.
  
• Apparently, non-cancerous cysts CAN cause pain.
  
• I think anything foreign on my ovaries sounds painful.
• We do not know for sure that everything is okay.
• I need another, higher-resolution ultrasound (hopefully the tech won't ask me to umm....'put it in myself' because in that case I may just bring dh) (awkward).
• BUT the cysts appeared (on the low-res ultrasound) to be simple, which is better than complex.
  
• This does not necessarily explain the hormonal imbalance, but the battery of blood tests ordered yesterday should help shed some light on that mystery.
• Hormone therapy and/ or laparascopy if the cysts are benign.
  
• So much to look forward to.....
• I think I need an annual springtime prescription to Ativan.

Parenting: Instilling Responsibility, Despite AIG

Supergirl has been getting herself into some time-outs lately that have not seemed to do any good. She spends the entire time hurling blame at us for putting her there, rather than taking responsibility for making a poor choice and moving forward. She ends up in time-out for an hour, sometimes resulting in flat-out lack of privileges (grounding) for the rest of the day.
This makes everyone miserable, but I am steadfast in my goal to teach her accountability. I asked her teacher for some help with this, and she gave me a great worksheet to use. I used this model to create a time-out journal for her, so now when she is in time-out, she can stop shouting and write. I printed out several sheets and they are waiting patiently in a binder for the next appearance of SuperSassygirl:

I was asked to have a time-out because I chose to:





I feel ___________________ because:




I am going to make better choices by doing the following. These THREE things will help me problem solve in the future:

1. 
   
2. 
   
3. 
   

I have read and discussed this with ____________, and I am proud of her for taking responsibility!

_____________________ (my signature)

If You Still Think I Am Genteel In Any Way....Avert Your Eyes.

I can't help myself.

Sharing this story is a sure sign that I've lost all remaining shreds of decency.
But let's just stop pretending shall we?

California Unified Nether Temple Society

The BOS was extolling the virtues of the California Womens Health program, how great the doctors she saw were, blahblablah. Which reminded me that I am way overdue for a girlybits exam. Not to mention the girlybits have been causing me some insomnia-inducing, cancerfearing shuddering terrified thoughts concern. So, to share in her new love of stirrup visits for a mere $15, the BOS began her campaign to get me to the cooter doc.

"Dude. They give you a card. A card that you can use just for your cooter! A cooter card!"
"Oooh wow....do they swipe it?"
"They surely do!"
"Oh! So that would make it like a credit cunt?"
"Exactly!"

So forgive me, dear Marisol, the very nice receptionist from the Womens Health Center, for giggling during our phone conversation when you told me today that I qualified for 'the card'. And that it would cover all my reproductive organ goodies. Because I really was working hard to suppress the nervous gutwrenching fears question that was begging to be answered: And where are you going to swipe that card?


I warned you.

Anthropologetic

Well, it's a sad thing for me to announce, but this recession depression has gotten the best of us, and we have to move back to Grammie's farm.

It's tragic, because we can't fit too much in the truck, and we'll have to get rid of most of our belongings. We did buy a lot of crap absolutely necessary indulgences while caught up in the California housing and credit boom re-mortgaging out our home, and most of it will have to go. But we will make do, and somehow make our new digs look like home again.

I mean sure, we'll have to sleep in the slaughter house dairy barn, but since the dust storms, the milk done all dried up and the cows is all gone to live with Grampie Up There.



We sure do like our privacy, so the kids have their own bedroom out on Grammie's front porch. It's been months since any drop of rain has fallen, so we'll hang that tarp when we come to it.



If y'all want to come visit, we've set up a lovely guest room in the ol' chicken coop (only $250/night for friends and family!)(we gotta buy our crack grits, you know).



We didn't have any room for the tricycles or learnin' books, but I couldn't bear to get rid of my $5000 couch, so we did manage to squeeze it into our quilt-filled pick-up truck when we left the state.

(Whaddya mean there aren't any toys? See those papier mache birds? If those kids so much as drool on them they are dead meat. Toys!)









(Disclaimer of reality: Every photo here is lifted from the most recent Anthropol*gie catalog. Their art director is apparently giving us a vision of things to come...)

How Much Mercury Is The FDA's RDA?

Here's some FOOD for thought.

1. How much mercury would you feed your child before you decided it was enough?
2. How much mercury is safe for your child to consume?

The answers are,

1. Zero.
2. Zero.

Archer Daniels Midland, poisoners of your kitchen and body, have decided to challenge scientific facts and feed mercury to the general public, via High Fructose Corn Syrup.
And you thought it just created Diabetes!!

No, now you can poison the entire family with a lunchbox full of 'juice' and 'fruit' gummies. Toss in a little Jello and you've got a delicious buffet of brain cell and pancreas killers!

Why isn't anyone talking about this? Only Huffpo? Why isn't this being picked up by any other news sources? And why is Huffpo pretending that they don't know who makes the HFCS?

ADM makes it, that's who.

And the FDA - do not for a minute think that they are protecting you.
They know all about it.

Free Advice

You need to be very very careful when your speech therapist suggests that you need to buy a vibrating oral motor tool for your son.

Very careful.

Look very carefully when you are ordering - even if you googled exactly the words she told you.


Because, how embarrassing would it be if you were trying to order this , but UPS delivered this?



Very.

Live and Let Live

I recently got a comment about my reaction to Prop 8/Hate from someone whose name I actually can remember, but I will save her the embarrassment and refer to her as:
Angry Stupid Shrew With Ignorant Persona Edified.

A.S.S.W.I.P.E.'s was one of the few comments I have ever deleted, but it bordered on defamation and libel and I am seriously doubting she wants the trouble, so it had to be done - out of respect for her future.
A.S.S.W.I.P.E. was very offended by my bird. You remember? The bluebirds for bigots?
If the shoe fits, wear it, right?
If not, walk away. There are plenty of other shoe stores out there.

Apparently, A.S.S.W.I.P.E. was so offended by my bird (even though she did admit that she found me attractive!) that it evoked the following strong words from her:
Live and let live.

At first I was livid! Poke fun at human rights, would she? How could she be so blatantly, so stupidly, hypocritical to condemn me for my reaction to hatred and bigotry and three giant steps back for humankind? Surely she was living in a hole if she thought that the words 'live and let live' did not apply to Prop 8/Hate- or even to her beliefs!

(By the way, dear readers; When you think of word for 'bangs fist against forehead in attempts to come up with a word that means the agony which I feel when I encounter such stupidity!', please let me know. I could use a word like that now.)

Think about it.
Live.
And.
Let live.

(I guess if you read between the lines somewhere there may be the message 'go out there and vote to make sure that some certain people are not going to have the same rights as yours just cause they're different from you!' but I had a hard time finding that at first.)

But then, what I finally realized, was that A.S.S.W.I.P.E. was not echoing her own ill-thought credo to me, rather, she was finally coming to accept what was so horrendously ugly about her original decision to vote Hate.

Live and let live.

I am glad that I could help educate her.


It makes me feel all warm - in that 'scotch going down slowly' way.

A Special Education (Or, My year as a fourth grade fagtard)

I published my pain for you.


Squid and Jennyalice have collaborated on the Can I Sit With You project and books - and my pain was not exempt from their gain.
All proceeds from this brilliantly clever fundraising and awareness-raising project go to SEPTAR, their local special needs PTA.


Did you know what a french kiss was in fourth grade?

Did you know what a retard was?

Did you know if you were one of the weirdos?

Did you know that your whole peer community - your entire class and your classmates - could turn on you in one second for being kind to the wrong people?

I found out the hard way.

A Special Education

Haters Are All Around Us

To those of you who have asked how I can 'spew hatred' at haters, I say to you this:

This was not a choice about anything other than hate.
People were offered a choice to hate or not to hate. We in California, got to vote for hate or against it.
We were offered the opportunity to vote for discrimination or against it.
Sadly, the vote for discrimination (or fear?) won.

HOW does prohibiting any deserving person from appreciating the same rights as are afforded to you, NOT promote hate?
I CAN accept that others have different viewpoints, but the irony seems to weigh in heavily on the fact that proposition 8 was all about hating, promoting hatred, and promoting homophobia. And it was all justified under the fallacy of 'protection' for a sacred institution of love.

HOW does disallowing two people in love to be sanctioned and or become a family protect your own veil of superiority?

How can the Mormon church - how can any church - propagate such a movement behind hatred when their own beliefs and doctrine of polygamists' superiority were only reformed when their statehood was at stake?

I don't understand.

You who voted yes on 8 deserve every flipping bird and look of disgust that the internet dishes out to you. You, who went out of your way to hurt others, to promote separatism and bigotry?

I promise you that you are deserving.

Actually, have another one.

This is Dedicated to The Ones Who Hate

I am happy to call Barack Obama my president.
I am looking forward to a day when patriotic means something positive again.

With all sweet victory comes a bitter edge.....

But to those of my fellow Californians who voted YES on Prop 8.......this is for you.

You are ignorant, petty, bigoted, joyless, spiteful, angry, misinformed, desperate, and possess none of the qualities which makes a person a Christian or just a decent human being.



Thanks, Jen, for the inspiration.


I tag 8 bloggers to offer their own angry face response to this result:

1. Jen
2. Grace
3. Lin
4. Denise
5. Cindy
6. Tricia
7. Deb
8. Badger