Brain Barf

May contain traces of nuts.

Wednesday, January 25, 2006

Boys are NOT defective girls*

*This post is disorganized because that's what happens when Keri gets PISSED OFF.
My sons have been stamped, labeled, and put into a "resource" class without an IEP (Individualized Education Program). I have nothing against resource classes, they are invaluable when they actually fulfill their purpose, but:
Basically in their school, this a class is where they put the children with behavior problems, or children the teachers don't want to take the time for.
My boys have NO behavior problems (I was so freaked out when I found out that I was pregnant with twin boys, that I read many books including "Real Boys", "The optimistic Child", and have always treated them as people not a gender.)
One son (twin A) DOES have an expressive speech problem and sees a Language Pathologist four times a week and an expensive outside Speech Language pathologist once a week. He's doing great there with steady progress.
They are both young for first grade as their Birthday is at the end of June and they are both quite shy.
Twin A is slightly behind his grade level, mostly because he has many more important things to do (conquer their castle they got for Christmas, annoy their sisters and chase the dogs, as we don't have/allow television or video games) But they DO NOT struggle with any homework that is sent home.

Twin B was just falsely labeled because of his brothers issues.
I have repeatedly requested individualized homework in areas that they are struggling, with no luck.
Twin A DOES need some extra help, but NOT this kind:
In this resource "class", they have been spit on, pushed down/into a wall which left bruises and one son was kicked in the testicles that hurt him for two days, and so on. The only thing they are "learning" from this class is how defend themselves. >:o(
I have talked to the teachers, the principle, the counselor.
One teacher is making a small effort.
One teacher has no patience for children who don't fit in the box.
The resource teacher (they go there half days) is fresh out of college and has very little social skills and to put it lightly, appears overwhelmed.
The principle thinks they are making things up for attention (which is totally out of character and explains the bruising).
The counselor is "busy" and I think, hesitant to get in the middle.
If a little first grade girl was getting spit on, pushed around and kicked in the genitals, I think the reaction from the school would differ greatly. WRONG. NOT GOING TO HAPPEN ANYMORE.
This mama bear is getting her claws out.
This is where the IDEA law may help me out (Randy? No pressure).
There is some amazing information in this weeks issue of Newsweek, "The Boy Crisis" .
Both of my girls graduated this elementary with ZERO problems, because they fit the standardized testing mold (Oh, yeah? Well, twin A made a 3D Pentagon with raisins from his breakfast cereal and toothpicks yesterday!)
Monday I start volunteering (guarding) in their classes four times a week and my husband twice a week. My husband changed his work schedule for this sole purpose.
Tomorrow I am contacting the Superintendent, the school psychologist (and anyone else who will listen and/or give me a shred of help/information because I'm feeling desperate/enraged and the school has decided that it's US against THEM. We're just being difficult parents, and the school is always right.)

This WILL NOT BE my boys school experience.
I WILL get them out of this class and get them the help they really need.
They can take their standardized box and shove it up their ass of which I will happily assist.

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

Goopy Love Shit Ahead...

It started the day my daughter was born. Wonderfully new squishy bits of my soul and flesh now separate from me, but not.
As a mother you feel everything your child feels times ten (million).
The hurt is worse and the joy is better than anything you have previously experienced.

I remember being worried when I was pregnant with my second child, that I wouldn't have enough love left. When you love another being so completely it's hard to fathom that love for another child won't decrease love for your first child.
Of course I was wrong (I do that a lot).
Each child is an entirely new and inseparable branch of my heart.

One of my twins has recently posed a question:
"Who do you love the most mom?"
It sounds like a hard question.
I think it's very basic.
Whoever needs my love the most at the moment.
Last week it was my second daughter. She is going through the phase where, her social group is changing. She's eleven, so to her (and me), this IS the most catastrophic thing she has ever experienced.
Today it was Twin A, who had to go to the dentist.
Tomorrow it will be Oldest daughter at her first basketball game.
The next day it will be....
It is unique love, but somehow, not extra or exclusive love.
Love for my children can't be exhausted, and when one needs more, there isn't a reduction for the others.
It's not a supply and demand thing... I think it's impossible to understand if you don't have Wonderful New squishy bits of your soul walking around.
To those who worry that I obsess (why, yes I do, thank you and pass the butter) too much or question my focus:
These are my good ol' days.
These are their formative years (for which I have set aside a savings account for counseling).
Tomorrow they will graduate, move out and establish their own focal point where they won't need me anymore.
Today they need me and I AM here.
(Until they have Grandchildren who I fully intend to mess with).

Saturday, January 21, 2006

Hate in 100 words or less:

What I hate about my job:
  • I hate Doctors, nurses, aides who won't HEAR.
  • I hate Doctors, nurses, aides who won't FEEL.
  • I hate Doctors, nurses, aides that won't UNDERSTAND.
  • I really hate Doctors, nurses, aides that won't CARE.

Not what you expected, knowing that I wipe asses, clean up vomit, bathe hairy moist smelly crevices and trim yellow fungi infested toenails?

Hmm, that part doesn't bother me.

I can't comprehend why people are in the medical field, if they don't like people. I mean COME THE FUCK ON, I am an anti-social, OCD freak...And I care.

Friday, January 20, 2006

Itchy US

This has been the hardest year for US.
It has also been the most candid year for US.
Bliss was replaced by indifference.
Things we thought we knew, were things we had taken for granted.
Non-issues turned into controversy.
Innocent questions turned into culpable feuds.
We even agreed to separate, but neither of us were able to make that step.

The reasons?

  • The stress of me going to school full time and not financially contributing?
  • The angst of my husband who feels he is in a stagnant job, while I "get" to go to school?
  • Teens who can, at times, create havoc on the normal everyday?
  • An inherent part of being married for ten years?
  • The intrinsic woes of a combined family?
  • His unavailability?
  • My anxiety issues?
  • The ten year itch?
  • The blame game?

Relationships are hard.

It doesn't matter how MUCH you love someone if you can't accept someone.

"US" is worth it.

"US" is not negotiable.

"US" is You, Me and everything in-between.

"US" is something we can't surrender.

"US" is worth it...Every challenging second.

"US" is good.

Friday, January 13, 2006

Happy 14th Birthday Beautiful Soul

I am.
I've been.
I'm going.

There is a lot of honesty in this post that most people/mothers will ever admit to...
But you know me, I run around nekkid on my blog all day.

When I was sixteen, my older sister stole a pregnancy test from a Utah Smith's store, because neither of us had the $14 it took to buy it.
We then drove to a local gas station where I found out, OK confirmed (unprotected sex, puking 24/7 and sore boulder boobs were BIG clues) that I was pregnant.
I then did everything I could to end the pregnancy. I hoped the stress alone would kill both mother and fetus.
I hated this parasite in my body who was controlling my body and changing my life.
I even made the counseling appointment for an abortion, but cancelled when I realized that wasn't something I would be able to live with.
I was also worried that with my "lifestyle" at the time, I would have had a deformed or damaged baby.
I felt her kick when I was 4 months pregnant, alone in my hidden away apartment (because I was an embarrassment to my Mormon family) in Salt Lake City.
The first of my never ending motherly "kick your ass if you even think about touching my baby" instincts kicked in.
My first encounter with pure love.
When I went into labor, the doctor wouldn't give me any meds, because I NEEDED TO LEARN MY LESSON and the nurses gave her a bottle, even though I had told them I had chosen to breastfeed, because I was just a stupid teen age mother who would no doubt leave in her in the dumpster as soon as I was released(HAH, I breast fed that baby until she could spell boobs!)

Every year on her birthday, I have a few (ocean) tears about the choice I could have made, the choices I did make and the beautiful and amazing person she has become.

I also feel guilt for choosing a worthless father for her (but not a lot because I was a child myself and she now has an amazing dad who came into her life when she was 4).

I guess I'm just reminiscing because it was just her birthday and I truly admire and am in awe of who she is and who she is becoming.

This is the bright side of your babies getting older, the fascination of who they are and who they will be despite parental failures.

Free Image Hosting atFree Image Hosting at
To be continued in July and June when my other babies were born.
(Posted in black for the elderly)

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

This isn't Florida Fuckers

Shouldn't a blog titled "Brain barf" inherently utilize colors reminiscent of puke green?
Your opinion matters (well, at the moment, but not on the second Tuesday of every odd month in leap years).
Or is black always in fashion?
Please *vote in "my much debated about deleting" comment section.
Because this vote may actually count.
Unlike those who voted for Kerry.
You're voting for Keri here.
*All voters may be subjected to cavity searches and random drug screenings because I'm just sick like that.

Tuesday, January 10, 2006


As I am opposed to New Years Resolutions (don't they always fail?)
I'm posting a few things I learned in 2005, not complete or in order of importance:
  • I am naive.
  • Going to school is expensive (minimum $1500 a quarter and that is VERY cheap by most standards).
  • Taking a quarter off to work to recover financially can have a serious impact on your self esteem.
  • Sometimes being a good parent is not enough.
  • People expect the very worst of you.
  • The dot com (as my SWEET Grandmother calls it) can keep families who are far apart, very close, BUT, can also cause much angst.
  • I have amazing blogger friends whom I wouldn't trade for even New York cheese cake and shrimp kabobs.
  • I have Message board friends who have banned me for reasons unknown (at least to me).
  • I am naive.
  • I will never be a mathematician.
  • Neighbors who have had two dogs taken from them for neglect, will still get a new puppy.
  • I have to choose my battles.
  • I fail at many things.
  • I succeed at many things.
  • Time goes faster the older I get.
  • Parenting, at each age, has it's own unique challenges.
  • People WILL use you if you let them.
  • A 3.9 GPA means nothing to people who need your attention.
  • I am SO naive.
  • Guest houses are awesome for 14 year old slumber parties. Guest houses are just one more thing to clean and maintain.
  • I have to let go.
  • Successful parenting can equal pain.
  • I don't have all the answers.
  • Relationships are hard.
  • Cutting 8 inches off my hair doesn't mean I'm old or ugly or less "female".
  • I have a lot to learn.
  • Internal compasses rarely fail.
  • I can fail and succeed at the same time in different areas.
  • Control is not possible.
  • I have everything I could possible want at this very moment.
  • I'm OK with being trusting and naive.

Monday, January 02, 2006

The End.

Old faces.
New information.
Wrinkled encyclopedias.
Intrinsic emotion.
Despair Deputies.

Warmth and Weakness.
Our end.

This is where I work, who I love/respect, where we are all going and why I am going to nursing school.