Brain Barf

May contain traces of nuts.

Friday, June 30, 2006

06/23/99

It's only June 29th (unless you take a LONG time writing your blogger post like me and then suddenly it's June 30th).
I'm only six days late in letting the internets know that my babies turned SEVEN.
Seven, as in, YEARS old. Wow, as in, how the fuck did that happen?
Seven years ago, I went to a Mariners game at the no longer existing Kingdome, with ulterior labor inducing motives (they played the no longer existing Toronto Blue Jays and of course lost...Because that's what the Mariners do).

It worked.
Seven years ago, Twin A cooperated and did the vaginal thing, and I forgave his beautiful, square head causing episiotomy, because he was/is just so damn cute.
Seven years ago, Twin B started doing backflips, somersaults and jump roping with his umbilical cord, at the amazing amount of uterine space he had just acquired when his brother left, and had to be born cesarean section, for which I also forgave him, because he was/is just so damn cute.


My defense is that I was at the ocean, collecting massive amounts of sand in my crevices and cleaning it from many other genetically related crevices.
And by DAWG the ocean is much better therapy than blogging...Not that I don't love you, but you don't give me sand dollars.
As always, pictures coming soon, as in whenever the fuck I get around to it.

:o)

Monday, June 26, 2006

Good, bad, often ugly and mostly stinky.

My Golden Retriever is almost 6 years old.
Every summer we vacation somewhere along the Washington coast, and this year we are leaving tomorrow, Yay!
I don't think he will ever learn not to bite (and bite and chase and bite and pounce and bite and chase and chase-bite-pounce, but mostly bite) the waves until he pukes....And subsequently gets the shits for the ENTIRE vacation?
We take ample dog food every time, and always come home with the same dog food because he was too sick to eat...But not too sick to stop biting the GAWDdamnMotherFarting waves!???Someone tell me how to fix this?
(My other dog, a mini daschund, is at the sitter for the week, because, from experience, doggy princesses just don't dig the beachy sand scene (and I totally giggle because she will shit in someone else's house for a mere $12 a day)
(I can't kennel either one, because they were both shelter dogs, and it makes me :'( that they might think they are going back to K-9 prison)

In other news: I got a huge letter/packet, with much technical writing from the district psychologist today.
Twin A's diagnosis has been changed to developmentally disabled.
It was very hard to read those words.
As his "MOM a.k.a., someone who loves his square head squishy cheeks, peaceful soul and every beautiful breath he breathes, I hate this label. I wanted to tear the letter up, but it was to soggy from my eyes leaking all over it.
I KNOW it isn't a correct diagnosis.
I KNOW that he only has academics difficulties because of his severe expressive language issues.
BUT...This is the best route (pushed for by his most amazing speech therapist on the planet, who has taken un-paid personal time this summer to help him so he doesn't regress) because now he has rights under the IDEA laws.

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

*

*Formally requesting an extension on "the hardest year in our marriage so far*

I'm just a person.
A person that is/was in love with another person.
I am still trying to love that person...And I desperately WANT to love that person.
He is changing, and I am changing...Change is hard and neither of us dance very well.
I hope that it doesn't get harder every year...Maybe the first 7 or 8 were so great, now we're just getting caught up on all the other stuff that comes with marriage?
I wonder if the depth of love you have experienced with someone creates a negative space...In which there is plenty of room for other feelings.

I don't know, I've never been married before and I'm not a Buddhist, so this is it for me.
I do know that I am not happy.
I know that he isn't happy.
But I don't know why.
I know that combined families are difficult.
I know that teenagers are tiresome.
I know that crazy schedules, heavy work loads and the ever present financial strains don't help.

But it wasn't a problem before.
I know that once the possibility of divorce is voiced and considered, that it can't be taken back, and things will never be the same.
That door was opened, and a few very large chips on our shoulders are holding it open.

We are a family.
However it came about, and whatever it becomes.
Signed,
Mom, Wife, Human...And that person you used to adore.


(there are four little people and four large reasons that we have to play this out)

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Friday, June 16, 2006

Why I'm nice to her:


She's got an arm!
(Oldest to youngest, BACK OFF, I'll post the other photos soon... like as soon as I feel like it)

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

HEADS!

I haven't been working as much, because of my children's Softball/TeeBall schedule.
Our weekdays have consisted of one or two games every night, and practices thrown in, with oldest daughters tournaments almost every weekend.
The season is finally over for everyone but my oldest daughter, because she is on a tournament team (their games don't stop until August and then we still have year round practice, YAY)
My boys Tee-ball coach gave each team member an engraved trophy. Wow, above and beyond! My boys carried them around for 3 days straight, including sleeping with them and polishing them regularly.

I never tire of, "the best game on the entire fucking planet", but my skin and almost 7 year old boys do.
For example:
I had a co-worker ask me where I went"tanning". I said, " it is called tournament tanning and is very expensive with major time commitments." (The thing about sunscreen is that it is bothersome and has to be re-applied and isn't acrylic nail friendly?)
My boys are SO past sitting for two days (three days this weekend for state and seven days soon at the western world series) at softball games.
I've brought the portable DVD player, foamy disk shooter guns, gameboy and 1.4 bazillion other distractions (the most successful were cheap dollar store toys, who knew?)
My second oldest daughter is becoming an awesome score keeper.

The bad news is that strep throat is making it's rounds through the team (STOP sharing the gatorade already!)
The good news is that I've lost my voice and the game WILL go on.

Coming soon: pictures.

Thursday, June 08, 2006

Not 9-5

More "fun" at work.
In the five years I've been employed at this hospital the hardest thing for me was figuring out how to deal with the things I see at work.

I'm not talking about poop, puke, phlegm or any other leaky or spewed bodily fluids. Those things are easily solved.
I'm talking about slow death, pain, loneliness, abandonment and apathetic attitudes of family and/or staff members.
It took me a substantial amount of time, but I finally thought I had things figured out:


  • Residents die.
  • New residents move in before prior residents funerals.
  • Warped waiting lists exist.
  • Care enough to give good care but not enough to have to stop caring.
  • There are good doctors/nurses/aids and bad doctors/nurses/aids. More of the latter.
  • Go home, forget about work, but love your family all the more from what you see.

My favorite nurse:

The one who always stays late, because it is her personal policy that when she passes the night meds, she actually goes into their rooms (not just open their doors without knocking to shove meds in their face in the least amount of time possible like some of the nurses), and sits and takes personal time and care with them. I have never known a more sympathetic and kind hearted person, let alone, nurse.

She never puts her overtime on her time card, because the hospital won't pay for THAT kind of care.

She has worked at our hospital for 26 years.

She is 59.

If anyone at work loves this nurse more than me, it is the residents.

She has gone to her doctor several times in the past few years sensing something was wrong. One of her legs has had bad circulation and was larger than the other.

The doctors told her that it was just because she was fat.

Lost weight! Problems solved! $189.00 per each worthless visit!

She has an abnormally large metastasized lipoma in her abdomen.

Lipomas are usually small, benign and easily removed with surgery...Unless they are allowed to grow and metastasize for years.

She hasn't seen the specialist yet...But she is a smart nurse.

She is only considering chemo...And then, only because she has a dependent handicapped daughter.

I guess I don't have things figured out at work.

Sunday, June 04, 2006

Foul in SO many ways

On the drive home from my daughters latest softball tournament in Yakima, I had a lot of cramped car time to bond with my children (one of whom was an especially aromatic MVP).
(The team did AMAZING. We only had nine players show (the ultimate short notice, very bad, very angry coach) so everyone had to perform and boy did they. I've never seen my daughter play better in all of her softball years, she worked hard for and deserved her MVP.

Our pitcher pitched ALL 5 games, minus a few innings, and her speed averaged 50mph. HOLY Sweet baby Jeebus in jammies! This is 14 and under ball!
We had two players who chose to tough out (minor) injuries to keep us in the tournament. We didn't bring home the trophy, but the lengths this startup team and first time coach has come in the last few months is better than any plastic dust collector.)
ANYWAY...
Back to the bonding. I was on the highway driving home after the tournament, when Twin B yelled, "MOM, Twin A picked his nose!!" I looked at Twin A in my rear view mirror, and with his face shocked from the taddling injustice said, "but... I put it back!"
Yes folks, he put the booger back.
And Yes, I had to pull over for the safety of my passengers and other drivers on the road. I'm cracking up all over again just typing this.
These are the days, and Gawd I love this life.