Brain Barf

May contain traces of nuts.

Monday, December 25, 2006


Merry Shit, and Happy Hoardings.

Friday, December 22, 2006


I thought that once there was FINALLY an accurate diagnosis, I would feel relieved.
Answers! Some sort of point of reference!
I didn't expect to be SO angry, and I'm not really sure why I am.

Now that there is an exact diagnosis, I find that we are already doing everything we can.
Twin A sees his Speech Language Pathologist four days a week at school. Every other week we drive to a town an hour away, where he sees another private SLP for an hour.
The whole family has been on board with helping our guy from day one, with every suggested technique.
He has run the specialist spectrum from an ENT to a psychologist and has been seeing a SLP since he was three, BUT being diagnosed then wouldn't have changed anything.
Four years later: "Here is your tidy little label, keep doing what you're doing, because there aren't any more answers, BTW, he'll struggle with this for the rest of his life." It's great, I'm glad it's there, loads of information, but I hate it, and their stupid case studies that almost exactly portray my guy.
And here I am crying on the keyboard again, with this anger that I don't know what to do with.

Thursday, December 21, 2006


I can do this.
Without pointy objects shoved in my eye sockets or eardrums.
One more Christmas program to attend.
Oldest daughters Christmas Jazz band concert. Check.
Oldest daughters regular Christmas band concert. Check.
Daughter #2's Christmas band concert. Check.
Daughter #2's School Christmas program. Check.
Twin A&B School Christmas....err wait, "winter celebration program", tomorrow at 9 and 1 (double showings for ultra masochists!).
It wouldn't be so bad if the rest of the kids in their school would shut up and go away, so I could bask in my children's GLORYFULLNESS, and if the directors didn't feel the need to make each program 2+ hours.
If I were a teacher, I would ditch the lousy punch and cookies, and instead have an open bar for the parents.
Because, It's the right thing to do.

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Equator dreams.

The weather in Ms.Chievous land decided to get really rude last week.
We're talking 6 degrees in the day time WITHOUT factoring in the nasty wind chill.
The critters schools even had a few late start days because of the ickyness.
Our aged furnace just wasn't keeping up, so we bought a few space heaters to compensate (viagra for furnaces?).
I have insomniac tendencies anyway, with maybe a side of OCD. :o)

Finally fall asleep:
Car passes outside: I wake up startled, house must be burning down!
Police siren from 138 miles away: I wake up startled, fearing I may be arrested for not checking the batteries in the smoke alarm for two hours!
Neighbor hood dog barks: I wake up startled, house must be burning down!
Husband farts: I wake up startled, house must be burning down, and it started in the toilet!
Complete silence: I wake up startled, because the house isn't burning down yet!
Give up sleep efforts, watch a DVD and curse Randy for getting me addicted to the Sopranos.

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

Day and Night

Ms. Banana was right again, go figure. :o)

This last weekend, brought some very unexpected things.
My oldest and her REAL dad had some serious emotions/bonding moments.

I didn't expect her to realize how awesome her father is and how much he loves her, until she was MUCH older and out on her own and needed money. :o)
It was a stark contrast thing.
She shared some powerful insights with me.
One of them being, that her real Dad volunteered for the position, without DNA obligations, and has been there for her 24/7 for the last eleven years, and will continue to be, for every future step she takes.
The DNA loser, is just that, and nothing more.
I'm not going to go into much detail about his antics, because they were worse than even I had anticipated, and I really don't need Jerry Springer knocking on my door.

This weekend, truly brought the whole family closer.
When one of hurts, we all hurt.
The wagons were circled. :o)

Pheebs, I know that he was born Mormon, I don't know or care if he is anymore. I do know that he is one of those people who preys upon good will and will play any game long enough to get what he wants. (BTW, blog? Arghh!)

Miranda, I think our oldests should be pen pals. If nothing more than to have a safe venue to commiserate about their mothers. :o)

Saturday, December 02, 2006

Lack of tools and ONE BIG TOOL

My oldest met her DNA donor/Bio "Father" for the first time in eight years today.
He saw her once as a baby, she met him once when she was six, and then today.
My husband (her REAL father) took the day off of work, just to be emotionally available to her.
Pause the story for a bit here, how awesome is this man? He has been her, THE FATHER, since she was four years old. He has faults like every human, and being a step parent has got to be THE hardest job on the planet and he screws up, but that's what parents do, and that's why there are therapists. He truly does make an honest effort, and always has our children's best interest in mind. When we were dating, he loved my...OUR... Daughter long before he loved me, and that cemented, my loving him.

I prepared her as much as I could, because I have to walk a very fine line between talking bad about the DNA donor and protecting my daughter.
I had to work. I was mentally absent and only went through the motions, because my mind was with my daughter.
When I got home, I could tell that she had been crying and the look on her face made my heart hurt.
I didn't pry and she didn't offer much, so I did the next best thing and we snugged up on the sofa to watch a CSI DVD.
After the CSI Snuggling Event, she was tired, and said a few words before she crashed.
"Mom, I guess I just didn't realize how much of loser he really was until tonight."

I'm a muddled puddled mess.

I wouldn't change anything.
But wish, that I could fix everything.
My daughter is a beautiful, amazing, talented, strong, spirited person with a kind old soul.
My pregnancy with her is what turned me from being a death wish crack whore prostitute addict.
I've had years to recover, but have tremendous amounts of guilt about my daughter have to deal with the consequences of my poor choices.
He is going to go to church with her tomorrow, and she feels embarrassed/ashamed about him.
My tool box is empty.