Jellybean and Spitfire

Her cause of death was "natural causes". 

There was a time I wanted to be just like her. She was a fantastic Mother. Her babies can attest to that. She was stern, solid, loyal, God fearing and the most mighty human I'd ever known. Her presence was known. And it was up to you whether or not she was your friend or your enemy. I assure you, you did not want the second option for yourself.

Many asked me why I stood by her toward the end and my answer was always the same. Because I knew her when she was good. And I always had hope that one day I'd get to be with my friend again.

We met in high school Spanish class. She loved to tell the story. She pissed me off one morning in class and we were tied at the hip for 25 years after that.

She was such a Daddy's girl. Spoiled rotten. He was a fine man with one big downfall.........he never let her stand accountable for her mistakes. He was always there to help clean her messes. When he died in 2008, part of her went with him. I know it's cliche to say that about a death. But its true. She was never the same. 

Trying to list the things we'd been through together is next to impossible but this post wouldn't be complete if I didn't attempt to list the most important.

First an for most the birth of ten children. We took great pride in telling people she had four girls before a boy and I had four boys before a girl. The looks on peoples faces when we were all together with all our babies........priceless  Marriage. Divorce. More marriage and more divorce. Deaths of parents, grandparents, aunts and friends. Vacations, cancer scares, miscarriages, crazy ex boyfriends. Bankruptcy, church, separation. Those who knew us know that we were a story book friendship most only dream about. After her fourth pregnancy her gestational diabetes that she developed with all her pregnancies didn't go away. That began a new battle for her daily. One she took lightly. We had many disagreements on how she should be taking care of herself better.

In 2012 she had her first back surgery. That was the beginning of the end.

I know her pain was real in the beginning. She had been through a surgery that caged her spine and put more metal in her back then I even realized was possible for a person to have. Dr.'s were very generous with pain medications. And when she ran out she had acquaintances that were equally as generous to share theirs with her. 

With a second failing marriage and bills stacking on top of each other I watched her slowly become a shell of a person. Evictions. Social Services. Her life was raveling apart at the seams. 

When a persons sugar rises dangerously high they become disoriented. During those times of extreme disorientation she would take and retake pain medications. Then take and retake them again. at the end of 2018 she earned herself a Narcan injection after an accidental overdose with her children in the home. After that she began to loose her most prized possessions. Her children.

A diabetic addict was recipe for disaster from the very beginning. She lost all ambition to clean, work, take care of her childrens needs and repair any sort of relationship she had with anyone. It wasn't long before she was completely alone and renting a house beside me. I thought with her beside me I could take care of her. Fix her. Repair her.

In 2019 I was granted custody of her children. Not many knew that. She wanted to keep it a secrete. She was embarrassed. That once mighty mother was at the hands of social services. 

After a while it became clear that me having custody was doing no one any favors. She was able to see them as often as she wanted and wasn't doing the work required to get them back herself. Her never getting them back was not our end game. Drastic changes were made and her sweet babies entered into Foster system. But it was that decision that was her turning point.

In July of 2020 she began to get clean. I had my friend back. Four months we rode around with the top down, took the kids swimming, gossiped till daylight, cooked. She made her peace with God and went to church again every Sunday. My prayers had been answered. She was scheduled to regain custody of her babies November 5th.

On the morning of October 5th she text me "I Love You".

Some time later she texted again and told me she wasn't feeling well and asked my opinion. "Should I go get checked out?" she asked.

"Absolutely, if it would ease your mind". I told her. 

She told me she was gonna lay down and take a nap and leaving the door unlocked in case I tried to reach her and couldn't. That was kinda our thing when she was feeling bad. 

She and I both suffered with crazy anxiety. And I thought she was just lonesome and worried after having her babies the previous week then having to let them go back. 

She texted back, "If I go the ER and they find something wrong they'll keep me and I won't be able to pick up the kids tomorrow to spend another week here."

In her last moments she was worried about seeing her babies.

I was sitting on the porch when I seen her bounce to her van and drive toward the store. I asked her where she was going. She text back and told me she went to grab something to drink. That was 2:20 PM. Before long she pulled back in and I seen her walk into the house. I wasn't worried. She felt like leaving for a little bit so she must be fine I convinced myself.

I texted her a couple times later in the evening with no reply. I figured she was napping. She had a crazy sleep pattern. 

On October 6th I woke up at 6:30 and seen my messages from the evening before had never been opened. I called her. And then again I called her. And text her. And then I got dressed and walked over. Her door was unlocked. Just like she told me it would be.

When I opened the door I immediately saw her. She was laying on her side facing away from me. Hair up in her signature messy bun, maroon Metcalfe County tee shirt. In that instant I thought her sugar had gotten too high like so many times before and quick call to 911 and a insulin drip would fix her. But once I got closer to her I knew. I knelt beside her.  She had little sprays of hair covering her face. I touched her and said her name. She was cold. She looked like she had gotten up to use the bathroom from a nap and never made it back to bed. She was laying peacefully. She hadn't fell. It looked like she just closed her eyes and laid down. 

It felt like an eternity for the ambulance to arrive. Even when I seen the flat line on their machine where her heat rate should have been it didn't sink in. 

When the coroner arrived and brought her out in a black bag and put her into the back of his vehicle it hit me. 

In that black bag was 25 years of my life. My secretes. My hopes. My dreams. Our plans of growing old with grand babies. All zipped away and leaving.

I think back a lot to 2012.

 What if they only gave her one bottle of pain medication and maybe one refill.

What if the Dr.s just simply told her "NO. No More meds".

What if those women hadn't sold her more.

What if I took her to the ER the day before when she told me she felt bad?

The fact is........she was a diabetic addict. The Dr.'s and pain specialist created an addict. Her heart was broken from years of abuse, stress and mental and physical abuse. She was tired. She had been ready for a long time but hated to leave her babies. Any effort she made to stay here with us longer was for them.

Our friendship lasted longer then most marriages these days. And I will forever carry that hateful, sassy, brilliant, loyal woman with me.

 

Just A Few Thoughts From a Parent Having A Bad Day

Someone told me once that you can have multiple children and no two will ever be the same. Each child requires different things at different times and its not the other siblings job to decide whether or not its fair. They are not the adults. The parent is. You do what you feel is best for that child at that time. 

That was 20 years ago when I only had 2 children and no real idea of what they really meant. 

98% of my marital issues have been disagreements on how to raise children. Sometimes, the universe aligns and we think identically. But, most of the time we fight. I go silent. Stew for a couple days. Threaten divorce. Know I'm right and he's wrong. Then roll over and give up because being a single parent is too much for my brain to comprehend all the while still believing I am absolutely right and he is disgustingly wrong.

Back when our kids "quirks" were beginning to develop and show themselves I threw myself into reading and learning all the things. That was roughly 2009. Eli was 6 years old. Zackary 3. I didn't have to read very far to learn that divorce rates for parents with children whom have a diagnoses is significantly higher then those without.

It was in 2011 that I started my Psychology degree. My intentions were to help my children and every one else's children. Now, 10 years later, I'm still treading water most days to guide my own young men. Thinking I would have time to help someone else is almost laughable.

I never finished my degree. Life happened. Most days I feel like I should be grandfathered in as a therapist because I know a few things. Because I've seen a few things. Solved a few things. Heard speakers dozens of times. Been to retreats. Support groups. Church. Dr.'s. Specialist. Therapy for them. Therapy for me. Court. Emergency management placements. Hospitals. Rehabs. Read the books. Drown myself in all the knowledge. I think that's why I carry so much resentment when my husband doesn't agree with my parenting. He's not done those thing's. How could he possibly know what's best when I've raised these kids? Not because he wasn't interested or a bad man. But because he was busy keeping a roof over our heads and food on the table. He didn't worry about the kids because he knew "I had it". And I didn't worry about the bills because I knew "he had it".

Trust me when I say that type of thinking can only last so long. After a while I lost myself and became a very pissed off human. It wasn't until death took my best friend of 25 years, 8 months ago, that I started therapy myself. Loosing her was my breaking point. She was the only person I had to bounce my thoughts off of without judgement. If I felt like I was about to loose sight of reality I went to her. If I was about to hang my kids up by their toes, I went to her. If I needed adult conversation, I went to her. She was my person. Since her death, I have had to learn to make Danny my person. It's not been easy because for so many years I tried very hard to not need anyone for anything. 

Our kids are older since I began this blog space for myself all those years ago. Now 22, 17, 15, 11 and 6. And another sweet baby boy has came into our lives. A grandson whom is now 3. 

I imagined years ago when we reached this point in our lives that things would be better. I had this false sense that when the kids were older they would no longer need me. That I was such a badass perfect parent they would reach 18 and fly the coop perfectly and never look back. I failed miserably on so many levels. Because of our "arrangement" all these years........if they fail to fly the coop correctly I feel the only one to blame is me. I was responsible for raising the kids while he handled the rest. Their success or failure is a direct reflection of the foundation I was supposed to build for them.

Just a few thoughts from a parent having a bad day.

My biological Grandmother has passed away. I’ve often wondered how I would feel when someone from my other family left this world. The verdict is still out because the opportunity to grieve her death properly was stolen from not only myself, but the rest of her family.

Mary was the first person I met from my biological dads side of the tree. I was around 21 years old if my memory serves me correctly. She lived in a big civil war home in Jonesville, Va that was equally as intriguing as she was.

My sister from my mothers side of the tree introduced us one evening. My exsistance didn’t surprise her. After looking me up and down a few times she invited me in her home and began to explain to me how I was wanted and she’d fought for me to the best of her ability at the time. But in those days there was little to be done when the birth certicate identified no father. We exchanged addresses, phone numbers, and some photos and stayed in contact like clockwork for several years.

Mary was a little tiny hot headed blonde with no filter who enjoyed her alcohol. I connected to her from the moment we met. She had no filter. If she thought it, she said it. This was much different from the Granny I had growing up.

This was a time in my life that was very difficult. I’d met this brand new family. Soon after I went through a divorce, and then another. I had children and then more children. As time passed we spoke very little. I take responsibility for that. I should have done better. But I made excuses that if she wanted to speak to me she would have. Looking back now I realize that it was equally as much my responsibility. 

When her health began to decline there was no one to receive updates on her from. And I blame that on her son. Yes, my biological father. He wasn’t exactly Daddy material. Not to me, or my siblings that he actually raised. And I use the word “raised” loosely.  He wasn’t a spectacular son either. He made decisions that certainly were not In her best interest, and there was nothing we could do. 

So yesterday, I discovered she passed. Last April. Alone. No service to speak of. No family at her bedside. Not knowing how much she meant to any of her family. And that is what I’m struggling with. 

I can’t wrap my mind around why her son would intentionally hide her death from everyone. Not just me.  

So this entry is for my little hot headed Nana. I blame my Hazard, Ky  actions that seep out on occasion on her and I pray she’s resting peacefully because I know her last years were not what she deserved here on Earth. 

I ran away from home when I was 17 years old. Or maybe I was 16. I can’t remember now. It was cold outside. I had $50.00 to my name and a boyfriend more mentally disturbed then I was. We were like the blind leading the blind.

I can’t explain what I was running from. School. Rules. People. Up until recently I suffered with severe anxiety and my cure for everything was to self destruct and run. It wasn’t drugs related or alcohol related. I just needed away. immediately. So one night I was out with my far worse off then me fella and I just drove. And drove. And drove. I wanted to be an adult. I wanted to be in my own place away from all the things, people and places that I thought was my problem. I know now the problem was me and the people I chose to surround myself with. I was drawn to people who needed my help when in reality I was doing a piss poor job of helping myself. 

We slept in my car with no definite plan of where we were going or how we were going to survive. By night two on the run I called home collect and was back home hours later.

I was expecting the wrath of God to come forth from my parents when I walked back through the door but instead Momma just hugged me and cried. She asked me if I was cold, or hungry or tired. At times as a mother myself I have come to understand why she didn’t have it in her her to lecture me and drop punishment immediately. 

The State Police were looking for me. The church was praying for me. My Friends were being questioned. I had my small community in a total panic because I thought life was hard. 

It wasn’t until my late 30’s that I healed mentally and emotionally. It could have came a lot quicker had I just recognized that I needed to stop surrounding myself with people who needed my help and start putting my efforts into people who just wanted my friendship. That is a hard lesson to learn because all the sweet memes on Pinterest will tell you how rewarding it is to help others and build others up. Just remember, it’s necessary that we have people who do that for us as well.

mental illness is an asshole

I am the face of a mother who in that moment was done. Done being an adult. Done being a parent. Done being a wife. Just done.
Being the mother of two special children test my ability every single day. Some days I come out victorious but most days I’m severly defeated. Today was one of those days.
Eli is at an age now that he doesn’t want his name mentioned on any of my social media outlets. So this last year I’ve remained silent. Silence helps no one so today I’m breaking his rule.
Today started much like any other day for him. He woke at 12 pm ready to preach the reasons why he shouldn’t have to do his online school work. You see, he remains home schooled because our county is a dam joke and can’t (won’t) accommodate to his needs.
I have taught myself over the years to be a duct, however, today his insults and threats were not rolling off my back.
At some point I grabbed a hold of him in an attempt to get his attention and my nails scraped his neck. It was pretty much down hill from there because a scraped neck was grounds for him to accuse me of trying to kill him. Yea. It gets a bit dramatic around here when he’s on his Eli Thrown.

Now, let me give you a bit of my own time line events that led to this battle.

My three year old puked pizza and chocolate milk all night long. So yea. Chocolate milk. Pizza. Maybe some fruity pebbles but I can’t be certain. We managed to get some rest from 4-6 this morning. At 6 I get the other two ready for school. They still attend a private school.

So on very few winks of sleep today I was defeated.  Broken. Tired. Frazzled.

He informed me that on the outside he might be smiling but on the inside he was ripping out our throats. It was at the point I had to just retreat to the bathroom and collapse on the floor defeated.

By the time I was finished with my small breakdown he had reset. He was laughing. Ready to do his school work. Mental illness is such an asshole.

Today was a normal day. 

We started our day out earlier than we have most of the Summer so far. Before 10am. Don't laugh. Maddy~Kate has had a strange sleep schedual lately. To sleep at 11. Up from 1-3ish. Back to bed till 1030. The last couple nights I've gotten her to bed at 830 and she's slept most of all night only waking to nurse herself back to sleep. Yes, she's 2 1/2 and still nurses. 

We made a early morning trip to a road side market where I purchased 4 watermelon. All four were terrible and thrown out. 

Laundry, dishes, sweeping, mopping. All the ordinary things that keep this house from smelling like butt. A trip to Edmonton to drop off some pretties to a few of my fabulous customers. Back home to work Lucky Duck a while and then retreated to the living room to watch To Joey, with Love. Beautiful by the way. Sad. Inspiring. Gut wrenching. Watch it. 

Tonight has been a hard night for Eli. I'm not quite sure which button of his was pushed, but it was the wrong one. Explosive crying. It's hard to watch a nearly 14 year old have such massive meltdowns. But they are few and far between so long as he stays on track with his medication and sleeps regular. I don't think people realize how much a healthly mentality revolves around good sleep. I was told by a Dr that everyone needs 5 solid hours of sleep in order to be healthy mentally and physically. 

Tomorrow is the 4th. We don't have huge plans. We decided to take the kids back to the ocean this Fall. It'll be Maddys first trip and the boys 3rd. The boys understand between now and then we have to penny pinch.  Just a few fireworks from a stand will be our limit. 

I hope yalls 4th is happy, healthy and safe. 

Catch Up X 5 = a long post.

Let's do this y'all. Wow, I've missed sitting down with my own thoughts and putting them down on paper so to speak. 

It's going to take me a few post to catch up so let's jump right in feet first. 

Oldest to youngest. 

Peyton turned 18 In January. High school is behind him and has been since last year. Now it's the real world of bills, fiancé and baby on the way. That's right. I'm gonna be a Grammy in October to a bouncing baby boy and we are so ready to spoil him rotten and send him home with his parents. 

Eli.........14 next month. 

New Dr. and receiving disability. This is his life and we have imbraced it fully. He is still home schooled. I still use a technique called "unschooling". Basically, I want him to be able to do his own laundry, balence his own money and care for himself in the event something happens to me. Unschooling uses everyday life and turns it into a learning experience. 

He's on a new med that's right on the bullseye. Saphris. It's been doing a fablous job since January. Insurance won't cover it. $740.00 a month. But that's a blog for another day when I want my blood pressure up. 

Zackary. 11 last March. Autistism is more profound now. He's older and knows he different. It's been a hard year for him. Kids can be such assholes. He's so stinking brilliant it's scary. His mind is beautiful. We just sit back in awe of the information he has hidden away in that brain of his that he can sift through and pull out at any given time like a walking Encyclopedia. 

Evyn is all boy. 7 years old now. Sweet. Conniving. Hard working. Loves to farm. Hunt. Help Daddy on the farm. And Daddy loves to have him around when he's mowing hay, planting corn and beans, working cattle.......Evyn is saving up everything he's learning. No doubt to farm one day too. He says it's a toss up between the Airforce and farmer. 

Miss Maddy is 2. Spoiled so much she stinks. She loves Minnie Mouse, Play Doh and swinging. She's a Daddy's girl except at bedtime.  She will spark many post . Daddy calls her TK (tornado Kate) and she lives up to the name well. 

Thankfully, as for me, I'm pretty much back to 100% now. 

Separated pelvis has healed. It was right at 2 years before I could go all day and not make a weird sudden move and be reminded of it with a sharp pain. 

Postpartum Anxiety is under control now with Celexa and I have no plans of stopping it. Ever. 

I have gone back to work. I'm back in full swing with my own buisness adventure. Lucky Duck Discount.

Danny has gone to day time work so he can be home to help me with the kids. Have a teen that's suffering with an conduct disorder and preteen on the spectrum gets overwhelming. But we are getting through it and the kids are doing very well. 

I am looking very forward to getting back into sharing our moments with y'all. 

Wet/Dry Vote and a Glass of Wine

Living as a Christian is hard. Especially with all the things out in the world that the devil disguises himself with. It might be a pretty lady who never nags like your wife does. It might be a handsome smile from a man who makes time for you while your husband is swamped with work. It might be that little bit of pot you smoked to forget about your problems for a while. It might be the whiskey you drink to fall asleep faster at night.
I have been guilty of almost every one of these things. But I'm still a Christian. I fail God every single day.

I take spells that I live closer then other times. I'll wear nothing but dresses. I'll keep my tattoos covered. I'll not drink a drop. I'll not slip the occasional 5$ word and I'll attend church often. During these times my life will significantly take a turn for the better. Everything will sorda fall into place beautifully. And then, I get tired of living this straight and narrow way and slip and have a glass of wine. Slip and cuss like a sailor. Lay out of church for weeks at a time. Sure as I'm sitting here my life begins a downward spiral.

Watching this county and our residents attack each other over this wet/dry vote has absolutely broken my heart.

I display a "vote no" sign. Not because I'm perfect. Not because I never ever slip and have the occasional drink. Not because I go to Church and am better then anyone else.

I think God gives each of us different convictions. Some of us wear dresses every single day and that pleases Him. That was their own personal conviction. Some of us send our children to Christian School or Home school. That's our own personal conviction and it pleases Him. Some of us pray before every single meal.
It was my conviction to vote no. And it will please Him. Two weeks Down the road I'll probably slip and have that glass of wine and He will be disappointed in me.

If you vote Yes you are no less of a Christian then me. You could be the one that prays before every meal. You could be the one who would never consider a tattoo. You could be the one who says your prayers before bed like clock work. Voting Yes will disappoint God but he won't disown you. He won't disown any of us as long as we continue to try live for Him.

Vote No. Vote Yes. You vote anyway you want. Just remember in the end that it's God in control of how this county will progress or not.
If we all prayed about our county as much as we have talked about each other's opinions the last month I imagine we'd see some stuff happen around here.

Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. One Year Old Is What You Are.

Maddy~Kate is one.  

I decided to log into Blogger and determine just exactly how far I was behind. It's frightening. There is no possible way I can catch up. They best thing to do would be follow us on Instagram #adayinthelifeofmaddy. There you can see our entire first year together. 

As for our blog, I'm ready to get back down to regular stuff. 

This year has been filled with a lot of joy, pain, disappointments, hospitalizations for Eli, Peyton getting his drivers license, postpartum anxiety, medications and changes, the loss of my Granny and opening a store. 

Currently Eli is being homeschooled and the store is a work in progress. I have never been good at several things at once but this year I've given it my best shot. A few things had to be weaned away. I'm not pursuing my photography as much other than our own family photos. 

I have weaned Eli off all his medications except for an "as needed" Valium. I have done this many times before and gave in a few days into the process and restarted them again. This time has been different. He has had so many out of home placements the last twelve months and everyone has done their own med changes. Everyone has had their opinions on what he needed to be taking. I decided they were all wrong. We are a month into this process and he's already sleeping and eating like a normal preteen. This is the first time in his life he has slept past 6 a.m..

This year Peyton also moved back home and restarted his regular school. He is now certified in welding and within the next week he will be joining the Guard. He has a plan and it's a good one. 

Danny went off the road and is home now every night. We began this change when the postpartum anxiety hit me like one of the trucks he's drove. It's no joke people. Sometimes people can thrive without med and sometimes they can't. I was one who couldn't. I tried to make myself better but I couldn't. I found myself loading up my kids and newborn and driving myself to the hospital one evening convinced I was dying. That was the last straw. Turns out that I had healing to do mentally as well as physically after a traumatic delivery that ended in a separated pelvis and very painful postpartum 8 weeks. Now I can finally relive those days without being nauseous. For the longest time I avoiding even looking at the birth photos. 

But now here we are one year into this new life and things are as near to perfect as they have ever been for us. If I had only hit the billion dollar powerball. 

I can't wait to start sitting down and taking time to write again. I miss it a lot. 

Lots and love and hugs to you all. Thanks for sticking with me during my lull for blogging. 

Heaven, Hell & Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Vitimins

It has been too long since I last posted. And to be quite honest, I don't have time but I had to post this in case it happens to another kiddo. 

Last night Evyn got into the gummy vitamins and ate what I estimated to be 45. I bought the bottle just two days prior and knew  how many should be in there with exception of what I'd given them. 

I called poison control. 

After looking up the particular brand we had they determined he'd be perfectly fine because they contained no Iron, they were all water soluble and its take 300 of them to reach a dangerous level of vitimin A. 

They informed us he didn't need anymore vitimins for 30 days and to expect a belly ache. 

I decided then and there I was done with vitimins that tasted like candy. Period.

Once I realized he'd be ok, I put the fear of God in him. 

Me: Evyn Tripp! That's so dangerous. You can't ever take more then the recommended doses of medications. I love you and I'm not ready for you to see Jesus yet. 

Evyn: I hope it's Jesus and not the other one. :/

(I had to snicker a little at that)

This morning when he woke up he immediately announced, "Mom!! I'm ok. I didn't see Heaven or Hell."

I'm pretty sure this will be a story he tells his own children. ;)

Postpartum Anxiety. The stuff that Hell is made of.

Like most stories I've read about Postpartum diagnoses, I was hesitant about telling mine for fear I would jinx myself and tomorrow would be a bad day. But, I have to have faith that I am on the road to recovery and not focus on the "what if's" anymore. 

My story actually begins during pregnancy. And if I were really being honest it began many many years ago. I've struggled with anxiety and OCD my entire life to an extent. 

I have 4 wonderful boys that range in age from 5-16 years old. And finally I was pregnant with my sweet baby girl. As soon as her gender was determined the thoughts started to enter my mind that things were too good and something terrible was going to happen to me. Women die during deliver. It could happen to me. I had a lump appear under my arm that I was certain was breast cancer. It disappeared after delivery and was a milk duct just as my Dr had said it was. I cried a lot. For no reason. More so then I did during the boys pregnancies. I made myself miserable and couldn't look forward to her birth because I knew I was going to die. 

Her deliver was not perfect by no means. I separated my pelvis and was unable to walk without a walker for 6 weeks. The first two weeks are a blur but week by week I got through it. 

Walking with a walker and nursing a rather large baby girl (ten pounds at birth)put a terrible strain on my upper back and I developed breast bone pain as well from the strain. Since delivery tried to kill me and didn't succeed I convinced myself I had a heart condition and that's what the pain in my chest was. I went to the ER were EKG and blood work was normal. Almost. The level that determines the clotting ability of your blood came back elevated. I had thick blood and was put on an Aspirin regimen. Yay, that I didn't have a heart condition but now I had a new set of worries. Thick blood......meant I was going to have a stroke. Not really. But that's what my anxiety was telling me. Anxiety breeds anxiety and I was on a roller coaster I couldn't get off of. 

I worried constantly. I couldn't enjoy my baby girl I'd waited for for so long. I smiled and laughed at her but it was forced. I loved her and held her and rocked her and nursed her but something was missing. My sanity. Peace of mind. Dieing in my sleep was a fear and the kids waking up and finding me dead.  I kept thinking about how awful it would be if I died in my sleep and My baby girl layed there next to my dead body all night. I have lived on my own for almost 20 years married to truck driver who's rarely home and It never bothered me. But I found myself begging him to quit his job and asking my mommy to come stay with me at night because I was scared to be alone. Feelings of fear would wash over me and I would be clammy and light headed. Misery is an understatement. 

I finally gave in and started Zoloft. Crazy thoughts entered my mind. What if I snapped and hurt myself or worse.......starting medication was an easy decision once I started having crazy invasive thoughts. 

The first few days were terrible but they improved and are still improving. I find that I don't focus on "what if's" much anymore. I don't scream at my kids anymore. I love My baby girl. She feels so real now. Not just temporary. 

I'm by no means healed but I fell so much better. I hope someone reading this is has been told they need medication try's it. Not just for a few day but for at least a week. I wish I had done this years ago. I'd always thought I wasn't the type that needed medication but as it turns out, I am that type. And I am so much better off. I feel like a better mom. Patient. Kinder. My older son said "Mom, you seem so much happier with me lately". And that was all the proof I needed. 

Birth Story Photos

4 week Update

My sweet gal is four weeks old today. It's also mine and Dannys ten year anniversary and Valentine's Day.

 A couple months ago I ordered this red tutu for Maddy with leggins and a hairbow. It was a Valentine's Day outfit that I couldn't wait to put on her and show her off. That didn't exactly happen. 

Yesterday I actually walked down four steps with my cane, drove to Moms, walked up two stairs, picked out some clothes for The funeral home (Dannys grandmother passed and we needed to go see her) came back home, showered and got ready and went to the funeral home with all 5 kids. It was the first time out of the house for me or Maddy that wasn't a Dr visit. Afterwards we went to eat with Mom and Dad. Before we got home I had to take one of my strong pain pills. Motrin wasn't going to fix that pain. I totally over done it. I want so bad to be able to do those things but I simply can't. Today we slept most of the day. 

So here's the four week update. 

I can now get in and out of the shower by myself if I step in and out sideways. I can't bend and shave below my knees. It takes me a long time to dress because I have to sit to accomplish that. I can stand and wash dishes, fix simple meals and laundry. Danny got me a claw type thing so if I drop something I can pick it up instead of waiting for someone to come along and get it for me. It's a nice little piece of independence I missed. 

I can walk without my walker. Not much. I get really tired quick when using it or my cane. I don't hurt most of the time. I just have weird sensation in pelvic area that sometimes are unnerving. I'm so scared I will reinjur myself even though I've been assured that nothing in ordinary life can mimic the trauma of labor and  that its just a matter of letting soft tissue heal now.........but regurdless......I'm scared to death to move. 

I can also walk some with Maddy but very slowly and very few steps. Her added weight does make it harder to balance. 

So, that's it. Four weeks and still counting.  I wish I had a timeline to follow. I wish I could circle a date on the calender and know that was the day I can shower and get the kids ready, pack a diaper bag, carry the car seat and Maddy to the van and take the kids to the park.  I wish someone could tell me how long it takes ligaments to tighten back up and heal. The list of things I can do is short but I still try to focus on that instead of what I can't do. It's hard. Danny needs to return to work but I'm scared to death to be alone with all the kids.  I want him to be able to work in the day and be home at night but we just can't survive that way. 

I hope Valentines Day found you all safe, sound, warm and loved. 

Diastasis Symphysis Pubis Two Week Update

Yesterday and today I looked at Maddy's birth photos. It was the first time since she was born two weeks ago on Saturday. 

There is so much pain, heartache, and pure joy wrapped up into those photos. The day she turned two weeks old I broke completely down into a puddle of mess for a couple hours. I feel so blessed yet cheated. I have everything I've ever dreamed of, yet I can't live it. I feel like I'm in the sidelines. 

I look at those photos and I wish I had begged for a csection. I wish I hadn't pulled my legs back so far during delivery. I wanted to avoid a csection but had no idea the amount of trauma I'd cause by putting my legs in such a position. If I could just have a do over everything could be normal. I'd be recovering from a csection instead of this beast that no one knows much about. 

I still sit for hours on end and research treatment, others stories, the surgery sit takes to heal sometimes. I can find comfort in stories from women whom have similar stories and have healed and I'm overwhelmed with anxiety and tears at the stories of women who still suffer months and months later. 

I imagine Maddy being months old and crawling and me unable still to pick her up. I cringe when I think about stormy weather coming this Spring and me being unable to get everyone out of the house and in a basement. I can't go down steps. I can barely step into the shower. I still can't twist and get into bed. And even if I did get into bed I couldn't sleep there. My right leg I can control better then my left. I cannot life it nearly as well. The chair has become my den. I imagine the time coming when Maddy isn't satisfied to lay on a pillow in my lap. What will I do then? 

I go tomorrow to have X-rays retaken. I am hoping the gap has closed signifigantly. If it hasn't I will have to start to consider the fact that surgery is my fate. Even typing that sentence makes me nauseous. 

That's the thoughts of the part of me that thinks the worst all the time. 

The thoughts of the part of me that try's to stay positive thinks, "Kathy, it's only been 2 weeks". Ligaments take time to heal. I can move better with my walker now. I can step out of my clothes better now before a shower. I can step into the shower sideways now. I can stand in place a long time and wash dishes or do some laundry. That is until I drop something. Bending is still not possible. 

I can take a few tiny steps without my walker but I'm scared to death without it. I feel loose and off balance. 

I can sit and get up easy now. I wonder how I will feel at 6 weeks without wishing away time. 

Yall please continute to pray, send healing thoughts, send advice...........I could sure use it. 

First, thank you for all the calls, texts, food brought to our home and most of all your prayers. Please keep the pray coming. I'm sorry that I've not text some back or messaged. I have good days and bad days, mentally and physically. 

Right now as I write this blog using my phone while sitting in the recliner I can hear Danny going from room to room empting everyone's garbage. Just prior to that he put my socks on and covered me up. I can't even begin to tell you how good he's been to me and how well he has stepped into playing my role here. That man has amazed me. I love him so. 

Many don't know exactly what is going on so I'm going to try and explain it best I can. I'm still educating myself by reading others stories (they are few and not all encouraging so my sweet OB Maggie has given me strict instruction to stay off the internet).

There is a thing called 

Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction. 

Many women suffer from this during their third trimester of pregnancy. I can't say that I did. I had your normal aches and pains but I don't beleive had I mentioned these symptoms it would have been considered this. The reason I mention this is because of you read it, it's awful close to what I'm dealing with. Except, my pelvis actually separated during delivery. That separation caused severe pain and discomfort while I was in the hospital and my first few days home. The pain has somewhat subsided but I still few a great deal of pubic none pressure and and cramps much like period pain. I walk with a walker and have been instructed to take small slidding steps. I can't bend. I can't lift either leg. I can't make any twisting movement. Riding in a vehicle is next to impossible because of the twisting motion it takes to get into a one. Besides that, the steps leading off my back porch are boogers too. A walker and steps mix like oil and water. 

I am wearing a sort of brace right now like they give you when discharged from the hospital with a csection. I wear it low and tight on my hips. It provides some support to sorda "pull my two halves back together" but mostly it makes me aware of my movement and keeps me from taking to large of steps. I'm expecting a brace today and praying that it makes a big enough difference that I'm not so discouraged. My OB has done her best to keep me on a positive note and reminds me that these things take time and rest. Neither I'm very good with. 

I want to hear similar stories but there just seems to be nothing out there. I hear and read the word "rare" a lot. 

My little prize is 10 days old and compared to the day she was born and the days after, I've made progress. It's such a slow depressing time for me. Im not going to sugar coat this. 

Danny is unable to work because I need round the clock care as do our children. Right now he's vacuuming under my feet. Bills will soon pile up. And stress will begin to overwhelm me even more. I'm scared. Terrified actually, that this is my life. Throw that into the mix with anxiety and sadness and I'm just a ball of fun. Please continue to pray for me. Something like this sure will show you what's important. Times I spent fussing about picking up toys, washing dishes, dressing the kids when they were to sleepy to do it themselves......If I could just heal and be somewhat able is never fuss about meaningless stuff again. How I want to pack my baby girl that I wished for most of my life. When she crys I can't walk and sooth her and that hurts my heart . So I just cry right along with her. 

If any of you know anyone or have any information you could pass along I'd sure be greatful. I've read so much during the nights here that all I remember are the terrible stories of extreme cases were surgery to fuse the bones together was nessasary but the outcomes have not been great. 

 Here is my X-ray two days after delivery. 

And here is my sweet 9 pound 7 ounce prize. Meet Madiyln~Kathryn Danielle.

Little Debbie's, Prune Juice and The Wish Factor

   Here's the beauty of pregnancy.......ummmm.....beauty.........I was gonna say something here and it's totally slipped my mind. Musta been a lie. Matter of fact I'm quite sure it was a lie because now that I sit here, hiding in the bathroom at 2:30 a.m. to avoid waking my kids since I can't sleep, I can't think of one single thing about pregnancy that's even close to beautiful. Or cute. Miracle maybe, but not a pretty one. 

I have avoided complaining during this 5th (and final) pregnancy because of reasons I've previously explained already. But I'm done with that. I have 24 hours left and I'm about to let the real sh#t rip. No pun intended there, because my husband and best friend both know that has rarely happen in the last 60 days without the aid of warm prune juice, pineapple, or a stomach flu that dam near killed me. Trips to the bathroom have not been scarce though. If I gave a rough estimate I'd say in the last 60 days/nights I have been to the bathroom to pee/dribble/drip/or sometimes do nothing but cuss because her head dropped into my pelvis as I sat down and cut off pee flow, around 900 times. I got that number by guesstimating I went 15 times a day. I'd say some days I doubled that and some days it was less. Either way 900-1000 seems very accurate.  

Morning sickness lasted my entire pregnancy morning, noon and nights. The first 14 weeks or so I cried. And cried a lot. One can only do so much with parenting 4 boys when constantly trying to swallow down vomit. I discovered several pregnancies ago the trick to functioning through morning sickness is to never ever have a totally empty stomach. Therefore, I have ate every two hours like clockwork (except during the hours I had the stomach flu) for 39 weeks (ok, probably more like 34 because the nausea didn't start till about 5 weeks in). My go to quick snack of choice, Little Debbie's. Quick. Easy. Required no preparation. And made from bread so they stuck with me for a couple hours before I needed to snack again. Not only did they stick around in my belly and ward off puke, they also stuck to my ass, hips, legs, face, arms, toes and boobs. I tipped the scale last Tuesday at my final OB appointment at 201. Two Hundred and One Pounds. That's two Hundreds, Zero tens and one One's.

Besides the Little Debbie's I have eaten reasonably healthy. Fruits. Vegetables. Not a lot of meats. I took my multivitamins and I tried to stay somewhat active right up till my blood  pressure wouldn't allow it anymore. I suppose that's a side effect to straddling the fence of 35 because I never had a issue with BP before. Or it could be all the Little Debbie's laying heavy on my arteries. 

Why am I up at 3:05 a.m. you ask........ Well because I have reached that stage where Braxton Hicks make me cuss like a sailor and want to break knees of loved ones. 

The last few days I have had contractions 12 minutes apart when standing or laying like clockwork. But as soon as I get up and walk they disappear. A couple hours ago I had one so strong that it woke me from a sleep and sat me straight up out of the bed with my feet on the floor in one swift motion!! I got up and got dressed and started a load of laundry. I was prepared to start timing some contractions and hoping I didn't have to wake Danny up till at least sunup. Before I knew it 20 minutes had passed and I hadn't had another contraction. I sit and they start back. Then I walk and they disappear. It's been that way 72 hours now. 72 hours of on again off again labor. Maybe that's why it's slipped my mind that pregnancy is beautiful. That and the fact it takes prayer and prune juice to crap all the Little Debbie's. 

Danny claims I have "the wish factor" going on right now. 

"Ya see," he explains, "some people hope no one messes with them. But you dear Wish that someone would mess with you. Just so you can snap their little heads off and not feel guilty." 

I'd say that's accurate as well. 

Bless his sweet heart he's been such a good husband these 39 weeks. He's cooked and cleaned and played Momma and Daddy when he could. He's turned around and came back home when he sensed I was borderline nervous breakdown. He's rubbed my back, hips and legs and arms almost nightly when he was here. And he's looked at me like I was the most beautiful sight He'd ever seen when I was sitting beside him sipping warm prune juice. 

This pregnancy has been difficult on us all. Kids includded. They've had to really learn what it means to do a few things for themselves. Pick up after themselves. And the last little while we've been practicing what's appropriate behavior with a little girl in house. It's a work in progress. 

So hear we are down to the last few hours. My boobs leak and hurt. I've gained 70 pounds. I can't sleep. I can't sit. I can't lay down. I can't walk around without my Bp acting foolish. I pee 15 times a day and crap once a week on a good week. 

My face is spotty and swollen. My kids hate me. And Danny is jumpy when I make sudden movements because I have the "wish factor" going on. But come Saturday I will have a baby girl. After 16 years, four boys and an adoption that ripped out my heart......I will have a baby girl. That's the beauty of this pregnancy. That's what I meant to say. 

New Years, Induction and Nasty Bedrooms.

ENew Years Eve. Is that today? My gosh. 

It's 7:30 and Eli is sleeping (thank you, thank you, thank you Risperdal)

Evyn is putting Germ X on his body like lotion. And Zac is having a "unhinged" moment because "Santa Clause is Coming to Town" just played on the television and my God don't they know that was last week and Aspergers children can't take that sort of ignorant accidental nonsense from a major television network?! 

It is a New Years Eve miracle I survived today. Eli forgot his medication. But on the upside, he ran hisself so ragged today (mentally and physically) that he passed out by 7pm. 

I took a photo of something earlier that I wanted to share that I thought was a interesting peek into our life. It's no secrete that I am serverly OCD. I have a hard time letting the kids just be kids when it comes to making messes and their bedrooms. I am getting better. I have trained myself to let him play and then have them clean their rooms before they go to bed. That way we both win. Most days I don't even have to ask anymore. Zackary prefers his room very neat. Evyn sometimes gets carried away but will pick it up without making a fuss. Eli on the other hand..........well you can guess which room is his. He don't care. He has no respect for any person, place or thing. It's so aggravating when I want him to "feel" something. Anything. But he feels nothing it seems. My question tonight is how do you train a child to have a conscience? Is it even possible? 

Now, on to the fun news. 

My appointment with My Np yesterday went ok. I still don't have many answers to the suspiciou lump under my left arm. I know I've not disclosed anything about that and won't until I have some sort of solid explanation. All I know right now is there's a rather large lump there. Antibiotics didn't change it really. And I opted to not have any further testing until The Queen arrives. There's a chance it's an angry mammary gland in which case I will know that soon. 

Maggie says she will try her best to accomdate my wishes and have a planned induction. Evyn had to be induced but she says that doesn't mean this one will too. She could come on her own. But if she hasn't by the 17th then I can opt for a planned induction anytime after that (39 weeks). I don't want to be pregnant that much longer. But I sure love the "planned" part. 

I have plans made for labor/birth photography. That's a perk to having a new Dr. this rodeo. I can have more then one person in the delivery room. I'm very excited about this gals first breaths captured by my bestest good friend. ;)

Now, I know it's New Years Eve......and I was invited to come to a few events but I'm choosing to hit the pillow and text the husband till I pass out sometime around 2 a.m..

Have a safe and happy new year. Ohhhh.....and here's the photo of the bedrooms we chatted about earlier....

And I don't want to leave out The Queens room. I've been working on it today as well. Yes it's the third change but this one is gonna stick. I adore the coral and turquoise.

End of the year wrap up.....

Time is dwindling down and I'm ashamed that I have only blogged a couple times during this whole pregnancy. What a special time I should have tried to capture a little better. I have gotten some pretty adorable photos. What did we older mothers do before phones and social media and all this technology that allows us to stay in touch with others in the same boat as us? It's so easy now to do video clips, photos, voice notes.......there's no reason any special moment should not be documented yet here I am fixing to make excuses as to why I've not done a better job. 

I am so very glad Christmas is over. Sadly I don't even really have many photos of Christmas. The kids were all unhappy for different reasons and we each had just barely recovered from the stomach flu. And I do mean every one of us. There were not enough bathrooms in the house to accommodate all of us. We each started vomiting about an hour or two apart. It was like some crazy sh#t off the exorcist. I really would not have been surprised if my water broke during one of my episodes of puking up my toenails. Danny and I both looked like we'd been in a fight, busted blood vessels in our eyes and all. 

Mom cooked a huge dinner on Eve as always and even the smell turned my stomach. I didn't touch any form of solid food for several days. 

Now, back to the sulking children. 

Eli is at that age where I don't think he believes in Santa anymore but he's afraid to say it out loud for fear his number of gifts might decrease. Zackary believes and doesn't understand how Santa could possibly not know the difference between Silver Sonic and Super Sonic. Thank you Aspergers for throwing that wrench in Christmas morning. Next time I'll be sure to do my homework before making that mistake again. 

Eli stole a box of matches from Mom and Dads house and got caught playing in the garage with them. I can't remember if I've gone into much detail about his alarming interest in fire before so if I haven't .....here's the facts. He loves fire. Matches. Lighters. Rubbing two sticks together. Any show, movie, video, ect. that shows one how to survive and make fire with no resources. He's been caught setting my carpet in the house on fire, his matress, the floors at Granny's house and various others places and objects. So being caught with a box of matches on Eve did not end well for Eli. They each got Green Machines for Christmas and he was not allowed to even ride his when everyone else did. Of course he twisted it and tried to justify his choices and make us out to be over reacting as always. One day I sure hope he can make a mistake and take responsibility for that mistake. Right now it seems like only a meer dream. 

He was mad most of the day too because Santa didn't bring Survival Knives, Flint Rock (to start fires ya know) and an ax for him. He claimed it was the worst Christmas ever.  Between him and Zackary the day was a disaster. I suppose if an outsider where to have been a fly on the wall that day they would have thought I really had some selfish spoiled kids. And to a extent I do. But at the same time their mental frames of mind are making it very difficult to have many great memorable moments these days. 

As for little Evyn he was thrilled. He was happy enough for everyone. 

Peyton wasn't here. He is still with his Dad and I don't much blame him anymore. He spent the weekend and Eve with us and Christmas Day with his Dad. 

 Eli sure makes life here pretty dam difficult these days. I often wonder how miserable a child has to be inside their little heads to want to constantly be trying to get a negitive reaction from someone. Anyone. It's like he has to be screamed at to breath. It's as if beloved the constant turmoil he puts us in. Through the warmer months we simply left when he got out of hand. But now that it's cold, the baby is almost here and I have no energy.....we can't just throw on flip flops and go for a walk anymore away from him. We are trapped. Ugh. 

Any advice from parents in similar situations would be great. If you have "normal" children and want to offer advice.....save it. I know you mean well but it's not helpful. Unless your child has set the house on fire more then once then I have no interest in how you raise them. 

Now.....my gal is on her way. She's what Danny like to refer to as "locked and loaded". My due date isn't till the 24th but, considering each of my babies outweighed the last by a pound I'm hoping my NP induces early. Evyn was nearly 9 pounds and I really don't want to birth a Linebacker. 

Nows the time of year for Resolutions. So let's hear them..........

Mine is to enjoy life more. Scream less. Start running (since I layed down cigarettes last June). And go somewhere new in the Spring. I try not to set to high of expectations on the year that way I don't fail at them. Honestly, running may never happen. I'd be happy with a fast pace walk. ;)

I hope each of you had a peaceful Holiday and the New Year is kind to you and yours. 

Pregnancy, Sex and Cider

    
     Vagina, Vagina, Vagina. If you can't say that 3 times without snickering then move along to another blog. This one is for mature adults who can enjoy a little adult humor at my expense.

     26 weeks pregnant. 14 to go.

     This time, unlike previous pregnancies,  I have stirred clear of complaining about the side effects of building a child. I know there will those who think or say, "well hail woman......it's not like you didn't know how hard pregnancy is."
    
     I do know how hard it is. There is no pregnancy side effect I have not encountered over the last 16 years of my life. I have been hospitalized for UTI. I have had Pneumonia, Bronchitis and Sinus Infections. Fever, Cough and body aches. Nausea, vomiting and severe heart burn. Stretch marks, belly itch and terrible complexion. Swollen sore boobs, constant peeing, fatigue, swelling, cravings and once I even had the dreaded Pig Flu (AKA Swine Flu). Everyone knows what happens during pregnancy so this time I decided not to complain since I was lucky enough to be cooking a baby girl just like the boys begged for (and I was really hoping for too since this was our last chance at one of the female variety). I am sure each of us could compare boy pregnancies and girl pregnancies till the cows come home. I surely could. After having 4 boys then cooking a girl the differences are very noticeable.

    In the beginning I was so very sick. I barely gained weight and was beginning to think I'd be lucky enough to have one of those cute little belly bumps that proved I was pregnant but have skinny legs, arms and an unchanged arse.     Ha. The second trimester brought many changes. I felt tons better and gained a ton. I don't think there is any difference in how I am carrying this gal but I may feel differently as my due date approaches.

     As I mentioned before, the second trimester brought many changes and a few surprises. Welcomed surprises. Side effects of pregnancies I have never experienced much before for very long at a time. At first my mood took a drastic dip to the point that I was researching depression during pregnancy. But then my dark mood left and replaced with something else. Something very much welcomed by both the DH and myself. For the last several weeks he has been married to 34 year old teenager. Now...that being said.......wanting sex every time the wind changes comes with its own side effects whether I am cooking another human or not.

     I have always had what I like to refer to as "finicky hoo-haa".  I have used Tide my entire life along with sensitive soaps, no bubble baths much, very few tampons and mostly coconut oil for "grooming" the area. I can't wear "cutesy" panties. It's cotton all the way. No thongs.  And even if I do everything right and break no hoo-haa rules I still sometimes get lucky enough to wind up with a infection or UTI. Usually it's totally avoidable but sometimes Mother Nature just likes to kick me in the ovaries and make me go buy a 7 day Monistat kit and remind me that hoo-haa itch is the worst thing on this planet. I imagine hoo-haa itch is right up there with Ebola. Matter of fact.........a yeast infection is probably a symptom of Ebola along with bleeding from the eyes, ears and uncontrollable bodily functions.

     Now........the DH had been home for 2 weeks and his vacation/truck repair was coming to a fast end two days ago. Sex the first time was spur of the minute so before the opportunity for the second time may or may not present itself I decided to shower. Now at that moment I decided coconut oil in the tub in my condition was unsafe. If none have you have ever fallen out of the tub and went into labor then consider yourself lucky. Yes.......that happen once to me. I decided that shaving cream wouldn't hurt just the one time. And it probably wouldn't have if I could have gotten a better idea of where I was putting it. Ugh. Yes. Pregnancy side effect that no one tells you about. Your vagina disappears at 20 weeks and you don't see it again till you are several weeks post partum. If you are one who prefers to stay "neatly groomed".......good luck. Its a total feel and go game. Cross your fingers and hope you have the razor on the right path. During this 26 week escapade I must have let shaving cream go where it wasn't welcomed. And then it was followed up by sex about twice more. Double no-no. By yesterday morning I was feeling a bit "different" down there but was hoping it was in shock from all the action. Sadly, that wasn't the case. By lunch I was researching just how safe the 7 day treatments were during pregnancy. 

    Yesterday was tolerable but by bedtime I was ready to sterilize a brillow pad and scratch myself to sleep. I decided to Google home remedies and hope I had something on hand that would allow me to sleep. All of my searches kept turning up the same thing. Apple Cider Vinegar. YES!!!  I have that.  I ate it on salads, in beans and with greens. And since we all eat this stuff with food then its clearly non toxic (this was my train of thought). I am a firm believer of using natural remedies when possible. I had just never really thought much about those chemical yeast infection creams until now. I didn't want to shove something so close to where The Queen is cooking for 14 more weeks.  I read and read and read and kept seeing the words that memorized me. "Immediate relief"

     That's it!! I got up and went to the kitchen on the search of my new best friend. I found it tucked away right where I left it beside the salt and pepper. I was so elated that I had discovered a remedy that was going to deliver immediate comfort as well as use it's natural antibiotic abilities and cure the infection without the use of chemical creams and oral antibiotics (which only in turn create more yeast in my finicky hoo-haa).

     I went right off to the bathroom and poured a good amount into a little bathroom disposable cup. I thought back to the reading I had done and remembered reading that the cider should be diluted. It clearly said on the cider bottle that it was diluted at bottling to 5% acidity.  That, to me, sounded awful weak if it was going to "immediately relieve" what I had going on. I decided 5% was diluted enough and took a little cider soaked TP and dabbed it to the area. Nothing happen. No better. No worse. I decided then to lean back on the toilet seat in a way that would allow me to sorda pour the cider so  that it would run "front to back" and coat the whole entire irritated area and give me the promised "immediate relief".  Oh holy chit. Mother of the sweet little baby Lord.

     I could not breath. I could not move. All I could do was think how in the world was I going to explain that I had 3rd degree burns on my labia. But not only THERE..........But remember I had sat in a way that it was sure to coat the area in its entirety. Hemorrhoids. Chit, I had forgotten about those in the panic of having hoo-haa itching and burning. The cider had reached those too. Have mercy!! Believe me when I say that I am in no way exaggerating the severity of this simple apple solution's burn. When I could gather my thoughts I began to rinse the area with clean cold water. Even this didn't totally take the burn away. Clearly it had migrated into any little spots where I had broken the skin by scratching (ohhh come on......don't act like you can avoid scratching completely). After inspecting everything with a hand held mirror I walked back to bed carefully while being sure not to allow my legs be too close together and touch what felt like a certain chemical burn. 

     Once I was back in bed I decided to Google again. And there it was........plain as day. The acidity needed to be reduced to around 2%. Even then one should test a tiny area for burning then dilute more if needed. Sometime while reading this tid bit of important information the itching and burning completely stopped and I fell asleep. Bliss finally. I woke up to slight irritation later and decided to dilute the remedy to half/half. Yes, that first escapade was pure unedited Hell. But it worked. And I knew had I read a little more closely about the proper way to dilute I would have saved myself the worst burn I have ever felt in my whole entire life. I am impressed. The Queen will surely love this story later in life when she is pregnant with her very own little one and experiencing those dreaded side effects.

Afternoon Cider Update.
Don't bother. Just go get the good stuff.
    

If Mothers Who Kick Their Kids Out Suck........Then Call Me A Shop-Vac

More times then I can count people have looked at me and said "I don't know how you do it".  I simply smile and usually that's my only response. Reality is, I'm barely surviving most days. The last couple weeks I have simply been treading the water.

Our Summer was very difficult. But because I was taught to save face I have kept my mouth shut. I made sure that people only heard about our fabulous accomplishments, our new baby that was on the way or how great our trip was to Ky Down Under. I think all Summer those were the only 3 things that I was completely thrilled with. Eli was a complete and total disaster. Toward the end of the Summer I finally took the advice of his therapist and sent him into the crisis unit for 10 days to get a break from us and visa versa. About 3 people knew I'd resorted to that. Not being able to handle your child is embarrassing.  I told a few people that sending Eli to the Unit was like swimming in a ice cold pool. When you stay in the pool for a long time you get use to the cold water. Getting out and getting back in is misery. You are better off to just stay in the water as opposed to getting out and warming up then jumping back in. This was exactly what those 10 days done for us. We had time to warm up..........then had to jump back in the water and it was even colder then it was before. He has a appointment the 28th of this month and I'm hoping we make some changes that helps. Even though the situation with Eli sounds terrible he is actually the least of the problems this Summer.

15 year olds will drain the life out of ya. They will backtalk, test your patience, disrespect you, lie to your face, get picked up by the law for sneaking out at 2 a.m. on a side by side to visit a girl, talk nasty about you behind your back and find every single way to twist an turn a punishment until they still get their way. And being the oldest they are paving the example for the rest.

I had Peyton when I was a kid. Had it not been for my parents in his younger years I would have been up Crap Creek. After his Dad and I divorced I was single parent for many years. I mean no disrespect to his Daddy. His Daddy will attest that he was no help. And even still, these days, he wasn't one to follow through with my punishments because he didn't want to punish the few days a month he saw him.

For 12 years, anytime Peyton got in trouble here, he threatened me with the, "I'm going to my Daddy's" BS.  Then after he got older he threatened me with, "A judge will let me live where I want to". These spats of ours usually passed and he would be fine for a few more weeks as long as he got his way.

Last Sunday morning was the straw that broke the camels back for me and him too apparently. I have rules. No stricter then anyone else I don't think. He wasn't allowed to just come and go as he sees fit. He wasn't allowed to speak to me nor any adult or his brothers nasty. He had a curfew of 11p.m.. and he had a few chores. Mowing, trimming and keeping up his room. That's it. As long as he didn't get to big for his britches, he pretty much got to do about whatever he wanted. Now last Sunday morning he woke up ill. Maybe because he had been fishing till 1030 with a friend the night before at a pay lake (now mind you he was supposed to be going with Eli but wound up inviting a friend and threatening Eli to secrecy about it along with the smoking he was doing there as well). He didn't want to go to church and made that known by sulking and stomping. He didn't want to clean up in the tub because the shower was occupied and made an ass out of himself again. And then he decided he was gonna hope on the side-by-side and go to his grandparents without asking. BAM!! I'd had enough and so had Danny. Danny preceeded to give him a speech about asking permission. One he's heard 1000 times before. Peyton mouthed your normal 15 year old responses and then informed Danny he WAS'NT HIS DADDY AND DID'NT HAVE TO LISTEN TO HIM.  That was when I intervened.

Danny took on a plate full when he married me. Eli was 19 months old and Peyton was 6. Peyton's Dad was not exactly in the picture much yet and Eli wasn't exactly sure what a Daddy even was yet. Danny took them both under his wing and gave them what they needed. He wasn't great at the Daddy stuff but he was great at the provider role. My kids never wanted for anything. The Daddy role came in time. So to hear Peyton badmouth someone who took care of him when no one else would was like a spit in my face. Thankfuly Peyton's Daddy met and married and changed his thinking about most things and she made him a better parent.

Now history has proven when Peyton behaves this way there is a girl involved. He is the only male I have ever seen turn into a complete fool when he's involved with a girl. I asked to see his cellphone in hopes it might give me a clue as what on earth was causing his foul mood. He refused to let me see it. Ya see.......I stopped paying his phone bill in June and made him start odd jobs to fit the bill himself. Now, because he paid his own cell bill for 2 months, he decided that I had no right to anything on his phone. He even had the guts to say that. TO. MY. FACE. And then ran out the back door.

Now. I'm pregnant. I'm pissed off most of the time. Matter of fact I can't think of one person I care much for at all right now.........so when these events started to unfold last Sunday morning I imagine my blood pressure was somewhere borderline of a cardiac explosion. It was pouring rain. I was already dressed for church. And I took out the back door after this disrespectful brat like stink on chit.

Our disagreement over his phone and me wanting to see it, continued outside. He mouthed and mouthed about the phone. About Danny not being his Dad and about how he was leaving and going to his Dads because my rules and this house was too stressful. I think I gave him one more opportunity to hand his phone over when he told me again I had no rights to his phone at all. At that point I slapped the ever loving words right out of his mouth and he threw his phone and busted it at my feet. I then grabbed him by his shirt collar thinking I was going to lead him back into the house and continue his racking when he done some sort of matrix move and had me dam near on the ground with what I thought at the time was a broken forearm. Game Over. I then had to retreat to my corner for help before he seriously injured me.

This escapade continued for at least an hour. Danny retrieved him from walking down the road and brought him back home where he ripped his tail repeatedly for touching a woman. The game changer was when Peyton started blurting out suicide threats and saying if we didn't let him move in with his Dad he would simply call the cops and tell them such lies he'd never have to live here again. I think that comment earned him another jab to the mouth from me. This child had never acted nor spoke this way. I can't even remember all the nasty things he screamed at me that day before his Dad picked him up nor do I care to recall all of them. I still to this day don't know why except that he truly hated it here. Hated my rules. Hated Danny for helping me enforce them. And wanted to live with his Daddy because over the years its been nothing but fun and games and getting his way there. And he will be an only child. So, on Monday I made the choice to let him move. Call it giving him his way. Call it being a wimp. Call it bad parenting. I don't care what you call it. I just know I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't argue with him. I couldn't fight with him. And I sure couldn't run the risk of him snapping and hurting me or one of his siblings again. You see this wasn't the first time he had threatened terrible things. I found out last week he'd said things to neighbors over the Summer that should have earned him a terroristic threatening charge. And he also got rather rough with a teacher last year when she was restraining him from "killing Eli" (his words). I took up for him at that time and actually thought she was in the wrong for laying her hands on him. I know now she must have seen a portion of what I finally saw Sunday morning.

I don't know what else to say about this except that I am lost without all of my kids under one roof but he left me no choice. He knew what he was doing. He backed me into a corner and gave me no choice. He said before he left that there was no fixing what he'd done although An apology would be nice considering all the times I've had his back and given him the benefit of the doubt when I should not have. But, I have yet to get that. At this point all I can do is hope that his Dad can "fix" him like he claims he can. Clearly I can't and not even going to pretend that I can. I suppose I was so busy with Eli that I somehow missed the oldest kid was also dealing with his own demons.

So.........."you don't know how I do it".............do you still feel that way after hearing I kicked my child out of my house?