Coochee Check

So, up until I got home from work, I was pretty stoked about something. That all flew out the window when the kids got off the bus and I heard about the idiocy that is my son’s teacher.

What was I so stoked about? You ask, perched on the edge of your seat like I am Oprah ready to hand out steam mops…Copper IUD. What about it? Well, it might just save us.

Save ME, at least. From being a grandma. From dealing with my disabled daughter’s horrendous periods. From the Depo shot conflicting with the psych meds and putting TTops over the top (get it? har) 6 out of 7 days a week.

I am THAT hopeful. Of course, my hopes could be dashed but it is better than ending up on CNN for getting my daughter fixed because she is not capable of taking care of her own periods, much less a baby, and people thinking she has that “right” to “choose” to have babies that will end up with grandma taking care of them (even though anyone who has sex with her will undoubtedly be taking advantage of her). But I digress. Do I? Yes I do.

Here is the link: http://www.webmd.com/sex/birth-control/intrauterine-device-iud-for-birth-control

The thing lasts for 10 YEARS and has NO hormones. It looks like something out of the stone ages but who the hell cares if it works and it prevents periods from being as bad. Now, there are people that it DOESN’T work for. I am hoping that TTops will not fall into that category.

It will keep her from getting pregnant and having her period. It will keep me from being a premature grandma. Win. Win.

I talked to our in-house wellness professional at work today who recommended it…so I still have to talk to the nurse/educator in the Women’s Clinic soon (would have today if I wasn’t dealing with the fallout of idiots). Plus, it will be complicated by the fact that TTops will need to be sedated to put it in. And there is a string that hangs down inside and she LOVES to masturbate and could potentially pull that string out. God only knows what kind of stuff she throws up in that coochee that could yank that sucker out.

And why is coochee getting flagged by spellcheck??? I just can’t win today.

 

Chocolate Boy

That’s what kids in his class had been calling ButterBoy. “Chocolate Boy”.  It started last week. He told me about it and said he kind of liked it cause his skin does look like chocolate. I let him know that it needs to be okay with him and to keep me posted.

ButterBoy came home yesterday crying. It didn’t take long for him to change his mind. He said that he decided he didn’t like it anymore and he asked them to stop…and they wouldn’t. It got worse. They made him feel bad about his skin color. I was pissed but I kept my shit together. I asked him if he would like my help. He said “yes”.

I called his teacher this morning. He didn’t answer. So I left a message, “Kids are calling ‘ButterBoy’ Chocolate Boy. I would like to talk to you about this because it is racist and downright inappropriate.” I asked him to call me back. I didn’t hear from him. I assumed it was because he didn’t get the message.

When the kids got home from school, we talked about their days. I told ButterBoy that I called his teacher but he never called me back. ButterBoy said, “Oh. He told the class not to call me Chocolate Boy anymore.”

That was it. No return phone call. My kid didn’t get any apologies. Then he was singled out in front of the rest of the class. I am feeling like this is just the tip of the iceberg.

I am trying to figure out what to do.

This is not acceptable.

 

It will be okay

I was raised to believe that you generally don’t talk about three things with people: money, politics and religion. I suppose you could throw sex in there as well but that was just a given.

Then I met The Pinkest and was drawn into the fold of his family. They talk about EVERYTHING. At first, it was overwhelming because I simply was not used to being out there like that. And then it turned into a plate of awesomeness.

My life changed from silent dinners with the TV on…to no TV and intense conversations about social issues, politics, sex, love, ambition, work, religion, death, and life. See? Awesomeness.

The first time he ever came over to dinner with my family, he never wanted to come back. I suppose, when compared to an evening of fantastic discourse, it could be awkward to sit silent with a family one hardly knows. The first time I ever went over to dinner at his family’s house, I never wanted to leave. It was FABULOUS.

The Pinkest and I have been together for over ten years. Twelve years in August to be precise. We have grown together while offering up shoulders for each other along the way. I have acquired three degrees and moved up professionally to the director level. He has acquired a contracting license and built up his own business. More importantly, we also became parents to our three wonderful children. Neither of us could have done it without the other.

And here we are, with life presenting us with more challenges and changes. And here we are, offering up our shoulders to each other. Giving the other someone to lean on. Always there. Never wavering.

It will be okay. It always ends up being okay. Just as long as we stick together.

 

Peace

Right now, she is walking around in circles on the front deck, talking to the voices that accompany her everywhere. There are a lot of people in her world. We just can’t see them. They tell her what to do. Sometimes they tell her good things, usually it is bad though. She just took a break to see if I was watching. We waved back and forth for a minute or so while she giggles, caught. She knows these voices are unhealthy but it isn’t like she can make them go away. They are her companions through this life. Not always safe but always there.

We have had a good day thus far. No screaming or tears. It is nearly one o’clock. Haven’t had a day this good in months.

Naturally, I am surprised. But only because she was up all night…refusing to stay in her room, or thumping around when she was in there. When the husband does his videogame night at his brother’s house, she takes advantage because she knows I cannot stop her. She is over 100 pounds now. Nearly as tall as me.

I am grateful that her behaviors are taking a break today. After the last week, I just need a day where we can chill out and enjoy our time together. We will be watching a movie shortly and she seems quite peaceful. And I am thankful for that.

 

The Big Change

Big week here. Besides accomplishing living through each minute of each day, dealing with the stress of TTops blowing out of school each day, working full-time, on top of managing a contracting business (tax season is here, ugh), raising two other hurt little boys and keeping them safe from TTops, being in near-constant intense pain, and managing the general issues of a household…we solidified plans for our future…(I squeezed in some FB games in there so I wouldn’t lose my mind so no worries).

TTops will be trying out a new respite home in addition to her other one. The new one is a group home nearby. It is A.W.E.S.O.M.E. They are familiar with the risk management plan process that we currently use through our disability services and are staffed 24 hours a day. There is nearly zero turnover in staff or clients. Meaning, when a client moves in…they stay there forever. This enables clients to live as full a life as possible. Clients get jobs and volunteer and go to activities and school. There is ALWAYS a trained staff person accompanying them yet following the risk management plan so that the client can be as independent in their activity as possible. You have probably gathered by now that this group home will eventually be permanent.

Our goal has always been for TTops to live in our home until she turns 16. We have been warned by countless professionals that was an unrealistic goal…but The Pinkest and I are stubborn folk. We both love TTops with our entire heart and souls, unconditionally. But…we have our limitations. The last few months have been really hard. Let’s get real. The last four years have been really hard…but things have been exponentially more difficult since last summer. I don’t want to try to change her or fix her because it is simply not possible. And I need to let go of the feeling that I am a failure as a mother by the mere fact that she needs more than I can give her. She has come a long way in our home…and we will always be her family and close by (meaning this is not disruption).

Until all this happens, we are fervently working on getting an individual health insurance plan (hoping that I don’t get blackballed) so I can quit my job and take care of TTops. As always, we will continue to work hard to keep her in our home as long as possible…and also so I can have a chance to do some healing because, let’s face it, I’m not doing so hot.

I’m turning off comments on this post. It is so difficult to deal with right now…just acknowledging that this is what will happen in the next year…this week has been especially hard because I got the financial end figured out/approved and toured the home and met the staff…and it is so much more real now.

I feel good about this place. They will be able to do so much more for TTops than what we can. And the place is SO close by that we can still see her nearly every day…to continue building our relationships with her without the stress of constant caregiving (lordy, you could pick any random hour of any day and wonder why I haven’t dropped dead yet from stress and strain just trying to accomplish the most basic things with her). It is located on a cul-de-sac on a country road. It feels homey inside. There is another girl there TTops age who happens to have similar complex disabilities so hopefully they will get along…at least some of the time (I have to be realistic here).

Moving to The Home, TTops will have more opportunities to work/go to school, participate in activities, and simply live. She will remain in our community and connected to our family.

Still…it is going to be hard…

 

The Writhing Call Center

For staying at home and writhing in bed all day (and not because of Christine’s sexperiment challenge), I got a lot done.

I couldn’t sleep all night because the pain was so intense. I writhed and cried. That kept me pretty busy. I finally “got up” around 5:30, made my list for the day and then simply sat up for an hour waiting for the house to wake up. Then The Pinkest rubbed my back for a while and propped me up with pillows and the laptop so I could busy myself with games and Twitter all day.

In between farming, I made phone calls.

I called the tribal worker that stood me up for the second time…she didn’t answer the phone but I left a cheery message in the hopes that we could reschedule soon. I didn’t hear back from her. She was supposed to call me to reschedule last Friday BTW. I will be calling her every.single.day this week. Then I move on to her supervisor.

I called my doctor’s office to find out WTF was up with the delay on my next procedure, The Royal Butt Probe. I left a dainty little message trying to incorporate big words that meant PAIN AGONIZING PAIN YOU MUTHER EFFERS WHY HAVEN’T YOU DONE YOUR JOBS YOU $275 PER HOUR RIPOFF ARTISTS which was really more polite than it sounds and quickly got a call back with an appointment for yet another specialist (i.e. ripoff artist) to do The Royal Butt Probe. No apology though. Me thinks they is disappointed that they don’t get to do another $10K a day experiment on my guts but now I am just being cynical and vicious because I am angry and in PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN.

Then I did some managing of the foster care permanency project that I haven’t been able to work on because of the PAIN PAIN PAIN. Not much, mind you, but enough to feel like I actually did something.

THEN I called the state unemployment line to ask a simple question…54 minutes later a REAL LIVE PERSON finally answered. He desperately tried to avoid answering my simple question and send me back to the automated line but I usurped him (not sure if that is the right usage of the word but I like it so let’s go with it) since I had read the state laws and read through the employee and employer portions of their website written by an illiterate droid. I found the answer and was surprised to learn that the process wasn’t as complicated as I thought it would be.

And finally, I made an appointment with the place that will be a critical part of our future if everything works out. It is less than 10 minutes from our house in the the country. I am scared.

So that was my day home sick from work. I didn’t leave the bed all day except to use “the facilities”. Still no water so you can let your imagination wander with that one.

Outie.

 

Pooping in a snowbank this week…

So I am having another one of those days/weeks. I know what I am in for because the pain started this morning. It always stays for about four days. Intense. Don’t-want-to-move-or-breath sort of pain. I am just going to have to deal and take cry breaks at work. We have a nice basement there that is fairly private to cry in…so I will survive.

There are a lot of things that could have caused it: lifting up my youngest kid to comfort him, moving file boxes in my office at work and then bending over them to sift through files, organizing the supplies at work since they looked like supply store vomit…or folding laundry yesterday, or playing board games with my middle child and reaching across the board. The list could go on and on.

Tomorrow is therapy night but The Pinkest is pinch hitting for me and taking ButterBoy. ButterBoy ADORES his new therapy. Play therapy rocks for that little securely attached guy. There isn’t a snowballs chance in hell that it would work for my other two with attachment issues, but it is perfect for ButterBoy.

Our well pump crapped out last night. Fortunately, the kids and The Pinkest and I were caught up on baths and clothes washing and dishes so the timing couldn’t have been better. The plumbing supply store isn’t open til tomorrow (we have a 300 foot well so big box store garbage isn’t going to cut it) and we won’t have enough guys to help pull the pump until Tuesday. Until then, The Pinkest hauled in enough water to get us through a few days. No #2s til Tuesday though unless they are done in a snowbank outside or at school or work.

Outie.

 

The Husband Acquires a New Nickname

If you don’t look at the temperature, it is a beautiful day out today. The sky is a perfect crisp blue…the snow is reflecting the sunlight, and the birch and pine trees accent the areas in between.

The Husband told me I couldn’t blog about this because he wants nothing to do with my ridiculous blog world. (Thanks for the support, honey!). So, naturally, I am going to ignore his directions because this is a pivotal change in our relationship.

See, I have never had a nickname for The Husband. At least not one that is not rated R.

But now I do.

He doesn’t like it. But it makes him smile.

We have a pile of extra t-shirts at work (like 300) from a fundraiser last year. My boss said I should take a bunch home for my family. So I did.

The shirts are cool. They are black and have the sign of the woman on them in hot pink. Who wouldn’t LOVE to wear them??? My kids were excited. All three of them are feminists. Yes, boys can be feminists, too. Anyway…the husband refused, REFUSED to wear one. WTF?!

No, his new nickname is not Rush (though I didn’t think of that last night and now I wish I did because that would have been hilarious to call my completely Independent anti-Repub anti-Democrat husband).

I now call him:

The Pinkist.

It suits him.

 

If wishes were nickels…

I wish…

I wish I could talk about it…

I wish I could repair it all and make it go away…

I wish it didn’t have to be this way…

 

Searching…

Still trying to catch up from a week with no Internet so I apologize to Lisa for not doing this sooner! Sorry darlin!

Lisa is trying to track down a girl who aged out of the foster care system in Kansas. This young lady needs to know that there is a family who wanted her. Here is her post explaining the story.