MotherLand

     Yes, I realize I'm a bad blogger. What has it been, 3 or 4 weeks since my last post? Well, it was either be a bad blogger or continue to be a bad mother. So, I chose to take a break from blogging and focus my attentions not on figuring out how to spin my frustrated life into a comedy or a tragedy, but simply on letting my life run it's course.... no poetic labels, no silver-lining-writing, no audience.... just letting life be. And that's what I did.
     In the meantime, some new life events took place. For one, Pat got a new job! We were all very excited... that is, until we realized that I was going to be home... alone... with the little people that have spent the last 5 months terrorizing me. Since my husband had been doing the majority of the child care while I took a maternal hiatus (aka hid in my room taking long naps and crying a lot in avoidance of yet another family crisis), there were 3 terrified faces as Hubby/Daddy went off to work that first morning. I didn't know who was more frightened, them or me! Thankfully, my in-laws have been there to fill in the gaps when I've been too frazzled after work to deal with the woes of pregnancy on top of  the likes of my other two kiddos. Together, we were able to ease me back in to MotherLand.... It's a Land of Chutes and Ladders. One minute we're at the top of the board, and in the next minute we've spiraled to the bottom, left in that heap of broken dishes, covered in scrapes and bruises. But those little people and I had a talk. Plainly and simply, we agreed that none of us would kill each other that day. Wrong actions would have consequences, good actions would have rewards, and I wasn't going to care too much which one they chose to do, because my sanity is more important than their behavior. And when the kids "cleaned the toilet" using a roll and a half of toilet paper and hand soap (which all got flushed and severely clogged the toilet), no one got flogged or beheaded. And when I spent more than 30 seconds in the bathroom, no one went out, got the ax from the wood pile, and chopped open cans of paint in the living room. So all in all, I'm feeling mildly successful in MotherLand.
     Another new and exciting event is that, after nearly 5 months, my pregnancy symptoms appear to be tapering off and I am able to join the real world again (with naps and medication, of course, but still....). After passing out on the floor of a public bathroom while with a client, I decided it was time to go to the Emergency Room. I cried to my Mommy by phone the entire way there and it became clear that either my baby was going to kill me or I was going to get a doctor to help me in some way. The beautiful nurse and the very wise doctor at our local hospital confidently ordered me new anti-nausea and anti-constipation medications.... both of which worked after the first dose (which showed me that I needed to be veerrrryy careful when I took that second med!). Were there some side effects at first? Sure! I woke up in the middle of the night hallucinating that all my teeth had fallen out and were somewhere in my sheets. And was I able to stop running to the bathroom? Not a chance! And was I too disoriented to stand (let alone drive)? Absolutely! But ever since my system got used to the medications, life has been sooo much more manageable! In fact, since I haven't been tortured by so much gastrointestinal distress the last two weeks, I've actually been able to start enjoying my pregnancy.... and I felt that Little Bean kick for the first time this morning:) It's amazing how much more manageable life can be when you're not in constant pain. Not only have I been able to get a glimpse of my old life again, but this morning I was able to experience a precious moment from the new life inside of me.
     Looking at the next few weeks, I see a trip to Michigan, Christmas parties galore, Taylor's birthday party, cupcakes for school, invitations to be filled out, and that whole laundry list of things called "Daily Life".... so will I be a bad blogger again? I'm gonna guess YES! But I will be back, complete with war stories and glories, I'm sure. But if I don't blog before the holiday, have a very Merry Christmas to each of you and your families. I am so grateful for you and the love that you share each and every day to me and mine. Xoxo

8 Things You Wish Someone Would've Told You BEFORE You Went Off The Pill

     Before we get started, let the record show that I am absolutely, 100% elated to be having a baby. I can't wait to meet this little life inside of me, hug him/her, and tell that sweet little bundle of joy that they were "worth it in the end". That being said, telling an expectant mother such things while the vomit is still fresh on her lips is not only "unwise" but it's enough to get you punched in the testes....by a pair of angry ovaries. And maybe use a little wisdom before saying the words, "Just (fill in the blank) more months to go!" Because honestly, pregnant women aren't counting down the months, they're counting down the days.... that's 161 more nights that I can't sleep on my stomach, or 192 more days that I'll sneeze and wet my pants simultaneously, or 288 more meals that will send me dashing for a toilet!

     Blessed be the glorious women that say that their bodies "just looooved being pregnant!" Perhaps these women are giving birth to teeny, tiny angels as their Mama bodies crave only cucumbers and fresh berries. Maybe these women feel the gentle fluttering of butterflies coming from within instead of heartburn and pelvic cramping. Or maybe these women have stopped taken their medication and are immersed into a deluded state of denial. Either way, these women make me sick... (but they shouldn't take it too personally, because basically everything makes me sick at this point.) What I wouldn't have given to know the cruddy side of pregnancy BEFORE it happened! Look, I'm not saying it would've effected my decision to have a baby of my own, but as an educated, well-informed woman, I would've liked a little preparation for the task at hand. Here are 8 things that I wish someone would've told me about pre-pregnancy:

     1) Morning Sickness- okay, okay.... yes, I was AWARE that women got sick during pregnancy. I've had my fair share of health problems that have prepared me for just such an obstacle. However, what I wasn't aware of was that "not-so-much-morning" sickness will prevent a woman from sleeping more than a few hours per night... and that she will be forced to puke in a bowl while driving her car to work because she ran out of sick days already (PS, how is texting while driving illegal but puking is perfectly acceptable?? Thank God my foot automatically releases from the gas while I'm heaving!). How about the fact that the medicine to not-even-kinda-cure morning sickness is wicked expensive, and that the woman's insurance company will refuse to pay for more than 12 pills at a time, leaving said woman sobbing at the pharmacists' counter while he frantically tries to comfort her with tissues and found tablets of Zofran. Or how about the fact that this magical pill will cause horrific constipation for the next 9 months of her life?? Because that's how long morning sickness lasts, ladies.... 9 MONTHS!!!

2) Dog Nose- I've always found myself to have a rather keen sense of smell. My olfactory sense is actually one of my personal favorites... the way a smell can trigger a memory of an old friend, or how the aroma of baking cookies can leave you salivating, and that my husband's freshly-showered scent makes me hungry for affection. What I didn't know? That the smell of garlic will now make me nauseous... AND violent (because how DARE someone eat garlic and then come near me when they darn well KNOW it will make me sick?!?) And, little did I know, that I would be compelled by something deep within me to not rest until I have located and identified any offensive odor within a 12 mile radius. A word to the stink bug hiding in the back of my closet.... I'm on to you, my friend. And you're going down.

3) Fevers, Hot Flashes, and Cold Sweats- No, it's not the Bubonic Plague, it's just pregnancy. Do we judge a marathon runner for sweating while running, or an Eskimo for having a hot flash when temperatures hit 60 degrees? Of course not. But lets cast repulsive looks at the pregnant woman with pit stains halfway down her sides, or the fact that she has stripped down to her unattractive undershirt in an attempt to cool down. (Hey, it fit! AND it was clean-ish so lay off!) My personal favorite is when I read the pregnancy magazines that tell women to "strap on those tennis shoes and pull up those maternity yoga pants... it's time to hit the gym!" Oh, is it that time? Because I'm pretty sure I worked up a fantastic sweat while bending over to tie my shoes... and my fever spiked at least 2 degrees when I climbed the stairs to get the shoes out of my closet in the first place. Is it really safe for the baby to work out under these conditions? Because my leaky bladder and overactive armpits are starting to catch on to this "gym thing" and they're not happy. So I think I'm just gonna lay here and try to not sweat through the sheets on my bed (because God knows that changing them will spike the fever at least another 3 degrees...)

4) Alzheimers- Yep. It's truly a symptom of pregnancy to completely lose your mind. I can't remember where I set something down, what it even was that I set down, or if it's ever really important that I ever find that thing in the first place! (Gosh, I hope it wasn't one of my other children....) I have asked my clients a question and repeated the same question again seconds later. They stare at me as if I, their therapist, am the crazy one.... "You just asked me that," they say. "Oh, wow, did I?" I reply. "That's what you said the last time you did it, too!" Ooops. I definitely think that someone should've warned me that..... crap. Oh well, it will come back to me later.

5) Back Spasms- I don't know how Barbie does it, but after carrying around two gallon milk jugs all day, my back is killing me!!! Poor pregnant women experience spasms when they sit, when they stand, and when they lay in one position for more than 20 minutes at a time. You know when my back normally feels great? When I lie on my stomach.... oh, the cruel irony of it all.

6) Acid Reflux- Never having experienced heart burn before pregnancy, I was highly alarmed when I had a a sharp pain near my heart. Oh great, I thought. Heart attack is ANOTHER pregnancy symptom???

However, my husband lovingly informed me (AKA scoffed) that I was experiencing heart burn. Ahh, ok, good... no need to rush to the Emergency Room. But then the acid started. Whatever a pregnant woman eats, she better be prepared to order it with a side of Pepcid, because acid is all she will taste anyway. "What topping would you like on your ice cream sundae, ma'am?" Hmmm, definitely stomach acid, burning mucus, and a cherry on top, please.... Try to stay away from acidic foods? Sure! But I didn't realize that corn flakes were all that acidy. And buttered toast.... and turkey. Because what I'm sensing here is that NO ONE knows what causes or fixes acid reflex OR heart burn! It's all a bunch of lies told by the makers of Tums to keep disgruntled, acid-burbing, mommys-to-be dependent on those chalky Mixed Berry disasters.... (which sets off the morning sickness, by the way!!!)

7) Tearing... Oh, the tearing- When I was a little girl, I remember my mother telling me about episiotomies (hello, nightmares) and how they're important to prevent you from tearing when you have your baby (and then I prayed that God would change me into a boy while I was sleeping). Over the years, I worked through these nightmares and decided to brave the dangers of childbirth anyhow. But what no one told me was that my girl parts wouldn't be the only thing tearing down there. So, ATTENTION WOMEN!!! When you get pregnant, understand that your rectum will be torn for a good 9 months (at least) when your child-sized feces try to vacate your body after days of constipation (courtesy of pregnancy and the makers of Zofran). Did I know that the daily task of pooping was going to cause me excrutiating pain? Nope. Was I told that my husband was going to become my proctologist with his makeshift rubber gloves, a box of enemas, and tubes of cooling hemorrhoid cream? Uh, noooo. And was I notified that several times a week, I would wish for death as I grip my puke bucket with one hand and the side of the toilet seat with the other, screaming like a murder victim? (PS, thank goodness for country living... if I had anything BUT redneck neighbors, I guarentee the police would be at my door weekly.) But no.... no one told me that stool softeners don't soften crap (quite literally) and that passing an actual STEP STOOL would be easier than what us women have to go through. So ladies, do yourself a favor. When that pregnancy test comes up positive, don't run to your man, call your mother, or take a moment to revel in your joy.... grab a handful or raisins and a metamucil milkshake and start chugging. There will be plenty of time for others to tell you how "big you're getting!" later.

8) I'm not sure how to tell you this, but you need to be aware that your vagina may fall out. Ooohhh, laugh if you will, but if you're one of the rare women who's vag-in-a becomes a vag-out-a, you'll wish you had been prepared! While your body is pregnant, it creates a hormone that relaxes the pelvic floor (apparently our pelvic region has termites in it's flooring), causing your girl parts to exit when straining through bowel movement or heavy lifting. Thanks, WHAT TO EXPECT WHEN YOU'RE EXPECTING.... I know where to get a great deal on nipple pads, but what about this vag problem I've got hanging around??? Sadly, this Thanksgiving, I lost my vagina to a battle with constipation. Those contraction-like pushes that occur when you're in the bathroom? Apparently it's possible to push out a little more than poo. With husband at my side (backside, that is), and me working through my pain (clutching the rug and cursing the day I was born) I felt an unusual sensation. When I tried to stand, I noticed that there was a warm numbness taking place, AND that I couldn't quite put my legs together.

What the heck, NOW?

I thought. So, I grabbed my hand mirror and had a looksie. Lo and behold, what used to be in was now ou.... and it looked like I had the holiday ham between my legs. Oh my gosh, WHAT DO I DO!!!! Well, if you call your on-call doctor (as you should always do if your vagina falls out), he will tell you to ICE IT. Yes, of course it was a male doctor. No female would instruct a pregnant woman to ice her inside-out ham and actually mean it! But, ladies, if you do find yourself in this terrifying situation, know that you are not alone. Once the swelling goes down, you can do some Kegel exercises and gently push/shove/staple/whatever your parts back into their rightful place. I mean, I'm pretty sure my husband and I will never be able to have sex again, ya know, with my jello-y parts ready to fall out at any given moment, but at least I can somewhat sit and walk normally once again.

     Too much information? Well, I just wish someone had shared these bits of TMI with me months ago and saved me the awkward calls to my gynecologist. I mean, I tried to Google "How to fix a problem with my cell phone" and before I got to the word "fix", Google routed me to "

Did you mean 'How to push your vagina back in?'"

No, Google... not today, but thank you for knowing me so well... you're creepy, but sweet. And when little Sally or Johnny emerges from my screaming body this spring, I'm sure I will forget all of these crazy bodily quirks that have plagued me for 9 months. And then Google will be able to route me to pages like "How to make your nipples stop leaking while in Wal-Mart around all these wailing children". But until then, I hope that I was able to help some other women out there (PS, please read this article to your teenage daughters while having the abstinence speech).

     PSS.... I love my Baby Bean already :)

The Pierogie Dilemma

     I just ate a box of pierogies. The entire box. This was not my intention when I set out to make dinner. In fact, it was the last thing on my mind when I came home from work. My husband took the kids see my niece perform in a play downtown, which left me home (on-call for work, but still home) alone. Knowing that I could take a nap, eat whatever / whenever I wanted, take a relaxing bath, and anything else my heart desired, I chose NAP. The couch just looked too comfortable to pass up after a very long day at work. So, before I knew it, I was cuddled up with the pillows and my soft, green throw, waiting until sleep overtook my fattening body.
     But just as I was about to drift off, I felt a very familiar pull coming from deep inside of me. I recognized it immediately as The Pangs of Hunger. Pre-pregnancy, I would've ignored such a calling and moved on with the nap (.... actually, pre-pregnancy, I wouldn't have dreamed of taking a nap in the first place, so, scratch that, I would've eaten anyways.). However, now that my belly has a life of it's own (hello, Pun), I've learned to eat whatever I can get my hands on and as soon as possible when the pangs arrive... if I choose to ignore this hunger, vomiting is sure to follow! So, I jumped (heaved) up and ran to the kitchen in search for something non-nauseating. Salad? ugh, gag.... Mac 'n' cheese? eh, that is sooo yesterday's accident. Tuna fish? oh my gosh, seriously? Not even on a GOOD day! Pierogies? PIEROGIES!! Ah, yes! Butter, onion, parmesan, garlic, potatoey-noodly-goodness? I needed it in my stomach as of 10 minutes ago, so I whipped out my ingredients and fired up the skillet.
     And this is where my problem occured. I tore the top off the pierogie box and began dumping in an amount that looked satisfying to this Mama that had been puking on and off all week, unable to eat nearly enough to even begin dealing with the 3rd bout of constipation creeping in. Needless to say, I was hungry. Perhaps a bit too hungry. After I finished pouring, I went to re-close the box, only to find that a meager three pierogies remained. Three, lonely pierogies, destined for freezer-burn, stared back at me in a plea to be warmed in a butter bath.  Ah, crap.... I can't just leave three.... that's not even enough for an appetizer! I did the only thing that could be done and I plopped the remaining potatoe noodles into the skillet. There was a satisfying sizzle as they thanked me.
     Fifteen minutes later, I sat with my platter of food as I caught up on this week's episode of Parenthood. (Fitting for a mother-to-be, right?) I dug in and was doing pretty well, until the wall hit me. And guess what? There were three pierogies left on my plate. Those little buggers had tricked me! They knew there was no way I was going to finish them, but they just HAD to be cooked, didn't they! I pushed my plate away in disgust as nausea stopped by to say hello. And as I sat there cursing my dinner and pleading with my stomach to take a chill pill, I vowed never to eat another pierogie again. I took the plate to the kitchen and curled back up on the couch for another 20 minutes as my stomach started to finally settle. Thankful for the relief, I returned to the kitchen for a glass of water.
     "Oooo, pierogies!" I said to myself excitedly.... and then I housed the three noodles down like I'd been in a prison camp for the last decade. I'd like to say that I'm ashamed of myself, but I know that if I had to do it over again, the results would've been the same. So I'm accepting my fat-kid status and moving on with my life. I mean, come on, my stomach is an idiot if it believed my vow to never eat another pierogie again anyways, so it had what was coming to it... which, incidentally, turned out to be three more pierogies.

Moments in the Sun

     To be quite honest, I'm not sure if our family is in an up or a down.... are we cycling back upwards after several months of horrible anxiety, behavior problems, and tears? Some moments I think we are. (How long do you consider a moment? If you say "seconds", you're about right.) Then there are moments where I think to myself, Oh no.... here we go again!!  I've long ago decided that I am no longer Bipolar Mommy, but that I just live in Bipolar Family.... guilty by association, I suppose. The ups and downs are pretty normal, I get it, although they are a bit extreme in our house. Emotions fly like kites in May around here, and behaviors change as frequently as my daughter changes outfits per day. It's all I can do to keep my head up some days (literally... this Preggy Mama is T-I-R-E-D!). So, as suggested by my dear friend, I am trying to find one positive thing about my family members per day. (And sometimes one is REALLY hard, so don't judge lest you walk a moment (seconds) in my shoes (which are going to soon be extra-wide at the rate I'm "blossoming"!)
     Some classic positive moments from this week:
     Let's start with the hubsters.... afterall, he's the easy one! One of the many positive things my husband has let me do this week is this: REST. He has seen my exhaustion, frustration, and near-psychosis and he has taken over many days of cooking, cleaning, homework duty, and Officer Dad patrol. There have been days when I came straight home from work and this man, God bless him, let me go to bed... for the entire night. He brings me medicine (the minimal amounts I can take), chocolate, and beverages. My sweet guy even jumped on phone-duty, calling my doctor and Rite Aid to help me get my prescription filled. Although I think the pharmacist was being extra helpful, as I was standing at his counter sobbing the day prior when they told me I was only eligible for one Zofran tablet. ONE. The kind man gave me three, accompanied by a gentle hug, and told me just to come back tomorrow in hopes that my prescription would come through. I feel blessed that my husband, and our pharmacist, have my back.
     Cameron.... well, despite the increased tears over everything-plus-the-kitchen-sink, he had a moment that made me think "Upswing!". As I picked songs for church this week, Cameron took it upon himself to clean the house. I use the word "clean" very loosely, because he did wash the dishes without soap, and he dusted by blowing on the furniture with great force, and he swept the entire floor via the tiny shop vac hose instead of the sweeper. But he made an attempt to do something that would make me feel happy instead of mad (these are two of the only emotions he comprehends at this point, so it was a big deal for him to choose "happy" for me). Kudos to Cameron for his extended moment in the sun!
     Taylor.... this one was a bit tricky. She made attempts to be nice, but ended up being mean in the process, so it was difficult to choose a positive moment for her, sadly. In the end, I decided to be happy with the fact that she made me laugh this week. Despite flawed behavior, she caused me to crack a smile as we drove down the road on our way home from gymnastics. Taylor announced very matter-of-factly:
     "Well, it looks like the road people are trying to catch mice again."
     "They're trying to catch mice??"
     "Yep, see all the mice traps on the road?"
     "Tay, those aren't mouse traps, those are reflectors on the center lane."
     "Well.... I don't know what those are, so I'm gonna just keep calling them mice traps."
     Alrighty then.... you do that! Goofball. And there was a brief moment in the sun.
     Isaac.... my little man is still coming to see us on the weekends, although I find that I miss him more and more with each passing day. The weekends that I was so grateful for in the beginning have become a reminder that I don't get to hold and kiss my baby every morning and every night. There are times when I see his biological dad while I'm working, or I hear something I wish I didn't about him, and my heart sinks to my stomach as tears flood my eyes. In one unexpected moment I go from "I think I'm ok" to "Oh my gosh, I'm dying.... yep, pretty sure I'm dying!" In these moments I let myself look at our pictures and videos of Isaac from the previous weekend... him learning to shake his head and make himself dizzy, him saying "No" with finger pointed and brow furrowed, him attempting to blow kisses. Each one makes my heart heavy and light at the same time. So, I busy myself by planning his birthday party. He turns One-year-old next week. October 23rd. Last year at this time, I remember sitting in that hospital room, holding his teeny-tiny self, and wondering what the future would hold for all of us. This year, I feel a solemn resolve deep down.... he's not mine, but he's not gone either, and I plan to have the best 1st birthday party for him, complete with all our family and church friends to pour love onto the little/big fella. And what was my positive moment for him this week? The open-mouthed slobbery kiss he planted on my face while he held my cheeks. I'm pretty sure he bit me too, but he's still getting used to his teeth, so I won't hold it against him! He IS my moment in the sun.
     Baby Bean.... So, Bean is apparently no longer the size of a bean, but is actually now a Kumquat. (However, Baby Kumquat doesn't roll of the tongue, so I'm sticking with Baby Bean for now.) This little tyke is giving me a run for my money already! What, with the puking and nausea, headaches and exhaustion and all... BUT, I have found peace inside of my belly. For the first month I was pregnant, I was terrified I was going to miscarry. Every other day, I was sure that something had gone terribly wrong. PS, don't read the internet while pregnant.... to find out that Mama's with PCOS have a super high miscarriage rate is soooo not a good read at bedtime! In order to ease my mind and heart, God chose to give me moment by moment pregnancy symptoms.... which sounds horrible, but is really an answer to prayer. With each dry-heave I gag on, I know my Bean is still in there, swirling around like a good little kumquat. And good news from my doctor.... apparently my uterus is much larger than an average woman's at this stage in the game (along with my everything else), so my kiddo is not only in there, but growing like a stinking weed! Go, Bean, Go!! Grow to the sun!
     Have I figured out today's positive moments yet? Uh.... nope. However, I'm positive that a moment will occur... even if I have to look really hard to find it. And if I still can't find one, I'll just re-read this post (through tears) before bedtime to relive the moments from earlier this week. Happy moments to all of you tonight, as well!

Officer Mom

     WARNING: This post is not for everyone... it is for people who can appreaciate a mother at her wits end and understand the desperation that leads her to the state she is in. It isn't for the judger or the Perfect Mom or the "Love is the answer" person. It IS for the parent that can't see straight, who doesn't know where to turn, and who is pleading to know he/she is not alone.

     After two months of out-of-control behavior from my children, I've resigned myself to the reality that I am no longer a mother, but a correctional officer. I'm so good at it that it makes me question my current occupation with fresh eyes. Perhaps I missed my calling? Instead of spending so much energy over the last year-and-a-half trying to empathize with my new kids, trying to help them with their emotional and behavioral issues, and trying to get them to love me, I'm realizing that I could've used half the energy and just let the kids hate me right out of the gate!
     Despite my frustrations, believe it or not, I can still look at my situation "therapeutically", recognizing  they just lost their baby brother who was supposed to be adopted to us, and now we're going to be gaining a new baby in the family. All this change throws kids like this for a loop. But when I am truthful with myself, the problems we're facing now are really the same problems we've faced all along.... I am just now ladened with morning sickness, pregnancy fatigue, and a whole heap of hormone changes to boot! It seems that in order to make it through this alive (not even sane... I think I may have given up on that one!), I need to wear a uniform, carry a loaded weapon (just for effect... no shooting of children... today), and stop trying to have a relationship with the inmates. You want to carve words into the hood of my car (large AND misspelled... I'm not sure which I find more offensive)? Then meet Officer Mom. You want to take my deceased grandmother's jewelry after I've told you repeatedly that it's not for children? Then prepare for your bunk to be stripped and searched. You want to pee all over your room because you're upset with a decision I've made? Get ready to scrub that floor on your hands and knees.... with a toothbrush. Feel like hiding from me at 6am, making it look like you ran away in the night after ransacking the house? Prepare for a whole lot of time in your cell.... which will be complete with nothing but your bed and your clothes. Toys are for children, not criminals. Don't like what we're eating for dinner and want to complain repeatedly after you've been told to stop? That's fine. A mother would argue. But Officer Mom will tell you goodnight and that you can try again at breakfast time.
     My favorite is when people tell me, "Aren't you being a little rough on your kids? They're only 5 and 7, and they've been through so much already." But when your 7-year-old takes a threatening stance in your face with his fists balled as he screams bloody murder at you, and your daughter weilds weapons out of school supplies to destroy the window in the living room, you start to recognize your place. Your house is no longer a home and you are no longer in charge when you're a parent. The only way to gain back control is to buckle down and enforce the law. In the last week, I tried the loving approach (very heartfelt, tearful, laying myself out there in such a real way) and then was stabbed in the back with even worse outlandish behavior. I WILL NOT BE THE PRISONER! I'm tired of sleeping with my door locked, waking at every sound because of what things of mine they're breaking. Coming home to bad news and bad attitudes every single day. Perhaps a little juvenille detention is just what the therapist ordered.
     I read an article months back that said when you can't find it in you to be a good parent that day, just try to be a good babysitter. And on some days, that was relief enough. But on days you can't find it in you to be a good babysitter? Then let Officer Mom come to the rescue. Emotion-free living mixed with the simplicity that comes with it.... Except.... feelings do come with it. Feelings of failure as a parent, therapist, and person. Feelings of rage that my life has come to this. Feelings of deep sadness that children I wanted so badly hate me with a passion. Feelings of fear that these vindictive beings will harm me, my dogs, or my Bean. When I'm not busy feeling numb, these are the things that haunt me. These are the things that make me cry myself to sleep at night. Normal children have some sort of end point... a line they won't cross, a move they won't make. Sadly, my kids are just warming up. Not only that, they don't care. I asked my daughter why she ruined my car. Her answer? "Because I wanted to." I asked her if she thought about how that would make me feel.   "Very angry." Good... she knows the right answer. So when asked why she did it anyways? She responded with, "Because I didn't care."
     I'm torn between honest worries that my children are either demon-possessed or sociopaths. I don't know that I believe "human" describes them accurately, so I feel forced to look outside the box. I don't remember pods in the backyard the day they came, nor do shining UFO lights ring a bell. What I know? I'm terribly and fearfully unhappy. (And therefore, so is my husband.) Therapy, medicine, church, prayer, positive reinforcement, negative reinforcement, behavior charts, time outs, incentives.... nothing is making a dent (visible dent anyways... I know God is always moving and moves quite mysteriously at times, so don't take my rants as wonderment at his Soverignty.... once again, I am just a desperate Mother that wonders if she made the wrong choice at times... ok often.... ok DAILY.... HELLPPPP!!!) But until the invisible becomes visible, I'm going to keep my official badge and hat and pray till bedtime each day. Pray that we all make it there, alive and unharmed, and that those few hours of rest each night will be enough to get me through the next shift.