Thing One came down with a nasty old sinus infection at midnight this last Thursday. She is very prone to them. Poor thing. There are just some things a Mom and Dad wishes would NOT be passed down through the creation of life.

Like The Lord of the Houses unibrow. Don't get me wrong. It is one of the reasons I fell in love with him. But for that gene to come alive in one of my girls is not a pretty sight. Thank the Goddess for modern technology. She will be receiving one big apology and a gift card to an Electrologist for her 16Th birthday. Or the fact that the girls got my tangly/frizzy hair instead of their Dad's naturally curly and never knotty locks. We bought stock in a detangler spray as soon as we found out. Or like Thing One's allergies which she also got from me.

Out with the homeopathic books and drugs and out of the bed went The Lord of the House so Thing One can find a comfy spot next to Mom. I treated her all night in hopes that she will be fine for school the next day. I mean really. She just started liking it. I didn't want her to have the chance of getting comfy at home again. But to my dismay she was not 100% better the next morning. And I blame most of it on the damn mosquito sprayers.

They drove through our neighborhood that night at two in the morning. With their loud high pitch shriek and their toxic chemicals that kill every good bug in sight as well as the old mosquito's but not their larva. They are so obnoxious with their self righteous toxic view point and their irritating desire to ruin our health.

Irritating is the word for it. Because this entire weekend has been filled with irritated throats and headaches ands crankiness.

So here we sat the weekend out in PJ's. Playing puzzles. Coloring. Watching movies. Working on one art project. See, we had stuffed clams for dinner Friday night and Cat in the Hat thought it would be a good idea to keep the shells. Here are the results.
From upper right and around: Thing One's, Cat in the Hat's, Thing Two's and mine.

The monster saga part II

I have been promptly removed from the golden throne. My tyranny lasting only a short but sweet moment in time. Thing One has now made me but a small red blob on her big colorful page of monster robots. And of course her Dad is the big red and green smear on the left. I can not remember what she said the big red and green monster robot was doing between The Lord of the House and me. But I am sure it had something to do with it saving her Father from her Mother. For I shall rule over this family once again!

Just a little humor to get us through the day

HA!

It hasn't been said yet in this house but I am sure that we are not far from this particular moment in time.

Mammas the Queen

It has been a whole week. Five actual days. And Thing One actually still LOVES school.

PRAISE THE LORD AND LADY!

On Monday she played with old friends, hammered in some nails and worked with the pink tower. And on Tuesday she did, "The same thing." On Wednesday she did,
"The same thing." On Thursday she did , "The same thing."
On Friday she did something different. It's about time. Sheesh.

Thing One "The yellow things are monsters. And the red thing is you Mom and you are feeding the monsters. And the blue one is Dad."

Me "Am I feeding Dad to the Monsters?"

Thing One "No. But the yellow monster with the red top is nice."

Lets play shrink for a bit. Shall we? OK then. Looking at this picture you can tell that there is a significant difference in the size of the persons painted here. Knowing that bigger is always portrayed as a dominant figure over anything smaller than it. We can come to the conclusion that my children view ME as being the dominant one in the family.

Head of the household.
The one who wears the pants in the family.
The decision maker.
The Queen of the castle.

It's nice to have ones ego stroked every now and again.

A declaration in many acts

ACT ONE
I am not a hypochondriac! I am not! I am not! I AM NOT! Every ounce of my being resonates with your utterances. Your neglect. Your cruel, heartless, uncaring, wound making, life altering, slashes of disregard. You are just wanting attention." "You are such a hypochondriac." You are over exaggerating." "Nothing is wrong with you." "It is all in your head." These statements have made me who I am today. They are the DNA that define me. AND IT IS ALL YOUR FAULT! My parents that float between hell and heaven. Can you hear me? Can you finally hear what I am saying? Now that you hover above my soul in your limbo. Can you finally understand my pain? Can you see me slowly change the very cells of my body from your disillusioned hell to my absolute reality?

BECAUSE I AM NOT A FUCKING HYPOCHONDRIAC! I WAS SICK! I AM SICK! AND MOST OF IT IS ALL YOUR FUCKING FAULT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Flash back: Last year around this time. I was in the hospital for five long days. I couldn't breath. In the most honest way possible it was months building to that point. Perhaps if I had only given into it all in the beginning and got checked out I could have avoided it all together. But wait. That would have required a bit more cleansing of the tainted blood in my veins. So instead I stalled. I excused. I masked the reality of exactly how much I couldn't breath. Till, after three prior trips to the emergency room for breathing treatments, they finally could not open me up. So up to the respiratory floor I went. With breathing treatments every four hours and after every meal and a slow drip of steroids to keep my lungs inflated.

Nothing was helping. Until I realized that my attacks came on strong after each and every meal. So the Doc had my stomach and gut checked out. Lucky me! Add to really fucked up lungs one huge GERD problem. I was breathing in my own stomach juices. "Hows a little acid with that chemical laden air sound to you?" So now that we had even more added to my cart of life they send me home with a load of meds that kept me busy every hour. Puff 1. Swallow 2. Puff 3. Swallow 4. Breathing machine 5. No energy 6. Can't walk across the room without loosing my breath 7. Be sure to take the steroids AFTER I drive the child to school (because if not we could end up in the ditch) 8. Worry about my health 9. Wonder if my life would be any different if my parents ever listened to me A REAL BIG FUCKING 10.

Back to the present: It has all been coming back. The no breathing. The insane illness. The tiredness. The monster sinus headaches. The ear infections. The stomach aches. The lack of hunger. The other things that are just too gross to print. But this time. Oh this time. My DNA has been restructured. Out with the old and in with the new. As I ignore the echoes that reverberate from my past I make my appointments. All five specialists called and set in stone. And, dammit, I will see these doctors and we will dig to the bottom of this hell hole. We will uncover the ugly truth and we will set it free. And with its freedom I will have my recovery. And with my recovery I will have my freedom.

The controversy of Bon Bons and Thing One

So here is another New Moon. And once again I have been so wrapped up in my day to day life that I didn't even realize it. Not until I saw it on another blog. It is even written on my freakin' calender. What kind of Witch am I? After all, am I not supposed to have some kind of six sense about this? Some kind of tingling? A flash behind closed eyes? A spirit popping in like that of a bird in a cuckoo clock stating, "New Moon. New Moon." in sing song. Crap! There are moments in time when I feel so disconnected from this planet. And once again I ask,

"WHAT KIND OF WITCH AM I?"

And yet, even though there is no circle, no incense, no candles, the New Moon brought change and new beginnings into my life. Tonight is the first night before the first day and the first day back to school for Cat in the Hat and Thing One. Tomorrow we start third grade and kindergarten. I have no worries over Cat in the Hat. She LOVES LOVES school. To punish her I threaten to take her out of school and make her miss days. And she always whips right back into shape. Odd. Very odd. Especially knowing that she came from me. Why?

Because I hate school. Love to learn. But hate school. I can't exactly say what it is or if there was any particular moment or moments in my schooling career that led me to this feeling. But I can say this, the more my children become schoolers the more my anxiety of it all builds. Sounds silly. Even now as I type it I feel silly about it all. I mean what is it that I should have a problem about? It is my kids who are in it now, not me. I am the adult not the student. But yet when ever I get near a school, a teacher, a classroom I just start getting anxiety attacks.

Case in point: We had open house the other night and on my way home I gripped the steering wheel so fucking hard that my knuckles were bloodless, white and sore. I told Lord of the House that he needs to start becoming the parent that interacts with the school system. I can not handle it any longer. And this is where I worry about Thing One.

We started her off in PreK two years ago. She was three. The same age we started Cat in the Hat at. I know. I know. You can not expect one child to be like the other. But in the Montessori system age three is the age to start with. She loved school. Well at least class. And the teachers. And the tools. And the learning. And fellow students. And recess. Maybe not so much lunch (she threw most of hers away). But hated going. I mean HATED. They would drag her off kicking and screaming. It sounds more horrible than it really was. But from a Mothers perspective it was WAY worse than this description. She would comment every night at the dinner table that her favorite part of the day was NOT being in school. Like me, there was no one moment or thing or teacher or student that could explain her feelings. Just that she did not want to be there. Like me.

So what does this mean? It means that I will not go an entire year again to realize that
She. May. Be. Just. Like. ME. (Can you feel the cringe?) And then what? (And I ask again, can you feel the cringe?) I will have to buckle under for the bumpy ride of home schooling. Not exactly what I envisioned for the next 13 years of my life. I was hoping for bon bons and soap opera days and "what did you do in school?" dinners. But then again I have always said that if anyone was going to send my children to a pricey therapist when they get older it's gonna be me.

Could it be too late to teach her that the sky is actually red?