The Naming of the Shrew

My dad’s side of my family is rather famous for nicknaming people.  Everyone in our family had at least one.  One of mine was/is Bob, for instance.  Don’t ask.  As these things typically go, each nickname is rooted in some kind of silly story or with a personal characteristic.  My paternal grandmother was dubbed “Moose” by my father.  She was a tiny, beautiful  woman, but would often lament that she ate too much and felt huge.  Voila.  Moose was born.

Felix has recently developed an affinity for this.  During spats with his sister, he’s becoming quite the wordsmith.  She’s a “ding-dong head” or “stinky brain.”  He comes up with very interesting terminology for his “machines” that he’s building.  Today the Lawnmower Saw Machine had a Personality Switch.  Go figure.  And of course, the best name of all goes to me – his MyMom.

He’s come up with a name for one of his teachers that I’m having a really hard time not ROFLing about.  He has a primary teacher, Mrs. H, as well as a secondary “helper” teacher, Mrs. B.  It’s definitely a good cop/bad cop scenario.  Mrs. H tends to be more nurturing and laid back.  Mrs. B is the disciplinarian.  She’s very opinionated from what I can tell.  Felix has named her “The Evil Villain.”  Seriously.  Every time he refers to Mrs. B it’s as “The Evil Villain.”

Now normally I would pooh-pooh this and try to squelch it, but I’ve had several run-ins with Evil Villain at this point, and I cannot totally disagree with Felix’s feelings.  I guess maybe I never completely grew up with respect to people telling me what to do when A) they have zero authority to do so, and B) there is no logic dictating their demands.

Case in point, Evil Villain and I have been sparring about my kid’s lunchbox.  I try to pack stuff I think my kids will eat during the day.  So there is usually fruit, a protein (ham, pepperoni, beef stick), some pretzels or cracker-type things, a drink, and a dessert.  With Stella on her meds, I’m grateful if she has enough appetite to eat a piece of chocolate.  She will, however, eat like Caesar’s Army every morning and evening.  Felix would live on fruit.  Protein can be a challenge.  The little string-bean just loves his fruit and sweet stuff.

During my first conference with the Dude’s teachers when things weren’t going so smoothly, the Evil Villain had printed me up this brochure about the Feingold diet.  It’s this complicated diet plan, often marketed to ADHD families, which eliminates all sorts of food groups and additives.  It’s hard.  And while sure, it’s always good to eat as pure and clean as one possibly can, it’s just often unrealistic in my world.  I’ve done several Whole 30s.  By the end of those, I”m exhausted from food planning.  Anyway, this diet has a pretty large following, but if you research it, there are very few (if any) hard scientific studies which validate the utility of such a strict diet.  The Mayo Clinic, Harvard, and Princeton all  think that while sure, it’s a swell way to eat, there is no study which definitively states it’s good for ADHD.  Well, the Evil Villain just loves Feingold.  And wow, that one day when I sent a raspberry Zinger in his lunch box?  He just went crazy.  It’s all that sugar and red dye, doncha know.  I agreed not to send any more damn Zingers in my kid’s lunch box.

Until yesterday.

As I was going through his stuff after school, I noticed he hadn’t eaten his beef sticks.  I had packed a large container with fresh raspberries, strawberries, and sliced bananas, but the Dude had only eaten one bite of the beef stick.  That was really unusual so I asked him about it.   Apparently the Evil Villain had told my kid how awful and unhealthy those beef sticks were, and that he shouldn’t be eating them.

Y’all.  I was pissed.  I am pissed.  Who the hell is this woman to dictate what I feed my kid?  And if I want my kid to eat some damn beef stick along with the ginormous amount of fresh fruit I had packed, that’s my blasted prerogative as his mother.

I was good.  Despite my angst, I did not pack a Zinger today.  Instead, my daily lunchbox note depicted a cartoon of” V is for Villain.”  I’ll pack the damn Zinger tomorrow.

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Twist and Scout

Hello Blogness my old friend, I’ve come to talk to you again.

Sorry.  No excuses.  Just busy.  Always busy.  But I have missed y’all.

Since last we met, there’s been Halloween, a family reunion at the beach, and my Brownie troop’s first ever overnight campout.

I’ll start with Halloween.  Zombie Princess was once again joined by Bahama Frankenstein due to the very warm weather.  Note to self: from now on, ALWAYS have 2 costumes per kid – one for “normal” fall weather, and one for summer temperatures.  Oh, and I need a large assortment of colorful powder eye shadows.  The face paint used on both Zombie Princess and Bahama Frankenstein did not wear well in the heat.  But trick or treating was pretty epic.  The kids got so much candy that Felix had to heave his bag up on the kitchen counter with both arms.  They didn’t even bitch when I took some to work and we sent a huge bag of non-chocolate candy to school to be sent to soldiers overseas.  Candy for days, I tell you.

I just heart this so much.

The family reunion was an overall positive experience.  The weather was so good that we were all able to swim in the ocean as well as the outdoor pools.  I finally finally got to meet my brother’s kid – my 3 yo niece.  My brother and his wife finally got to meet Felix, and see Stella for the first time since she was barely walking.  My one regret was that we didn’t have one more full day.  I think everyone – particularly kiddos – was finally gelling when it was time to pack up and leave.

Cousins eating cake. What’s not to love?

And the campout.  What to say?  I’m so glad I was there.  It was absolutely stressful and I came home more exhausted than I’ve been since having young babies nursing all night.  We had 13 go.  After a full day of events and activity stations (joined by loads of other troops), we finally had the campground to ourselves along with a group of older Cadettes.  It was time for the campfire, hot dogs, s’mores, and drama.

It’s funny now, but at the time I had no idea what to do.  Due to a shortage of co-leaders and parent volunteers, myself and M (name truncated to protect the innocent) had the Brownies to ourselves, while our main leader N and a helper stayed with the Cadettes across the grounds.  By dusk, 3 were sobbing and afraid of the dark and one was sobbing because she missed her mom and dad.

Y’all.  I have heard of “mass hysteria” loads of time.  I got to kind of witness it unfold.  It’s really kind of fascinating, particularly now that I’m back in a nice quiet office.  Girl A would be very serene, having fun.  Girl B starts wailing.  Girl A – and you can see it in her eyes – starts reflecting on the situation, and has to decide if she needs to wail also.  It’s like a Choose Your Own Adventure scenario.

You can’t reason with this.  Trust me.  I tried.  I tried hard.  By the time they finally fell asleep, about half had had some sort of serious emotional outburst.  I can’t tell you how many times I sprinted from my cabin to one of theirs to check that someone was not trying to “get them.”  But, there was only 1 11:30 PM walk to the latrines, so there’s that.

And if anyone out there is listening?  I need some kind of FBI hostage negotiation training.  These little girls started squabbling like mad by the end of the day, and this carried through until morning.  I felt like I needed a striped referee shirt.  “She said unkind words and hurt my feelings.”  “She said unkind words first.”  “I didn’t want her in my cabin. She’s not part of our group.”  “She came in our cabin first and she’s not in my group.”  “She woke me up.”  “She woke me up first.”

But you know what?  I’ll be happy to go again. I’m just glad it’s not until April.

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The Asphalt in Our Stars

I came home from work and carpool to find that the TV was left on and 2 different board games were left out all over the living room floor. One of the cats had used a game board for a scratching post, so I guess we’re playing extreme Chutes and Ladders from now on.

Not only do my children invent things to fight about, but now they invent “horrible” things to call each other.  They’ve been bickering and sparring since I picked them up today.  One of them called the other one a “snuffle-headed doody-face.”  What a blow.  I suppose I should be grateful it wasn’t Felix calling his sister “asphalt,” which apparently is Dude-ese for “asshole.”  I’ve never been more grateful for a mispronunciation.

Felix has confessed that sometimes he pees on the bathroom rugs.  Really, kid?  Because things aren’t gross enough around here?

There are hundreds of gags and memes about moms and wine, but this is why those things exist.  This is also why my butt doesn’t shrink as much as I’d like it to.  It’s not stress-eating that kills my good intentions. It’s the liquid courage required to get through refereeing skirmishes and dinner and baths and homework and stories and bedtime after putting in a day at my crappy office.

Hope y’all have a peaceful night.  It’s wine o’clock here.

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Load on a Grecian Urn

No, no.  I’m not butchering Keats.  I am reflecting on power.  Often as a mom, wife, and household COO, I feel overwhelmed, powerless.  But that is not so, moms.  That is not so.

We have power – loads of it.  In fact, we all share one super power.  We are super loaders, fillers.  

For example, I am the one who:

  • Loads the dishwasher
  • Fills out permission slips
  • Refills the toilet paper when the cardboard tube hangs empty 
  • Loads the groceries in the car
  • Fills out camp and school applications
  • Loads the washing machine
  • Fills small bellies with the best food I can muster at any given time
  • Refills the soap dispensers when they’re empty
  • Fills the Lego bin with the Legos on the floor before they lodge in someone’s foot
  • Fills in nametags on Xmas and birthday gifts (after loading them into the gift box/bag
  • Fills in the calendar with doctor’s appointments, birthday parties, due dates
  • Fills out the homework sheets and reading logs 
  • Loads the big garbage can so I can roll it to the street
  • Fill lunchboxes everyday x 2

I also work in reverse.  I often:

  • Unload the dishwasher 
  • Unload the washer (while simultaneously filling the dryer)
  • Unload the lunchboxes to make sure nothing spilled/gets funky
  • Unloads groceries that I loaded in the car earlier

See?  That takes power, energy, balancing all the million little details every day, every week.  And that’s all on top of whatever else I/you/we have going on: jobs, marriages, friendships (when there’s time), and maybe even a few precious minutes for me/you/ourselves.  Hell, we would’ve refilled Keats’ stupid urn had we been there, amiright?

So pat yourselves on the back and revel in your power.  I shall try to do the same.

Eye miss nothing

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When You Scare Enough To Send the Very Best

We attended our first family Halloween outing Friday night – a “haunted hike” at a local swamp.  Now before you out-of-staters get all freaked out, it’s a well-maintained park which cuts through a wetland.  While it does sport a ton of local wildlife, I’d be willing to wager you won’t find any 16′ gators in there.  In other words, it’s nice and safe.

We do this event every year.  They set up trick or treat stations throughout the trail system, and feature wildlife encounters with creepy critters such as Madagascar hissing roaches, rats, and snakes.  The kids get to don their costumes and bug spray, snag some treats, and get nice and worn out before bed.  For my crew, this event means they will be out past their bedtime.

Have you ever given a bunch of 4-8 year olds flashlights and sent them off on a path in the dark in a swamp?  It’s a swell idea.  My retinas are still blistered.

One issue we have with Halloween around here is that it’s quite likely that for at least some events, you’re going to be damn hot.  Friday night was no exception.  It got to 90 degrees that day, not factoring heat index.  Any parent, especially of male children, will understand that most pre-made costumes are designed for those lovely cool fall evenings such as one would find in the north.  I had bought the Dude a kick-ass Stormtrooper costume at Voldemart, but he would have wilted like baby lettuce had I dragged him through the swamp in that.  I needed a plan B.  I’m becoming pretty good at plan Bs.

Stella was a Peacock Princess, as I was afraid her “real” costume makeup would run off in the heat.

….and introducing Bahama Frankenstein. (Note to self: Buy better green face paint)

Felix became Bahama Frankenstein, sporting a Hawaiian shirt and some green paint.  Done.

The next 2 days were spent in the inflatable pool.  While I can’t be certain, I’m thinking this was the last pool weekend for the year.  The next 2 weekends are jammed full of events, then a beach trip, then a Girl Scout camp out. Oh, and the temperature has actually dropped a bit, mercifully.

Felix getting in one last shot before the pool gets packed up

Finally, I have discovered the Fountain of Youth: highlights.  While I had kind of sort of vowed not to dye my hair, to go gray with grace, that shit was looking bad.  It wasn’t so much the color, but the texture.  I’m a messy hair person.  I do nothing with it beyond washing it, brushing it, and then usually sweeping it up into a messy mom-bun or ponytail.  Well those damn grays had a texture all their own, sticking out at alarming angles.  I’m unbelievably pleased with my silly highlights.  I’m calling it the “Make MyMom Great Again” campaign.  Maybe I can sneak out for a pedicure soon.  Here’s a picture I took while I was in carpool giving some asshole the stinkeye for having giant metal testicles hanging from the back of his truck.

Truck testicles. I mean, really?

Y’all have a good week.

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The Swift of the Magi

I’m trying to channel my Taylor Swift and shake it all off, y’all.  My heart has been heavy, as has my mind.  My household is down to only 2 stupid cats.  We have lost our emotional pee-er.  Watching Stella cry over it was pretty bloody awful.  It is also mystifying in that this cat absolutely hated her.  He hated everyone but me, but would pee on my stuff anyway.  He peed on everything by the end.  I didn’t realize how badly this neurotic cat had held our household hostage.  Now I can have bathmats on the floor, pillows on my bed, and throw cushions on my couch.   My kids’ rooms no longer smell like hamster cages because I can leave their doors open.  It’s liberating.  Sad, but liberating.  I wish things could have been different.  Stella’s already asking for a kitten.

I’m still waiting for a response from Felix’s doctor.  I know he has all the screening paperwork, so it’s a matter of  scheduling a consult and proceeding.  I’m anxious to get it done.  I really wanted some kind of answer and treatment by the weekend, only because I’d like to have the weekend to observe him if medication is warranted.  I’m thinking it certainly must be.

But oh, my dude is something.  Apparently his imagination is just as active – if not more so – during slumber.  Remember that song he wrote, “Crashing in the Why?”  When it all came to light, he had dreamed about this song and brought it out into the daylight hours.  We still sing it around the house.  Last night, he dreamed up his perfect Xmas present, and rushed to me chattering about it at 5:15 this morning.  It’s something called an Air Kid, although it seems to have nothing to do with a kid. It has a stem so that it can be inflated, a pulley assembly, which acts as the robot muscle for this thing, and at least 3 wheel assemblies.  He really really wants to ask Santa for it.  I had him draw it, hoping it would jog a memory of a toy seen in passing, and told him I was worried because I didn’t know what it was or how to find.  He wasn’t concerned – said we’d send his picture to Santa and he’d take care of it.  FML.

The plain Air Kid…

And a more fleshed-out version with some sort of assembly added. Seriously, if this rings a bell with anyone, Santa would be in your debt.

Shake it off. Shake it off.

But he is such a neat, neat kid.  As with Stella, I hate that some of the behavioral shit at school obscures this sometimes.  He’s so creative, and holy crap is he funny.  And polite!!  Did you  know he even thanks each and every automatic door he crosses?  “Thank you, Robot Door!” he’ll shout as we walk through.

So moving on, chipping away.  And Halloween, y’all.  Our season officially kicks off this weekend with at least one activity – a haunted hike at our local swamp.  I’m already scrambling to think of a costume for Felix that he can wear in our sweltering 90 degree heat.  His stormtrooper outfit is out, lest I cook my son.

We are weird. Can’t really deny it.

 

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Ride of Frankenstein

I know.  I never call.  I never write.  Once again, there just hasn’t been much time or energy left in the tank at any given time.  I’m trying.  I’m working on it.

I should hear back from Felix’s doctor any time now to set up an appointment to talk about moving forward.  They’ve received both sets of the evaluation packets from me and the school.  Hell, the school probably hand-delivered theirs that same day.  I can’t say I blame them, but I blame them.  Not really.  Well, maybe.

Moving on.

I’m trying to get amped up for Halloween, which is The Most Wonderful Time of the Year, doncha know.  We actually decorated last weekend.  I was still in a pretty big funk and spending all Saturday at Girl Scout Camping Training didn’t help (and y’all, I tried very very hard to have a good attitude, but dammit I can build a campfire with my bloody eyes closed and know better than to attempt the overly-complicated and unrealistic recipes featured in the campfire cooking section in the 90 degree heat).  Years ago, I started collecting the Spooky Village set they sell every year at Michael’s craft stores.  Well, once we moved and the kids came along, I left them safely in the storage closet.  This year, I figured my gang could handle it.  It was kinda like my Xmas tree last year, breaking out the “good” stuff I hadn’t seen in years.   So yay.  Halloween.  And next weekend starts the spooky whirlwind of activities, with haunted hikes and such.

It seems like every once in a while I write about needing to find balance.  I’m definitely needing that hardcore right now.    I had lunch with my old boss yesterday, and coffee with a friend a couple of days before that.  I wish I could find more time for that stuff, for yoga or reading.  Something other than urinating cats or my messy house or ADHD.  I’m uninspired.

I will say this:  As tired and overwhelmed as I get with all this stuff – especially the ADHD part – I did something last night that I never in a million years would have even considered a year or two ago.  My kids’ school had an event at a local goofy golf/go-kart kind of place.  The kids got free pizza buffet and outside rides/games.  There was a small roller coaster (for wee ones), swings, and bumper cars.  I took them by myself.  Best of all, no one lost their shit.  That would never have happened before now.  I would not have been able to manage them alone in a place like that, with all the sounds and light and stimulation.  We had a very good time.  Progress, I suppose.

Oh, and my hummingbirds have gone – flown the tiny coop.  I know they’re migratory, but I’m kind of sad no one stayed to winter with us.  I miss watching them.  Maybe the giant spider in my yard ate them.

See? That’s a serious looking spider…

Looks like we’ll get a very glancing blow from Nate this weekend, so it will be a weekend of much inside Togetherness.  Wish me luck.

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I’ll Have a Diet Joke, Please

My heart feels heavy, y’all.  It’s one of those times where things just seem ugly and hard everywhere you look.  My job runneth over with suck these days.  We just had a meeting in which our moves were discussed; we get to move not once, but twice in a span of about 2-3 months.  Great for productivity.  Great for morale.  I feel my motivation soaring like an eagle.  On the wise and powerful Facebook, I see lots of bitching about athletes kneeling and not kneeling and boycotts and such.  Je ne care pas.  Can we talk about something else?  My cat peed on my shoes yesterday.  What an asshole.  I need to meal plan desperately, but seem to have some sort of recipe-writer’s block.  I think my kids will be eating a lot of buttery noodles.  And I’m selling candy for my kids’ school and while I was at the aforementioned meeting some asshat stole 3 candy bars.

And the kids.  I’ve made appointments for them both tomorrow – a basic 3 month med check for Stella and the beginnings of the Does Your Child Have ADD/ADHD symphony for Felix.  I don’t want to do it.  You’d think it would be easier the second time.  Oh, and they’ll be getting their flu shots also, so that will make it better.

I guess I thought I’d be more jokey about this one.  I mean, there’s got to be good jokes about this shit, right? Knock, knock.  Who’s there?  I forget.   I’m  normally sporting a lively sense of humor.  It must’ve called in sick this week.

I want to fast-forward a few weeks – get this damn diagnosis and prescription writing/trying over with.  How do you get a 4 year old to take meds like this? (And yet another reason not to be religious, because there must be a special hell for folks who willy-nilly dose up a 4 year old.)  And do they have 504 plans and IEPs for pre-K kids?  I don’t even know.  And the idea of finding out is kind of breaking my heart at the moment.

Pssst! Hey, that’s the horrible woman giving meds to a 4 year old!

I need a good laugh, guys.  And maybe a cheese pizza.

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Stairway to Seven

So birthday season is FINALLY over.  September is a busy month for the days of birth, y’all. The culmination for my household is Stella, who celebrated her birthday on Sunday with her party on Saturday.  We actually had to go to another kid’s party on Sunday.  THAT was some serious ‘splaining.  “Why am I having my party on Saturday when that isn’t really my birthday?”  This literal-to-a-fault thing can be exhausting.  Luckily I had the ultimate bribe of a Baskin Robbins mini ice cream cake to assist her memory when we sang happy birthday to someone else on the day that was really her birthday.  Kids.  Dammit.

Her party was pretty awesome.  We had it at one of those painting places, where usually the adults get hammered on wine and paint, but for kids it’s way more innocuous.   Stella got to pick the theme: everyone would paint a unicorn living in a cupcake house.  Except Felix.  He went Halloween Abstract.  I was surprised he painted at all.  I figured he’d be out picking up rocks in the parking lot.  Regardless, it was a really sweet party full of sweet girls and one Dude.

His and hers, equally interesting

The token dude with his big sister

Nothing says “birthday” like a car full of balloons.

But 7 years.  Wow.  I’ve been keeping this blog up for over 7 years, deftly switching from a pregnancy blog to a parental survival blog.  Y’all never even noticed the switch, did ya? I’ve gone from sleep deprivation and nursing, to autism/ADHD screening, to another pregnancy, to more sleep deprivation and nursing, to the first years of big kid school, to  yet another first year in school with more ADHD screening in the wings.  It’s been a blur.  A really big, colorful blur.

My daughter has- and occasionally continues to – cause me more anxiety than any other human being on the planet.  Yet as hard as it has been – and it has been very hard sometimes – I’m glad she’s mine.  I look at her sometimes when things are calm and still.  She has these gorgeous big blue eyes with that blonde hair.  She has this tiny smattering of freckles just on her upper cheeks.  They’ll  fade with her suntan come winter.  She’s so pretty.  And so damn smart.  I can’t wait to see what she becomes, provided I can survive it.

Many of these were taken by Oui Oui. Most of mine had other girls in them, and I don’t like to post other people’s kids without permission.

That’s it.  I guess I was feeling a bit nostalgic or even melancholy about it.  But hey!  One of my blogging buddies asked to see the Star Wars necklace I got for my birthday, courtesy of my husband and ThinkGeek:

The necklace, complete with Death Star, Tie Fighter, Xwing, and assorted planets including Tatooine and Hoth. Love it.

Have a wonderful week, y’all!

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One Fish, Two Fish, Med Fish, Blue Fish

I’ve missed this.  I’ve missed y’all.  It’s been so busy lately, WordPress has become one of those things you occasionally stop and sigh wistfully about.  There have been birthdays, family drama (which I’d love to process write about here, but it’s not my story to tell), school functions, homework, Girl Scout obligations, including a craft debacle involving hot glue guns.  Three of the four in my little tribe have had/are having birthdays.  I’m 44 now.  Wow.

My birthday was good.  Will managed to pull one over on me and actually surprised me with flowers in the morning (meaning he had to buy them, stash them with water somewhere I wouldn’t look, and then retrieve them after I’d gone to bed the night before) as well as this amazing Star Wars necklace I had wanted.  I got lots of Facebook love, lots of calls and messages.  The ladies at work decorated my cube and left me some goodies.  I got some lunches.  I’m a lucky old fart girl.

I was asked by my kids’ school to come in and talk to all the students about landfills during their “green week.”  I love that shit.  I could do it every day.  To manage to get kids excited about dumps is a pretty cool thing.  The older ones asked so many questions that the teacher in charge had to shut them down.  The younger ones got distracted by my picture of Will and his homemade hummingbird feeder made from his 3D printer and some empty water bottles in my “how to help keep things out of landfills” section.  They asked me all about hummingbirds.  I knew nothing, Jon Snow.  But I’m hoping to be able to do more of that stuff now that they know I can speak in complete sentences and don’t have a soporific effect on my audiences.

I mean, I suppose I can’t blame the little kids for finding this interesting…

Reduce, reuse, recycle, y’all.

Now the big thing – the thing I need help wrapping my head around for whatever reason.  It’s time to take the plunge and have Felix evaluated for ADHD.  Honestly, I’m not surprised.  I had hoped like hell this wouldn’t happen, that he’d get to big kid school and start to toe the line, peer pressure and all that jazz.  Nope.  He makes animal noises, machine noises.  He refuses to learn his ABCs, telling his teacher he’ll “get to it later.”  During my  landfill talk, he spun around and around like a top on his butt, despite the fact that his MyMom was there talking.

So I had a conference.  By then, I had already made the appointment.  And no matter how much you steel yourself and  predict exactly what’s going to be said, it’s never easy hearing  negative shit about your kid, especially when this is supposed to be your “easy” kid.  This is my little bitty dude – my funny charismatic child, my son that still comes and finds me at night to snuggle with.

So I’m looking potentially at another 14 years of quarterly med checks and picking up hard copies of prescriptions and then filling them at the exact right time – because glob help you if you try to fill it too early or too late. And my god, what about summers?  Now I’ll have not one but two kids to worry myself to death about camp-hopping and possible bullying.  Can he/they behave?  Is he/are they getting too stressed by the upheaval?

I’m looking at being the only non-ADHD person in my household.  It’s a lonely idea, which I suppose is a stupid thing to say as these people never stop talking.  I hate it, y’all.  I’m sad about it.  I’m pissed about it.  I can’t believe in my mind I’ve already resigned myself to medicating a 4 year old.

The ADHD Brain at work: It’s fun to give kids super glue to play with.

But how can I not?  I’ve seen the wonders it’s done for Stella.  I now see that, as ridiculous as it sounds, my 4 year old very-bright-child is at risk for falling behind because he’s unable or unwilling to participate and learn what he’s “supposed” to because he’s running around trying to demonstrate what a “strong powerful male” he is.  I see the kindergarten teachers across the hall from his classroom, and I don’t think I could face catching an expression on their faces as they look at my son, obviously thinking “I don’t want THAT kid in my classroom next year.”

So yeah.  That’s what’s been going on.  Lots of digestion and coping.  Lots of juggling appointments and conferences and work and house stuff (please don’t look at my floors or commodes right now).

I’d just like to go shopping and have some champagne for a while.

Y’all have a good weekend!

You only get rainbows after it rains…

 

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