Bitch....Pleeeez.

God, I feel real bad about the last post and would prefer not to be struck by lightning. Here's another pic I took at the doctor's office. We cool?

Exhibiting Inflammation

One foot in front of the other. One foot in front of the other...

I'm trying to flow, Deepak. I'm trying to walk the line between the visible and invisible, Paulo Cielo. I'm trying to connect to the source, Dr. Wayne Dwyer. And so on...except I have this anger welling up in me from which I know not where. I'm tired. I'm irritable. I'm exhibiting inflammation. I'm going to stomp on this tiny (yet getting a bit round in the hips) dog, smash this computer, write bitchy blogs.

I spent all day in the car. You would think that after spending so much quality time (EIGHT HOURS) with my iPhone listening to Elizabeth and Darcy killing zombies I would be happy, right? So why do I feel homicidal right now? Computer. You are so damn slow. I know that this bitching is completely contrary to accepted affirmation format. I want so badly to just flow. I am frustrated though. I am surrounded by entropy and it's going all mercury matrix on me. I feel like pulling the covers over my head. Sleeping a really really long time, and then some more. Quote from doctor's office today: "So the depression is completely gone?...YEP." What was not said: "So you still crazy?...SOMETIMES."

Today was another appointment with my Lyme Doctor. (I shall here after refer to him as such, since I don't want him to get in trouble for actually helping people.) The vacillation on my tongue has stopped. I know you have no idea what I'm talking about. I promised though to try to help other people so I'm writing it down. Just skip it if I'm boring you. And, no, it's not gross. I didn't even know I had it. Apparently, it is related to a nerve that is often affected by lyme and is therefore a symptom. Quote: "Your tongue looks good!"

(If that dog bangs on the door one more time to go out and be all manly and bark his head off I'm gonna..INDY! KNOCK IT OFF!)

All the other crap though has come back. Regression! Ugh, I know. Running a temp for a month, I know. Face broken out, not related, but it is totally pissing me off too. So now we are on to a new antibiotic. Interesting twist here. This one is for leprosy or the bite of a brown recluse spider. I like the term "therapeutic trial" better than "shotgun approach" or "grasping at straws". I hope I don't drop dead. Cause sometimes, just sometimes, I think I might.

(Has anyone watched Heroes lately? Totally sucking. Yet another thing to get my dander up.)

Don't get me wrong. I left the doctor's office with a smile on my face. He took a yeast swab (up my nose, perv), and I'm clean. After twelve months of antibiotics I think that's great. One less worry. I will try anything to feel better. I always think of that line from The Cutting Edge where DB Sweeney says "Fly to Mexico and shoot shark piss up my nose, right? There's a cure, right?" And before you say it, YES, I GODDAMN WATCHED THE CUTTING EDGE. Why are you egging me on right now? He also gave me some migraine med samples to try for the meniere's flare ups. Awesome. Please, I don't want to drop dead.

(INDIANA! Stop whining at me! There is no TREAT for you!)

Remember I said how I keep having dreams that I am in high school and there's one week left of finals and I can not possibly do it. I am so tired I choose (in my recurring dream) to just chuck the whole thing. I'm dreaming I'm tired and a failure in my dreams. Fantastic.

(Hang on. Gotta get Mom's whites out of the dryer. Did I not say entropy sucked? They'll be dirty and mocking me by next weekend.)

Am I being punked? No hangers, mystery dog poop and burnt out fluorescent in the laundry room. Really? REALLY?

(DAMMIT INDIANA SHUT THE HELL UP!)

So anyway, I'm reading a magazine in the HOUR I am waiting and I find an article about dreams. Refer to picture of said snippet at the top. Well, that about sums it up. Frustrated with not living up to my potential. NUTSHELL. I can check my horoscope and my biorhythm and the answer is always the same. F**KED.

I'm gonna try to end this on a positive note... NO I'M NOT.

Out of Sync

It's almost 1 A. M. and I'm downloading Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. I went to bed hours ago, but my body is on a sleep a few hours-get up and wring your hands for a few hours while exhausted-sleep a few more hours schedule. I have a trip to the doctor tomorrow in Mobile. I meant to run by the library to get some books-on-CD, but alas, my plan did not come to fruition. You see, it was sunny today and warm. I am apparently a vampire. I am apparently exhausted because I do not partake of the human blood. Or it could just be the Lyme making the sunlight unbearable, and I can only do one thing a day. Today it was the ZOO...with the cub scouts. Boy, was it a zoo.

There were about one million people dressed in knee socks and polyester milling about. Maybe just a thousand. I'm not a good judge of quantity (or distance, now that I think of it.) Monkey and I went with friends. They are sweet and they made it totally bearable. If I had been alone I'm sure I would have had an anxiety attack. It was way too much stimulation and my Meniere's was acting up. It makes things feel so surreal. I'd love to tell you about all the fascinating animals, but I didn't really feel a connection today with the animals. Normally the sea lions are all goofy and happy and waving. Today they were just swimming around ignoring the crowd. There were Bengal Tigers. Or maybe just one Bengal, I'm not sure. He wasn't as big as I expected. After Life of Pi I expected something fierce and large and menacing. Not so much. He was just kind of skinny sunning himself behind a piece of glass. I didn't even catch his name. It would have been cool if he was named Richard Parker. I'll bet every tiger is named Richard Parker now. Kind of like Jennifer or Michael in 1970. Pretty soon everyone will get sick of it and go back to naming them all Hobbes I suspect.

I really enjoy the children's zoo with farm animals. You can get up close to them and not risk losing a limb. We didn't head that way today though. We just hit the monkeys, boring, the cats, boring, the reptiles, boring, the sea lions, uncooperative, and some exotic birds. Now the flamingos...were interesting a bit. You can reach out and touch them although I would not recommend it. Their beaks look like something from The Saw. Cute though. Tiny beady eyes on opposite sides of their head, and almost as tall as me. Lawn ornaments are apparently made on a 1:4 scale. Something to ponder considering garden gnomes...

I know, you're bored. Well, it's the middle of the night, and I'm just killing time. Cut me some slack. Someone needs to go to the grocery store around here. I hate the grocery store. Bright! Cold! Over stimulation! I also know that a trip to the grocery store is the only thing I'll be doing that day. Exhausting. See, you are normal. You have no concept of what I speak. Mom usually tackles the grocery store, but since she's been working seven days a week I'd feel kind of guilty asking her to do it. So we are being pretty creative around here for sustenance. Needless to say, we're totally out of condiments, dressings and dips. I mean, not Monkey though. He's on a strict I'll only eat such and such and since we have such and such he's covered.

We did go out to eat after the zoo. Iguana Grill. Mexican. Excellent! Monkey even ate a cheese quesadilla (I had to pay him a dollar.) I had three cheese and onion enchiladas and beans and rice. I still feel like someone water boarded me. I must learn to stop myself. Love Mexican though and all the hot sauces. We never eat out. We fast food, but not outside the comfort of our home. When I said, "We never eat out." Monkey said, "We did that one time. With Duncan." "True. That was in January at McDonald's. Not quite what I meant." He did good though. Maybe we'll try this more often. Going out to eat always involves showering and dressing. Bummer.

So I think my download is complete. I'm gonna try to go back to sleep for 3 more hours before I have to hit the road. Before I sleep I like to say thank you to God for everything about a hundred times. I like to remind myself that my body is just a vehicle for my energetic body. Even though my physical body feels broken, my spirit is not. We are all connected. I am a part of the Universe and it wants only good for me. Then I fall asleep and dream about snakes, about being too tired to finish high school for the millionth time (I did finish, why the recurring nightmare at age 39??), and maybe about kissing a boy. Sweet dreams. My boy is gonna be up at half past ass crack again tomorrow.

"Your iPhone is now done syncing".

Hustle and Flow

So here we sit on a Friday night watching DVR'd Clone Wars episodes. Monkey has done nothing but whine since I picked him up from school. He earned a time out in the car for throwing his buddy's backpack around, whining some and raising his voice. Honest, it doesn't happen that often, but when it does I just want someone to put me out of my misery. He had to sit for 6 minutes on the stairs when we got home and think about it. Right. He's thinking about what he's onto next. No remorse. Ants in his pants.

Everyday he expects me to get him a drink, a snack, set up a game or video or whatever craft he's got it in his head to make that day. I'm like Goddamn Mr. French around here. I know! I know! I only have myself to blame. He used to not be able to do these things for himself and I got in the habit. When he finally could I failed to immediately make the appropriate adjustments, and now I am paying paying paying. Shut your mouth, Dr. Phil. I know. Being so exhausted all the time makes it really hard to demand results from him when I know I'm not showing him my own results. That's a big can of worms, and I'll open it later.

I have been telling him for weeks to pick up his toys. I was not kidding when I complained we were just stepping over things. They were spread out everywhere. Stairs. Landing. Doorways. I almost busted my ass in the bathroom slipping on a Lego person. I said he was gonna wake up one day and they would be gone. He laughed. He also said, "I don't clean." GAME ON. So while he was at school the other day I placed everything that was on the floor anywhere in the house in trash bags. I placed the trash bags in the garage. I picked him up from school and waited for the approaching shit storm. Man, I was scared. I am not a heart breaker. I don't have the guts. I also love him very much, and must learn to be a soul crusher when need be. He's got to learn, and I have to love him enough to teach him. Even if it breaks my own heart in the process. Someday he's gonna tower over me. I need to make sure he's straight by then.

We came in and he was like, Wow, you cleaned up. Wait a minute...(finger to lip, scrunched up brow) where is everything? "Mom! Where is everything???" GONE. I warned ya, mister. Then he was silent for a bit. There was no tantrum. I felt the eye of the hurricane passing over me. I said, "You can have one bag of toys back for everyday you keep everything picked up." Then he said, "Look at all the room I have to play. Okay, sounds fair." MY SIX YEAR OLD JUST SAID SOUNDS FAIR. MUST BE DAIN BRAMAGE. "Hey. Wait a minute. Where are the Lego people?" That's when I started to hear the wind howling and everything went dark. GONE, I said. AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOO!!! I NEEEEEED THEMMMMM!!!!! That's more like it. (Check mate.)

So all night that night he fluctuated between complete anger at the entire world (WHO SAYS PLUTO IS NOT A PLANET! WHAT ARE THEY THINKING!) and being completely nonchalant as if nothing had transpired to rock his little world to the very foundation. Thank goodness for ADD. I did it! Toys still in garage. He has picked up everyday. And I am now saying NO regularly.

This week has been brutal. Neenie had a hard time at work, I've been feverish constantly and so tired I feel as though I have been drugged. There was actually A COPPERHEAD in my mom's office this week. Needless to say, the stress is palpable around here. No one is looking anyone else in the eyes cause we are all just trying to keep moving. KEEP SWIMMING! KEEP SWIMMING! I am quite ashamed to say though that when my mom comes home and I ask her how her day was (and if she has the power to answer me) and then she asks me how my day was I am basically answering the question "Did you get along with yourself today?" Most days my answer is embarrassing. "It was hard today."

Do you know what it is to be bereft of feelings? To have so many feelings that they are all slugging it out for your attention internally until they crescendo into a screaming hysterical anxiety in your brain that no one can hear but you? Then, you are empty because it is the only way to continue until the next wave hits. To feel like you are hanging by a thread even though you ARE vertical and you ARE mobile and you ARE supposedly sane? It's like being hit by lightning. So much electrical charge that it lifts you up, sets you on fire then just shorts everything out including your heart and brain. That's how I feel today. As Elizabeth Wurtzel puts it "More, Now, Again".

Here I am, floating inside my body as if it is a sensory deprivation chamber filled with nothing but dark, silence and salt water. I am alone in here. I am Prometheus having my liver eaten out day after day. I am Sisyphus pushing the boulder up the damn mountain again and again.

I do not like to write when I feel blue. I don't want to come undone in front of you. It feels shameful. I don't like you to see my crazy. It's not that I'm depressed right now though. It's not the blues. I think it feels more like shades of gray. It could be that it rained for weeks and then it was one million degrees out all of a sudden. The solstice? The time? Bad feng shui? My hormones? Lyme reeking havoc with my CNS again? Maybe it's just the haze of the constant fever for weeks on end.

I just pulled up Deepak on Twitter and he posted "Love it the way it is and flow." So here I go. I get the message God. Tomorrow though, could I have a little more funny and a little less introspection? Thanks.

"It's Hard Out Here For A Pimp."

Let's Dance

I wasn't planning on writing today, but it seems no one is really sharing on facebook or Twitter, so here I am. I planned to write yesterday and the day before that, but...isn't it funny how things work out? What? Not so much? Okey dokey.

I spent the entire (minus nap) day helping Monkey finish some work for school. Yes, he's in first grade. No, it's not homework per-say. He is the Star Student this week which requires him to bring in a poster board full of interesting things about himself to share with the class. Thank you computer for making sure I never print out pictures. Thank you Monkey for insisting we print out all manner of internet Lego fodder. So guess what. No pictures. No ink. Nada. I have to pull on some clothes and run out to Staples to get ink. I get ink. Two BLACK cartridges. Fantastic. I'm a full fledged genius today. (I blame the bored people at Staples for letting me do something so obviously WRONG!) So his pictures are all tinged a bit purple and dark. Let's call it "art". Very Andy Warhol. I thought it turned out pretty good. He wanted to make sure Anabel would like it. Awwwww.

I made him do all the captions. You would think it would be enjoyable since he is constantly writing something, but not so much. It interfered with his being a knight. He had to remove his gloves and helmet. (Didn't see that coming, did ya?) Oh, the injustice! I love hearing him sound words out so he can spell them. He is doing so well. As a child I absolutely refused to learn to read until after first grade and I wrote all my letters backwards. He is leaps and bounds ahead of where I was, and I made it to the gifted program. So there is hope for him yet. I give thanks for all the wonderful teachers he's had. They have truly set him up to succeed, and I thank them!

Putting together the poster made me feel pretty good. Not the part about accidentally almost chopping off my finger with the paper cutter, but the part where it looks like Monkey has actually had a pretty busy life. It's been hard getting out and doing things. But we have done it! I can't say I enjoyed everything because I was usually tired or sick and just dragging myself by my fingernails. When he grows up though he will have tons to look back on and know in his heart that I didn't drop the ball. I've done some stupid things in my life, but I make sure I have not one regret when it comes to Monkey.

Something I want to mention...Flu shots. I don't get it. I just don't get it. It makes me feel all sick inside thinking about it. Do your research, people!

I read some pretty disturbing things this week. I follow the blog Dooce. I really enjoy it. Apparently though not everyone does. She and her husband added a new page to the site called "monetize the hate". It is pages full of the mean things people write to her. I think it's genius that they tried to make something positive from such utter soul-shattering crap. I am in awe of the stuff people will say when they are not looking you in the face. I don't understand why people are reading the blog when they feel so negative about it. I don't understand why they feel the need to comment and be so down right nasty. People are amazing, and it goes both ways. On Twitter I follow Tony Robbins and Deepak Chopra and Corey Booker. They spend oodles of time just sending positive thoughts out to the net. It is so uplifting. Why some people choose not to uplift their fellow man but to instead degrade and belittle, demean and disparage is such a mystery! I mean, I could probably psychoanalyze those douchebags, but why bother?

It did make me feel apprehensive about blogging. I had to question my own motives. I also had to be sure I didn't walk on eggshells. What is the point of me writing if I fear people reading it? I want to connect with people. I want to be involved in a community where we can say to each other "I understand". If we hide who we are then who are we really? I got a comment informing I was using the term "Legos" improperly. Did I get my feelings hurt? Did I feel stupid? Ummmm, yep. I'm a big softie. But I'm sure that is probably just the first in a long line of critiques. And that's okay. I'm not writing a paper on 16Th century pirates. There is no real factual reporting going on. This is just my life as I see it. I'm not trying to be famous. I'm not even trying to get published. I am just trying to connect with other people. Maybe I will make them laugh. Maybe I'll feel a bit better for being brave and putting myself out there. Who knows. I'm sure whatever happens it will surprise me. There will be typos. There will be improper use of words. I will say the f-word. I will punctuate incorrectly.

I did not have the pleasure of finishing college. As a matter of fact, I failed my first English class. I claim this is not because I am stupid or unteachable or lazy, but because I was sick and tired all the time then too. I could not function. I forgave myself for this. Life never turns out how you expected it to. AND THAT'S OK. God has me right where he wants me. I'm okay with that. I know I'm smart. I'm happy for others who did get degrees. I am not jealous. My health and mental well being just wasn't compatible with that. I chose to go from an A to an F in English because I couldn't write the research paper on suicide in women in the 1800's. Since I was suicidal at the time I just couldn't face it. I decided to not dip my toe in that pond. I got an F (from an A) in a ballet class because we had to perform alone in front of the class as a final, and I chose not to. NO THANK YOU. I was terrified and over weight (for the first time in my life) and I didn't at that point have the gumption to do it. Certainly now I think things would be different. I know who I am...mostly. I know my limits, and I know when I NEED to move outside my comfort zone to achieve something positive for my growth. I also know that Xanax really helps. Lyme is neurological along with physical. So a lot of that wacky stuff going on up in my head is not real. After years and years I can kind of tell the difference between reasonable and crazy talk. Not having my college degree does not make me feel any less of a person. As a matter of a fact, the three businesses I have owned, the corporate job I had and the stuff I am doing presently have really made me well rounded (I think) in a way that college may not have. Who knows? It's really not important. And it only took me ten years to figure that out.

Oh, boy. You are dying to be my friend! I knew it. Well, I'll try to fit you in. If you don't mind that I spend half my life napping with an ice bag strewn across my face we might be able to work something out. I'm almost 40! One more year! I have a fantastic kid! I have a great mother. I'm so blessed. We have a nice place to live and clothes and food and cable and internet. We have power and water and money left over to buy books or a bicycle if we so choose. I got an iPhone. I am rich by any one's standards. I am by my own, at least.

Footloose: I just don't know that I believe in everything you believe in. But I believe in you.

Let's Dance!

Wonders Never Cease

Everyday there is something new to amaze me with this kid, with our culture and with the speed which entropy progresses. Monkey has been all business lately with everything. Legos are very serious work and he slaves for hours over designs and directions. He pores religiously over the Lego site making lists of what to get next, who has what and watching Lego movies. (Why do I keep capitalizing Lego?) He wrote his own Power Miners book that was 22 pages, 3 chapters and even had a denouement. I shit you not. It was priceless. Last line: "He did an amazing job. The End."

Today we had to run by the book store to pick up a book for my new class* that starts tomorrow. And there, in it's own display rack, were Lego books. Goddamn Lego books. You got your chocolate in my peanut butter! Two great tastes that go great together... Why must God fuck with us this way? He knows I don't have the cash to be throwing away on more Legos, and yet, there they are combined with books. We shall perish if we do not possess the entire Lego universe! I'm so sorry Dr. Phil. I am such a shit for a parent. I caved. I only got ONE Lego book, but it came with gears! We needed it! I was kicking my own ass from the back of the store to the front, and totally hating everyone. I am not in control of anything apparently. My own. Worst. Enemy. They will find my body buried in a pile of Legos at the bottom of the stairs.

Also while we were there we had to pick up a DIARY for Monkey. He is 6. He wants a diary. It has a skull on the front and a cool elastic band to keep it PRIVATE! just like Mommy's. Will this be the piece of evidence they use to strip me of my child after they read his manifesto on FOX News? He spent an hour tonight asking how to spell certain words. It's all good though cause one of them was "Anabel"...his girrrrrrrlfriennnnnnd. I'm so proud. Looks like he may turn out heterosexual after all...unless he was writing about what she was wearing. Either way, I'm fine with it. Just keep writing, Champ! PROUD!

So I signed up for Twitter today. I have no idea why. It was just something that happened. I wonder if I am being mind controlled? I knew that DVR was trouble! I signed up then I realized I really don't want to know what famous people are doing. I would like to follow my friends though cause they are always good for a laugh. If only I could actually find them. I think I'd also like to follow my favorite authors and everyone I think is funny. I just want to laugh. I checked out @dooce and @finslippy right away cause they are hysterical. Any suggestions? There was a link to TwitWit which is a contest blah blah blah, but the cool thing on TwitWit was reading the most humorous posts. ("I wish they made martini glasses in a different shape so they wouldn't spill when I ride the bus." HA!) I wish I could just follow that. I already hate myself for reading snippets of gossip on my home page. Why, oh why, must I torture myself by putting on my sheep costume? Cause it feels so good? MY Real World 2009, the internet.

Monkey has been a constant source of "dry" fodder lately. The other day he says to me "Mom, how do you know that Indy is a boy?" (Cause he lifts his leg, duh!) "Oh, wait! I know!" he says. "It's because he's nuts. Boys are nuts and girls aren't, right?" WHAT??? "That's right, honey." No I did not say that! I said, "Where did you get that idea?" after I scraped myself up off the floor and wiped the tears from my eyes. "I just know it," he replied. OMG. HE'S A DAMN GENIUS. A few hours later I thought he didn't say cause boys HAVE nuts, did he? Then later I was running the bath water for him and took a break to pee. He comes into the bathroom Au natural and says "What do you have down here?" and he points to his privates. "Ummmm. Well,..." So he says, "Hair right? But how do you pee?" I say, "Well, I already told you about the 'baby door'**, right? There's another hole near that one that pee comes out of." He could barely stand up from laughing. Like I was making it all up. He thinks I'm a riot. I can not wait to tell him this stuff when he gets older. I also can't wait to drop the bomb that he borrowed an old purse to take Legos in to his first cub scout den meeting. He also wanted to wear his "MOM" necklace he had made but I stopped him. Bwhahahahaha!

I am having the worst pain in my left hip and am having a bit of trouble walking. I can't lay or sit comfortably AGAIN. I'm still running the fever. I am so angry stomp my feet pissed off about this. When does it end? It's been 11 months on the antibiotics. I am still exhausted. WTF? I have a doctor's appointment in Mobile (4 hours away) in a few weeks. I'm interested to see what the doctor has to say about this. Calling Greg House...

*So I have been invited to join a class The Artist's Way: A 12-week Course in Discovering and Recovering your Creative Self,based on Julia Cameron’s international best-seller, The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity. Creativity is not the possession of a select few, but a divine spark within each of us. When we move toward our creativity, we unlock the divine in our lives. Join this Creative Cluster to experience simple, fun practices that can transform your life. Find out more about the creative cluster and how the process works: http://www.theartistsway.com/tools/creative-clusters. I am really excited to see just what this all about. Hopefully, I will be able to dampen down any anxiety I feel about having to get dressed and leave the house. I guess I should crack the book tonight and make sure the xanax prescription is filled.

**Two years ago Monkey had a teacher that was pregnant. He spent day after day speculating just how that thing was gonna get out. He was pretty sure the belly button had something to do with it. So I told him there was a door, the baby door, on girls for babies to come out. I have no problem with actually saying the word "vagina", but I don't want him lightly dropping it into conversation with his buddies over goldfish crackers and juice. It's not that I don't think he can understand the complexities of the human body because I'm sure he can. I just don't trust his discretion.

We have the goosebumps (molluscum contagiousum) on the run! He only has several spots left. We have alternated foul smelling antibacterials, antivirals and anti fungals and it has worked! The ringworm is gone too. It occurred to me that he was taking a 10 day course of antibiotics for the dog bite when the pandemic occurred. I had run out of probiotics in the middle there so he may not have been covered. That's what antibiotics will do to you! Turn you into Elepephantman Jr! Of course, I am thankful they kill dog germs too. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

After the book store we ran by the cub scout headquarters to pick up a complete uniform for Monkey (and some marbles, "for my collection, Mom!"). So $75.00 bucks later I can not get the phrase "Hitler Youth" out of my head. I mean it. I have no idea why. It must be the neckerchief. I am so sorry cub scouts for being a hater, but there is something in me that feels all wrong. I can't describe it. I know that after we have the fishing derby and build a wood race car I'll feel better about it. I think. I hope. Bringing you the leaders of tomorrow, one Montauk Project at a time. Before writing in his DIARY he ripped that uniform out of the bag and put it on. Then he said, "Can we go hiking now?" and "Mom, why don't you teach me more pledge stuff?" Wait a minute here. He wants to try on clothes and memorize stuff? Let me see your ID!

He has a new obsession with the ice age. (More books!!!) He is also formulating theories on what actually caused the dinosaurs extinction. Maybe the planet broke apart and the dinosaurs had no oxygen. That's where we got Pluto***...it was originally part of the Earth! Good one. Now prove it! Now that he knows the term "theory" I am pumping him full of pennies like a bubblegum machine to see what trickles out next. Most sentences begin with "When I'm an archaeologist...". I. LOVE. HIM.

***I can't even begin to explain whether Pluto is a planet or not to him. He keeps asking and I won't commit either way. When I was little, it was. Now, not so much. The truth is out there. "Listen, son. Our country can't agree on anything except that Kanye West is an asshole. Who knows about Pluto?"

The Heart Outside My Body

You know it's cold season (or that I have a cold) when every load of laundry out of the dryer comes with a shredded tissue. Oh people, I do try. Them tissues is sneaky! It's my fault really for always sticking them up my sleeve like my grandmother (or in my bra...or in my waistband. Not all pajamas have pockets, you know!)

I don't want you to get the idea that all I do is bitch about how unwell we are (we are) or ooooo! the kitchen is a mess again (it is) or the damn dog ate another lego (he did). Sometimes, even daily mind you, happiness and tender moments creep in and rear their pretty little misshapen heads. It's mostly when the child is QUIET and sleeping, but there they are never-the-less.

Sometimes when he is running around hell bent for leather chasing the dog or bouncing from couch to pile of pillows ass over teacup or composing his next great novel he yells out "Mom, guess what!" Because that is probably the fiftith time I have heard it the past hour I growl "What?????" or "What now????" or "Yeah?" And he yells, "I love you!", and continues on his merry way. That's when everything just stops for a second and there is silence in my brain and I suck in my breath. I never see it coming. It's not rare, just always unexpected. That's the moment when I am NOW. Everything goes tunnel vision and I have crystal clarity of that exact moment.

Every time I chelate him I sleep in his bed. I gave him my queen size so he has room to throw himself around nocturnally or jump his brains out during the daylight. This summer he started to be petrified of the dark and of being alone. This phase has yet to pass. So we spent night after night with him terrified running to my room or to the computer, depending on the time, in blind fear. After the first 4 years of his life (before the sensory therapy) with him not sleeping much at all and getting no sleep myself I was uninterested in revisiting this particular ELE, or extinction-level event. So I've been sleeping with him for months. I know, I am a terrible mother. As long as I sleep with him though I can usually sleep the WHOLE WAY through the night. That said, I don't care what you think. Sleep is My Preeeeeciousssss. So there. Anyway, he giggles almost every night in his sleep when he's not kicking and hitting me. It's amazing that I can't hear the alarm or phone when I'm sleeping, but the giggling wakes me right up enough to smile.

The other night I was laying with with my arm over him and the dog in between us. They were both sound asleep. It occurred to me how these are the beings that depend on me for their very lives. They trust me and need me. How special that makes me feel to be trusted with THEIR LIVES. What an awesome responsibility. What a reward to have that trust. The day to day grind of letting the dog out, combing the kid's hair, making his lunch, picking out his clothes, feeding the dog, etc. can be a real drag. When it is handed to you like a medal though as a job, as a reward, as a gift it is like the Nobel Prize...or like the medal Luke and Han got after blowing up the Death Star...or like...motherhood. Just amazing.

My poor kid. He doesn't know if he is coming or going. I plaster so much medicine on him four times a day he can't sit on his knees, scratch his face or roll over. We got issues. Thank you internet for knowing exactly what to do though! Let me preface this disgusting bit of info with saying that just because I have to clean the toilet with a screw driver or the kitchen looks like a meth lab we don't necessarily have hygiene issues. We've got six year old boy issues. Last year he got ringworm above his eyebrow. (No, it's not real worms. Google it.) He got it from Tae Kwon Do. That'll teach you to meditate with your head on the floor. So we got that cleared up with some Lotrimin after a few weeks and lots of circle band-aids. Then this summer he got it again inside his right arm. He had to wear a life jacket at the YMCA till he was able to swim. The same life jackets that every other dirty wet kid had on. The same life jackets that hang damp 24 hours a day on a rack. Plus he would wear his wet swim suit home without changing first. Did I mention this kid does not know how to dry himself off? No? So after more Lotrimin and Spiderman band-aids (so as not to RE-infect the general population) we got that cleared up.

At the beginning of the summer I noticed a skin tag like thing on his knee. Harmless, not itchy, not spreading anywhere wart-like dot minding it's own business. Since I had to spend lots of time on the internet searching up the original ringworm infection and what to do about it and then loads more time trying to diagnose my shingles (damn you, shingles!) I came across a picture of bumps on the knee like that. I just breezed by the info though because ours was not a problem...yet. So a few weeks ago I notice a few more skin tag thingees. Then last week I notice about TWENTY ...and one on THE OTHER KNEE. It jumped continents! We got a pandemic here!

So the internet tells me this is called molliscum contagiousum. (We've since renamed it goosebumps cause that's less "contagiousum".) It's common in little kids. It will clear up on it's own...in a year or TWO. You can go by the dermatologist and get it frozen off of sliced off. It's not itchy. It's contagious with open wound contact, like most things. Except it can spread...LIKE A PANDEMIC ON YOUR BODY. Okay, so the internet didn't say it like that. I read on a mothering board about just how it can spread. And after 20 pages or so of pictures AND HALF OF THEM WERE ON THE GENITALS I decided we had better do something. I don't want Monkey to have his genitals on the internet. I'm not being crazy overprotective Munchhausen mom here. There was one and then there were TWENTY. Believe me there were horror stories of scars and shunning amongst the kiddos on the message board.

So I made notes (on my iPhone!) and off we went to the health food store. Yes, you guessed it, everything smells bad. "Mom, I'm going to vomit!!!! What is that smell???" But we have been applying gross stuff four times a day and we have progress! Little bumps are gone and the big ones are soon on their way. He didn't bathe for four days because hot baths could make it worse. Shut up! Of course I washed him off in the meantime! Guess what doesn't help ringworm? Not Showering. So tonight as I tucked him in I notice a new dry patch above his eyebrow. F! F! F! It's back. So I grab the Lotrimin and we will nip this in the bud immediately. UNBELIEVABLE. He says to me "Mom. My forehead is itchy." I say, "I know, but that's not the ringworm spot." So have I turned him into a sissy? He's afraid to scratch himself? All I know is you will not be viewing his genitals on any online dermatological site. And don't hug your child to your breast like that. His shorts completely cover his knees because he is so hip (short.)

Lately I've been dreaming that I have a boyfriend. I saw an old boyfriend's picture the other day and now I've dreamed that he's my current boyfriend every time I go to sleep. Nothing racy, just that he IS my boyfriend. The whole time I'm dreaming I'm thinking, this is soooo complicated! I wonder if my brain is trying to tell me something? Just what would it be trying to tell me? It's time to look for a boyfriend or don't bother cause it's soooo complicated? To be honest there's no way I could have a boyfriend when I can barely get along with myself. How would anyone else be expected to manage? I've already been married, and it is soooo complicated. I was talking to an acquaintance that ask me if I had one. Which was a nice change because no one ever asks. I guess I'm just supposed to be this way. Of course maybe it's because I'm completely nuts and repulsive. I'd like to think it's just because I've already dated everyone worth dating. (Is that possible? Well, I dated alot once upon a time.) I will have to revisit this idea when I actually see someone that makes me think I am not, as feared, asexual. (Google it.)

Guess what's better than plain old ear plugs. My iPhone! I'm thinking of you and nothing else as I dance around the kitchen and scrub the counters. Blissful full volume "I can't hear you" silence.

You know, even Typhoid Mary had a mother. She would totally want you to check this out:

www.OZOcleantechnology.com

Enter The Sandman

I can't wait to see the x-ray of the spot near my right temple where my endless hacking cough has caused an aneurysm. "Look, right there it is!" I have had a cold for the past two weeks. Thanks volunteering in the school library! It's not a bad cold, just a relentless one. It's just a cough and copious amounts of mucus in huge phlegm balls. I mean, it's not even green or tinged highlighter yellow, just clear ginormous quantities of spit and snot from my lungs. I just took a bit more of the cough syrup, and will now experience another sleepless night of tossing and turning and waking up all damp and cold. Did I mention I have a fever too? Unrelated to the cold though. Total lyme flare-up or die-off, you choose because I've got no earthly idea what the hell is happening in the quantum crevices of my body. Oh, now I have your attention...

Soooo, like, I haven't written in forever. Sorry you few people who were kind enough to attempt to follow my gaseous prattling! (I had Taco Bell today in case you were wondering.) I think about writing everyday. Then I remember my life is going down hill so rapidly I really don't have the energy to document it. Who cares how depressed I am that I feel like crap daily again and am so tired that I am kind of sleeping in 3 hour shifts around the clock. I have had a fever again for a good three weeks. Low grade, as if the difference is consequencial at this point. Something is going on in there and it is tearing me up and creating utter destruction to this small social life I have attempted to build. Okay, it's really Monkey's social life I'm managing, but I was building on it, damn it.

I will recap for you our summer in case you even wondered what wacky nonsense the kid and I were engaging in in all our free time. I was out walking the dog the other night, late, around the church parking lot next to our house. It's well lit, but isolated so I frequently entertain myself with thoughts of being murdered and left for dead while I hustle the dog to do his business. Occassionally there will be a lone car parked in a dark corner. Several times it was the same dirty mini van with no license plate filled with boxes and a bible on the dash. Ominous, no? One day walking the dog the van pulled from behind the church and passed within feet of me. Creepy guy driving stuck his head out the window and said "This is my church in case you were wondering." Right. I'm sure the church lets you sleep in their parking lot occassionally. Perfectly normal. So anyway, the other night I'm walking Indy and there is a jeep parked behind the church. This is at around 10:30PM. So my thoughts of mugging and murder start up, and I realize two things. One, when they find my mangled body I will be wearing a HIGHLANDER tee shirt with a circle of historical swords on it and won't the detectives laugh hysterically? And two, I need to have a better head shot of myself so when they run my picture on the news I don't look like a complete dork. Oh, yeah...and three, no one on the internet will know what I did this summer cause I've been so slack. Gotta post something.

What We Did: the highlights

1. I solved the mystery of what the itching leg was all about! Priceless! It was effing SHINGLES. Good Lord, do wonders never cease? I got shingles. It wasn't as bad as it could have been I suppose, but it was no picnic either. Shingles: Herpes zoster (shingles) is a painful, blistering skin rash due to acute infection with the varicella-zoster virus, the virus that causes chickenpox. Herpes zoster may affect any age group, but it is much more common in adults over 60 years old, in children who had chickenpox before the age of one year, and in individuals whose immune system is weakened. Well, imagine that. My immune system is weakened? Nooooooooo, not me! At least, the scars will always be a nice conversation starter. The active shingle thingee finally did go away, and only occasionally do I get the phantom itching. I guess I'm lucky. Yes, lucky ole me! And when I got better...

2. I had a secret yard sale! I got Monkey's friend to let him stay the night and the next day while he was at YMCA camp (canoeing, roasting marshmallows and swimming) I attempted to sell a bunch of his toys he was having separation issues with. So after the ad in the paper and license, (yes, we're serious here in Bama about our yard sales and the law) I made about $25.00. Totally not worth it. I wasn't TIRED AT ALL (snort), and it was the day before we left for...

3. Our trip to Pennsylvania! 15 hours in the car with dog and kid. Staying with family! Visiting long lost friends thanks to facebook! Parties for my business. It was the best three weeks of the summer...if you don't include the trip up or the trip home. Monkey did better in the car than usual. By that I mean that he didn't talk my leg off the whole entire time. I made him listen to books on tape (which he did talk through), and play nintendo ds and watch movies. The dog had a few bouts of howling his head off for no apparent reason. Although, we did discover the reason was that his chew bone had fallen out of the cage, and Monkey's all "I have no idea what's wrong with him because I might have to turn my head or feel around with my hand on the floor and that would be tragic."

Suffice it to say I really love my friends from high school. High school may have really sucked, but I did a good job of picking my friends. Shout out, Altoona! My family was awesome too. Monkey got to spend lots of time with my cousin's kids and I painted a camping/outdoorsy mural for my cousin's new baby. We went fishing on the boat with my dad. Indy got to play with Pop and Nana's new dog, Bailey, the entire time. There was swimming and family dinners and Grand Nana and meeting my cousin's fiance. Fun! I even went to church with a friend which pretty much means we've come full circle from 20 years ago, and I couldn't be happier about it.

My dad took Monkey to numerous yard sales while we were there. He has talked endlessly about having his own now, and did make a small attempt in my dad's garage. The irony!

The only thing not so great about the trip was that Monkey didn't really get to spend any time with his cousins. My step brother and wife kind of hate me. Long story. It's not really fair to talk about it here cause they aren't here to defend themselves. Let's just say I'm not patriotic enough. So not asking my son to spend any time with their kids seems kind of low. He's patriotic! I hope that in the future Monkey will get to spend some time with the kids because they are great kids and he and I love them.

3. So my birthday was in August. 39 years old. It was a really nice day of doing nothing, my favorite, and perusing facebook for birthday wishes...which was really uplifting. I did get some money as gifts this year. It was a whole $300.00 smackers that I should have put to bills or therapy or something productive, but there was the "get yourself something nice" thing. So I did, and suffered tons of guilt. Which leads me to...

4. MY NEW iPHONE!!!! That's right! I rock. I am mobile. I am jacked in ALL THE TIME. I have gone over to the dark side willingly and with a smile on my face. I don't care if the EMF kills me. Next thing you know I'll be getting a chipped passport I'm feeling so crazy! I'm practically a Sith Apprentice! The guilt kicks in right about...

5. When I found out the deductible at the emergency room was gonna be $300.00. Oh God, you so crazy messin wit me like this! We went to movie night at a friend's house, and just as we were about to leave Monkey scared their dog and got a bite above his lip. It was a misunderstanding between the two of them....you know, dog sleeping wakes up with 6 year old boy on his face. So we call Neenie and pick her up on the way to Children's hospital at 10:00PM on a Saturday night. I've got LOADS to say about this little odyssey as you can imagine. But for now let me just say he got the stitches (2), he didn't have to get a shot (although they begged and cajoled) and he's healed up nicely. We got home around 5 fucking AM. Did I mention I had just dropped cash on a new shirt for his school picture which was 4 days later? Oh God, you so crazy! My guilt was sort of abated when our friends covered the deductible which was way above and beyond. Thank you! Which brings me to...

6. First grade! School here in Alabama starts way too damn early. August 11Th. Monkey is loving it, and has met his soul mate (she doesn't know it yet) in the very next seat. Oh, she's a beauty. He woke me up at 3AM Friday night to tell me he missed Anabel. He woke me at 5AM Saturday to tell me he missed Anabel. He's got it so bad he said he'll be drawing a hundred pictures of her. We've only got one on the fridge right now. Men! His mouth is already writing checks his ass can't cash.

I got him a new pair of Keen sandals cause they have to be able to wear them for gym. I thought it would be as close as we could get to his favorite crocs. After a few days it became apparent that we had to order a new pair of Keen sneakers because he doesn't like the bark from the playground getting in his shoes. If I said "sissy" right now, would you hate me?

So the cub scouts made the rounds the first week and totally sold my kid that he HAD TO BE a cub scout. They promised a fishing lure so it had to be totally worth the $100.00 bucks up front, right? So, yes, I caved and he's "offisal!" I do have to say though that I am not pleased with all the pledging and uniform neckerchief, etc. I just am wary of indoctrinating the youth. He's too young to really grasp it all. But what the hell, I've gone over to the dark side already. Welcome to the cult! I know, this should be good for little boys right? Don't hate me cause I want to protect my kid from EVERYTHING...and I really don't want to be a cub scout myself. First graders must have their adult present at all times. So I'm fishing, I'm camping, I'm making a flag and spirit something or others...but I get no badges. I demand a heavy lifting badge! Speaking of heavy lifting...

7. I am spending way too much time talking about Legos, reading about Legos, tripping on Legos, and going to the Lego store. Thanks Lego for opening your Birmingham Coven. We'll be worshipping there often. Damn you, and your not having the Batman Legos Monkey NEEDS immediately yesterday right now! Bastards!

So that about sums it up. We did some other fun stuff, Monkey finally learned to swim and is pretty good at it (he doesn't drown) and I'm sick again. Monkey's dad is 8 months behind in the child support and counting. Please say a nice prayer for him that he gets his shit together.

I wish I had some Unsolicited Advice to give you, but the only thing that comes to mind is to watch out for the Gatorade. It's like crack to a 6 year old. As far as It's a Mystery goes, the only one I have right now is how I am managing to survive everyday stepping over more piles of crap, coughing my brains out and not just setting the whole place on fire.

Peace out!