Simply Not Simple

Parent teacher conferences= Love em and hate em

LOVE:  All the warm fuzzies from everyone who knows my Noah.  This kid is just amazing.  Sadly, he is most likely dysgraphic but because he is also extremely gifted the school district will not do anything to help him.  During testing the first week of school he knew 71% of the knowledge that will be covered in 5th grade.  Luckily he's in the gifted program and advanced math, so he shouldn't get bored.  If only he could write his letters and numbers correctly.  He wants to be a pediatrician- he will be AMAZING.  His gifted teacher told us he is 99.9% wonderful.  I concur wholeheartedly.

HATE: That he is dysgraphic, but too smart for the school district to care.  Assholes.

LOVE: Miranda's teacher, most of the time

HATE:  The fact that today I found out Miranda was forging my initials (exactly like her sister had done with the same teacher in the same grade), so the parent-teacher conference was awkward even though she has taught three of my children.  Plus Miranda is behind in reading (I don't comprehend this from a child of mine- reading is like breathing to us), and the teacher won't make any promises that she will get caught up. CYA a little?  Maybe?

Plus I was not feeling well, so the positives and negatives were already slanted due to my grumpy while sick-itude.

I guess all went okay, now if only I could get over this dang fever. (NOT swine flu)

I am pissed, not just a little pissed..... severely pissed

I for one have never been a big believer in the domestic abuse is a vicious circle bullshit.  You know what?  The FIRST time I hit my daughter, I sought counseling- and STAYED in counseling until I left it with a very solid foundation for a lifetime of motherhood and love with my teenage daughter (man oh man, they are not easy at times! (I don't really know if I'm talking about teens or counseling- most likely both)).  I'm sure I've alluded to my past abuse on this blog.  It wasn't the WORST abuse anyone ever suffered, but it's not like there is GOOD abuse, and I came out with a lot of mental, and some physical scarring.

Last week, one of our best friend's dad died of cancer (nearly two weeks to the day after we lost Gib's grandma), and our neighbor's adopted son who had moved to California committed suicide by hanging himself.  Plus my sister is back in rehab.  I knew my brother would be at my house and I told my officemate I would rather stay at work than go home to my brother.  In the course of a couple of hours after drinking he tried to break my arm, stopped the car at a dead stop in the middle of the road three times and hit me several times leaving huge bruises.  I was so drunk I didn't realize until the next morning just how bad it was.  I should have called the cops, as I had more than enough bruising for evidence, but I didn't. 

The point of this post is that if you know of anyone in this type of situation please, please do anything you can to get them out.  It may be dangerous, they may not believe they are good enough to leave, but you may just save their lives.  Everyone deserves common courtesy, EVERYONE deserves to live a life without fear.  If you can help someone, you should.  For me.

This post was longer, but got lost but I want to say, please please if you can help someone who is being abused, do.  They don't always know how to get themselves out.

So, am I the only person who can fall down for no reason?

I'm starting to think I'm really, really "special".  Yesterday at dog training I was standing and talking to a couple other club members and for no reason- with no movement on my part my ankle twisted and I hit the ground.  The sad thing is, no one felt the need to say anything or ask how I was, because THIS IS NOT UNUSUAL BEHAVIOR FOR ME.  Maybe an eyebrow raised, but no one even felt like my falling for no reason warranted commentary.  At the end I walked over to our breeder with both my dogs so she could tell me just how much weight the little, fat one needed to lose.  The dogs broke out in a bitch fight and being the genius I am I stuck my leg between them and got BIT.  I got griped at for walking them together and then when I told them I'd gotten bit there was *some* concern, but not much.  If I hadn't been wearing jeans I'm pretty sure my leg would have been shredded.

I. am. genius!  Physical comedy personified (although getting bit by German Shepherds isn't funny.  I have one heck of a bruise, about half of my leg.

A gallery of recent injuries:

This is from stabbing myself in the foot with my shoe's heel at Gib's grandma's gravesite.

From fight with fat, mean cat to put him in the garage to eat the mice I keep seeing out of there.

My leg from breaking up the dog fight.  Kinda hurty. (and it extends around to the other side)

Am I alone in my physical talents?  Does anyone else fall for no reason?

Sigh, I didn't think so.

I have learned sad is a cascade

It starts with the loss of a loved one, which then brings back the loss of many other loved ones, which brings back horrendous sadness and mental confusion (instability?).  Every loss I've felt magnifies the loss I am dealing with now.  They come back all at once.  The one that replays in my head is the loss of my Bear.  This is literally the only death I've ever witnessed.  My precious, precious dog bled to death in his crate and I could do nothing but watch.  His 95 pounds were just too much for me to get out.  Not that the death of my dog is the worst hurt, but it is the worst mental replay, the ONLY actual visual that I have of a death, and it was a horrible, painful one.  I loved Gib's grandma, and I loved the other people I mourn, but I don't understand- why ALL?  At once?  Why can't we concentrate and grieve for the most recent loss?  Why can't we come to terms with one thing at a time?  Or is it just me?  I'm not strong when it comes to heartbreak, or feelings.  When you are abused as a child you learn to stifle SO much.  This is not a coping mechanism that works for me any more.  I am sure my counselor would be glad to hear that.  But I would have to start going back, and although I know it's best- I don't know that I want to.  I have fixed so many things that needed fixing, but there is so much more that is broken.

I need to figure out this cascade.  I need to figure out where I fit into it, how I fit into it- and how best to mourn what needs to be mourned without feeling every other emotion there is to feel.  Any suggestions?  I could use some.

Thank you, Grandma for celebrating my 37th birthday with me (even if it was 3 days before my birthday and I had to wear a flourescent orange sombrero).  Your strength in dealing with Godawful breast cancer is inspiring.  Thank you for being in my life, and thank you for making your grandson the husband that he is today.  You rock grandma.  And yes, we get the symbolism of you waiting until the 1st day of Breast Cancer Awareness month to pass on.  Believe me, we will never, EVER forget.
 

I wanna go home

I also apparently want to whine like a baby.  I stayed home from work Mon and Tues to be with Gib, but I spent a lot of that time asleep due to a migraine.  The stress that has been chasing me since last Thursday has caught me, overtaken me and then turned right around to bite me squarely in the butt.

I always forget there are such strong PHYSICAL reminders of grief and grieving.  My stomach ties in knots, the migraines start and every single muscle in my body tenses.  As a matter of fact, I don't think my brain can handle another second of mindless excel spreatsheets and review board paperwork.

Thanks internet, you have convinced me to go home.  Such lovely people you are, muah!

The funeral, and the pure evil of breast cancer

Gib's grandmother was buried this weekend.  She died Thurs, the visitation was Friday (in another state), and the service and burial were on Saturday (in yet ANOTHER state).  I don't know what the deal with the "accelerated schedule" was, but I'm afraid that we are all still in shock and that no one has been able to properly grieve.  I find myself falling apart at the word cancer.  Or death.  Or grandma.  Even grandpa's death 6 years ago is weighing so heavily on my mind.  Oh, I fully expect the night terrors to come and I FULLY expect them to be some of the worse I've ever had.  Grandma's with Grandpa now, her baby who died in infancy, her son who died in adulthood and my two babies lost before birth.... these are a constant litany in my mind and on my soul, but for now THEY ARE NOT HELPING.  Maybe soon?  Maybe never?  I am so thankful for the many, many survivors of breast cancer that I know, but sad for this loss and the other losses that will be felt forever.

Grandma sure did things her own way, and I can almost feel that she held on to the first day of the month AFTER breast cancer awareness month to die.  We will always be aware.  Always.

But you should know that death and terrors and grief and panic aside, I still manage to be me.  Comic relief- even at the burial.  I managed to somehow trip and fall three times on the way to the gravesite.  Gib's brother mentioned that Gib's grandpa probably somehow had a hand in it, and it really is his style.  I WAS always his favorite target.  Gib's cousins all got a laugh at that.  I do know how to (even though COMPLETELY accidentally and blamed solely on my clumsiness) lighten the mood.  As we begin to leave I decide to take off my heels to avoid a FOURTH faceplant.  Guess how that worked out?  Oh yeah, it worked out Jenn style.  I managed to accidentally drop the first heel I took off.  Not only did I drop it, I dropped it so it landed heel side up and then STEPPED on the heel with my bare foot.  Over half of my foot is bruised now, and I ended up borrowing one of Gib's cousin's wife's Mickey Mouse crocs (in flourescent pink non-the-less) for the funeral dinner.  Oh Lord, I am nothing if not classy.

It was a HORRID weekend.  One that will be repeated no doubt during my life, but having to watch my children's grief was just as hard as dealing with Gib's or my own.  I hate that our hearts are torn yet again.  How many times can a heart tear?  How much grief can one mom bear?

I really should stop pissing off the "dealers"

Seriously.  I am still the naive person I have always been when it comes to drugs.  Don't use 'em, don't need 'em, don't like 'em, don't know anything about them.  So, when I went outside at 1AM to take my dogs out front so they can get some non-fenced-in time, I thought nothing about the car that pulled up to the known (and busted, but also obviously still around) Coke sellers (thought better of letting the real terminology be searchable) 2 houses down from me.  They flashed their lights, I assumed it was a friend of theirs and I thought they had gotten out of the car.  The dogs continued to run around in the cul-de-sac and I just enjoyed the outside alone time.  Fifteen minutes later the horn blares.  Scared the ever-loving shit out of me!  The people had never left the car, presumably because my 2 German Shepherds were out front and unleashed.  At this point (why, yes, I am a genius) I jumped up, put the dogs away and then locked every door and window in the house.

I'm kinda mad that I do not have the freedom to be in my own front yard with my dogs in the middle of the night, but also a little afraid because I have had more than a couple confrontations with them over other issues and I'm not exactly on their "good" radar.  That kinda begs the question, do you want to be in good with Coke sellers?  I think probably not.  I believe me and my big mouth (and bigger dogs) will lay low for awhile.  I now need to convince my dogs not to eat their Pug, I don't think that will help my situation any.

Wow, I've been at this blogging thing a long time

Maybe now that facebook is a terminatable (Word?  Probably not) work passtime, I can get back to more regular blogging.  Blogging isn't a social network, right? It most definitely was not named in the new "decree".  Oh well, since I've..........................................................................

DECIDED I CAN'T LIVE MY LIFE WITHOUT BECOMING A PHYSICIAN, and found out from my physician boss that the campus I work at that currently houses only 3rd and 4th year med students will be starting a 1st and 2nd year program here- I'm going to do it! 

This means I will bust my butt as the internal med research assistant and get every faculty member in the department on my side and in 2 years my lifelong dream will finally be realized.  I, personally, am thrilled!

Now I need to go to bed though, Miranda has been home sick twice this week and I hope I'll be able to work tomorrow.

Well we're back

And I'm definitely feeling much better about everything.  Gib's grandma is doing well, for now.  She has already told everyone she is going to die when grandpa died- on Nov 22.  I don't doubt for a second that she'll hang on until November, she is one determined woman.

Not much I can do but be thankful she's still doing as well as she is considering the metastases.

Breast cancer fucking sucks!!!!

Here we are in KC for a family get-together in the saddest of circumstances.  Gib's grandma is dying and we are here because she requested to see her whole family one last time.  It's such a sad and almost surreal occassion and my emotions are at an all time out-of-control high.  Knowing this is the last time we will see her alive, while she is still the same grandma she's been for the 20 years I've known her.

Knowing this damn cancer is so aggressive that no treatment will help, knowing that with my mother, my mother-in-law and my grandmother-in-law have all had breast cancer, knowing that inadvertently I almost positively have passed that gene on to my own daughters, knowing I, myself, am due for my yearly mammogram.  Knowing, knowing, knowing...... It's all too much.  Oh, it's too much for my heart and soul.  How do you look at someone knowing that the next time you see that loved one will be at their funeral; breaking your heart, crushing your soul and knowing that you are there to LOVE her, just love her as you always have?  How do I deal with my youngest son, who has never been the clingy type, being unable to not be physically attached to me and knowing why?  HOW DO I DEAL?

GOD, BREAST CANCER FUCKING SUCKS.  FUCKING. SUCKS.