Being Led?

Ok, to state the obvious, I survived Christmas. Actually, it turned out to be the best Christmas I've had yet during my marriage. Pretty sweet.

On to today/tonight's topic:

Ever have things come into play, fall into place that are subtle, yet totally unexpected and you can't help but wonder if God/Higher Power is giving you a swift kick in the hiney and telling you, "That's the way to go, hoss your freight already!" but the logical part of your brain tells you to quit being a tool, you're so eager/desperate for something to come along to make sense and give you direction that you might find mystical meaning in a snowbank?

How do you know which it is? Or do you just go on faith?

I've been praying since it became apparent that this CRPS crap wasn't going to just go away that I'd find direction, something that would somehow make sense, give me that 'aha!' moment. I dunno if this would make any sense to anyone else, but when the shit's hit the fan in my life, I've been able to look back and go, 'aha! If a hadn't happened, then I wouldn't have had b...' and it makes a weird sort of sense, that its all linked somehow, like a set of dominoes or a giant puzzle or tapestry...from every challenge, there's been a positive arise somehow. I've been looking for the positive in this stupid stupid STUPID work incident and CRPS, and coming up pretty empty...and then some info came to me which made a light go on and make me wonder...

So, am I alone in my weirdness of seeing positives directly arise from perceived negatives, or is it something that others have experienced?

And how do you tell if its God kicking your booty in a direction, or just your own hopeful desperation seeing meaning in nothing?

Survivor, Mommy Style

Out wit, out play, out last.

No, its not the latest Gilligan Island Lord Of The Flies with grown ups tv show, its parenting at Christmas time.

I don't know if its just my home, or if its a common parenting phenomanon, but the kids behaviour the last few weeks leading up to the holidays are enough to single handedly explain why drinking is so associated with the holidays. Good tidings my fat butt...its an attempt to keep from killing the kids.

Not even the threat/promise of the fat dude in the suit with toys is enough to modify the behaviour of the Stepford Heathens. Nope. I was 'talking' to Santa tonight, telling him how Tazzie wasn't going to bed nicely...and Tazzie sat on the landing laughing at me. I kid you not. Tazzie, for those who aren't aware, isn't even 4 yet.

What is it about the holidays that turns children into demon spawn? I mean, seriously, folks. I'd NEVER be one to claim model behaviour children, they're far too busy for that kind of nonsense, but normally, they're not sent from the bowels of Hades for the sole purpose of tormenting their innocent mother.

*listens to doors slamming, feet pounding, yelling from the bedroom area*

I've never understood the objection to duct tape. Seems a fine idea.

So does the Baileys in the cupboard...

But, since I have a mountain o'crud to accomplish, and no idea how its gonna get done (how the heck do you wrap gifts with one incredibly stupid, swollen, and painful hand? I'll let you know, but I'm guessing the answer is, "You wrap crappy.") I'll take this moment to wish everyone a Merry Christmas.

I'll be the one either passed out drunk under the tree with ribbon up my nose and wrapping paper in my ears, or heavily sedated in a locked facility.

Or...I'll post again. Place your bets now!

Updating

Thank you to Jane and Sam for your support!

The good news is that it has taken the edge off the arm, so on that basis, a repeat is likely. Yay!

Bad news is there's something going on with my right eye. RN before the procedure noted that the pupil in my rt eye is dilated more than my left. Apparently pupil dilation is part of the sympathetic nervous system...what I'm wondering is if its from my migraines, or maybe what's causing them.

Also, the droopy eye thing was a lot worse than the first time, and red as heck. Felt like I've got vinegar and sand in my eyes. My tears actually hurt.

So, I'm really freaked out about the eye issue. Specialist is off on vacation til the New Year, so I'll go see my GP next week. I'm worried about potential damage to the eye...Last thing I need is to be the one eyed one armed flying purple...errr...you know what I mean.

Tie Breaker Time

I promise, I'll blog soon about the general insanity inhabiting the Stepford house, but for now, this is where I'm at.

I have my 3rd block tomorrow, be at the hospital for 630 am.

First was successful, in that I had some reduction in pain.
Second was completely unsuccessful.
So, this is the tie breaker. If it works this go 'round, we'll go again...if it doesn't...that's it, end of the line, everyone off.

Specialist is talking more narcotics...including methadone

I'm really not wanting to start down that particular level of hell, tyvm. Being a stoned zombie, incapable of parenting doesn't seem like an option to me. But when its bad, I'd take anything shoved my way. Not a great place to be.

Hoping that this works, even just the tiniest amount. I so don't want to be on narcotics. Really really really don't. Both my maternal grandparents were/are alcoholics and the addiction potential scares the living crap out of me. I've been told, repeatedly, that 'you can't be an addict when you're needing the meds for pain management, its only if you're taking them without cause...' But that doesn't make much sense to me. Your body gets dependant, the reasons why don't matter.

I can't be stoned outta my gourd and be a wife and mother. I won't do that to my family.

Pray, vibe, whatever you've got that this shows some positive results...cause the options suck.

Accepting A Blessing

Was talking to my gf tonight. She wanted to go out shopping, but Wolf wasn't home yet...and I told her I've got my BIL coming, and desperately needed to clean the house.

She offered to help.

I immediately turned her down.

She offered again, more insistantly.

I faced facts. I needed help. I can't do what I used to. I just can't. I have company coming, and the house, while not ready to be condemned was far below even my admittedly non OCD standards.

I accepted her offer.

Its a weird mixed bag of emotions. On one hand, its MY mess, damn it. My family. My responsibility. Having a FRIEND see it at its worst was a blow to my pride and ego, let alone accepting an offer to help clean it.

On the other hand...how incredibly lucky I am to have such a friend that comes over and pitches in, whole heartedly. When I pushed too far and simply had to give in and sit at the table fighting not to cry from hurting, she chatted away, cleaning my stovetop, making it seem like the most natural thing in the world that I should be sitting down watching while she cleaned my kitchen.

I was truly blessed this evening.

Many thanks to you. You know who you are, and you are much loved for what you did. I'm not graceful with words, in person, but I know that you'll read this and understand that I could say here what I couldn't tonight.

Thank you.

Dear 'Well Meaning People',

Dear Well Meaning People;

There have been more than one of you in my life lately. Let me explain a few things for you quickly.

CRPS is NOT arthritis. It is NOT a pulled muscle, pinched nerve, or a product of my imagination. Just because your friend's sister's cousin's aunt's husband's nephew's girlfriend had AMAZING results with ground up bat droppings made into a poultice and applied to their feet on the evening of the first full moon does NOT mean that a) it would work for ME and b) that I'm going to rush out and gather bat droppings. I am under the care of NO LESS than five freaking doctors at the moment. I'm willing to bet that if bat droppings had any medicinal affect, ONE of the 5 would have heard of it. So stop already.

DO NOT tell me how horrible my life is, and then ask breathlessly for details. My medical situation, history, and proposed treatment is simply none of your business. If it were, I would tell you. Heck, if I thought it would actually HELP me to talk to you, I would...but not when you're all eager and salivating for the latest news just so you have something to talk to your friends and family about.

And another thing. DO NOT tell me how there are children dying of cancer, managing disabilities, pain, etc and doing it far better than I am. This is MY personal struggle, MY battle, and I quite frankly don't give a fuzzy rat's behind how I rate in your personal view. Poor lil Jimmy is just a breathing head, drags himself across the ground with his front teeth, how dare I complain? Well, good for Jimmy. I don't care. I get to moan, whine, and gnash my teeth if I so desire, BECAUSE this is MY life. Attempting to guilt me, manipulate my emotions doesn't work. So just back the heck off.

I don't have booze or chocolate. Consider yourself WARNED.

And if you still have the need to tell me about some mythical treatment, or children who are having their limbs ripped off an inch at a time by maggots, I sincerely hope you get something large and unwieldy stuffed in a body oriface. Repeatedly.

And to those who will feel compelled to point out, "They were only trying to help!" Please, just don't. Help doesn't guilt. Help doesn't invalidate, manipulate, or leave you feeling like absolute crap BECAUSE you hurt.

Actual Conversations At The Stepford House

I'm pretty sure 'normal' families don't have conversations like this.

Wolf: Women are malicious. Men will just kill you, but women want to watch you suffer...preferably for years.

Me: Name one thing I've ever deliberately done to cause you pain.

Wolf: *grins*

Me: MARRYING you does NOT count!

****
(Bedtime for Tazzie)

Taz: Uh oh

Me: What?

Taz: I stink

Me: What?!

Taz: I farted. I can't sleep, its stinky *starts flapping his blankets*

Me: *just about gagging* Too bad, you made it, you sleep in it.

Five minutes later:

Taz: Woof! Woof! I'm a dog!

Me: ok, night puppy...*puts glass of water on his headboard*

Taz: Woof! Woof! Puppies need a bowl, not a cup! Woof! Woof!

Me: You can use the cup.

Taz: Woof! I don't gots thumbs! Puppies can't hold cups! Need a bowl! Woof!

Me: Then when you get thirsty, you'll have to change back into a boy. G'night!

Taz: *starts crawling out of his room, 'woofing' and wiggling his butt.

Me: Puppies don't have thumbs, so they can't play xbox tomorrow. And little boys that get out of bed can't play either.

Taz: *runs back into his room*

Honestly, this can't be normal. Can it? For the record, Taz has been an issue to get to bed lately. I don't doubt that he saved his gas emissions all day just to try and use gas warfare as a delay bedtime technique. And no thumbs? Ok, so I've told the cat that since he didn't have thumbs he didn't get his choice of seats in the livingroom, but oy!

My Children Are Weird

Ok, that comes as no big shock to anyone that's ever read my blog, but honestly, their weirdness (or as Wolf prefers, 'uniqueness') is getting outta hand.

For one thing, we have a cat, Jack. ONE cat. Honest.

But there are times that you'd be hard pressed to tell. Both Taz and The Princess have issues with feline behaviour these days. Crawling around, meowing, and getting quite ticked if they're not petted. Princess was found playing in the kitty litter (it was clean, people, just changed!) and told that kitty litter wasn't for little girls, and removed...to which she immediately crawled back, meowing and acting like a cat...and attempt to play in the litter again. *sigh* She also does the head butt and rub against your face. I'm not sure who'll need therapy first, her or I.

Then there's this am. Princess, the whack a doo she is, LOVES R**e Kr**pies. (* are to ensure I don't get busted for any copy right infringement) Give her the choice of sugary goodness and the RK, she goes for the RK. I *said* she was a whack a doo, didn't I? I don't make this stuff up, folks.

ANYWAYS...she found the box of RK. Wolf buys it pretty much just for her, since the other kids have long since figured out the magic powers of sugar. She proceeds to pour some onto a plate, and LICK it up. Yeah, cat behaviour strikes again. So, being the (lazy/permissive/indulgent/awesome) Mommy I am, I indulge her creativity, and simply remove the box of cereal to prevent a larger mess. Until she starts using it as confetti, and apparently pretending she's at a wedding.

Which leads me to Tazzie. The child BEGGED to vacuum the mess. Seriously, folks. "Pleeeeeeassseee, Mommy, pleeeaaassseee!!! I wanna vaccuum!"

What, oh WHAT was I to do?

Plugged in the vacuum, handed him the hose and sat down with a coffee, that's what!

Now...if I can only convince them that housework is fun, I could have my own set of slaves....er...helpers!

Here I Go Again...

*sigh*

Wouldn't it be nice if I could pick something and just bloody well stick with it? God knows that Wolf would be overjoyed if I could, lmao!

Writing. Here I go again. I picked up a free copy of Writers Guide 2005 from a fellow homeschooler and freecycler. (Or rather, Wolf did on my behalf). I've been totally off my game in every creative pursuit. Haven't done a new design for my shop in God knows when, probably close to a year. Signed up for NaNoWriMo again this year, didn't write a single freaking word. Something about being disabled, chronic pain, and a wee bit depressed as a result has sucked all the creativity out of me. Add on to that my always present fear of success, and its a sloth inducing stew of crapola.

BUT...enough is enough, dontcha think?

So, I've set myself some goals. I need to get off my butt and actually work this writing thing. Maybe it'll be successful, maybe it won't, but bloody Hades, its time to honestly work it. I'm tired of the what ifs, the maybes, the fears and hesitations. I'm talking myself into the business headspace of it. Look at it as a business gig, not a personal emotionally invested "they hate me, I'm not good enough, who do I think I am to even submit to a publisher, I suck and am unworthy and even if they did accept something, they'd want more, and of course it would only be a fluke the first time" mindspace. (Thanks Spawn, for that.)

First order of biz...Short story contest, deadline Jan 30. 6000 words or less. Allowed to submit more than once.

Pray, vibe, whatever you will, I'd appreciate it.

Momma needs a new career, cause health care just aint ever gonna happen.

Gettin Schooled

Tazzie kills me.

We were working on letter recognition today, with wood pieces and letter cards (like a puzzle, the letter cards show you the shape, and you use the wood pieces to make the letter).

Taz was starting to get bored, so I picked up a letter card and pretended to not know how to do it...so he announced he would show me. He did, turned to me and asked, "Do you get it now?" *snicker*

We finished off the alphabet, and he announces to me, "Imma good teature! I fink you learned enough now. I teach you more later, k?"

I guess Momma got schooled!

Holiday Traditions?!?

Ok, so was asked recently about any Christmas traditions...and initially I thought, "What?! I'm supposed to have traditions? Oh crap..."

But, I've been thinking about this, and a tradition is just something you do every year, right? If so...

1) Put the tree up
I curse and swear under my breath while putting the tree together. Bending all the branches this way and that. Wolf takes children and disappears until its done, so the children don't get a very different idea of what 'fa la la la la' really means. They emerge after lights are on, and procede to decorate the tree. Wolf hoists a kid up to put the angel on.

Grab tree from falling over as kid puts said angel on.

Spend rest of season chasing little people away from attempting to climb tree.

2) Bake cookies. Usually twice before Christmas, since I live with Not Me, who chows down every cookie in the house prior to Christmas.

3) Christmas Eve: wrap gifts. Run out of paper. Go rummaging around, certain that I bought more...paper, gifts, whatever, always that feeling I forgot something. Stay up til some unholy hour, putting gifts under tree/putting gifts together/wrapping/wait for littles to fall asleep.

Fall into bed exhausted.

Eyes fly open at the brink of sleep with the realization of a) what I forgot to put under the tree or b) Santa forgot to eat cookies and drink milk.

4) Christmas am: Assemble blearily around tree. Watch zombie like as everyone opens gifts. Start turkey. Make breakfast. Disappear for nap.

Hows that for traditions?

Blog Award?!

I've gotten tagged. Uh oh. Apparently, I'm liked enough to have gotten a blog award...and am to nominate other bloggers.

Only problem is, I tend to be self absorbed when it comes to this blogging thing. I know, I know, BAD Domestic Goddess! BAD!!! Truth be told, I tend to blog and run. I read other blogs, but rarely have anything to contribute, so mosey along.

But, in the interest of fairness, and keeping the award show running, I'm gonna nominate 2 blogs that haven't been covered by the person who gave it to me.

http://psalm4610-bestill.blogspot.com/ - Be Still And Know...good friend of mine, who seems to be leading the way for me in so many ways...

http://www.janefay.blogspot.com/ - Jane is an incredible writer, able to balance humour and the profound. I wanna grow up to be Jane.

Ps...this is also the first time that I've added an image to my blog.

Oh, and I'm also supposed to include the link of the blog that nominated me, so here it is:

http://lifesacallingwhoisthis.blogspot.com/

So, everyone nominated, c&p the butterfly, nominate others, and chuck my link in...keep it rollin, rollin, rollin...

Get Found, Kid

Friend of mine's blog inspired this...

She was talking about hiding from people, emotionally, and her struggle to get past it.

Reminded me of an essay in the book, "All I Need To Know I Learned In Kindergarten" by Robert Fulghum, one of my all time favourite authors. In this particular essay, he talks about how grown ups play hide and seek like kids do, but we do it with our true selves, our emotions, our hearts.

And its true, isn't it.

I just had a chat with Wolf last night. Although, 'chat' might be a bit of a misnomer. I talked, I cried, he listened.

I've been playing Hide and Seek, you see. I've been hiding not only from my husband, but from myself. The only people I'm even remotely honest with are my Drs, because they have to know exactly where I'm at. Well, and a good friend of mine tends to see more than anyone else.

I've been trying to protect my husband. He gets so frustrated and upset with the fact that I'm hurting and he can't do squat about it. Its shaken the foundation of our marriage.

See, every marriage has its bargin. Spoken or not. Everyone has their roles to play, as it were. For us, my dh needed a wife/mother. I knew it, accepted it, and embraced it in many ways. I was the strong one, emotionally. His anchor. I smoothed the way as best I could, carrying the stress and burdens so that he didn't have to. He worked, I carried. And it worked for us.

I'm not complaining at all, don't get me wrong. Like I said, it worked.

Until now.

Until I'm unable to make this better. I can't protect him, and worry about him, when I'm drowning myself. Drowning in denial, refusing to think of the future, worrying about being able to tend to my responsibilities as a wife and mother. So now, we need to reshuffle our roles. I need him to lie to me once in a while, tell me everything will be fine, even knowing that he can't guarantee that.

Hiding is something we learn on our way to adulthood. Fear guides us. Those that know our vulnerabilities have power in our lives.

But sometimes...our vulnerabilities being hidden hurts beyond measure.

So to those hiding, I'm calling out.

Olly Olly Oxen Free!

Get found, Kid. Get found.

Ganglion Block, CRPS Spreading...

Ok, gonna keep this short. Forget sweet.

Ganglion block was successful, in that it did alleviate some of the pain in my right arm/hand.

It took away enough pain for me to feel the spread of CRPS in my left.

Specialist I saw today can't officially dx the spread, as it isn't turning colour yet, but the sensations are the same.

woo.

Tomorrow, 7am

Ganglion block is tomorrow at 7am. I don't want to go, I don't want to get a needle in the neck...I don't want to take this last bet yet.

And that's exactly what this is. This is the last chance for any sort of pain relief, recovery, the whole shebang.

All riding on tomorrow.

For someone that's had every potential possibility not do squat, who has negative results with anestetic, I'm more than a little freaked.

*sips a rye and coke*

Thankfully, a liberal application of...nummy drink goodness is calming me down. Yeah, 'calming', thats it. :oP

Hey, I figure if they kill me off tomorrow, at least I'll have had a good night before, right?

And yeah, its unlikely they'll kill me. Whole boatload of stuff that COULD go wrong, and dying is on the list, but thats a bit more unlikely than ending up with right sided paralysis.

Woo.

I need more rye, and to quit trying to look at the positive side of life.

I'm ALIVE

Yeah, you were probably having some doubts. Bad Domestic Goddess! Bad!!

So I'm not a daily blogger. Probably part of the whole, "Not a Stepford Wife" thing.

Things have been just a WEE bit chaotic around here. Being sent out of town by WCB to go for an independant medical assessment, being told that according to the IMA, I can work sedintary, pain specialist saying no, going for a ganglion block on Tues (google it, its not a fun thing, and I'm scared spitless), migraines out the wazoo, more Dr appts, pain, blah blah blah. Kinda the old, "same crap, different day" situation.

Wolf and I are managing in our own ways. Sorta. He's off work right now, due to WCB saying that they want me in a day program...then their Dr saying not until after the ganglion block. Still got a call from my work that am though, which was really interesting...I'm not approved for physio, etc, but for work? How does that happen? Or is it, as I suspect, that the case mgr called my work before even hearing from her own WCB Dr? I'll find out on Monday, probably. Likely with being told I'm 'non-compliant' for not returning to work...Did I mention the pain specialist says no? Yeah, its a cluster hump.

In other news...

We got wind of a 5 bdrm house on 5 acres that was available for rent. Wolf says if we get the house, we're starting the adoption/fostering process. Haven't heard anything about the house since, so don't know if its still available, etc, so no real progress there. *shrug* I'm of the mindset that what will be, will be, and all the fussing and stressing and gnashing my teeth over it won't do a darn thing.

Some would say that's an unusually healthy attitude for me to have, others would start to worry if I'm losing my will to live. I won't vote at this point :oP

Oh, did I mention we had the stomach flu go 'round? Yup. Word to the wise: 3.5 yo boys are NOT to be trusted when they have the flu. Sure, they're running around like crazy, etc...but its just to lull you into a false sense of security before they woof all over your toes. Bare toes at that. I only wish I were kidding.

I signed up for NaNoWriMo again...but haven't written squat. Just don't have the spark for it. And, the whole CRPS thing doesn't lend itself well to typing for long.

Just a ramble to let everyone know I haven't croaked, still around...I won't give promises as to the next blog, cause I can't be trusted to keep them. :oP

Officially On Hold

I got some news yesterday that I've been mulling over, trying to decide how I feel about it.

I was talking to our Family and Children's Services, about attending information night, their info pkg, etc. I asked if my injury/disability would prevent us from adopting/foster to adopt. (I was working as a nursing attendant, assaulted by a resident, and now have about 10-15% use of my dominant hand/arm and chronic pain). She asked, "Does it keep you from parenting the children you have now?" "No, of course not!" "Well then, why would it keep you from parenting an adopted child? It wouldn't have any bearing on your case."

So that was great news But...they have a rule that states that you must wait one year from a traumatic injury or illness...and this definately falls under that. Losing use of my dominant arm, and therefore my career, my future career (was planning to get my LPN) would most certainly mean 'traumatic'. So, we cannot proceed until at least June of 09. In some ways, that was really upsetting, then the more I thought about it, the more I was able to see some positive in it. I'd been feeling weighed down with guilt over our hesitation to start the process. My husband wants to wait until we have a larger home, and things are more settled with Workers Compensation. I was of the mindset that there's never a 'perfect' time, and either we'd get approved as we are, or we wouldn't, but at least we'd know, and there was a strong likelihood that we would be approved, so why wait?

So, now the pressure is off in that sense. Dh and I have been talking more about adoption, and leaning towards a younger child than the one we'd initially seen in the photo listing site. We can use this time to work on our mental 'to do' lists, and increase our confidence in ourselves, and ability to meet what ever standards and tests may be involved with the adoption process, and have time for the compensation issue to be sorted out.

So, its bittersweet, but I'm viewing it as a gift of time, as opposed to a negative, or closed door. I'd still rather 'go go go get it done!' because that's my personality, but I guess this is another chance to learn paitence. Paitence is definately NOT one of my many virtues!

Bragging On The Boys

Wolf and I had been talking on Sunday about how badly things were getting to me. Friday was just hell, and the stupid driver was the icing on a poisoned cake at that point. Saturday, I went to see the psychologist for the first time which was emotional, and Sunday, Jack went MIA.

I told my husband, "I need something GOOD to happen." Wolf replied, "I didn't realize we were in a bad place."

I explained to him that *we* aren't, but that I'm just feeling overwhelmed, drained, tired, frayed. He went to bed shortly after, and before I went to bed, Jack came home, so that definately lifted my spirits. I felt like that was the good thing I'd needed.

Anyways, Wolf comes home yesterday with a bunch of red carnations. I thanked him happily, but was puzzled. The only time he's ever brought flowers home before was on my birthday or our anniversary. Before I could ask, he said, "You said you needed something good to happen...I thought maybe this would work."
Its those kinda moments that mean so much.

**************
Taz, 3.5 read Wolf a bedtime story last night. He's reading more and more, I'm just so stinkin proud of him! He read the book, grinned at Wolf and announced, "I'm AWESOME!" lmao!

Depressed

Its been a heck of a weekend. Started Friday.

Diva had an art class at the Gallery. It was a challenge for me, managing both the littles downtown, esp attempting to push a stroller. By the time her class was done, I was in a lot of pain, and grateful to be on the bus home.
Princess started to cry, loudly. Bus driver turned around and snapped, "That's enough, I don't put up with that on my bus!" I get her quieted, and all is good, right?
Wrong.
Princess does this...'singing'. That's what she's attempting to do, I don't know how it sounds to someone that doesn't know her...but its a happy sound...and 'ahhhh'...but she is loud for a bus. I'm trying to whisper to her, distract her, every trick I know to get her to use her inside voice. It works for a bit, and then she starts her singing again. The bus driver pulls over, and demands that I "do something about her!" I explained, "She's only two." "I don't care. Pick her up!"
I can feel the heat crawling up my face, and my eyes fill with tears as I'm forced to admit to a bus driver, and passengers, that I'm physically unable to pick up my toddler from her stroller. "I can't, I only have one working arm."
"Only one working arm?! Are you serious?!" he asked, like I was trying to scam him. At this point, I'm ready to burst into tears. I've just had to publicly announce that I'm freaking disabled, and he's treating me like I'm making it up. He then tells me, "Well, pay attention to her or something, but that's enough of that!"
We got off the bus as soon as we could. Princess passed out about 10 mins after he had pulled over. She wasn't screaming, she wasn't crying, she wasn't throwing a tantrum...she was singing, "Ahhhhh...ahhhhhh..."
And I was in freaking tears. Overreacted? Yeah, probably. But felt totally humiliated and useless and physically hurt a lot. I did email a complaint to ETS, so its under investigation.

Then, today...Jack the Cat escaped this am. Hasn't been seen since. And then discovered that WCB wanting me to go out of town for an independant medical assessment means that I'm going to miss trick or treating with my kids, since I won't get home on the bus til 630 or so...and then have to bus it from downtown.

Don't even get me started on my fears regarding travelling alone by Greyhound.

I want some control over my life back.

Breaking My Heart

Every now and then something is said...carelessly, usually in a brief moment of frustration/upset/anger...something that would never be said 'just that way' or even at all that echoes in the mind and heart.

Had a moment with Wolf like that this eve.

Was relating a convo I had with Diva. She'd brought it up all on her own, about fostering/adopting. We talked about the concerns Wolf had (she asked why Daddy didn't want to yet) about time with the kids...one more kid means less time to spend with the ones we already have. She said, (bless her loving heart) that she would be ok with that, that this is something important to do, that every kid deserves a home where they're loved, and she wouldn't ever be so selfish as to not want to share us with a child that needs good parents so bad.

I love that kid.

Anyways, Wolf basically reacted like I cornered him with a bat. Spouted off a few ill chosen sentances, and stomped away.

He apologized later, and I told him I didn't care, I give up.

It breaks my heart. It breaks my heart that at the moment, my husband is more than content to sit on the sidelines and let someone else worry about these parentless children, these young souls so badly in need of permanency, of love, of home, of healing.

It breaks my heart that we're sitting back and becoming one of the apathetic masses. While my heart most definately is NOT of the attitude, "Hey, not my kid, not my problem." our actions say it anyways. Or rather, our inactions.

If you're not part of the solution, you're part of the problem. BE the change you want to see in the world. I believe these things utterly and completely.

And somewhere, tonight, every night, there is a child that prays for a family, whose prayer goes unanswered.

Wolf, The Tool

My husband is a tool. God love him, someone's got to, and apparently he's part of my lesson in paitence. *sigh* But, along the way, we do get some laughs...ok, a lot of them, and its probably what keeps us going. Even if I wanna kill him first, and laugh second. Here's a perfect example:

Grabbed At Safeway

Kids and I went to Safeway to pick up bread and a few odds and ends. Diva and Taz went to the washroom, and I was in the dairy aisle.

Caught movement out the corner of my eye, and suddenly my butt's grabbed! I yelped, whirling around, raising my knee to plant in the offenders package.

There stood my idiot husband, at a safe distance, snickering. Bugger had finished work early, and headed to pick up bread for home. I called him a few choice names and then collapsed on the edge of the case.

I was somewhat impressed that my first reaction was a knee plant.

The woman who watched it all go down had a good chuckle.
****
And then, as we're snuggling down for sleep, he mentions a conversation he had with an xray tech last week...

Wolf: So, as she was putting that lead thingie over my package, I asked her, "If you leave that off, would I still need a vasectomy?"
Tech: "Yes"
Wolf: I was rather bummed by that. Thought it could be one stop shopping.

Giggling yourself to sleep is a good thing.

Ok, Election Results

So, I suck as a political pundit. None of my predictions came true...which proves one point. Common sense and politics don't mix.

Droid won another minority, with more seats. I got that part right.

Unfortunately, Canadians voted more for WhatsHisFaceThatCan'tEvenSpeakEnglish than for the 'Stache. Don't ask me how or why, but they did.

Another four years of Droidship.

The only bright light on the horizon is if Obama wins in the States. Droid won't know how to kiss his butt...Obama is too common sense and real, not an aristocrat with no clue of the average person.

Election Day Canada

Much to the shock of American counterparts, our election day has arrived. They can't believe that we can call and hold an election in about a month. I can't figure out how or why their process takes a year...is it a plot to bore the average American voter into a coma?

ANYWAYS...

We have three major political parties in Canada. (No, I'm not including the Green Party at this point. I said 'major', people. When I saw the leader of the GP on the english debates, I honestly thought that it was a regular person of the street brought in to heckle. I still haven't figured out how the heck she got included. Pouting and whining, apparently)

For those not aware, let me give you a briefing on the candidates.

The Android: current PM of Canada. So arrogant that he didn't even have an economic plan in his election campaign. Honestly, he's so incredibly out of touch that its frightening.

Commments include: "Canadians aren't worried about their jobs." and "Its a good time to invest in the stockmarket"

Crowning achievements: Taxing income trusts, leaving many seniors losing a huge chunk of their income...after promising that they would remain tax free of course. Also, kissing GWB heinie.

Potential upside: If the States elect Obama, it would be interesting to watch the Droid deal...but if they elect McCain, we're all screwed.

Potential Downside: This arrogant piece of furniture for another 4 yrs? We can't afford that as a country.

WhatsHisFaceThatCan'tEvenSpeakEnglish (WHFTCESE): Leader of the Official Opposition

Crowning Achievements: Managing to become a party leader, speaking only ONE of the official languages fluently. Unfortunately, not the one spoken by the majority of the country as a first language. This implies that he has some sort of hypnotic charisma that doesn't translate through the TV, or knows where a lot of bodies are buried. No clue what he's done as leader of the OO. That leads me to believe, not a whole heck of a lot...which is quite dangerous considering its his job to OPPOSE.

Potential Upside: None that I can see.

Potential Downside: Uh, we need a PM that can speak our languages. Especially when it comes to Foreign Relations. This yahoo would end up having us bombed or something with his brilliant command of english.

The 'Stache: Leader of NDP.

Crowning Achievements: Has made the NDP a serious contender in this election. Granted, not as huge an accomplishment considering his opponents, but one to be nodded to anyways. Strongest candidate, with an actual emotional capacity AND command of both languages. I may have my first Politician Crush on that basis alone. (Did I mention how pathetic the opponents are? No offence, Mr. Layton, but I'm not a Politician Crush kinda gal). Also wins 'Best Line Of The English Debate Award' : (to WHFTCESE) "You can't do your job as Leader of the Opposition. I don't know what you're doing running for Prime Minister."

Potential Upside: NDP government, with their spending on social programs is needed to heal after The Android.

Potential Downside: Can't see a majority happening.

Ok, so where's that leave us? I have two potential forecasts.

One: Canadians are lobotomized, and re-elect The Droid, for another minority. The Stache and crew become The Opposition Party. WHFTCESE is in 3rd, wondering what the heck happened.

Two: NDP wins a minority government. Droid takes 2nd. 3rd remains the same. Droid throws a hissy, and calls a non-confidence vote asap, believing in his complete arrogance that Canadians were only joking. A 2nd election leads to an NDP majority, with Canadians giving the Droid the synchronized bird.

I can hope...

Thanksgiving

Ok, so this blog is a day late at the Stepford Home, but I was a weeeeee bit busy yesterday, what with the turkey stuffing, roasting, etc.

Yes, to all the Non-Canadians out there, today is Thanksgiving here in the Frozen Tundra. I did dinner yesterday, so we could relax today.

Dinner was yummy. I'm becoming a serious devotee of Ree, the Pioneer Woman. If you haven't the foggiest who or what I'm talking about, go here. Fair warning, this is no low fat sissy crap food. This is a pack on the pounds in a completely delightful dancing tastebud kinda food. I did the mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes recipe from there last night. Heavenly! Oh, and a word of warning...her sheet cake is addictive. Completely. I refuse to make it more than every 2-3 months, otherwise we wouldn't fit through doors.

Ok, so now that I've done my part to create new Pioneer Woman Addicts, on with the show, right?

Food was wonderful, had the single neighbour guy over...I take pity every now and then, and invite him for supper. As the stereotypical bach goes, he rarely cooks for himself, eats out constantly, and honestly, he's gettin kinda scrawny. Wolf enjoys his company, and I think, if truth be told, Wolf also enjoys showing off. The wife that can cook, the kids who adore him, etc. He may not have a sports car or disposable income that allows him to golf every wknd like the NSG, but he's got a wife that can cook just about anything, and for single guys, apparently that's a skill that rates higher than the bedroom. Who knew?

I've always said that married men live longer cause they don't eat their own cooking.

So, down to the heart of the matter. What am I thankful for?

Well, I'm thankful for my family. Duh. Wolf had a trip to the ER this week, and thank God he's fine and well, its some muscles in his back causing issues. I'm thankful for my children. I'm so sorry to them that I haven't always been the mother they deserved, especially in my single parent days, but I take heart in knowing that yes, I'm a far better mother NOW, and that I try every day to be better than yesterday.

I realized last night that every moment of joy in my life that meant anything was because of my husband and children. And I am so eternally thankful for that.

I'm thankful for my friends, the ones that KNOW me, and that they still stick around. I only hope that I can give as much as they have.

I'm thankful for the strengthening of my faith, and learning to know and love and accept God and Christ in ways I didn't know of before.

And I'll be incredibly grateful and thankful if next year sees another face at my table for Thanksgiving.

Voice Of Grace

Talked to my good friend J tonight. As usual, she's the voice of Grace I so often need.

Talking to her always clarifies things. She has a blog named Be Still And Know...and that's what she always helps me to do. She tunes out the background static, and helps me to focus. Not that she dispenses pithy quotes, channels God and answers all my questions, but she helps.

Long talk this eve about fostering/adopting. She spoke of how Joseph was given a dream that he would be ruler over his brothers, that they would bow before him...and that it took twelve years for that to come to pass. That God may give a calling, may put a path in your heart, but that doesn't mean its going to happen rightthisverynow.

Patience is NOT one of my many virtues, but it seems God is insistant I learn it. *sigh*

There are a lot of things I need to do to get my house in order. I am making the commitment, with all of you as my witnesses, that I begin tomorrow morning. My preparations will only bless my family. I need to work on my many flaws (yes, patience is one of them...gee, are we seeing a theme?) and I know that addressing these will only bless my husband and children.

J also points out that if God wanted us to do this right now, Wolf would also be feeling this overwhelming desire...and he's not. Its not that he rejects the idea of fostering or adopting...but says, 'Not now'. J says that as the husband, and head of the family, I need to accept his view, and accept that God wouldn't call just one of us for an obviously two person job.

I don't do the whole, "He's the head of the house, follow him" thing well. At all. J, if you start talking about another thing to learn and accept, I may kick you in the shins :-P

J is right...as she often is. I need to concentrate on my house first...then see whats next in store.

I know I'm not meant to foster this week. I know its not even this year, probably not the next...although I'm not so certain of that one. I get the feeling that this is coming at me like a freight train, and I'd better get my butt in gear, because there's no delaying this trip. Perhaps thats where the jittery comes from...knowing, or suspecting that this isn't as far in the future as it once was, that its time to buckle down and seriously get to work on what needs doing.

And it starts with being the best steward of the gifts I've been given already...my husband and children. I'm not a bad wife or mother...but there's always room for Jello...errrr...I mean improvement. That includes settling the situation with this stupid arm too.

And so...it begins. I'll never be a Stepford Wife...but I need to let go of some things. Let go of the idea I have sometimes that 'I can't...' because I'm not 'that kind of woman'. I can embrace some traditional things that I've longed to, but denied for fear of ridicule, or it not agreeing with the facade that so many people believe to actually be me.

I was saying to Wolf last night that I'm becoming a 'Granola Mom'. That's the term I used to describe women that are very Earth Motherish...always seem to have it together, children are wonderful, house is lovely, they're laid back and serene...well, more so than I am, anyways :-P Reality of it is, I envied those women I called 'Granola'. I wanted whatever secret they have. I envy the quiet strength, the surety, the ability to follow what they know to be right without arguement, justification or strife...just smile and nod while going on doing what they knew to be right. Now, I'm not so naive as to think that they didn't mentally flip someone the bird, but they didn't give negativity power. That's who I want to be.

And it starts now. Tomorrow is a new day, a new blessing...and I intend to start living that blessing, grab it with both hands and do my very very best to not go to bed tomorrow night wishing that I had done more, spoke sweeter, been less impatient.

I'm not insane. I don't expect all to magically wonderously fall into place in a day...but for the first time, I KNOW who I'm choosing to be, I KNOW who I'm meant to be.

And I'm taking God's hand to lead me, to guide me, to support me in this change.

God Bless.

Interesting Dream...

Had an interesting dream as I was waking up this am. I say as I was waking up, because even as I was getting out of bed, my brain was still continuing a convo from the dream.

In the dream, I was adopting the sibling group that I've been thinking about...and yep, somehow came into enough money to get a large enough house to do so.

I sit here and wonder...is that just me fantasizing, or is it some sort of message I should be paying attention to?

I've been praying...a lot. Praying that if this is the path I am meant to walk, that some way is found for us to walk it. That some how we know, for SURE that its meant to be, and that our way is cleared in terms of housing to accomplish it. As a friend often tells me, nothing is impossible for God...and that He doesn't call the equipped, He equips the called. I keep reminding myself of this...while my heart aches for four children in foster care, wanting a family of their own.

I know the statistics. I know that the ages of these children make adoption placements difficult, even if they were 'single adoptions'. The fact that they're a sibling group of 4 makes it near impossible. As prideful as it sounds, in my heart I feel like we're if not the only, one of the only shots these kids may have of being adopted together. I know, I know...pride. And once again, nothing is impossible for God. If He wants these children in a family, then it will happen, regardless of my fears, yearnings, desires. We may not be the family for these children. We may not be a family for any of these children that my heart aches for, we may not even be meant to foster.

I can deal with yes, or no. Its the 'maybe' that makes me a wee bit nutty. I just wish God would let me in on His plans for us somehow, so that we can better walk the path that He has set for us.

Aimless

I feel like a dandelion seed, tumbling wherever the wind sends me, without any hope of guidance or control over my path or destination.

Everything in my life hinges on decisions made for me, about me, by others who don't have the first foggiest clue as to who I am as a person, but just a case file. I feel like my humanity, my life is being reduced to pieces of paper, statistics, and what someone else thinks should be happening, working, whatever.

It looks like PT is rapidly coming to an end. No improvements = waste of time and resources. My fear is, how much WORSE is it going to get without PT? Is PT stopping it from getting completely out of control? Or is it simply a placebo? According to the research my PT gave me last night, there is absolutely no rhyme or reason for recovery...or non recovery. No time line. Either you recover, or you don't. Yay. I seem to be fitting in the 'don't' category.

So, I have an appt for a pain clinic on the 8th. Consultation. See what if anything they suggest, because my migraines are increasing in frequency and intensity...and that's got to be somehow related to this CRPS. Lack of sleep, stress of chronic pain, whatever.

Its all completely frustrating.

So, We Know What We Want...

So, Wolf and I were talking last night (we do that a fair bit...yammer away at each other, esp once the kids are in bed. And we even LISTEN when the other talks. We rock, lol!)

We've picked out a house. Eight bedrooms, ten bathrooms. 16 acres.

We've (ok, more ME) have fallen in love with a sibling group of 4 kids. One boy, 3 girls, ranging in age from 10 to 4.

Now...all we have to do is win the lotto to pay for all of this.

We're definately an odd pair. Most people dream of winning the lotto to go on exotic vacations, buy huge houses, designer clothes, elite vehicles. The only reason we want the house we do is to accomodate seven children, lmao!

Yup, we're odd...and obviously well matched.

Chaos

That pretty much sum up my life, in a single word. Chaos. If its not children howling at each other, its something else...but most often, children howling, lol!

Diva and Taz have discovered the 'joys' of sibling rivalry, teasing, and torment. I'm reasonably sure that the UN would probably arrest them for war crimes if they ever happened by, because they're just rotten with each other at times. Taz is into copying Diva, which makes her head spin and spit green soup. Diva, being older, simply teases the crap out of him.

I'm going to start some warfare of my own. Handholding. If they can't be nice to each other, they'll be tethered to one another. The downside of this is, it'll turn them into partners against 'evil'...namely me. I'm not sure I can survive both of them plotting against me.

And can I tell you...housework. Blech. Trying to just get the kids to pick up after themselves is a whole issue unto itself. Currently, Taz still hasn't picked up his cereal bowl and spoon from breakfast, and Momma has drawn the line...no lunch until its in the sink.

There are days like this when I think of my desire to foster/adopt and wonder what in the name of Heaven makes me think that I can do that, when I feel like I'm barely managing my own kids. Shouldn't I be a 'perfect' parent in order to try and parent another's child?

On another note...WCB called yesterday. Wanted to know if I'd sorted out my 'daycare' issues yet. Called back via customer service and stated that its not a daycare issue, its a homeschooling issue. Then called my lawyer. Should be interesting. My physio therapist has now backed off considerably on his, "Everything will be perfectly fine, purple unicorns fart sparkly rainbows, and you will be healed..." standpoint. He kept talking about 'possibilities' last night, and I finally said, "Its possible that Santa may show up for dinner too, but its not very probable. Can I get a REALISTIC idea of what I'm looking at here?" to which he mumbled something about doing more research for me, etc. So basically, he has no clue, and the reality of it seems to be that the most I can hope for in terms of 'recovery' is a reduction in pain, and an increase (somewhat) of range of motion. I don't like hearing it, but at least if that's the reality, I have to live with, I can start trying to accept it, as opposed to being completely frustrated at the complete lack of positive results after months of physio.

I wish WCB would just get around to writing me off like a damaged car. Jumping through hoops that have absolutely no benefit is rapidly getting old. If there was a way to go back to work, I'd jump at it...but I just don't see it. So, write me off already, and let me get on with adjusting to my life.

Course, nothings ever that easy.

Shopping, Date Night, Animals, Birthday, Social Workers...

Hows that for a title, lmao!

So, its been a heck of a time, the last 4 days or so. Friday, I went to an electronics store, I'd gotten a flyer that they had stuff on mega cheap, and our camera had died. On impulse, I applied for a credit card, fully expecting to be rejected...but I was approved! I'm now the proud owner of a Canon camera and a Canon dvd camcorder. Unfortunately, I had to come face to face with my disability and realize that the Canon Rebel that I want so bad I cannot physically manage at this point.

Then Saturday, I was sent out on Mission Impossible, aka clothes shopping. I actually managed to find some things that I loved and looked good in, including an outfit for tonight! A royal purple tunic sweater, black leggings, and I succumbed to temptation and got myself this wonderfully soft grey knitted shawl/poncho thingie to go over it, since I don't have a spring jacket (Additon Elle having a 40% off 2nd item is a dangerous thing for me. I actually feel GOOD shopping there, and their clothes make me both feel and look pretty!)...and realized quickly that I needed boots to go with. Running shoes or sandals just weren't going to cut it. So, 5 minutes before the stores close, I get a pair of black dress boots. Yay me!!!

So, get home, shower, get ready. Alls well...until I go to put on the 2nd boot. I came home with two LEFT boots! Could only happen to me, lmfao! We went on our date, talked about fostering amongst other things.

Then Sunday, we picked up The Princess' early birthday gift. Its really for the entire family, but Princess is absolutley nuts about cats. So now we have Jack, a bengal/coon mix...or so they think at the rescue. I mean, unless you're dealing with a breeder, who the heck really knows?

Which brings us to yesterday. The Princess turned two! And, we had a social worker out to the house to talk about us becoming foster parents. Found out that we'd have some minor repairs to do around the house, lock up all meds and chemicals (including shaving cream!), what classes we'd need, the application process...and when all of that is done, they'd be looking to place a boy with us Taz' age, so that they could share a room.

We haven't decided if we're going to pursue this right now, or wait until we're in a larger place, but at least now we know the hoops needed to jump through, the classes to take, etc. We're leaning towards waiting until after WCB is done whatever it is they'll do with me, then moving. I'd hate to have to put a foster child through yet another transistion.

Oh, and to add...Taz broke a neighbour's window. Threw a pebble, and hit just the wrong way to produce a bullet hole effect. It'll wipe out our savings to repair, since its a double paned vacuum sealed dohickey, but at least we HAVE the savings to cover it. So much for my Christmas account *sob*

Its been a busy weekend!

Homeschooling

Ok, I'm more than a little frustrated/angry, so lets just get this all out in the open, shall we?

Yes, I homeschool. Yes, I will never willingly put another child in public school. Yes, I completely, totally, and utterly believe that my children are better off homeschooling than in public school. Obviously, or I wouldn't do it.

I am, however, completely tired of the knee jerk defensive reaction that our decision to homeschool our children creates in parents whose children attend public school, so lets get it all out on the table.

I don't care if you homeschool your child or not. Its got nothing at all to do with me...just as our decision to homeschool our children has nothing to do with you. So quit telling me about what my child is missing out on, because to YOU my child is missing out...to my children and myself, there's absolutely NOTHING that public school could possibly provide that we cannot at home, often in a far superior manner. I can completely tailor to my child's learning style, to their strengths and weaknesses. A teacher with 30 or so students simply cannot do that. There's not enough time in a day for them to do it. My children have social activities, more now than when Diva was in public school, and the best part is, its POSITIVE social interaction, unlike the bullying that she endured in public school. Zero Tolerance my fat tush.

When I talk about a positive thats occured during homeschooling, when I say, 'this is why I homeschool', its not a put down of anything. Its me sharing my happiness and excitement. Comments about kids being excited about going to school or comments about why you can't homeschool are completely unneccesary.

If you feel the need to defend public school, then maybe you should take a look at WHY you're so defensive, rather than take it out on someone that's chosen differently.

And A PS...

I honestly don't know if this is a 'yes, this is what is meant' or if its just me trying to find an explaination for a ridiculous event, which is what my injury was. No way it could have been predicted or prevented, and absolutely no reason that a strain/sprain/partially torn tendon should have morphed into a perm nerve condition, other than the simple fact that it can. Maybe I'm being too prideful in thinking that there's a greater good to be served by it...that it couldn't have happened 'just cause'...does that make sense to anyone? lol!

But on the upside, I've done some praying and thinking and more praying...and if nothing else, I'm going to start preparing as though this is going to happen, rather than a maybe. It can only benefit my family, the prep. Its going to be some challenge for me, putting myself out more socially, making the effort to build a 'support system' more than I have...and that's just the crap I really loathe. But, it will be good for all of us.

I'm also taking a long hard look at my flaws and faults when it comes to being a wife, mother, and hausfrau. I see where I need to improve, and that's for my family and myself.

I know its not just merely financial or housing that has Wolf leery. He's worried about ME. How much can I really handle? The fact that I've been struggling big time with depression since my diagnosis and all the crap that goes with that gives him genuine reasons to say 'no' for fear of my taking on more than I can hope to handle, let alone do well.

So...here's to self improvement, across the board. I need to prove things to me, and to him...that I'm worthy of such a gift as having another child.

Ok, quit gagging. I can be mushy ya know.

Wanting To Follow...

Ever feel drawn, compelled to do something, even though there's really no rational basis, or even a hope of it being possible or plausible?

Yeah, that's me right now.

For a long time now, I've felt the pull to foster/adopt. Problem is, Wolf does not. He feels we have our hands full with the kids we already have. Financial pressures, a lack of space...its really not doable. He's right. I know he is. But that doesn't quiet this feeling in my heart. Add in the fact that here, if you adopt a 'special needs child' (which can mean a child over 7, or a sibling group), you can receive what they call 'Supports for permenancy'...which is funding equal to full foster parent rates after adoption. So, you'd actually receive financial assistance to support the child(ren) after adopting. Which would nicely cancel out the financial concerns.

Course, we're still short a room.

*sigh*

I'm trying so hard to walk the path that I feel I'm being called to. One of my most valued friends is fond of telling me, "God doesn't call the equipped, He equips the called." I'm also more than a little concerned that my diagnosis of CRPS might make me 'unfit' for adoption.

Last night, ran across a situation where a mother had her 6 yo confide that her grandfather had touched her inappropriately. 'Mom' (I use the term loosely) decided to wait until morning to have the child seen, despite people begging her to go NOW. I was intensely angry about it (still am) and got talking to Wolf. I told him this was a perfect example of WHY I feel called to this. We could make such a difference in a child's life. We could be a blessing to a child. I told him we're good parents, despite all our flaws, and what a difference that could make to a child who so badly needs a safe and loving place to be. He agreed that we would be and do that for a child...but still isn't ready/willing to say yes.

Pray that we find the way to do what we're supposed to.

Did Ya Miss Me?

Good heavens, its been a long time since I blogged! No, I wasn't arrested and in jail, and just released on bail. Although, come to think of it, that's not a bad analogy.

I've been dealing with depression. Big shock, right? Yeah, not so much. This diagnosis of CRPS/RSD knocked me back. Trying to acclimate to the loss of normal use of my arm, to chronic pain...its been a journey that is nowhere close to ending.

But...I'd like to just ignore that for a while, and leave it outside this blog. I'll be back soon to tell about bathroom terrorism, the American election, the Canadian election, the search for Faith, homeschooling developments, and all that stuff. And never forget the marriage stuff.

I will be back...just gathering some steam and energy...and deciding what comes first.

Just wanted to let everyone know that I'm not dead...and am working my way towards the light.

Brief Update

Went and saw the PT that WCB set up, and he agrees with my GP. He saw how badly swollen my hand was, even though the discolouration wasn't anywhere near as bad at that time. My reaction to his testing further confirmed it...for him, anyways. Its the stupidest bloody thing. I haven't mentioned it because I honestly thought I was losing it, and that someone would think I was making this up...

Give you an example. With his finger tips, he stroked the outside and inside of my arm. Initially, I didn't feel much at all...kinda like my skin was a bit numb. About 5 minutes later...WHAM. Suddenly my arm was on fire, like he'd rubbed me with sand paper. I've been having this happen, and just thought I was losing it...turns out its a part of the RSD. The nerves are extremely over reactive, but the signal doesn't travel as fast as it should...if that makes any sense at all. Course, the PT doesn't carry any weight when it comes to diagnosing, that's still up to the pain specialist...and no clue how long its gonna take to get into someone. That alone could take months. Yippee. But, it is someone that is working for WCB confirming the Dx, so its another brick in the wall.

I don't think that its really set in. I just can't think of the rest of my life like this...my mind just can't grasp it. I've witnessed what chronic pain can do to a person, to their personality, to their family...I don't want that for me or mine. It scares the hell out of me...the idea that the younger two won't remember me before I was injured...that to them their mom was never 'normal'...

I just don't know.

Crying

Went and saw my GP again because I keep having really bad swelling in my hand, and it turns this delighful red/purple colour, and is icy cold. It was so bad last night that Wolf sat rubbing it, trying to get it warm, and I ended up wearing a mitten, trying to ease the cold. The pain is pretty intense when it does this...like having your hand in a snowbank, that achy/burning cold intensity.

Dr told me that its Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy, told me to look it up at home...and then told me he was really, really sorry. Yeah. Words you wanna hear, right? He told me that he wished it wasn't, and he hopes like hell he's wrong, and he's referring me to a pain specialist...but that he's seen other cases and certain its what's going on with me. He also told me that the specialist and WCB will likely ping pong me for 6 mths to a year saying it isn't before they cave and admit it is...and there's a 50% chance that it will improve...but it will never heal or go away completely.

Freaking wonderful.

Walking The Edge

Ok, yet another blog that isn't a ha ha funny, so don't say you weren't warned.

I'm struggling with my faith. Or perhaps, a more accurate statement would be that I'm struggling with my LACK of faith.

I've been feeling this prodding to get 'serious' about my beliefs...which would be fine, if I really knew in my heart what the heck they are. I believe in God. I believe that Christ was the Son of God. Then...then I get stuck. Did Christ die for our sins? Yours, sure. Mine? Uh...

What it boils down to is forgiveness, as a good friend pointed out. I don't forgive. Myself mostly...but a 2nd runner up would be my mother. I hold a lot of anger and hurt and bitterness towards her. When I say a LOT, I mean...I'm not sure who I would be without that seething and boiling inside me. When my friend J told me that I needed to forgive her, I just about hung up the phone. See, I call J as a sort of guide. She's my...expert (although she would balk and cringe at that term) on Christianity. In J I see a person I'd like to be like. While she could enumerate her shortfalls and failings and weaknesses, I see in her a loving heart, a loving mother, and loving wife. I know she struggles, but that makes her all the more loving, because she never hesitates to say, "I fell today...but I got up again." She never attempts to pretend that she's better or perfect, or anything but very human...which is why she's as strong as she is, and why I trust her implicitly...and why I turn to her with questions of faith. J never says, "Believe it, or go to HELL!" She lets me fumble my way along, sometimes patting on the back, sometimes kicking in the butt, but she's there, and its all done in love.

Writing this, I realize how hungry my heart has been for that. As much as I vow that I loathe and despise people, that I distrust them, apparently there's a part of me that so desperately longs for closeness and trust and love. Ack. How the hell did that happen, and how do I rid myself of it? Its screwing with my vision of myself as a cold hearted sneering wench. Damn it.

And I've gotten off track. It happens.

Anyways, J was talking about forgiveness. I told her, repeatedly, that I don't WANT to forgive. Not interested. I would rather die than to forgive. What happened wasn't ok, would never be ok, and I would never let go of the hurt and rage.

Part of it is, if I were to be brutally honest, is that my mother doesn't acknowlege that anything was ever wrong. She's always right, ya know. Never her fault, never her mistake, always mine. Everything she did was cause of me in one form or another. I don't want to let go, because SOMEONE needs to remember that what she did was WRONG. She's never acknowleged it. And it was wrong. Period. Forgiving is like it didn't happen, like I didn't go through what I did, that it was inconsequential, to be swept aside, to be brushed off. "Alls forgiven" lets all be loving and sharing.

No.

I can't. Forgiving means that I can't hide behind anger anymore. It means that I'm going to hurt. And hurt, and hurt and hurt. And I don't know that I can deal with that. Anger is all that holds misery at bay some days. It gives me strength.

J would argue, if she were on the phone, that God will give me strength. That God will hold the misery at bay. That the love God has for me is more than enough to make up for what my mother never did.

How do I trust Him, when I don't trust me? How do I find the faith to let go of what pitiful control I have and free fall, believing to be caught when nobody ever has?

I'm scared. I'm on the edge of something I can't see, and I know I need to take that step. I'm scared of what's in store for me. I'm scared of falling...But part of me is even MORE scared of being caught. Because then I can't hide in the shadows of ignorance anymore, and I'll have a responsibility that I don't now. I'm scared of this feeling that there's something in store for me...and I don't know what it is, but I already don't like it.

J asked me to pray tonight. She asked me to pray to want to forgive, if even only to spite her. I didn't say I would...but I don't think she noticed. I'm afraid that if I do ask, I'll be answered...and I don't know that I want that answer. I don't know if I'm ready to find out who I am without anger fuelling me. The pain, the anger, the anguish and bitterness...they're friends now. They've been with me all my life. I know them. I wrap them around me as a way to keep people at bay, to announce that I dislike people, don't trust them...so that way, I risk nothing.

I hate it when J's right. She makes me look at things I'd rather not.

*sigh*

I'll pray, J. And it will be, "She's making me. I don't want this, but I think I need it...but I really REALLY would rather not, k? So feel free to ignore it, or say no...kinda like the can I get the winning lotto ticket gig..."

Dancing Nekkid

Ok, so its time to move on to more personal matters...as in my lil heathens. I'm going to start with 'Taz'. You'll hear about him a lot. Taz is 3 years old, and, dare I say, gorgeous. Dirty blonde hair, stunning blue eyes, and eyelashes that not only are stupidly long and thick, but freaking curl. And before anyone asks, no, neither of my daughters are that blessed. God has a cruel sense of ha ha.

ANYWAYS...about Tazzie boy.

The child is a never ending whirling activity centre. And, because I must have done something really bad in my past life, like club baskets of newborn puppies, he's as smart as he is busy.

Trust me, from a mother's perspective, that's a bad baaaaaad combo. From a homeschooling mother's perspective, that's enough to cause me to daydream of kindergarten, and/or strong meds. For me, not him. Essentially, if I don't keep this child busy when concious, he'll find something to do. And, being bright, its nothing within the boringly normal antics of the average 3 year old. Nope, course not.

For starters, the lil heathen uses the puter better than Wolf. Seriously. And has taught himself to READ well enough to know which is his list of favourites, and which site is which. (I did mention that he's 3, right? Turned 3 in Feb?)

Ok, so that's part of the background.

The other part is...Taz likes being nekkid. I mean...he LIKES being nekkid. Child has no modesty, no shame, no thermostat, cause he's just as happy being nekkid in Dec as in June. Outside. Although, he does come in faster in Dec.

So, the other week, he was in the wading pool, and came in. I stripped off his wet togs, and went to get him some dry clothes from the basement. (Yes, our laundry room is down there. The 1 armed thing means there's a perfectly good excuse to live out of laundry baskets now.) As I was coming back up the stairs, I heard, "I am NEKKID! I'm NEKKID NEKKID NEKKID, singing the NEKKID SOOOOOOONG!" over and over.

I discover Taz, out on the back steps, nekkid, shaking his hips and butt all over the top step, bellowing the 'Nekkid Song' at top volume.

And of course my neighbour was in her yard.

Then there was the other night. Taz was once again in his natural state, standing in front of the fan, yelling the 'Nekkid Song' into it. (He had just discovered how weird your voice sounds when you yell into the fan). I watched him dance like he was channelling Elvis, and then looked at Wolf. See, I don't know about all the other SAHM out there, but my husband doesn't always seem to quite believe the things that happen in my day. While he laughed about Taz dancing for the neighbours, there was a sense that I must have dramatized things a bit. Watching his son do some pretzel hips, he commented, "Well...at least we know how he'll pay for college."

But He LOVES You

Seems like everywhere I turn lately, divorce and splitting up is running rampant. I guess spring isn't just a wedding season, but a divorce season too.

Cheating is still probably one of the biggest reasons for splitting up that I hear of. And it never ceases to just flat out astound me the double standard that is still alive and well when it comes to sex, marriage and infidelity.

If a woman cheats, she's a whore, a slut. She's scum, a vile betrayer of the sanctity of her marriage.

If a man cheats..."It was just sex, I LOVE you!" Seriously, I heard that one personally, I've had friends hear it, and recently, one woman I know had her MOTHER tell her, "it was just sex, he loves you!" How in the name of hell does that one work? There seems to be the mindset that a man is a slave to his dick, compeltely incapable of controlling those manly urges, and its up to the women to forgive the poor helpless male his failings. Its just lust, dear.

Bullshit, says I. Bullshit. Can you imagine if a wife were to say the same thing? "He was just really well hung dear. But I LOVE you!" Yeah. Why don't I see that one going over at all? So why would a guy think that it should be a path to forgiveness? Why do so many men vow that they would kill (or beat the living snot out of) any man they found with their wife...yet figure that sorry and some flowers or maybe a diamond should result in automatic forgiveness? Why is it that still, in 2008, a man screwing around isn't viewed as negatively as a woman doing the same?

And while I'm at it..."It didn't mean anything, I was drunk, it wasn't my fault" is another bullshit line. Being drunk doesn't get you off the hook if you run someone over, beat someone up...so why would it be a reasonable excuse in screwing around? I mean, seriously...has that EVER worked? Has any spouse ever looked at the cheater and said, "Oh, Dear...since you were drunk, its totally ok. Alls forgiven!" Hell no. If anything, it makes it worse, because of the lame attempt to escape any and all responsibility for their actions.

Responsibility is another thing. I've always personally wanted to turn a flame thrower on those that actually attempt to blame their spouse for their wandering gonads. "Well...if you hadn't gained weight...had kept the house clean...wore something other than sweat pants...wore makeup...I wouldn't have HAD to cheat." Again, utter bullshit. Unless you feed your husband Viagra, tie him to the bed, and impale another woman on his willy, the responsibility for cheating lies completely, utterly and totally on the cheater. If you're unhappy with your marriage, you have choices. Either work to fix it, or get out. Cheating is never the answer or the solution. Its a complete betrayal of trust, valuing your naughty bits over your family and marriage.

In Sickness And In Health

Ok, here we go...a non PC blog. I'm sure that I'll offend some folks, but hey, its right in my subtitle that I'm non PC, nobody can say they weren't warned.

When you get married, there's the traditional vows which in part say, "...for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, til death us do part."

I have a problem with the 'in sickness' part. Lemme 'splain.

Addictions are considered a disease. Something I completely disagree with, but I'll save that for another blog. Mental illness is an illness.

Both of these issues can have serious serious serious ramifications on a family, a marriage. While there are varying degrees of issues associated with them, I have to say that I get completely enraged when I hear of people talking about how their spouse curses, screams, stomps around, blames everything on either the spouse and/or children, and basically is a threatening presence in the home. Or that they are either bankrupting the family financially, are unsafe to be around the children, become violent...

Its time to leave when that happens, folks. Marriage vows bedamned. When your spouse becomes a threat to you or your children, its time to pack and go. I don't care if its a physical, psychological or emotional threat, its time to hit the road.

Its not about hating illness or addictions. Its about children needing and deserving safety. When I hear of people (lets be honest, I've only ever heard this from women) saying, "He's sick, I can't leave..." it makes me want to smack someone. The children in these circumstances NEED out. They have to be protected. Someone that is a negative in their lives like that is doing them incredible harm. It doesn't matter to the child if Daddy is mentally ill, drunk, or just a violent jerk, getting told he's useless, being thrown to the floor, being cursed at and berated leaves the same scars. As a parent, you do NOT have the right to sacrifice your children to keep your marriage vows. Your first priority is to your children's safety. Period. Your spouse is an adult, able to make choices. Even when mentally ill, an adult has the choice of seeking help. Addicts have the choice to seek sobriety. Children don't have options, they are completely without power and vulnerable to the adults in their lives.

I believe in the sanctity of marriage...but not at all costs. And saying that you can't leave because you took vows is a cop out in this scenario. You're sacrificing your children. They deserve better. And its up to the healthy parent to ensure that it happens.

I'm not saying that someone with mental illness is automatically dangerous, or that a mental illness is in of itself a must leave scenario. What I'm saying is there are behaviours that CAN occur with mental illness that DOES make them a danger to their families...and when that happens, its not to be excused because of the illness, that action MUST be taken.

Abuse is abuse is abuse. Period. Getting the children safe should be the first priority...then anything and everything else.

MRI Today

So, went for the MRI. Let me just say that I'm sooooooooo freakin glad that Wolf and I got some common sense and realized that this was something that I COULD NOT do on my own with the kids. Took 2 freakin hours for starters.

To anyone that has never had the pleasure of an MRI with contrast dye, be grateful. Not a fun time.

The dye was first. Freezing, thank GOD, then the dye needle. That thing is looooooooong. And the lovely sensation of it hitting the bone...*cringe* Thank heavens the folks had a sense of humour though. I was nervous as hell about the whole thing, and kept cracking jokes, and they went right along. I ended up with iodine stains on the front of my gown (One Size Fits Jabba the Hutt) and then, since there was no back way around, ended up paraded through the waiting room. And let me say that dried iodine and dried blood look exactly the freaking same. I told the tech that we probably managed to scare the shit out of several ppl waiting, cause I made eye contact with one woman, and I saw her eyes widen as she stared at my gown, and I thought she was going to pass out.

Then the MRI itself. I confirmed today that I so do not do well in enclosed spaces. Like, at all. I cried the entire half hour I was in there. I did manage to keep from pressing the emergency 'let me the hell out' bell though, by telling myself, "Five more minutes and I'll press it" over and over again until they finally got me out. Closing my eyes didn't help much, cause then I felt even MORE closed in than I actually was, convinced that the top of the tube was almost against my nose. I kept thinking that this is what it felt like to be buried alive...and that this is how it must feel to be rolled into a crematorium. My imagination is sometimes a curse. Ugh ugh ugh ugh ugh.

I'm sore as hell, and sincerely hoping and praying that whatever is wrong with my shoulder shows up with a bright neon arrow pointing to it. The results are being sent both to my PT, so I should know whats up Friday.

If I never go through another MRI, it'll be too soon.

Marriage Is A Psych Experiment

I'm a believer that marriage is a psychology experiment, and Wolf is the cheese eater. There's simply too much fun to be had when you put two adults from different backgrounds under the same roof and expect them to live happily ever after, amidst bill paying, child rearing and the other details of life. That, and I have a twisted sense of humour, and am rather easily bored...but just as easily amused.

Let me give you an example of what I mean...or rather, several examples.

Wolf and I tend to be on the sarcastic side of life (I know, shock, right?!) and tease each other. Every now and then, in hopes of rattling my chain, he'll spout off some sexist remark...and it never ends well for him. The last time he said something like that, I stared at him, and then sadly shook my head.

"Why do you say things like that?" I asked him sadly, "You know I can't let that go, that I'm going to have to get revenge on you."

His eyes widened, and he shifted nervously in his seat.

"And the thing of it is," I continued, "I'm smart enough to do something in such a way that you won't be sure if it was me getting you back, or just one of those moments...so you're not going to know if you can be mad or not"

His left eye started to twitch.

"And..." I said, giving him an evil smile, "Now that I've told you this...I don't actually have to do anything at all, because you'll be wondering and waiting for me to do something...and that's fine too"

Another example: Wolf made some smart remark just before supper. I waited until he'd eaten a bit and casually commented, "You know...when you tick me off, I spit in your food."

Fork froze halfway to his mouth.

"You didn't!"

I arched an eyebrow at him. "Didn't I? Are you sure?"

"Aww, c'mon! You didn't, did you?"

I gave him an innocent smile. He hates that.

Then yesterday, we're sitting in the yard, talking. He grabbed a cup off the table, took a big swallow, and made a horrible face.

The cup he'd grabbed was the cup The Princess had been using in the wading pool...along with dish soap I'd added for bubbly fun. He'd had a huge gulp of soapy pool water. Instead of being a loving wife, rushing to get him a drink of normal water or a beer or one of those exotic mixed drinks like a martini or with the little umbrellas...I sat and laughed like hell.

Poor Wolfie. See what happens when you marry the Non-Stepford Model?


*and before anyone has a hissy, I've never spit in his food. I have, however, spelled out curse words in mustard on his sandwiches.

And Another...Goodbye, Mr. Carlin

Honestly, I'm not a depressing person, and there will be lots more uplifting and humourous entries to come, but somethings just need to be spoken of, not ignored. The passing of George Carlin being one of them.

George, or Mr. Carlin, as I think of him, was a revolutionary. Like him, loathe him, but he had an impact on our world. I mean, how many of us are in law books concerning freedom of speech? I may be a foot note in someone's journal one day, but that's about it.

Funny thing...but that's not what I admire most about Mr. Carlin. Not even close.

I never met the man, but I respected him. I respected that in the turmoil of the life he led of show business, he didn't hesitate to let his views be known. He was well spoken, intelligent, and honest to the point of brash. You may not like his views, but you damn well knew what they were. No mealy mouthed PC crap for that gentleman. He conducted himself in interviews without pandering for a quick sound bite. He didn't 'dumb down' his speaking, and was shown time and again to be thoughtful, intelligent, and given to ponder and weigh his experiences and was also well aware of the absurdity of life. Despite his success, he seemed to be a contradiction of pride and humility. He was careful to choose his words so that he didn't appear the braggart or arrogant in interviews, but he also tested the boundries and pushed the envelope whenever possible, as if daring someone to tell him to stop. I suppose once you've been to the US Supreme Court, there's not much that would intimidate you.

In a world that seems to value intelligence less and less, and celebrate celebrities more and more (Paris Hilton is a prime example of that...what the hell is she famous for?) he didn't conform. He stood proudly, unbowed and unfazed, and continued his comedy, his life, his way. There are many who followed in his footsteps, but none have ever managed to combine the earthy (and sometimes down right rude and crude and vulgar) style with the thoughtful intelligence with which he snuck up on his audience and commented on society.

Goodbye, Sir. Thank you for being you.

Goodbye, Brett

Fair warning...this isn't a humourous blog, so you may want to keep on to the next blog on your list.

I was messing about on google yesterday, googling myself, family...and just for shits and giggles, put in an ex's name.

It came up with his obit.

To say I was shocked is an understatment. Reading that he had died of cancer was even more shocking.

I walked away from my computer, and sat quietly in my dark livingroom, and closed my eyes, remembering.

I adored Brett. Totally, completely, and utterly. The moment we met was like a lightening bolt, on both of our sides. Total shock, total wow, total everything. Ever see a scene in a movie where everyone else fades away except for the man and woman? Yeah, it was one of those.

I won't get into all the nitty gritty details. We broke up at one point, and ended up getting back together, with plans to elope. We missed our time at City Hall by 20 minutes, which is the only reason that we didn't get married that day. We broke up again shortly after, but Brett had a way of turning up again and again.

He wasn't a bad man. He was, however, a manic depressive, who refused to be treated. It made a relationship with him impossible. I never knew if he would show up, when, where...to say trust was an issue is an understatment. When we were together, we were SOOOOOOO together. He made me feel loved and adored in a way I'd never known, like I'd hung the moon and the stars, and everything in between. But when he left...it was like I ceased to exist for him. I couldn't handle that, couldn't handle never knowing what came next.

Up until I met Wolf, I truly believed in my heart of hearts that Brett was The One. A friend of mine describes it as a 'soul tie' and that's exactly right. And I'll admit, in a secret part of my heart that nobody knows but me, part of me has always wondered what if, what might have been, and wished that things had been so different. Even with the pain and heart break, I've never for a moment regretted what we had together.

I close my eyes, and see that grin of his. That slow, sexy, confident grin with the dash of mischief, and I smile to myself, as the tears well up.

Good bye, Brett. I'm glad to have loved and been loved by you, even for a time.

As we had often said, "Maybe in the next life..." but I sure as hell didn't expect you to go there so soon.

Good bye, Brett.

Not A Stepford Wife...

Well, really...what more is there to say? My entire life, and personality, summed up in 4 simple words. Not A Stepford Wife. I should make it into a bumper sticker, but chances are its trademarked. Wonder if the blog police will come and shut me down, serve me with subpeonas and haul my butt into court for infringement? pffffffffft. That would imply that anyone reads it, lol!



I guess the polite thing to do is to introduce myself. But that means good manners and breeding, and duh...I did warn you, didn't I? And besides...why give you all the goods in the first blog? Better to string out the anticipation, methinks. I'll be sure to add a cast of charecters soon enough.



Just a lil fyi...blogging will be somewhat slow, due to an arm injury. But, stick around...cause I'm no Stepford Wife...but I'm more than worth the wait!