Thursday, September 25, 2008


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 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.

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