Not A Stepford Wife's Blog

New Blog

2012-01-08T19:19:00.000-08:00

I've started a new blog.

Please join me at
Not A Stepford Life

Five Weeks!

2011-10-02T16:00:00.000-07:00

Holy cow.

5 wks or less until baby is here. HOW did that happen?

Pregnancy usually seems to last forever, at least to me...until now. Now I'm wondering where it went.

If I make it to 39 wks (which the OB doubts) he'll induce, so I know it won't be more than 5 wks from now.

Am I the only one that can get to the end of pregnancy and find the idea of a new baby in the house still a bit surreal? I mean, I know it's happening, but trying to imagine the reality just escapes me somehow.

Its also interesting how different it is, being that this is our last baby. My other kids, I was in a 'hurry up, get to the end, have the baby already!' feeling.

This time, I find myself in the mind set of whenever it happens, it happens, enjoy the feeling of baby rumbling around while I can.

Countdown

2011-08-30T11:00:00.000-07:00

Well, the parental visit has come and gone. It went amazingly well.

Currently, we're preparing for the upcoming changes Chez Stepford.

First, getting the hs area torn apart and reorganized for school to start next week.

Second is getting ready for the new baby, due mid Nov. I have the feeling, though, that it will be a planned delivery. With RSD and the other medical issues that have come up, I suspect that they're not going to want me to labour unsupervised.

So, I figure we've got 8-9 wks left to get ready.

I'm tired already! Decluttering, cleaning, organizing is done in fits and starts, and leaves me in a foul mood. I hate being hampered and not being able to simply do what needs done. The progress around here is like being nibbled to death by ducks...and I get to put up with snarky comments from my husband, such as, "I thought you were going to do x,y,z today..." Yeah, well...I can't always finish what I start, not in the same day. Gets done eventually, but sometimes the partway point looks worse than the original situation.

Any wonder I'm in a foul mood?

Contemplating the Future

2011-07-27T10:09:00.000-07:00

Yes, long time no post!

There's been so much going on, I hardly know where to begin.

First off, the MPO. Contradictory info, basically sent us back to the beginning in terms of dealing with WCB. 3 yrs in, and no further ahead. *sigh* In fact, they're sending me back to work, yet AGAIN the 2nd wk of August. As per experience, I expect it to fail miserably, but have to jump through the hoop anyways.

So, what else is going on?

Well, Wolf and I are adding to the crew. Yup. Baby Boy Tummy is due mid Nov. How's that for news? Crazy, aint it? It took us a while to get over the shock, LOL! Kidlets are excited. They've been to the u/s appts, and so have even gotten to see their new baby brother.

We still look at and dream about moving to an acreage. Where, we don't know. Originally, we were looking at one province over, due to the cheap real estate prices, ease of moving, and Wolf having cousins there. Then we switched gears and were intent on moving back to my home province. Weather is far better there for me, my family would be within hours driving, and some of the places are still in our budget.

Now, we're not sure anymore. Back to considering the original plan. Part of it is absolutely that moving across country is completely daunting. First off, we'd have to replace our vehicle. It just wouldn't make the trip. Second, buying property from several provinces away is enough to freak both of us out...yet if we wait til we get there, it'll mean trying to secure a rental, and be stuck in that for a year. Yuck, yuck, yuck. So, spending a lot of time in prayer, asking for guidance on that issue...and also that something happens soon to make it all possible. Sooooo sick of being stuck in the city we're in. We even considered moving to another rental, but its pretty insane here. First of all, we'd end up paying at least as much as a mortgage, if not more. There's no way to save $ on moving, everything we've seen is more than what we pay now. I refuse to move and watch our rent go up by several hundred dollars. So, we're basically stuck.

As much as there have been some changes, some up coming events, we're still in the same holding pattern we've been in for the last 3 yrs. Blech.

On the good note, MIL isn't visiting this summer. There's nobody willing to host her for six wks. We can't. Her sib in the province flat out won't. So, we get a break.

Oh, and speaking of MIL...she threw a blue hissy fit over finding out we were expecting again. We have no right to have another child, since we're already not living up to our responsibilities aka moving her in and taking care of her. *sigh* I'm back to avoiding contact with her, so as not to rip her face off over the phone.

My parents are due to land in the city in a few wks. They'll be in town for a wk. We'll see how that one goes.

Results of 3 Hr Testing

2011-05-21T06:16:00.000-07:00

I haven't received the final outcome of the medical panel yet, but apparently should by next Friday.

BUT...I was told that they had to edit part of the report due to the results *finally* coming in this wk from the 3 hr torture test I went through back the beginning of April.

Got those today.

Long story short, this is the results of the testing:

"This is an abnormal study. There is evidence of abnormal responses on sudomotor (sweat), vasomotor (thermal) and sensory perception testing in the right upper limb. These findings support the diagnosis of Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (RSD)"

THANK YOU GOD!!!

I was so terrified, esp when I was told the report needed to be edited due to the test results. I *knew* that my response to the testing wasn't 'normal', but my big fear was that the results would be 'inconclusive' and they'd make me go through all of that Hell again.

I feel dizzy and nauseated, I'm so relieved.

Now, just praying that the MPO agrees with my Drs now that they have objective proof of the dx, and things will be so excellent.

Many thanks to those who have given prayers and support, and continue to do so.

Contemplation

2011-05-15T15:56:00.000-07:00

Well, there's a lot going on Chez Stepford...or perhaps, too little, depending on how you look at it.

First, the medical panel. Report was due to the head of the panel on Friday...so we haven't heard squat yet. Hopefully that will change in the next 2 wks.

Even more hopefully, the medical panel will confirm what my Drs have been saying for almost 3 yrs now...which will mean an end in sight as far as Worker's Comp goes.

We're wanting, hoping, praying, needing to move. Of course, we can't do diddly until we know whats going on with WCB. But, in the meantime, we're still attempting to plan.

Which leads us to our 2nd bout of treading water, and "I don't know" situation.

Initially, we were planning to moving to my home province, back east across the country. The weather is far, far better for me, my family is there for actual physical and emotional support, and we've found numerous places via real estate listings that would more than fit the bill for what we want and need.

BUT...we don't know how long WCB is going to take, if winding up is in the cards...and moving across Canada in the winter is just a no go.

And...there's the MIL situation. She's in her 80s, her health is failing. Being so far from her (she lives on the west coast) means that we'd never be able to visit her.

So, we've been considering moving to the southern part of our province. Warmer than where we are now, to be sure...not as warm as my home province. Means ZERO support, as I'd be at least two hrs from my best friend here in the city. I'd be more isolated than now.

And absolutely NONE of the houses we've seen online interest me in the slightest. They all rate a 'meh'. I *could* stand it, if I had to...but thats not exactly what I want for buying my first house. Plus, we have zero intention of staying forever. We'd still be looking to move east in the next 5 yrs...buying a house would simply be a better idea than continuing to pay rent. Build credit, equity, and get out at the first chance.

Which makes me wonder, wth are we thinking? Moving two hrs away really doesn't fix anything better than moving across country, with the sole exception of MIL. I'd still need new Drs, involve a big move...To what actual benefit? None, really...not for the family under my roof.

Well, that's not exactly true. Wolf would breathe a bit easier, knowing he could be to his mother in less than a day's travel if need be.

MIL, however, has recently DEMANDED that we move near her, so she could 'move with us'. Uh, no. Moving in with us is not an option, period.

I'm so close to saying, "Heck with it, I'm NOT living anywhere on the basis of your mother, lets pack and go." that I could spit. She could move if she wants, once we're settled. Why should our lives pattern around her?!

Argh.

I want to do whats best for my family. Praying for guidance, for direction, for solutions.

Feel free to cast a vote in the comment section!

Today's The Day...No, Not The Royal Wedding...

2011-04-29T03:28:00.000-07:00

I go for the big medical panel meeting this am. Three specialists and the head of the medical panel will be hearing the information, probably examining me (icky, eww, pain) and then writing a report stating if I am capable of working at all.

All my drs say no, I'm unable. Worker's Comp doesn't like that answer, hence the MPO.

Last I heard, they hadn't yet received the info from the 3 hr torture...err...testing session.

If folks could pray for us, that this goes in our favour, that they agree with *my* specialists (there's 3 of them, plus 3 other independant exams that have said yes, I have RSD) I would be very grateful.

I don't know what shape I'll be in later, depending on what exams might be done, so I may not update until tomorrow.

Thanks.

The Hits Keep On Coming...

2011-04-25T08:58:00.000-07:00

Ok, first the good news. Baby nephew was released from the hospital yesterday. Talk about a happy Easter for my brother and his wife!!

And now, the rest of life...

Wolf thought he pulled a muscle in his side at work. Turned out to be shingles.

Medical Panel is demanding to physically examine me on Friday. Which, translated to someone with RSD means, "We're going to hurt you. Repeatedly. Because, even though you've been examined at LEAST a half dozen times before, and everyone agrees its RSD, we want to have a poke at you ourselves...RSD just isn't common, you know."

Easter was ok, kids loved everything.

And that's the post and run update for now.

Stressed Out

2011-04-19T11:10:00.000-07:00

There's so much going on right now, I'm not sure which end is up.

My nephew, a few wks old, has some serious health issues. He was born with both a sealed valve, and a hole in his heart. They've put a temp shunt in, and intend for him to have surgery btwn 4-6 mths of age to fix the hole and put in a perm shunt.

He's been admitted to the hospital...he was having blood in his diapers. My bro and his wife were told by 2 different ERs that it was a milk allergy. A check up a day later at the children's hospital showed it was a bowel infection. He's in for at least 2 wks, to a month. Last I heard the antibiotics are working, but they can't feed him b/c he needs to heal, so he's on an IV only.

Then I've got the medical panel next Friday. Decisions will be made as to the future of my workers comp claim...but I have no clue as to what I'm walking into. I know that the bone scan showed no abnormalities...basically, I've kept up my physio at home and have so far staved off bone loss, which is great for my health, but bad for the medical panel whose looking for objective evidence of RSD. *sigh* I don't have a clue, and won't know until the day, the results of the other testing. I'm terrified.

If it were just me effected, I could deal...but this impacts my family too.

I feel guilty for worrying, b/c my nephew's health is so much more frightening and dire, but can't shake it either. Does that make me self absorbed?

Where To Start?!

2011-04-06T08:39:00.001-07:00

Honestly. Things have just gotten out of control around here.

Ever since my testing over a week ago, I've been barely treading water. The testing was over 3 hrs long, incredibly painful, tortuous...and at no time was I allowed to say, "Enough", or "Stop" because that would mean I was non-compliant, and worker's comp would have had a field day.

I still can't be in my own bed without nightmares or flashes of being strapped down to that table while someone hurt me, over and over again.

Yet, life does go on. I need to do laundry, vacuum, steam clean, the bathroom is a disaster...the list goes on. And on. Everything that I haven't done while I've been licking my wounds has just stacked up. And up.

Its just so overwhelming this am. I know that the place to start is anywhere, just get going. Logically, I know this. So why is it, emotionally, I'm curled up in a ball hiding under my desk?

I think its the whole feeling of being completely helpless, unable to even protect myself, being a bug pinned down to someone's tray while they poked and prodded and reduced me to an injured animal that has left me feeling completely incompetent in every aspect of my life.

PTSD has occurred to me. I see my psychologist Friday.

I find it ironic. Assaulted by a resident. RSD sets in, robbing me of my dominant hand and arm. Constant pain. Losing my life as a whole, healthy woman, wife and mother.

But its the testing that has me completely falling apart. A 3 hr test from H*ll, no debate...but you'd think I could shake it off if all the rest of the crud didn't break me. I guess I've hit my limit.

So Tired Of This!!

2011-04-02T17:12:00.001-07:00

Gah!

I'm back to flipping btwn sweats and chills. I *thought* I'd figured out what the problem was, and hadn't had an episode for the past few days.

Yeah. Til an hour ago.

RSD sucks. Its screwed with my nervous system so much. The arm is bad enough, but when your own personal thermostat is toasted, its plain nuts. Like having the flu all. the. time.

Wearing layers doesn't help, because either its too much, and then flips to way too little. And vice versa.

I need a reset button.

Things I've Learned In the Last 24 Hours

2011-03-20T02:26:00.000-07:00

Things I've Learned In the Last 24 Hours...

My younger bro is officially a Daddy, with the birth of his first child.
Baby goes for heart surgery anytime, must be in his first 24 hrs.
It sucks being across country, and of no use to them at all.
I can, by using my good arm and forcing my bad up, get a partial dislocation back in.
The manouver, however, ended up in me vomiting in my kitchen sink.
A housecoat belt, tied in a slip knot, can work as a weird sling to try and keep the shoulder in place.

There's a lot more thats happened since I last posted, and my apologies for my absence. I promise a fuller update soon, but I'm feeling like I'm going to be sick again, so it'll have to wait.

My sincere thanks to those who have stuck with following the blog despite my lack of entries.

Family Inheritance, Merry Christmas!

2010-12-17T12:01:00.000-08:00

I have Christmas music blaring at top volume from my cruddy puter speakers.

I've successfully corrupted my kids. I'm not talking the usual good stuff either, folks. Sure, we've got TSO blaring, some Anne Murray (I'm Canadian, k?) Brad Paisley, Vince Gill...but how many listen to "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus' done by Twisted Sister? (Video for Come O Ye Faithful by the same, hilarious)

Years from now, just as I listen to the Christmas songs by artists my mother blared forth, Diva, Tazzie and Princess will be hunting for Twisted Sister.

My work here is done.*grin*

Not A Cat Person, But...

2010-11-25T10:21:00.000-08:00

I like our cat, as far as cats go. He's huge, runs our small pony/dog and is generally friendly, although absolutely Wolf's pet. Probably cause Wolf does the feeding/litter issues. And I'm good w/that.

Is it wrong then, that the 1 time (we know of) that Jack the Cat caught a mouse...Wolf's indignation that his cat a) didn't eat the darned thing and b) left it in his clean laundry basket, btwn a pair of socks...

I laughed til I cried. Where Wolf couldn't hear me, of course. Diva wasn't that controlled, and laughed in front of Daddy, and was treated to a chorus of, "That's not funny! My socks stink now!" which only fuelled my hurry to leave...like, jet propelled. Upstairs, behind a door, face in a pillow, shrieking with laughter.

And I'm still snickering.

Oh, and a note...on my tag labels, 'humour' and 'husband' are one word apart. Coincidence? I'm thinking not so much...*runs*

Ever Have A Day...

2010-11-05T10:13:00.000-07:00

Ever have a day when God's love for you was so apparent, so vivid, so overwhelmingly *there* that it left you feeling so filled with light, hope, peace, love?

I'm having that day. I've never before experienced it.

Let me share with you what has happened today. Its incredible.

First, I haven't slept. Not unusual in my life.

However, at 3am, I turned on the tv. It was left on where Diva watched the Cosby Show before bed...a Christian channel. It had a show on...and brought back my most difficult time in my life, when I left my parents abusive home.

You see, a gf of mine's Dad worked for that show at the time. When she found out I'd left home due to the abuse, she turned to her parents and asked them to take me in.

They did. No hesitation. No questions. No doubt from them at all that what I said was real and true.

My mother showed up at their door, screaming and ranting and raving, spewing venom and hatred and threats.

There was no doubt in my mind that my dad was capable of showing up and assaulting my gf's Dad.

They put themselves, their dd, and their younger ds in that jeopardy for me. Me, the child who had been taught from the age of 5 to answer the question, "Who are you?" with, "Nobody. I'm nothing." and believed it with all my heart and soul.

They protected me from my mother at the door. They agreed with the police to provide me with a safe place until CPS decided what to do. CPS didn't want me...I would be turning 16 that summer (this all happened New Year's Eve, my leaving).

They fought CPS to take me in, to do something to protect me.

Anyways...seeing this show brought all that back. And I was compelled to find these parents again. Over 20 yrs later, I *needed* to find them, thank them, tell them how incredible and grateful and amazed I was and am for what they did. They were the first to show me I had worth. I was worth protecting. An impossible concept for me to grasp then.

So, I searched. Immediately, I hit on a listing that I *knew* would be them. I waited until a decent time (7am for me, 9am for them) to call, and did.

It was indeed her Dad that answered the phone. He immediately knew who I was when I told him my name.

I spent almost 2 hrs talking with him. He'd never forgotten me, had prayed for me, worried for me, shared my story with many families over the years, and hoped to hear that I was ok one day. We both cried, he prayed for me and said things that my soul so needed to hear, to the point that I was doing the whole snotty nose, tear dripping, chest heaving sobs.

I've felt so incredibly blessed since then. So enlightened, loved, clean. Worthy, in a way that I've never ever experienced.

I've been blessed today in a way I never could have imagined. Over 20 yrs late in coming, my contacting him, was an incredible blessing for us both.

I just wanted to share this incredible feeling. God is so good. I know He loves me in a part of my heart that was so dark and scared and scarred before that I couldn't embrace or accept it before.

Thank you, God. Thank you.

Dark.

2010-10-27T05:30:00.000-07:00

I don't have a better title for this blog entry. I'll apologize in advance to those who come here looking for a light hearted view of things. They exist, honest...just not posted. That alone tells me that my view of things is/has become skewed, and needs to be adjusted.

Some days, its just so hard. Insomnia has struck again, leaving me vulnerable emotionally.

I spent most of last night sobbing. Pain was rampant, both physically and emotionally. I'm in my 30s, and all I can see stretching out before me is pain. Pain, pain, and more pain. The only 'break' I get is when I manage to sleep, but that's fleeting, broken, and can't be counted on. There's absolutely no rhyme or reason for sleep, or not sleeping. I do the same things, and never know if I'll sleep.

I'm not the woman, wife, or mother that I want to be. I fall so short on what I demand of myself. Everything in my life is dependant upon pain levels, and I loathe it. I want to be able to live, without the uncertainty that RSD brings. I want to turn back time and not ever have gone into that resident's room that grabbed me and started all of this. I wonder, in the darkest recesses of my heart what I did wrong. What I'm being punished for.

There have been times that I've considered leaving my family. Not suicide, just leaving. Clearing out so that a healthy, whole woman can fill the spot of wife and mother. But I don't. I don't because I believe that would damage my children more than having a lesser mother in their lives. I may not be whole and able, but I think that leaving would tell them that they weren't worth staying for. And not for the world would I ever want to wound my babies that way.

That's what I tell myself...But sometimes I wonder if its my selfishness talking. That I need them more than they need me. Because I do need them. They're my reasons why. Why I do anything, everything. Its for them that I put one foot in front of the other.

They don't see me cry. Nor does Wolf. He *knows* I hurt of course, as do the children...but none of them know how badly. I need to protect them as best I can. I believe that if they knew, it would scare them terribly to see Mommy fall apart.

So I do my crying in the wee hours of the morning, when insomnia reigns supreme, leaving me defenceless. I acknowledge the dark thoughts that I bury so deep. I suppose I wallow for a bit might be the best and most honest way to put it. Then I wipe my face, blow my nose, and face the coming day.

Its just so hard sometimes. Wondering what damage I might be doing to my babies. Wondering if I'm doing the right thing for them. Wondering how much is really for them, and how much is my selfishness shining through.

I pray that I'm doing what's right for them. I don't know what else I can do.

I Disappeared For A Day

2010-10-15T09:24:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned on the previous entry, insomnia has been an issue for me this week.

Wednesday eve it continued. I was 72 hrs and counting with less than two hours of sleep.

When Wolf woke up Thursday am and discovered me sleeping, he called in to work and took the day off. I have no real memories of yesterday. Fragmented bits and pieces, nothing really solid. I woke up at 9pm, found Wolf snoozing in the recliner in the living room, and shoo'ed him off to bed. Next thing I know, he's waking *me* up on the couch announcing its 5am.

Its a completely bizarre thing, to lose an entire day. But what an incredible difference it is to actually feel *rested* for a change! I thought I'd been doing well, keeping it together. Now that I'm rested, I wonder how on Earth I stayed standing!

Insomnia, Day 2

2010-10-13T06:47:00.000-07:00

Monday night, I slept not at all. I made it through until after supper, then loaded up on my meds and headed off to bed around 6 pm.

By 830, I was still awake. Took some melatonin.

930, still awake.

I was still awake when Wolf got up to get ready for work. I managed to fall asleep after that, so got a grand total of 90 minutes of sleep.

Its so frustrating. I feel like crying. I take all the meds I'm supposed to to get to sleep. Sometimes they work, other times, nada. I need to get some regular sleep.

Its a vicious cycle. I can't sleep, so my pain levels go up. Because my pain levels are up, I can't sleep. Wash, rinse, repeat.

It takes everything I am to keep on my feet, keep moving. Sitting on the couch, trying to read a book, the type begins to blur, and I start to nod off. My kids need me, so that's not acceptable at all. We have school to do, Diva needs math tests marked, I have history to read aloud to all of them...In short, far too much to do for Mommy to pass out on the couch.

I realize it opens the door for ppl to start banging on the 'Send Them To School' drum, but that's not an option. RSD has stolen so much from me that I won't allow it to negatively impact my children's education.

Wolf continues to be amazed/frustrated/worried about my not sleeping. He can't understand how I can "take enough meds to drop a horse" yet still not sleep. Its ridiculous to the nth degree.

My GP just raised the dose of one med a few wks ago, told me he wanted me to try it for a month before we make any changes. I see him on Friday, and I'm going to be telling him that I can't afford to wait a month. This need to be changed now. Its hit or miss with the meds. The first week or so I took them, they worked beautifully. Fast forward to now, and they're as effective as a Tic Tac.

Quiet time is just 5 hrs away. I can make it til then. I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.

I know I must. Housework can go fly a kite today, but homeschooling...that's not optional for me. It must happen.

I have an hour to gather my wits, to call on what paitence I may have in reserve, and be ready to educate my kids.

I will do this.

Although, I do admit, I can't remember the last time that I was running on 90 minutes sleep in 2 days. Not saying it hasn't happened, just that I can't remember it...Which is likely just as well.

That Was...Interesting.

2010-09-14T10:10:00.001-07:00

Just got back from taking the kids to the mall. Needed a few groceries, and hit the day olds.

After shopping, I took them to McDs for a treat.

The guy serving me kept looking at me oddly.

Later, he brought over a chocolate milk I'd forgotten. I walked over to meet him, and he said, "You are a very s$xy woman."

I just sort of stared at him, and finally mumbled, "Thank you."

I'm a mom. Short, pudgy. Wearing an old shapeless sweater and fleecy jog pants. Not to mention the whole RSD bit.

I didn't (and still don't) know if I should be flattered or creeped out. He just had this weird sort of intensity to him. I hurried the kids along with their snack and left post haste.

I haven't had a total stranger pay me a compliment in...decades? Probably. And certainly not that boldly, ever.

Maybe I just need Wolf to get better with his compliments, or threaten to run away with the McDs guy.

'Long' Weekends, Flying Cats, And Dog Drool

2010-09-06T14:52:00.000-07:00

At least, that's what the calendar tells me. Didn't work out that way at the Non Stepford home. At least not for me.

I haven't been sleeping well again. Weather is shifting to colder (we didn't get the heat wave everyone else on the planet seemed to), and that plays holy Hades with my RSD.

I have a vague memory/impression of Saturday. Took Diva grocery shopping. Came home, and remember Wolf telling me, "Now go to bed for 18 hours."

I went to bed for 20. Yes, 20. Not a typo.

My husband was checking me for breathing, tickling my face to get me to move when he couldn't see my chest rise and fall. He has some weird issue with sleeping beside a dead woman. Probably the safest he'd be in our marriage, if I were dead. No chance of smothering him in his sleep or anything.

I do know I woke up at one point. His cat (yes, *his*) jumped off our window sill and landed directly on my elbow of my bad arm. His cat is about 20 lbs. I cursed the cat and passed back out. If I'd been more aware, the cat would have flown a second time. Cat doesn't belong in our room at any time, let alone when we're sleeping.

Yes, I'm one of those weirdos that loathes animals in my bedroom. Cat hair on my pillow. *gack* Massive dog drool on my sheets. *double gack*

Speaking of which, that's a problem we're having with Wunder Dawg lately. For those not familiar, she's a small pony of a supposed dog. Great Pyrenees x with Akbash. We've had her for just over a year now, and she's developed this lovely drool issue. She shakes her head and its like flying dog snot everywhere. Its drool, but the consistency...

To be totally gross, I did at one point suggest it could be bottled and sold as a lubricant. Replace WD-40...or something like that. All organic. Might pay for her food bill. Maybe.

Wolf's golfing today. I *should* be getting all organized for school tomorrow, but its just not happening...or hasn't happened yet. I had great intentions, does that count?

I blame my inertia on losing 20 hrs this wknd. My brain hasn't figured out that the weekend ends today, and is insisting its tomorrow.

Yeah. That's it.

The Boy Is Hollow

2010-08-25T11:48:00.001-07:00

Tazzie is driving me batty.

He's constantly hungry. 10 minutes or less after a meal, he's asking for something to eat. We don't 'do' junk, except a rare treat, so he's getting whole wheat bread, lots of fruits and veggies, and protein.

I hope my bank account can handle this growth spurt. At least, I *hope* its a growth spurt, and not his new 'normal'.

At 5, he makes our fridge look like we've been invaded by locusts. Heaven help us when he's 15!

Crying. Wolf Admitted...

2010-08-21T07:35:00.000-07:00

I'm in tears.

I talked to Wolf about having another baby. Its something that's been on my heart for a long time. We're far better off financially than when we had Tazzie and Princess.

Wolf admitted that the only reason he doesn't want another baby is because of my disability.

Just one more thing that RSD has stolen from me.

I know all the arguments. I'd have to go off all my meds. The pain would be roaring. But the heart wants what the heart wants, and I'd be willing.

I'm praying that God either takes this longing from my heart, or places it on Wolf's too.

It hurts too da*n much.

Neighbour Issue

2010-08-05T09:56:00.000-07:00

Last night, I was in a great deal of pain, and so went to bed at 630 pm.

Or tried to.

My neighbour, a man nearing 50, believes himself to be an up and coming rock star. His band plays in bars....although I'm betting they don't get any return gigs. If they do, it speaks alarmingly of how much booze affects perception.

So, he was practicing. Wolf and I had heard him warming up in a falsetto earlier, and as Wolf put it, "It sounds like he's slamming his male parts in a drawer. Repeatedly." I suggested, even dared Wolf to go bang on his door and ask if he was ok, but Wolf wouldn't. Coward.

My bedroom window was open. So was R's. The room he was practicing in shares a wall with us, and of course the master bedroom is along this wall. It sounded like he was standing on my bed, practicing. At top volume. What he lacks in talent, he makes up for in enthusiasm and volume.

He was singing in the dreadful falsetto. He repeated the same song 3x before I realized that it was supposed to be a Led Zeppelin tune. "Rock 'n Roll"

This alarmed me. First, I was raised on Zeppelin, Eagles, Doors, Steppenwolf, Bob Seger. I could sing the lyrics to Zeppelin and Seger songs long before I knew my ABCs. For me NOT to recognize a Zeppelin tune is an alarming thing, and speaks to how badly he was butchering it. He must have repeated the song 6x altogether, and the only thing that improved was his enthusiasm, and self praise. I'd never known someone that got worse with practice, but he does.

He then moved on to a Rascal Flatts song. I have no idea which one, since I only identified it by the singer in the background. My neighbour was pretty consistent in drowning it out, but I did catch enough bits and pieces to identify the band.

You know how when you're singing along with one of your favourite songs, but don't know all the lyrics quite yet, the way you garble something up, or "mmm" your way through that part? Yeah. Well. R was garbling, at top volume. Not only was he WILDLY off key, but his garbling didn't even match the missing lyrics syllables. Seriously. It was bad. Beyond bad.

I came downstairs, swearing that I was going to go shoot R in the face. With a flame thrower. I know where there are lighters and a can of hairspray in the house.

Thankfully, R gave up his vocal practicing shortly thereafter.

My ears seriously hurt after listening to him. Like having a double ear infection hurt.
Here's a free tip, in case R ever stumbles across the blog: Your band hasn't made it yet. Either give it up, or find a different lead vocalist.

And if you EVER damage a Zeppelin song like that again, I have my hairspray at hand.

Don't say you weren't warned.

And stay the heck away from any Queen songs. You don't want to know what the penalty for killing a Queen song is, but no jury would convict me, cause I'll record you first.

Pain. Oh. My. Word. Pain.

2010-08-03T07:49:00.000-07:00

I'm of the suspicion that the latest lidocaine infusion did not go at all well. I had pain at the site, which is a first, and by the time I had Wolf take it out, I was just about in tears from pain/pressure. I felt foggy and just disconnected, with pressure in my chest.

No, I didn't go to the Drs or the ER. Go ahead and smack me if you need to.

I'm going to try the infusion again. If I get a repeat, I will go in.

Anyways...Saturday night. Wolf kept trying to send me to bed. I loathe when he does this, as it makes me feel like a child, and simply doesn't work. He says he does it because he knows I need extra sleep, so it frustrates him when I'm not taking advantage of the situation and heading to bed early.

I went to bed around 2 am. Fell asleep. About 20 minutes later, I woke up, screaming into my pillow. I had a Charley horse. In my bicep. Of my bad arm, of course.

I made it downstairs, and spent about 3 hrs clenching my teeth, biting the blanket, screaming in my throat, praying not to scream out loud and wake up the house. Sitting perfectly still...any involuntary twitch of my fingers set the Charley horse off screaming all over again.

Kids got up at 540 am, followed shortly by Wolf.

First thing he did was yell at me, telling me to go to bed, giving me crap for staying up all night. Yeah, like I did it deliberately. I told him I had a Charley horse in my arm, but he ignored me, and continued to complain that he'd had plans for some 'alone time' that afternoon, and now he couldn't go.

I had no clue he was planning on going out.

Honestly, at that point, I had visions of chucking my coffee at his head. Still in the mug.

Luckily, I'm not a violent person, and really, REALLY like my mug.

I took a moment...several moments...until I was able to speak coherently, and not go into a flying rage.

I went outside, where he was sitting, and in the quietest voice possible, explained exactly what I'd gone through the night before, and that him throwing a tantrum over plans he hadn't even made, let alone told me about, was ridiculous. There was probably more said, but that's what it boiled down to.

Honestly, in seven years, its the first time I could completely visualize him moving out...complete with what I'd say and do to get to that point and beyond. Not good. Not good at all.

I went to bed around 8 am. Yes, he'd apologized several times before I went to bed, but I wasn't caring.

Waking up at 730 pm, I was just in time to put the kids to bed. I was amazed that I hadn't been woken up earlier, like around 4 pm.

I was back in bed by 9.

I feel better about life in general, and my marriage in particular right now. Arm is still not back to normal, but at least the Charley horse isn't in spasm.

I have a picture I keep by my computer, to help me in my anger towards Wolf, to let me let go of it, and get on with my marriage.

Don't blame me for the teal and yellow. MIL did that without our knowledge, and definitely without our consent!

I Survived

2010-07-15T10:44:00.000-07:00

My gf K has been busy getting ready for a vacation, but thank God she had the ability to see me through this past wknd. Unfortunately for her, I fell apart the last day or so before she left...especially the last night when she stopped by. All the ugliness that I had just sort of washed up out of my soul and spewed out my mouth. Not towards her, but all the self loathing I've ever had.

The wknd...I saw my parents and had MIL here all wknd. Its a wknd never, EVER to be repeated. I can't handle both in the same set of days.

Funny enough, my parents behaved, my MIL was...behaved for her (still those moments that you just stared slack jawed at her), but my marriage is what suffered for it. Wolf allowed his anger to be more important to him than I was in terms of being there for me when I needed him.

I did tell him all of this, and the poor man tried to make it up. Including buying me Hagen Daz ice cream. Unfortunately, after 7 yrs of marriage, he's not caught on to the fact I'm strictly a Ben and Jerry's girl. I loathe Hagen Daz.

I'd been so numb since Saturday that Mon and Tues was just pure anger. Now that that's over, I set about apologizing to those I've lashed out at, and working to put my marriage back together. Not 'back together' in the sense that he's moving out, but to stitch up the tears that have been created in the fabric, if that makes sense. Its hard to deal with someone that says simply, "I don't care." and that's where I've been.

I think the hardest thing has been to discover that there's nothing left btwn my parents and I. I don't have any 'daughter' feelings for them left. My mother gave me a lovely angel figure with a mother-daughter inscription...I immediately put it up in my closet to give to Diva some day. Absolutely no desire to have it up in my house in regards to her and I.

I've been struggling with what it means about me as a person. If I can be so unfeeling to the ppl that raised me, feeling no more emotion towards them than neighbours who had known me as a child, what does that say about me? I still haven't figured that one out yet. Wolf's suggested that perhaps it means I'm stronger than I used to be, that I'm not needing their love or approval. That seems so sad, so cold somehow. I just don't honestly know.

In Shock, Reeling

2010-06-20T13:27:00.000-07:00

My mother called a week ago. Her and my dad are coming out from the other side of the country, and want to meet up.

To say that we have a strained relationship would be an understatement. A massive understatement.

I almost died before our wedding. I'm not sure my parents even called to check up on me, now that I think about it.

I've had two children since. My mother has yet to meet my youngest, my dad hasn't met either of them.

They didn't even attend my wedding. Only dd, and they certainly had the funds to do so if they choose.

The wedding gift was a cheque...less than my mother spent on her outfit for my cousin's wedding (I know because she told me).

They ignored the birth of my youngest, birthdays, Christmas until this past year. Not so much as a card or even phone call.

Those are just little things. My parents, in particular my mother has betrayed me in ways that most folks wouldn't believe that anyone could do to their child. I'm not comfortable sharing the details of that, but believe me when I say I haven't seen my mother in five years, my dad in 8 or so...and never planned to see them face to face ever again. We talk on the phone, a very superficial relationship.

The idea of seeing them face to face rakes up so much pain...I'm stunned and reeling.

I *have* decided to meet with them. If I can get through that, I'm planning on them meeting my kids.

Wolf hates them. He hates the betrayal, and the pain they caused me.

I've never believed myself capable of suicide, but the night of their betrayal, the only reason I'm still here is I couldn't figure out a way for Diva not to find me. I still shudder at that. My mother knows, she's been told, and she basically shrugged.

She's even more NPD than my MIL. Truly.

I'm doing this for my children. And, my dad's health being what it is, it may be the last chance to see him at all.

The pain is still there. I'm afraid I won't be able to manage this, to pull it off. Tazzie has been asking about them, Diva remembers them, so its important that they meet. Important to the kids to have had that, not to my parents. What they consider important doesn't make my importance scale.

Btwn Wolf and I, I'm afraid someone will explode.

Its the right thing to do. To deny my children this chance would be wrong.

I just pray I can survive it.

In Tears...Pray For Me, Please

2010-06-03T08:44:00.000-07:00

Just got a call from my case manager. Amongst other things, they're looking at sending me to a city several hours away for 6-7 wks. She's even suggested that I bring the kids with me. I asked what I'd do with them while I was in program, and she mentioned Diva could babysit. In the hotel. I don't freaking believe this.

All of my Drs have been against this pain clinic. Partly because of my home life, but also because this pain clinic takes you off all.your.meds. I can't imagine how bad things will be or get if I'm completely med free...and this is from someone that resisted being on meds from the start. Case mgr bluntly told me that she doesn't like ppl on the meds I'm on 'forever'. Well, guess what? There's no other freakin option.

I'm to go to an assessment here in the city at some point. If they figure they can't help (and if they're honest, and not just out for the $$, they'll say they won't/can't...I've been through every aspect of their program already, in bits and pieces elsewhere...plus, at 2 yrs + after diagnosis, there's no recovery. It is what it is, period.) If that's the case, case mgr is talking sending me away...because there's also a vocational aspect to that particular pain clinic. I've no doubt that's the big issue here.

I've gone from her talking about leaving me alone for several years to her wanting to send me away AGAIN, something she even admits is NOT supported by ANY of my drs. But Worker's Comp can do whatever the h*ll they please, because they OWN me.

I'm just praying that btwn my drs and my union, she backs the heck off.

Wish I May...

2010-06-01T11:06:00.000-07:00

Most women (and therefore, most men) have a someone in their past...The 'What Might Have Been Man' is what I think of it as. Unless you married your first love, there's likely at least one WMHB when you look back on your life so far.

Funny enough, my WMHB was my first love. I was all of 14, he was 17. We broke up over a stupid, stupid issue, all my fault. But it didn't end there. Years later we got in touch again, at my instigation. And, believe it or not, I was too stupid to realize that he was dating me again. The man would drive an hour and a half to come 'hang out', and I didn't realize we were dating. D'oh! (Hey, I'm book smart, not life smart...at least not then, and probably not as much as I could be now, despite all of my varied experiences.)

Even after he was married, we kept in touch...again, my doing. Nothing major, a phone call when Diva was born (not his, btw, just a call anyways), an email here and there...last time was over a year, probably two years ago.

So, my WMHB has been a presence in my life, but not recently. We live across country from one another now, so I suppose that's why email was safe.

Here's the worst thing of it: I know, in my heart, that I still love my WMHB. Not with all my heart, but with a part of it...he was the first person in my life to have treated me with any respect, caring. I was important. It was a heady feeling for a girl that grew up as I did.

Problem is...I'm not his wife. Never have been, never will be. I need to let go of my WMHB, and give everything I am to my husband. To do less is robbing him, and our children, of everything our marriage could be.

You'd think that not having had contact with WMHB for a cpl of years would have made this a moot point. Not so much...not when a vivid dream has you in tears the next morning. The realization that a part of my heart was still so wrapped up in WMHB was devastating to me on many levels. Even, if I'm to be completely honest, at the idea of giving it up, letting it go. That feeling of being loved, securely, being safe, protected, unwavering devotion is something that I've never known before WMHB, or since.

But how could I possibly, if I'm measuring unconsciously against WMHB? Yes, he's a real person, but any idea is now a fantasy, if that makes sense.

I'm looking over my shoulder instead of at what's in front of me right now, and to the future.

Here's the really, REALLY ironic part: my husband shows his devotion to me daily. He takes care of me, in such a careFULL manner. Goes out of his way to bring me something special, just cause. Scrubs the walls because it makes me nuts that they're dirty, but I can't manage it on my own. Lets me sleep whenever I need it, encourages me to go out of the house when I don't feel like I can, but need the break...he's an Action/Service kind of person. I've always been a Touch person. Learning to appreciate my husband as he is, rather than what I *think* I need has been an awakening experience. I've been told, time and again from those outside our relationship how lucky I am. Heck, just the RSD issue...many marriages break up within a year of such a diagnosis. Here we are, at two years in, still going strong, probably stronger in many ways than we've been before.

So, here I stand, at the threshold of a decision, one that needs to be made, committed to. Today, I say good-bye to my WMHB, in my mind, my heart. I'm sure I'll find a way to be able to treasure memories from the past instead of daydreaming (or night dreaming) about changing the facts of it. To thank my WMHB for being who he was and is, but to let go, and dedicate myself wholly to my husband.

I don't know why I have a lump in my throat now, or eyes brimming with tears...perhaps because wondering, dreaming, thinking of WMHB has been such a part of me for so long.

I feel as I should apologize to my husband for this...a form of emotional cheating, even though its been just in my head, and any contact with WMHB was with the knowledge of my husband...but I need to let go.

Ridiculous, isn't it? That a single dream can bring all of this out? Some would say that its just a dream, no big deal...until the emotions spilled out, on to my waking life. Sometimes dreams are more than just dreams...and its time to say good bye to this one.

Good bye, WMHB. I loved you. And that teen girl always will. But the adult me needs to say good bye and mean it, and keep it and live it.

Goodbye.

Small Miracles

2010-05-03T08:16:00.000-07:00

I firmly believe that every day, small unnoticed miracles happen. Today I noticed.

Diva and I were reading her math, when she realized I was missing an earring.

Wolf bought me peridot and diamond studs for our wedding anniversary, to replace the ones that went 'missing' that he'd bought for my 30th birthday. I've been wearing them ever since.

Anyways, I have a mini heart attack. Went to my room, checked everywhere, no earring. My heart sinks as I think of all the places the earring could be, including down the shower drain. I'm always fiddling with my earrings, tightening the backs, turning them...checking to see if they're there...but I couldn't remember the last time I'd noticed them.

So, I'm searching the bathroom, just about in tears...and spot the earring. It was at the base of the sink cupboard.

It sounds like such a silly thing, but I'm so incredibly grateful for it...to me, it *is* a miracle that the earring was found. Of all the places it could have been, including the dog park that my gf K and I were at yesterday...to find it at all...

Yes, I'm giving thanks. Big time.

Looking For Validation From Preschoolers

2010-04-26T07:19:00.000-07:00

Word of advice: Just don't. Seriously.

I was feeling a bit out of sorts, so I announced to Tazzie that Mommy had quit smoking this weekend! Isn't that great? Isn't it wonderful? Aren't you proud of Mommy?

He looked at me and said, (I quote), "Meh" and wandered off.

*sigh*

Princess, overhearing this exchange, at least came and stuck her hand out at me for a high five. She then wandered off too.

I need a better cheering section. Maybe if I bribed them with cookies?

Seventh Wedding Anniversary

2010-04-11T10:33:00.000-07:00

Ours was last Saturday.

Hard to believe that its been only seven years in some ways, hard to believe that its been as long as seven years in others, if that makes sense.

Normally we try to follow the traditional gifts, but wool in April just doesn't work

So, I bought Wolf a watch. Its nice enough to use as a dress watch (assuming we ever go anywhere ) and sturdy enough that he could wear it to work and it would be ok. I had the back engraved: "7 years and still ticking! Love The Wife" Guy looked at me funny for that, lol!

Wolf bought be a lovely pair of Peridot earrings with diamond chips encircling the stone, and a jewelery box. I was very surprised, and I guess it showed.

He looked sheepish and said, "I know you don't like your birthstone, but I wanted to replace the earrings my sister stole."

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww!

He's right. I hate my birthstone. When he gave me the first pair for my 30th birthday, he said, "I couldn't remember if you loved or hated your birthstone, just that you had a strong reaction to it." So yeah, I do hate Peridot, but love him...so the earrings were precious, and I wore them a lot until they went 'missing', later spotted being worn by my SIL.

The reason I don't like my birthstone is that its the colour or pus. Or snot. Blech.

He's so happy I haven't taken them off, even to the point of prompting me to show the nurse that comes out every Friday.

Yeah. Stuff like this explains a lot of why we've made it seven years.

Don't Scream...And A Request

2010-03-15T13:47:00.000-07:00

Perhaps this entry should be in my 'Chronic Pain and Me' blog, but since it involves so much more, I'm putting it here.

On Friday, we had an incredibly close call. My husband, Wolf, pulled into a McDs to take advantage of the 'free small coffee' deal currently happening. (Americans, don't feel jealous, its McDs way of attempting to compete with the annual Roll Up promo at Timmies). Getting back into the van, he discovered that one of his rear wheels was locked up solid.

Turned out that his rear brake had literally exploded.

Wolf takes the highway straight to work. If he hadn't pulled in for coffee exactly when he did, the locked up wheel would have sent him directly into oncoming traffic.

$700 later, the van is back on the road...and I still tremble when I think how close we came to tragedy.

Then I checked my email on Saturday. I've been offline for a bit, dealing with pain and depression.

Clearing my email, I discovered that a friend I've known since she was nearing the end of her pregnancy with her first dd, and I was finishing my first trimester with Tazzie had lost her 1 yo baby girl this past week.

She'd put her down for a nap, and found her dead when she went to wake her.

Her husband has been able to make it home from Afghanistan, and the funeral is tomorrow.

My heart breaks for her. I've wept so many times since finding out, reading her posts in the group we're in together.

Yes, that's right. She's an 'online' friend...but as real a friend as someone I'd go for coffee with.

I can't imagine her pain. I hurt for her, her eldest dd, her husband...but nowhere the reality of the Hell they're going through, that I know.

And right now, for me, the litany of, 'Don't scream. Don't scream. Don't scream.' is racing through my mind as I count down the minutes to Wolf getting home. The arm is flared all the heck up to the point where even typing this solely with my good hand is still reverberating through my arm, making me grit my teeth and bathing my body in the cold, greasy sweat that accompanies pain flare ups.

The weather is stunningly gorgeous. I haven't bumped myself, or any of the other 'known' issues that would cause a flare.

Good old fashioned emotional stress perhaps. PMS perhaps. Or perhaps nothing at all, just having RSD.

I feel tears brimming, and I couldn't tell you who they're for. My friend, mourning her baby, or just physical pain.

RSD even robs me of that. When I want most to be praying for my friend and her family, focusing on offering whatever support I can on THEM, RSD takes me down, making me self centred, driving me into a ball of pain.

So, I'm asking readers of my blog to please do what I can't right now. Please pray for J, her dh M, and their dd E. I don't use my name on my blog, so I won't post theirs...I've no doubt God will know who the prayers are for. Pray for their strength as they say goodbye to baby M, for love, healing for them...whatever, anything that you are moved to do.

Please.

See 'Redundant'

2010-01-26T18:39:00.000-08:00

My boss from work called this afternoon. She asks me how I'm doing, says that she'd heard there was no change and that she was so sorry about that. Then she tells me that she wanted me to know that I have until Dec 2010 to have my skills assessed and approved or bring them up to the new standardized levels.

Her : I really don't know what to do in your case.
Me: Well, if I hadn't been hurt on the job, ensuring that my skills were up to standard wouldn't be an issue.
Her: Yes, they give you lots of time to get it done, and I don't doubt that you would.
Me: Uh...But I *was* hurt on the job. There's no way that I can lift, push, pull, or anything else that would be required on a skills assessment.
Her: Yes, that's true. But everyone needs to have this done.

Me: I was hurt on the job. I don't have use of my dominant hand and arm. I couldn't even write a test, let alone do a full skills assessment.
Her: Yes, I know. I just don't know what to do, so I'll send out the package to you, notifying you of the need to get your skills assessed and re-certified.

Me: I think I'll call my union, see what they say.
Her (panicky sounding): Why would you call them?
Me: Well, since I *can't* do any sort of assessment to re-certify my skills, since I WAS HURT ON THE JOB, I don't know who else to ask about this.
Her: I don't know either...Maybe I should ask HR about what to do in your case.

The conversation was out of the Twilight Zone. One of those, "You know in the dictionary, under redundant, it says, 'See 'redundant'?" moments.

That was a few hours ago. I'm kinda snickering a bit now. I felt like I was in a Who's On First skit! I swear, the stuff in my life...I just couldn't make it up.

What's Wrong With Me?

2010-01-01T15:52:00.000-08:00

Wolf and I were talking earlier, and my ectopic pregnancy came up. I started crying.

Then, my mother sent me a daily calendar, "To My Daughter With Love, Caring Thoughts" so I opened it today. It has a picture of a pretty young woman in a wedding dress, and the saying is, "Mother still knows best, even when that means taking her daughter's advice."

I started crying again. Why? Because my parents didn't attend my wedding. Yes, it was in another province, but I'm their only daughter, and the excuse that they couldn't afford it just doesn't ring true. My parents have no mortgage, and always brag about the size of their bank account.

I didn't realize that I still hurt over that, until this picture and saying. I was married, surrounded by people I didn't know. Nobody in my family came. Heck, I didn't even know I had family in the city til a cpl of years later when my mother did come to visit, after I'd had Tazzie. She told her rich uncle and aunt that we'd just gotten married When my aunt found out we'd been married for two years, she was aghast, and told me that they, and their kids, would have come. My mother was ashamed that I was a single mom, so didn't bother to tell them that I'd moved to their city, nor tell me that I had family here.

I'm back to no family again, because my rich uncle got po'd that we'd pulled Diva from the Christian school he was paying for (she was being bullied, had a kid threaten to slit her throat on the bus, etc, plus we moved across the city).

All of this is old news. So why am I crying over it today?!

Its A No Go

2009-12-22T08:44:00.001-08:00

I failed.

*sigh*

I simply got my butt handed to me by my RSD. I can't handle making the dress for Diva.

So, I'm giving her the material, etc for Christmas, and it will be a project that we do together (ie, I supervise)

I'm angry, depressed. I wanted to honour my daughter, and RSD robbed me of that.

I'm not 'me' right now. Wolf has even commented on how quiet I am the last day or two. Apparently, "A quiet wife isn't a happy wife" as far as he's concerned.

Hopefully, I get back to being 'me' soon.

Merry Christmas to everyone. God Bless.

In The Darkness...

2009-12-19T09:38:00.000-08:00

Ever feel under attack? Like someone or someTHING has you in its sights, and is throwing emotional crap at you, one after another, until you feel like you're going to snap under its weight? And its done so insidiously, that nobody else around you really knows whats going on, just that you're completely snarly and unable to please, and you get angry over things that are probably completely ridiculous, but your anger stays, and so does feeling justified for it?

Yeah. I'm having one of THOSE days.

Its started out, as it often does, with a lack of sleep. The last few days my sleep has been terribly broken, with incredibly vivid dreams. I had dreams that Wolf and I were arguing in bed, and then when I dragged myself to consciousness, discovered I hadn't even rolled over. And not just once. THREE times in the same freakin night. Like I got back to sleep just to have it repeated.

Then last night, I had a dream...and in it, my heart was beating so incredibly hard, it was like I could see my pulse in my hands, arms. When I woke up, my chest ached. I wonder if my heart was beating really hard (for whatever reason) and it became part of my dream, or if my dream became part of my reality.

I woke up at 5 am, with Tazzie awake at 5:01 am. Wolf showed up for coffee two hours later. I felt like I was going to fall over, so went back to bed...and COULDN'T SLEEP. Talk about insanity.

Insanity: Feeling like you're going to fall over, throw up, or both due to lack of sleep, and then not being able to sleep. And that's WITH melatonin to help things along.

So, I got up again. Talked to Wolf about potentially Christmas shopping today. He huffed a bit, reminding me he had a maybe hockey game to play this afternoon. I finally said that I wouldn't go shopping, and he tells me that's for the best, it would be insane crowd-wise, and Tues during the day would be better for less people...then he follows it up with saying that my not shopping meant HE could go out and get a hockey stick this am!! And then he wonders why I'm ticked off at him. Seriously.

I go back to bed, and as I'm trying to drift off, one more thing hits me.

Wolf and I lost our first child together, due to an ectopic pregnancy. Found out before Valentine's that we were expecting, moved up our wedding date, and by the end of Feb, there was no longer a little heartbeat, and I had stitches in my bellybutton (laproscopic surgery).

For a long time, I hated my body. It had rebelled against me, and cost me our child. I grieved for the loss of my little one.

Time went on as it always does, and healer-thief that it is, the pain went away. Two healthy babies and almost seven years later, and I'm ashamed to admit that I don't think of my lost one much at all anymore.

Then, this am, it came roaring back at me. That Tazzie would have, should have an older sibling, Diva a younger closer to her age. That that unknown, gender unknown child would have turned seven in September.

People have pointed out, and realistically so, that if we'd had that child, Princess wouldn't be with us. That kind of logic, as honest and real as it is, enrages me. Like it was a trade off, that the child we lost wasn't as valuable, that missing my unknown is somehow devaluing the love I have for my Princess. Its not an either/or thing in my heart.

Part of the mourning is the loneliness of it. Wolf just didn't understand at the time. He understands more now, having had Tazzie and Princess, but its not a wound for him in the same way. For him, it has always been a matter of fact situation. The ectopic was caught on a fluke, and almost cost me my life. He almost lost his to-be wife. It was a medical condition to him.

So that hit me today. And I've been crying on and off since, quietly, where nobody sees or hears.

I know that I should be counting my blessings, and I do, I do. But sometimes, things lost need their moment to be honoured too.

Like I said, I feel under attack right now, and the attacker knows the right places to hit...of course.

If you are reading this, say a prayer for me, k? I need them to get through today.

Update On Sewing

2009-12-18T15:20:00.000-08:00

I have to be honest, its not going so well. I managed, after several hours, to get the pattern cut out.

I'm talking the TISSUE PAPER pattern, not anything to do with actual fabric.

By the time I was done that, I was in pain so bad I was trembling.

I didn't sleep last night, finally managing to get a few hours this afternoon.

I want so badly to honour my daughter with this dress...I just truly don't know if I can physically manage it.

Wolf asked why I would attempt such a thing when I have RSD. Perhaps its because I have RSD. I want to do something special, that my beautiful daughter deserves, as her mother, RSD be damned. If I was able to find a beautiful dress for her, I would go that route...but I can't. She's 11, and in women's sizes, only an inch shorter than I. Any dress I could find for her was far, far too mature. Any pretty party gowns in the girls/teens ran out before we found her size.

Sewing seemed the only option...I just don't know if I can.

I'm praying that I'm able to honour my daughter with this, that God will give me the strength to get through this.

Facing Shortcomings

2009-12-17T13:31:00.000-08:00

I had a complete meltdown and panic attack last night. It wasn't about anything you might think.

It was about a sewing pattern.

Yes, a sewing pattern. An 'Easy' sewing pattern at that.

You see, its my feverent hope and plan to make Diva a lovely dress/jumper for Christmas, and then give her the pattern so that she can make one of her own. I, with the help of K, picked out an easy pattern, and a lovely fabric that Diva will look wonderful in.

Believe it or not, its not the one handedness issue that has me freaking out. I plan to do the sewing on the days after I get the lidocaine infusion, so to be in the best possible physical shape.

And, a part of it is no doubt, spitting in the eye of RSD. To do something for my girl, regardless of the pain.

I also want to make her this incredible stocking as a surprise...it looks like a ballerina slipper. But, I promised I'd make the dress first.

So, last night, I finally put off getting this thing done. I wanted to pin the pieces into place, so that Saturday I could at least manage the cutting, if not some sewing.

I read the directions and promptly freaked out. It seems I'd forgotten how long ago it had been since Home Ec, and that the one sewing project I'd had was supposed to be a long sweatshirt with pockets (Hey, it was the 80s!) but looked like something with four arms.

I'm terrified. I have no flipping clue about sewing darts. And why the top would be in FOUR pieces. All it needs is a front, and a back. So WHY the four pieces???

But, this is about pleasing my daughter, not about my fears and insecurities. So, tonight, I will proceed. I will not allow my disability, or my shortcomings ruin this, or rob her.

I just pray that I don't completely screw it up.

A Promise To Keep

2009-11-11T13:33:00.000-08:00

For those that followed my older blog, you will be familiar with this piece...for those new to the Stepford Family, please enjoy. I would request all readers to take a moment of reflection to remember all of those who fought in wars of yesterday, and who fight today to protect the innocent, the weak...who are the very reasons that we are able to live the lives we do today.

This is especially personal this year, as my eldest son has decided to join our Armed Forces. May God watch over him, keep him safe.

A Promise To Keep

According to my eldest daughter, my husband and I are weird. Nobody else's parents insist that they attend Remembrance Day ceremonies, she protests. Be it on television, or in person, my husband and I insist that our family solemnly observe the day by attending ceremonies. For my husband, its a strongly held belief, bolstered by his grandfather having served in World War II. For myself, its something that I've always held to be sacred, believing that those that forget history are doomed to repeat it. Its also about a promise I made, almost thirteen years ago now. Every year since, when observing the Ceremony, I remember back to that one Remembrance Day that ensured that as long as I live, I will attend, observe, and do my very best to instill in my children the importance of the day.

I was a single parent then, working, struggling to meet our day to day expenses while still ensuring that I was there for my son. It was a juggling act at best, and I was known at work for always being available for shifts, so when I went in and booked Remembrance Day off, it came as a shock to my supervisor. “It's just Remembrance Day,” she protested. I couldn't make her understand that it was something that I simply had to observe, to teach my child about. He was only three at the time, and to him, Mommy having a day off work was a novelty, and I found myself attempting to explain why Mommy had taken the day off.

It wasn't easy, explaining to a 3 year old about the purpose of the day. As we rode the bus that chilly November morning, I did my best to explain to him, in preschooler terms, what Remembrance Day was about. Explaining that our 'good guys' had to go to war and fight the 'bad guys' so that people could be safe. I felt like I was walking a tightrope between wanting my child to understand the sanctity of the day without frightening him or glorifying violence. Explaining why the 'good guys' used guns when he wasn't allowed to play with them had me trying to explain 'big bad vs little bad' . I wondered if perhaps this had been a bad idea, if my child were too young to really understand, but on we went to the Cenotaph.

Standing on the sheltered bridge over the Cenotaph, watching the ceremony, my son's questions continued. I answered him, noticing a Veteran watching us from the corner of his eye. I felt self conscious, concerned that we were disrupting this gentleman's observance of the service. I mouthed, “Sorry” to him, and thankfully, he smiled and nodded at me.

After the ceremony ended, I gathered my courage, walked over to the Veteran and shook his hand.

“Thank you, Sir, for everything you did.”

"I was glad to do it." He replied.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Sir? We're just going to get some hot chocolate and a coffee, would you like to join us?”

He thanked me for my offer, but declined, so we turned to walk away. Just then he called to me.

"You asked if there was anything you could do..."

"Yes Sir?"

Fastening his eyes on my child, he said quietly, "Please...don't let him forget."
Somehow, I managed to speak around the lump in my throat, and whispered, "No Sir...I won't."

Years later, I met and married my husband. Had more children. And still, Remembrance Day is a sacred day in our home, to discuss the sacrifices that were made, the current war being fought, the parents who have lost children, the children who have lost parents. Three more times I've found myself having the same discussion with a bright eyed three year old, the good guys vs bad guys, right and wrong, and its never gotten any easier. I don't think it should. I think that trying to explain war should always come with difficulty, not with any glib or pat answers. Still, despite my daughter's protest that other families don't, we continue to observe.

I have a promise to keep. And I will never, ever, forget.

A Gift Too Soon

2009-11-06T08:58:00.000-08:00

Diva turns eleven today. Yay Diva! Happy Birthday!

And she got her first period last night.

*Insert Mommy fainting here.*

Thank heavens she knew from our talks exactly what was going on, so she had that half excited/half embarrassed look to her.

Wolf on the other hand...He about dropped. I mean, worse than me. I just wanted to cry, because having to deal with menstruation at eleven just seems like a rotten thing (its rotten at my age, I wouldn't wish it on an eleven year old, lol!). He on the other hand, turned green at the very idea that his little girl...lol! On the good side, seems to finally *get* why I've been ranting about hormone free meat and milk, whole foods, an acreage, growing and raising everything that goes into our mouths.

He's even going to talk to his buddy about going hunting for the first time. Wolf's anxious to start providing 'clean' meat now and not wait. Venison is about as clean as it gets, and free to boot. If Wolf finally gets around to getting his Metis status, he can hunt year round, not just in season...same with the buddy he'll hunt with.

Oh, any parental "Oh my, she's too young!" momentary freak outs were done away from the kids, and unheard. Just so nobody thinks we flipped in front of Diva

100!

2009-11-04T10:55:00.000-08:00

Ok, technically, this is 101. I actually hit 100 posts. I'm not sure if I should celebrate or be really depressed, since my intention has been to blog weekly...daily, really, but at LEAST weekly. *sigh*

Here's the thing. I debate with myself if I need to create a new blog, and delete this one. I don't want to, but I'm not so sure the Not A Stepford Wife fits me as well as it used to, before I had some personal changes set in this summer...and don't want to disappoint anyone stumbling on by.

At the same time, I'm still so-very-NOT-perfect that it still fits...so I figure I'll keep on bloggin.

Ever start something, find yourself in the midst of it, and realize that somehow the direction has changed? Ya huh. That would be me. I intended for this to be a mostly light hearted Erma Bombeck with an edge sort of blog, and stray into the reality that is my life without the promised laugh track. Ack.

So, bear with me through my growing pains, and we'll get there. Hopefully. And yes, I do so vow that laughs are coming...Oh! The Incredible Eating Machine! Coming up, blog entry 102. Promise!

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

2009-11-03T07:05:00.000-08:00

While the title is appropriate, I now have that David Bowie song in my head. And I've never even liked the song! *sigh*

There have been some changes around the Stepford Home. Literally around the home...or in it.

Wolf *finally* got around to moving some furniture that I've been begging him to do. I now suddenly have THREE bookshelves in my homeschooling/computer area. Not only do I have all my books out on the shelves, but room for more! It makes my book junkie heart race with delight, lol!

Also, much to the delight of the entire family, we ditched the three legged table to the basement and moved the table that had been holding my printer and file boxes into the kitchen. I wish someone could explain to me how it is that once Wolf moved the broken table downstairs, he FIXED the dang thing. Why couldn't he have done that, oh, say THREE MONTHS AGO when the table leg initially fell off? I swear, I just don't understand the man.

He also rearranged the living room. We suddenly feel like we have a larger home to be honest.

Its funny how rearranging furniture can rearrange attitudes. For the first time in I don't know how long, we're all eating at the kitchen table. Like, for every meal. It used to be that we'd eat in front of the tv. *waiting for all the gasping and 'tsk tsk' to die down* Hey, I did say this was the NON Stepford blog, right? Never did I claim perfection in anything.

While the Flylady would die of mortification and shame, I'm finding it much easier to keep the house clean with this new arrangement. Yeah, still one armed, my sink isn't shiny, I don't have shoes on...heck, I haven't even brushed my hair yet this am, but I'm feeling better about the house.

Here's the biggest shock of all: I'm not drinking coffee any more. I know! Me, the person who swore that you'd only get my Timmie's cup away from me by prying it from my cold, dead hands is no longer drinking coffee!

It wasn't intentional. I got hit with some sort of weird illness on Saturday. (It never fails. Ever since I was a kid, I'd get sick before/after/during an anticipated event...Hallowe'en, Christmas, etc. Or one of my brothers would.) I lay shivering under several blankets, looking like death...without a costume or make up. I don't mind looking like death warmed over for Hallowe'en, I usually consider that a triumph of my theatrical makeup skills, but this wasn't intentional, and therefore, completely unappreciated by me.

And its left me unable to stomach coffee. I just can't do it. I've tried, honest! I've finally made the switch to tea, so I could get my caffeine fix. Sorry, but I just cannot stomach Coke or any other caffeinated soft drink in the am. Caffeine must be delivered via a hot beverage.

I don't even own a tea pot, for pity sakes. I'm nervous about anyone from the government reading this, since I'm fairly certain that lack of a teapot is grounds for revoking my Canadian citizenship, declaring me American, and shipping me across the border.

While I love my American friends, I can't live in the States. No Timmies, no Smarties, and I've heard that our Oreos are better for some odd reason.

****PSA ANNOUNCEMENT****
If you boil water, add it to your mug with a tea bag in it, wander away, get distracted by kids and blogging, it WILL turn into a substance suspiciously similar to lye.

Just a friendly heads up.
*******

So, I guess I need to go get a teapot soon, before the government tracks me down. And a proper kettle. I'm using a flipping sauce pan to boil water.

In my new tea drinking defence, I'm drinking Red Rose. None of that decaffeinated-herb-ground-mouse-toe stuff.

I should also mention that I was astounded by how much CRAP we got rid of over the weekend. I'm talking about SIX garbage bags full. And BIG garbage bags. I didn't even know we had that much stuff, let alone crap! Holy decluttering, Batman!

I told my gf K, it feels like we're gearing up for a move. To be honest, that's usually when we declutter and ditch stuff, because both Wolf and I have a bit of a pack rat tendency.

The one thing that does worry me is that he ditched a whole slew of baby gear. Toys, clothes...He isn't completely daft, and did keep the bassinet and swing. I've warned him before that getting rid of baby gear tends to guarantee conception. It happened before. When Tazzie was around eight months old, Wolf got rid of his swing, and a few other things. Boom, I was pregnant with Princess before Tazzie's first birthday.

He's hoping that keeping the bassinet and swing will be enough to ward off the stork. I'm thinking its only bought us time, lol!

So, there's us at the moment. In my next post I promise to tell you about the Incredible Eating Machine.

Please, For The Loveofmuffins, DON'T CLEAN!

2009-10-26T09:22:00.000-07:00

This is what I need to tell my husband. I know, I know, there are women out there that would give an appendage for a husband that cleans house.

But not the way Wolf does it.

He throws everything in the garbage that *he* doesn't think is important. Stuff he *does* think is important he stuffs in a box, or on my desk/homeschooling area. Then, of course he nags me about the mess my desk/homeschool area is. *sigh*

I cannot FIND things when he 'cleans'. Case in point, I can't find the reimbursement form for Diva's homeschool stuff. I've looked everywhere, and nope. The entire 'welcome package' we were sent, including a computer disc, has vanished. *Poof* Heaven only knows where the heck it is.

I've already called and thrown myself on the mercy of the folks at the school board, and they're emailing me some files (as soon as they can figure out how to make them smaller, because apparently my email doesn't like the current size of the files) so that I can at least get the reimbursement done.

All I can say to the women whose husband's don't clean is to be careful what you wish for...because one day, he might.

Parent Manuals Do Not Apply

2009-10-25T14:14:00.000-07:00

I've finally figured out WHY I'm the Non Stepford Wife model.

Its my kids' fault. And, by DNA responsibility and other issues, my husband's.

But definitely the kids.

Lets start with the fact that there isn't a parenting manual in existence that deals with the issues I face on a regular/daily basis.

Take today for example. There isn't a parenting manual on the shelf that deals with potty training a la non-Stepford style. Princess has been 'sorta' trained for about a year. The 'sorta' parts come in when she will not ever wear anything on her butt. Initially, putting underwear on this kid had her screaming like I'd dipped her in acid. And not the funky hippie dream, Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds acid either.

Sooooooo, we let her go bare butt in the house. Never an accident.

But the problem arises when its time to go somewhere. Yes, even homeschoolers take their kids out. Occasionally.

Put a diaper on her, she uses it. Usually in the worst, smelliest, leakiest way possible. I know there are other moms that read this blog, so I know I don't need to get any more detailed than that. Same with disposable so-called training pants. Training my left foot! Only training that occurred was when I had to teach/train Wolf that they rip down the sides, you don't have to slide a poop filled training pants down her legs. Lets all take a moment for a group shudder at the visual that sentence produced. *shudder*

Until.

I found a no name brand disposable training pant that had PRINCESSES on it. From my Princess' all time favourite movie(s), Shrek 1-3. Well now. Defiling those were obviously a no-no. *cue angels singing*

Of course, me being me, didn't figure this out ahead of time, and neglected to buy out the entire in store stock (they were even on sale). However, the bridge between 'bare butt' and 'scream like a banshee' has been bridged, and she will wear underwear now. *cue angelic chorus*

But only if they're pink. With flowers. aka 'pretty'. *headdesk*

Sigh.

I figure that she'll be in normal underwear about a week before she turns 21, and then will be demanding thongs a week after THAT.

In the meantime, I have a three year old that appears out of nowhere, panties around her ankles, announcing "I pooped!", handing me a roll of toilet paper, and bending over. All my other kids had the grace to simply holler at the top of their lungs for help from the bathroom. Not her. *sigh*

Take that, parenting manual. Never read THAT being discussed.

Its not just my youngest either. Tazzie, at 4, has been known to listen to me, cock his head to the side with a puzzled look, and tell me, "I just can't visualize that, Mom." and walks off.

Seriously.

And, the most psyche scarring event of all occurred with Diva, my eldest daughter today. I.Had.To.Teach.Her.To.Shave.

I may never recover. I literally crawled into Wolf's lap, shaking.

(As an aside, why do men think the cure to psychological scarring is them receiving...uh...personal attention? Or is it just my dh?)

As my ever helpful husband said, "At least it was just under her arms. She could have been asking about bikini---" He wasn't allowed to finish that sentence.

Parenting manuals at the Non-Stepford home...best used as paperweights. Or to start fires...if we had a fireplace. *sigh* And I could use some help, dang it!!

Migraine Update

2009-10-15T07:38:00.000-07:00

Migraine came back, ended up in the ER.

Very long evening cut short, the CT was clear, they did 3 tries at a lumbar puncture and couldn't get it. Wanted me to stay the night and get it done this am with xray and dye.

I said thanks, but no thanks and came home. There was something like a 2-3% chance it could have been missed in the CT...I figure thats a pretty low chance, and was way sore and in tears when I made the decision.

I basically laid on the couch yesterday. The Littles took turns snuggling with Mommy. My back is still really tender from the three attempts at the lumbar puncture.

The nurse that was there when the Dr was doing the puncture was a young woman, probably a recent graduate...she was sooooooo nice! Poor girl...she was attempting to comfort me, and rubbed my bad arm...I yelped. But, she stuck by me, letting me attempt to break her hand as the Dr did the three attempts.

Headache is still present, giving me a vague pressure/pain thing...but unless it gets dramatically worse, I'm going nowhere. The Dr warned me that if it does get dramatic again, to get my butt in to the ER again...and go through the whole song and dance once more, but to stick around for the xray puncture if needed. He said the majority of potential aneurysms turn out to be horrifically bad migraines, but my description of it sounded like a sub arachnoid aneurysm. I hear arachnoid and think spiders, lol!

Worst Migraine EVER

2009-10-13T13:28:00.001-07:00

I've had migraines as long as I can remember.

The one I had last night scared the heck out of me. I've had some bad ones since developing RSD, but this...this was something else.

First, keep in mind I'm on pretty heavy narcotics to start with, with a short term 'emergency' narcotic to take when the pain is beyond coping with.

So, for a migraine to get through my 'normal' meds is pretty harsh.

For it not to respond to my fast acting meds...that's even worse.

This was so incredibly bad that not only could I not move my head because my neck muscles completely seized up, but I also vomited x2. Normally, if I'm sleeping during the day (this hit at about 1215 pm...I woke dh from a nap at 130, and was in bed shortly after) I wear ear plugs and use a shirt rolled up over my eyes as a sort of sleep mask.

I couldn't use the ear plugs. They hurt like I was putting hot drill bits in my ears.

I couldn't use the shirt. It felt like I was trying to gouge out my eyes with my thumbs. Even unrolling and draping the shirt over my eyes was too much to bear. I pushed it aside, but it was still touching the top of my head, making me feel like something was trying to crush the top of my skull.

Even laying on my side, the pressure of my hand under my pillow was too much. Rolling over made me feel like my head was going to fall off.

Normally, with a migraine, I have my hand/arm over my eyes. Going up the stairs to bed, I couldn't figure out where to hold...my eyes, forehead, top of skull or back because it all hurt so badly, and felt like my skull was going to shatter.

The light and sound sensitivity was beyond incredible.

Today, I still feel very nauseated, and my neck muscles are still tight...not as bad as last night. I have pressure in the back of my skull, creeping up the right side, and beginning to make my right eye water as the pain/pressure starts up again.

I called my Dr, he's on vacation.

Called the health link, nurse says to go to a walk in clinic.

My gf, that had an aneurysm a few years ago is demanding I go into the ER, because what I had last night is EXACTLY how she felt a few days before she ended up in the hospital...after hers had ruptured, she was still walking around for a few days.

Wolf is at work. Unless the pain amps up, I'm waiting til he's home to do anything.

Happy Thanksgiving!!

2009-10-11T11:08:00.000-07:00

Yes, its Thanksgiving in Canada. Well, technically tomorrow is, but I'm cooking today...I figure I get a day to rest and recover before Wolf goes back to work!

Thanksgiving is one of those weird times of year for me. I live across country from my parents, grandmother and sibs. Wolf's mother is in another province (I count it as a blessing) and his bsibs are scattered. Its rare that we have company.

Unfortunately, for turkey buying purposes, I'm still mentally stuck in the 'feeding the hordes' mentality that I grew up with my mother doing.

I was at butterball.ca last night. Needed to find out how long to cook the turkey today.

They also have this nifty thing where you put in the number of guests, and it tells you what size turkey to buy. So, curious to find out how I did, I put in the number I'll be feeding tomorrow. Hmmm. Says I need a waaaay smaller turkey than I bought. So, I kept going.

Turns out I have exactly enough turkey to feed FIFTEEN people. To the decimal. That would be, oh...TEN more people than will be eating here...more, considering three of them are under the age of 12!

I had the giggles so bad that I had to explain why. My husband gave me the 'geez, you're weird' look, shook his head and walked away.

He just doesn't get me.

For the record, its his fault. He usually restrains my turkey purchasing issues, but this year let me loose with only Diva for protection. We grabbed the biggest turkey out of the freezer she could lift. *blushing*

So, from our home to yours, Happy Thanksgiving!

And if you're in the neighbourhood, stop by for some turkey. We have plenty.

Stay away from the pumpkin pies though...somehow there's never too much pie.

Egg Addict!

2009-10-08T07:23:00.000-07:00

Princess kills me

I had boiled eggs for egg salad yesterday. I made some for Wolf's lunch, and then was making some for mine (none of the kids like it...well, as far as I knew!) Princess has changed her mind...about boiled eggs, anyways.

I caught her on the couch with a boiled egg. She'd peeled just enough shell off to take a bite and loudly announced, "YUMM!" Apparently, she's had a change of heart about eggs.

For breakfast this am, she had the last boiled egg, and asked for another one, dragging the carton out of fridge. I explained that they weren't cooked, they were still raw, so she couldn't have them...and promised to make her some later.

Next thing I know, Princess is heading at me with a pot...with 2 eggs in it. One broken, one whole. "Egg NOW?"

I guess later had arrived

Now I'm hearing, "Egg ready yet?" every few mins.

She's gone from not being willing to touch them with a 10 ft pole, to being an egg addict!

My Description of RSD

2009-10-07T11:20:00.000-07:00

I was thinking about how to describe RSD in a way that someone can visualize. Heres what I came up with:

There's a dragon living in my arm. Its scales are made up of broken jagged glass and razor blades. Sometimes, the dragon is quiet, only moving restlessly in its sleep, breathing its steam breath. Even just by being present, the scales dig and rip at me...the restless dreaming is the best I can ever hope for. Then there are the other times, when its active, twisting and turning, its tail wrapping around my wrist or shoulder or elbow, and then dragging its tail away. It breathes fire everywhere, and it feels like every where its scales and claws are, my arm is being torn, ripped. This is my 'normal'.

Then there are the really terrible times. The dragon is angry about being trapped in my arm and wants out. It writhes in fury, clawing, biting, ripping and tearing, while trying to set fire to burn its way out.

These sensations are so real that I look at my arm, expecting to see the jagged glass trying to push through my skin.

Thats the most visual way I can think of to describe what living with RSD is like.

Horrifying Experience

2009-09-22T10:38:00.000-07:00

At Chapters on the weekend. My gf K and I were out, getting books for Diva, and I had $100 worth of gift cards (God bless Airmiles!) to spend.

I think I'm permanently scarred. My psyche will not recover quickly. Their 'classics' section was a whopping 2 bookshelves. And most of the books were REPEATS. Anne of Green Gables was there in 3 or 4 forms. The top shelf was all dvds.

I cannot tell you how many shelves were dedicated to vampire/supernatural/romance aimed at teens, however. I closed my eyes and hurried past

WTH is going on in our society?? Don't get me wrong, I'm all for kids reading, and one of my brothers was gifted comic books simply to get him to read ANYTHING at all.

Why do preteens/teens need to be reading about sex? Why are so many books aimed at preteen girls about boyfriends? Isn't it teaching preteens/teens that the world revolves around having a guy in their life? How about something that is about a young woman achieving something, other than hooking the guy she has a crush on?

Ack!!

What I Want For My Kids

2009-09-03T22:33:00.000-07:00

There's tonnes of updates that I'll get to another time. Someone asked me what I wanted for my kids, for their futures. This is my answer.

When I think about what I want for my children, what readily comes to mind is what I DON'T want.

I don't want them to be like me. Worker's Comp forced me to go through a battery of psych testing, including IQ. All it did was prove my pain WASN'T in my head and that I'm in the top 4th percentile of ppl my age. Not that being bright has done anything for me. I was a lowly nursing attendant, FINALLY going to go back to school (online, part time) get my Licensed Practical Nurse cert, and from there my RN with an eye to either being a Nurse Practitioner or a midwife. Of course, one assault by a resident has left me with a lifetime of chronic pain disability, so that's shot all to h*ll. At this point, I couldn't handle ONE course at a college/University level due to the pain and unpredictable nature of it, sitting through a single class would be a nightmare if the pain were bad, and completing coursework? Yeah. Not.

So I don't want them to be like me. I want them to use the brains God gave them (all my kids have shown clear signs of being very bright) and DO something. Find something they love and pursue it.

I don't want them to struggle financially as I always have.

I don't want them to be a single parent.

I don't want them having a family before they've had a 'life'. I want them to have pursued everything they want to as young, single people that tends to be put aside when raising a family. Higher education, travel...whatever. And if they don't want any of those things, that's fine! But if they do, I want them to have the chance to do it.

I don't want them to be in their 30s, 40s and beyond with 'I wish I had...'

I want them to be young and foolish, to make mistakes, but not life altering ones...no scars on their minds, hearts, souls.

I want them to grow with faith. I want them to be steeped in it, to KNOW without question that God loves them, and is always there for them...especially when the day comes that I'm not any longer. I don't want them to struggle to find their way to God the way I've had to.

I want them to know, with every fibre of their being, that their Mommy loves them, forever and for always.

I want them to know that their Daddy loves them, is proud of them, would give everything he has, is, and will ever be for their safety and happiness.

I want them to be strong,confident, healthy, secure people. To trust others. To make friends easily, to know good from bad, truth from lies.

Yes, I want my children to be and to have everything I'm not and don't.

I want them to grow up to be anybody but me.

Wolf Had It Out With MIL

2009-08-21T10:23:00.001-07:00

Ewww boy.

MIL called yesterday. She was trying to force her way into staying with us for another wknd. Wolf told her that we haven't addressed all the issues she had with our home, so that wouldn't be possible. She told him that she didn't know what he was talking about, so he let her have it with both barrels.

He told her that all she did all wknd was criticize. She even had issues with the children watching Magic School Bus, because it was *gasp* Magic. He informed her that it was an excellent science show that the Littles enjoyed, it was merely a tool being used for their education, and unless she saw dragons and Satan, it wasn't evil.

She protested that, "SHE wouldn't let them watch the dvd *I* sent!" Which set Wolf off again, explaining that a) sending our son a dvd with the 'Demoniac Boy' on it was inappropriate b) the age levels were 6+, and c) the Littles didn't need to be watching anything about demons or possession.

He then went on to inform her that since our children weren't any better behaved, our house wasn't any cleaner, she didn't need to be coming back for a visit. He was completely sick and tired of her constant negativity. She told him that ppl had criticized her when she was parenting him, and that it helped (*snort*). He told her that she hadn't said a single positive thing all wknd, and he was not going to put up with her criticizing his children, his home, his wife, or himself any longer. He even told her that she forces herself on people without so much as asking if they were ok with it, and that her presence wasn't actually a blessing, but something to endure, since she was always so negative, complaining and critical.

I have no idea whats going to happen next. I asked Wolf what he wanted me to do when she called (because no doubt she will call and yell at me) and he said to just ignore her calls. She's going out of town for a reunion this wknd, so he figures by the time she gets there, she'll have totally reorganized everything in her head that its all wonderful. *sigh* MIL has the ability to either not hear or promptly twist, or outright 'forget' anything she doesn't like.

To be honest, I'm blown away that he actually took her to task for her behaviour. Its been happening every summer for the last six years, and he's never lost it like this before on her. I told him that it spoke volumes about our marriage...obviously he's secure enough in our marriage that her never-to-be-had approval didn't matter to him anymore. On one hand, I'm proud of him, on the other, concerned. I don't want him to regret this.

Hitting High/Low Lights

2009-08-16T18:03:00.000-07:00

I really can't get into everything right now. Things have simply been insane. This past week, on Thursday, Wolf's Grandpa passed. He was 106. Then, we had MIL this weekend.

We survived. Just.

I'd promised Wolf to try and protect him. Lets just say it didn't work as well as I hoped.

She fired the first shot when we went to pick her up. With both hands, she went to seize my bad arm. I turned away, while firmly grasping her wrist in my good hand, and said, "T! Do NOT touch my bad arm!" all of this in front of witnesses of course. *sigh* She immediately went to her whiny little girl pout and whined, "I forgot!" *deep sigh*

Supper and bed were uneventful, thank heavens for small mercies.

The trouble started this am, while Wolf was at work, and continued while he slept for a cpl of hours. She criticized everything. Kids were watching a TV show, and she kept asking, "Well, what are they learning from this?!" I told her they were learning to laugh

Then she demanded they watch something 'educational' and demanded we watch one of the videos she'd sent. I'd explained to her the night before that the minimum age for them are 6+, Tazzie and Princess are too young. Plus, I hadn't had a chance to watch them myself yet to decide if they would enjoy it, or need to be the proper age. She told me that "Wolf said they could!" I told her I found that unusual, as we had an agreement, and I was going to stick to it.

So, in the interest of educational viewing, I put on The Magic School Bus.

Oh boy.

Apparently, because the bus is 'magic' its bad, and against the Bible...or at least her SDA sensitivities. *sigh*

I went to make lunch, nothing major, just Kraft Dinner. She proceeded to wedge her body btwn me and the wall that the stove is up against, supervising every. freaking. move. I asked her to please leave, as I was nervous about her bumping into my bad arm, only to be told, "Oh, I'll be careful!" She then watched me dish up for the kids, criticizing portion sizes, etc.

Then, after lunch, she decided to tear apart my counter beside the sink. It simply wasn't clean enough for her, and I was informed that Diva was too young to be doing dishes and wiping down the counter.

Finally, it was time to wake Wolf up. I found out later that I misunderstood...he didn't say, "Wake me in 2 hrs" but rather "...at least 2 hrs." He finds his mother scrubbing our counter top, and blows a gasket, informing her that the whole family had spent yesterday cleaning in prep for her, so if it wasn't good enough, that was just too danged bad.

We took her home shortly after.

In the entire time, she never ONCE offered condolences for Wolf's Grandpa, indeed, never mentioned him at all. When Wolf had talked to her on the phone before the visit, he had to INTERRUPT her to tell her that Grandpa had passed, and her response? "Oh...so about you picking me up..."

After we got home, Wolf said that he doesn't know if he's going to bother having her even over for dinner again before she leaves. He's just so thoroughly sick and tired of her negativity, self centred, ridiculous behaviour that he just doesn't want to put up with it a moment longer. "Life's too short to spend it with someone you don't like." He also contrasted his relationship with his mother and the relationship with his Grandpa, and said that he couldn't imagine spending three days at her bedside. He figured he'd pop in every now and then, then go play golf while he waited. That bothers me so much, because its just not the cold, heartless man I know and love...but speaks volumes about the pain she's caused him.

I'm not sure that's a great idea, as I'm afraid that he'll regret it, but I told him I'd support whatever decision he made.

I just wish I knew how to help him.

Death Of An Icon..? No Elvis Or John Lennon!!

2009-06-25T20:22:00.000-07:00

So, Michael Jackson is dead.
The King of Pop.
Prince o'Weird.
Kiddy Diddler.

Whatever you want to call him, dead at the age of 50. Leaving behind three children (two with the same name I believe, both boys are Prince Michael something...what, in case one got lost?!) by who knows which uterus.

Can you tell I'm not a fan?

I was, once. Back when I was a preteen, and Thriller was huge. When Moonwalking was the rage, and the one white sequined glove was cool. Back when MJ was black, basically.

And even still, over the years, I gave a nod to his musical talent, because I do acknowledge his musical gifts. He *was* talented, no doubt. But what also became rapidly clear, was that he had an unhealthy affection for young boys.

I'm sorry, no matter what lack of evidence and lack of conviction occurred, you don't pay parents off unless there's guilt involved. You just don't. And repeated accusations by different families...If it quacks, walks, and looks...it be a duck.

The fact that he had children of his own frightened me. And yeah, I watched the MJ special that he invited a journalist into Neverland and cooperated with. And it was uber creepy...worst of all, he didn't even REALIZE IT.

But, I beg of everyone out there in the 'net...for all that's ever was and will be...

QUIT COMPARING HIM TO ELVIS AND JOHN LENNON.

Seriously.

Yes, he was talented. Got it. But neither the King of Rock and Roll nor The Walrus were ever charged with kiddy diddling. So can we NOT sully their memories with the comparison? Please?

The Domestic Goddess, for one, would be very appreciative.

Police Rant

2009-06-10T09:32:00.000-07:00

Dear General Public,

I am sick to DEATH of hearing people slag on police officers. Yes, there ARE police officers who screw up. No freaking doubt. They are human beings in a high pressure job, in high pressure situations. Its bound to happen that they screw up, and when they do, they should be held accountable, no doubt about it.

That being said...

Friend of mine was spouting recently about how he dislikes cops. On and on. He's a cab driver, and the fella that takes me to appointments and such. He was complaining about how he got a speeding ticket, and the cop was unpleasant. I asked if he was speeding, and the answer was, "Yes, but the cop didn't have to be so unpleasant about it...I was trying to talk with him, joke around a bit, and he was having none of it, just wrote the ticket." Oh, so because the police officer stuck to his job, he was unpleasant. OK.

I'm sick to death of the culture of it being ok to put down the police force, police officers, call them pigs, etc. Its ok to 'hate cops'.

But isn't it funny how fast that changes when you need one, huh?

So, I invite all of those who proclaim how they hate cops, how useless they are, how corrupt they are, etc...if you're ever in trouble, don't call one.

Since you hate them and don't trust them anyways, don't bother calling.

Sincerely,

The Sister of a Police Officer

Bummed

2009-05-29T11:12:00.000-07:00

I'm not exactly sure where this post is going, so bear with me, k?

I'm not sure if its just the week that's getting to me...the going for yet ANOTHER exam by a stranger for Workers Compensation, and the ramifications (aka pain and exhaustion) of that, but I feel like I'm treading water and its frustrating the daylights out of me.

Diva is doing incredibly well, as I've posted at the other blog, and I'm so proud of her.
The Littles are...well, they're The Littles, lol!

What makes me nuts is wanting to move so badly. Wolf and I have wanted to live on an acreage since before we married. I'm a real estate junkie, checking out real estate sites and drooling the way others do porn. I'm forever looking at properties online. I know of at least FOUR properties in excellent locations for me (warmer weather than where we currently live...winters are brutal on me here) but not too far away, would carry a mortgage for around the same as we pay in rent...but we're completely stuck here, because of Workers Comp. Moving would be equal to quitting my job, and therefore I would lose all my Workers Comp benefits.

Its like I see all these wonderful opportunities before us, but are completely unable to even CONSIDER going after one of them. Heck, I'm not even sure that we'd qualify for a mortgage with our credit, but why even bother to find out since we can't procede? Even checking causes your credit to have a hit on it, and I'm not about to hit my credit for nothing, thanks. Plus, I'm fully aware that Workers Comp does owe me a settlement based on my 'non work loss'...some weird thing they do, figuring out that all my non work life (social, family, parenting, marriage, etc) is worth $x a year, and they pay your whatever % of that $x based on one year. One year only. Doesn't matter that you'll always be disabled, its a one year, one time thing...completely STUPID to me, but better than nothing...and that settlement would be a down payment, albeit a small one, on a house.

So, I sit, treading water, watching these beautiful properties that we could totally afford come and go, and pray and pray and pray that when the time comes there is still a property that we can afford and that is suitable for a family our size available. As unpredictible as the real estate market is, I live with the fear that by the time everything is sorted out, we won't be able to afford what we need, and will be stuck renting for years to come.

I hate living in the city, in a townhouse. I hate that my neighbours are so close that we have to constantly remind the children to be quiet. I hate that the yard is so small we can't have a swing set, or any type of play structure at all. Our 'garden' is a small brick structure out front. I want my kids to have room to run and yell and not worry about disturbing the neighbours. I want a garden that actually has room for vegetables...enough to feed us, and then can for the winter months.

I shouldn't whine. We have a park right across the road we can go to anytime, and a community centre for swimming very close. I just see opportunity a breath away and cannot even consider pursuing it.

I keep telling myself that God has a plan, that God knows what is right for us, and God will provide a way when the time is right. Unfortunately, I'm very, VERY human, and patience is NOT one of my many virtues!

Major HUGE Diva Brag...

2009-05-28T20:57:00.000-07:00

If you *don't* go to Homeschooling, The Non Stepford Style, you might want to make an exception this once...major, MAJOR Diva braggin goin on...Nope, I'm not gonna spill the beans here, you've got to check out the other blog. That's all I'm sayin.

Major Brag.

Major Diva brag.

Major, MAJOR, Diva brag.

Get over there already!

About Generalizations

2009-05-28T11:46:00.000-07:00

I just wanted to hit on a comment about generalizations. Just as much as there are folks in genuine need of food stamps, welfare, etc and not abusing, and those that do abuse, the same can be said for disability...and let me tell ya, its no picnic to be the one who truly NEEDS Workers Comp to ante up and pay right when you're truly disabled. I doubt its any different in the States than here in Canada from the horror stories I've read on other boards, and yet much of the same attitude prevails..."What do you mean you can't WORK?!" despite the fact I have three doctors saying that I'm unfit for any level of employment...its not my personal opinion of the situation, its their medical assessment. Add to it that chronic pain is an invisible disability, and it makes for loads of fun. Comments like, "You look perfectly ok to me!" make it even more so.

Yes, there will always be some jerk that is on the 6 pm news for painting a house when he's on disability for a supposed back injury, or others who know how to milk the system for all its worth and then some. Heck, I've witnessed people like that at the treatment centre I was forced to go to for several weeks of useless, albeit excruciatingly painful pt, who bragged about moonlighting at other jobs while using their WCB funds to pay the rent. Its jerks like those that cause the issues for people like me who need the system. Its jerks like those that people think of when they hear that I'm on Workers Comp.

I guess what I'm starting this thread for is an open thought or plea that if you happen to run into someone that is on Workers Comp, don't start listing a whole bunch of jobs for them to try. Its pretty frustrating to hear. I've worked with a vocational specialist. Its not that I don't want to work that keeps me from taking you up on 'my cousin Joe has a company, I know he could use a worker like you, lemme give you his phone number!' its that I genuinely, medically, am unfit for any employment. Please don't get offended when someone doesn't take you up on your offer of help. Its not that they prefer to be on WCB. Trust me. Unless you've run into the probably 6 or 7% of folks that are milking it, they'd rather be working.

Frightening Thoughts On American Families

2009-05-23T12:25:00.000-07:00

The more I hear about some of the tactics being used in American schools, the more frightened I start to become for American parents and American families on the whole.

There has been a proposal in California dealing with bullying...but with a rather narrow focus on homosexual issues. This will run from kindergarten to grade five or so. Parents have been told that they are not allowed to remove their child from this program. No opting out, regardless of their personal feelings or religious faith/teachings of the subject matter.

First, the 'no opting out' of the gay curriculum. Since WHEN does a school or school board have the right to demand a child's attendance for particular curriculum, even when its directly contradicting a family's religious beliefs, or a parent strenously objects? Exactly when did the school become more powerful in the child's life than the parent?

Then, there's the absence issue that I've read about time and again on the boards I frequent. While I understand that truancy can be a genuine issue for some children/families and a red flag for negligence and/or abuse, more and more I'm reading of absolutely ridiculous standards that schools are setting, and iron fisted demands being made. Since when is a parent not allowed to say, "Johnny is taking a week off to go visit Grandma."? Since when is it up to a school to APPROVE a parent/family decision?!

The more I hear of this sort of thing, the more frightened I become. I seriously start to wonder how long it will be until the school has complete control over the children of the nation, and the parents have little say at all. I wonder if the spectre of handing a child over at the age of 5 to a government run facility 'for their own good' is all that far off, since it seems that little by little, the schools are already eroding parental authority. Parents are having young children doing hours of homework that they don't agree with because 'the teacher says so', being frightened of being hauled into court if their child is sick another day because they are out of 'approved absence days'.

Whose children are these? The parents, or the schools? Who is the ultimate authority in the child's life?

No, I'm not calling for everyone to homeschool. I'm just an outsider looking in, and gravely worried for the future of the American family if things keep on the way they're going.

Am I allowing my writer's imagination to simply run away with me? Perhaps, maybe even probably. Then again, I never would have imagined in a million years that a school could tell parents that their child could NOT be pulled from a certain class, or be threatened with truancy court for taking a family vacation, or having too many sick days.

Anniversary On Wednesday

2009-05-17T20:44:00.001-07:00

It seems surreal to me. Wednesday will be the anniversary of my injury. The day my life ended, my NORMAL life. When I was whole of body and spirit and mind. Before every day became a question not if I hurt, but rather to what degree. A year ago today I was planning my future, schooling and LPN graduation, buying our home on an acreage...it was so, so close. I could almost taste it. I had even begun studying for the anatomy and physiology prereqs that I would be enrolling in that summer. I had the very best of my two worlds. Home during the day, with my children, homeschooling Diva...then to work for 3 pm every afternoon. I loved my job, my career, and I was good at it. Very good at it.

Now...well...now. As I said, there's pain. Always. There's depression, a natural occurrence, I'm reassured by the professionals. Losing use of your dominant hand/arm and all that effects, plus pain, tends to produce that reaction. Nifty of them to validate me, isn't it? And there's stress, and anxiety. Being in public is avoided at all times if possible, since someone bumping into me causes hours of excruciating pain...so of course I'm extremely anxious to the point of vomiting if I'm forced to be in public. And just in case all of THAT wasn't fun enough, lets add in the toll something like this takes on your husband, marriage, and children. Oh, and as an EXTRA special bonus, we'll throw in having to battle WCB and one of the nastiest case managers known to man. That's not just my opinion of her, folks. My union rep shares it, and when she was quiet for a while, he actually thought we'd managed to get her fired, since he has six or seven other case files on his desk, all complaints, all with her as the case manager.

Figure this one out. The one pain treatment that's actually had any REAL effect for me is the lidocaine block. I can actually hug my children with BOTH arms. That is a huge thing. Unfortunately, the effects don't last long, 12-18 hrs or so, but I'll take what I can get. My pain Dr Rx'd it for me to have at home, via a home nursing service, an IV and pain pump. Its the same treatment I get at the hospital/pain clinic, only diff being the pain pump rather than normal IV and it runs for 12 hrs.

WCB DENIED THE TREATMENT. I kid you not. My case manager, without requesting any of the 20 or so pages of studies and literature that the pharmacy has about these blocks, went to the medical advisory team, who didn't know much about it...so it was labelled experimental. Cause THEY DON'T KNOW MUCH ABOUT IT. Meanwhile, they've been being billed for my treatments in the hospital and pain clinic, and my case manager (aka The Hag) tells me that I can still get the treatments there!!!

Here's the problem though: the pain clinic is short on space. Too many paitients, not enough time. So if I (or anyone else) can get their therapy in the community, then that's what the pain Dr wants to have happen. So I've been told I can have a few more treatments at the clinic, but that's it. To pay for this myself, looking at $200 a treatment...not to mention that if I DO pay for it, WCB could turn around and claim all my probs are from the 'experimental treatment' and cut me off.

So, I'm planning on getting completely wrecked drunk on Wed. I've gone from having plans for my family's future to this...not being able to even hug my children with both arms. Getting drunk won't solve anything...but nothing's going to solve RSD anyways. Not like getting drunk will make it worse. And no, I won't take my meds, so no worry about interactions. I'm a weak drunk anyways. Two or three drinks and I'm hooped.

Sickness, And Balance

2009-04-30T15:20:00.000-07:00

We've been struck down with illness at the Non Stepford Home. No, it doesn't appear to be of the swine variety, but rather of the tonsillitis sort. However, we didn't know that until yesterday. Did you know that severe tonsillitis mimics the flu, complete with fever, upchucking, body aches, chills, and all those delights? Nor did I, but Tazzie has left me a wiser Momma. Thanks kid. Really.

Now Princess has joined the illness brigade, just as Tazzie decided to recover this am. So, she's on the couch, looking like a wee scrap of herself, until we can get to the Drs tomorrow and get her an Rx of her own.

I love Wolf. Sometimes I don't understand him though. I'm not saying that in a snarky manner at all, so please don't get me wrong. We just view things so differently...I think that's probably why we make as good a team as we do, even if it occasionally leaves us tilting our heads at one another, trying to see that perspective.

Give you an example.

Tazzie, as mentioned, has been sick. Today has been the first almost human day he's had. He's been eating, drinking, and thoroughly annoying his big sister. Like I said, almost human...except for the too pale face, and crashed out boychild napping at the moment.

Wolf calls from work, wants to know if there's anything to pick up on his way home from work. Realizes he has to come home first, as his bank card is here. Okies. Then he says:
"I'll pick up Tazzie and take him with me. He hasn't been out in a few days, except to the Drs."

That. That right there is where I tilt my head and go, "Huh?!" To him, Tazzie needs some fresh air, out of the house, etc. To me, out in public, immune system still under attack, nuh uh, no way, not a plan. Both parents with the child's best at heart, polar opposites in perspective. I know Tazzie will be staying at home when I tell Wolf my concerns about the immune system...But I also know that there are times when I would keep the kids close to me whereas Wolf rightly encourages them to wander further and explore.

Balance.

And I think that's what I'd also like to hope people keep in mind at this time of media blaring, conflicting reports, WHO numbers...balance. Caution isn't a bad thing. Freaking out is, just as complete disregard. Be aware. A little extra handwashing never hurt anyone, anyways, right?

One Of Life's Ironies

2009-04-22T10:58:00.000-07:00

One of life's ironies, as Wolf like's to point out is that I have to take somewhere in the neighbourhood of 30 pills a day. No, that's not a typo folks, that actually is 3-0, as in thirty. The irony being, I choke on chewable vitamins. Watching me down pills is something of a family entertainment. I've caught Wolf on the phone, taking bets, on if I choke, and to what degree. I hope he at least makes enough money to buy me flowers out of it.

Anyways...

Just had a choke session. Quite the dramatic one, with coffee spewing from mouth AND nose, progeny a 'running to ensure that I will live to make supper. I choked out a request for a towel, and Tazzie returned with one moments later, proudly announcing, "Here, Mommmy!" and just as I was about to wipe my face with it, I hear Diva shriek, "Don't use that! I cleaned up Princess' pee with it off the bathroom floor this morning!"

At least she warned me BEFORE I used the towel. Its those special moments that prove a child's love, folks. I've no doubt that by the time she's 14, she'll wait til AFTER I used it, then tell me while she snickered. Course, if Princess is still peeing on the floor in four years, we've got other issues...Maybe we'll have a puppy piddling on the floor by then? But I digress.

Just an interesting note to close on...I now know what its like to have coffee scented snot. Interesting.

With A Hint Of Spring, A Young Woman's Fancy Turns To...

2009-04-21T13:38:00.000-07:00

Yes, I consider myself to still be a 'young woman', so you can stifle the giggling right now, thanks very much.

I said, STIFLE!

I have puppy lust.

There, I said it. I've confessed. I know some women go through pangs of 'baby lust', but not I. Wolf usually knocks me up before I usually realize I want to be pregnant. Ok, not so much with Tazzie, but definately with Princess.

Anyways, I find myself deep in the throes of puppy lust.

How deep, you ask?

Well, deep enough that I would forgo my deeply held and long cherished dream of getting a Douge De Bordeaux, my all time favourite breed that I've promised myself would be my publishing gift (when I finally get a novel published, I'm buying one with the advance...assuming the advance is big enough, lmao!) and get another pug.

Now there's some serious puppy lust happening, folks.

We have had two pugs. Our first, beloved but none too bright and well...rather untrained (our fault...fell into the 'its a small dog' mind set and didn't bother with training *blush*) scooted out of the house on Hallowe'en a couple of years ago. The Mom with the trick or treaters PUNTED him like a foot ball, and he ran off, yelping. Diva took off after him...only to witness him being killed when he was run over by a speeding car.

Utter heartbreak, as only an eight year old can know.

Last year, we tried a pug again. Winston. He was 18 mths old when we got him, from a 'breeder' I kinda sorta knew. Biiiiiiiiiiiig mistake. Huge. He was nervous as all holy heck, high strung, couldn't be trusted around the Littles...as bad a fit as could ever be. We ended up rehoming him with a sweet sixteen year old whose mom used to breed dogs, who would pamper the heck out of him, and most importantly, had no small children, and wouldn't for years to come.

A few weeks after, we got Jack the Cat, whose about the size of a pug, if not bigger. Great cat, as far as cats go. Lets the kids maul him, until they go too far, and then he gives them a nip or a bit of a swat to keep them in line.

But he's still a cat.

And I'm a dog person. And like his Momma, Tazzie is also a dog person, since he's been heard lamenting lately, "Can we trade Jack in fow a dog? Pwease?"

Kid after my own heart.

Reality of it is, now just isn't the time for a puppy. Wolf's just gotten back to work, so we're starting to bail out our financial boat. His 2nd pay will be going to an accountant to file taxes (yes, late, bad bad bad!) finish catching up on bills if we're not all caught up by then, and kitting out the family for summer gear.

But...the van's paid off in July.

I'm just sayin....

The Suspicion of The Danglers

2009-04-21T06:26:00.000-07:00

This is something I've heard more and more. "Would you let a teenage BOY mind your children? You would?!" *gasp* *choke* *wheeze*

I've had a brother and sister team mind my kidlets...if one wasn't available, the other would mind them. Occasionally, for a day time job, both would come, since 2 kids under 3 can be a handful for anyone.

Why should having a PENIS render someone automatically suspect? There seems to be a growing trend across North America these days...Suspicion of The Danglers.

There have been situations when I was working that Diva would invite a friend over, and the question would come, "Is your Mom home?" and the answer, "No, my Dad is." and the child wouldn't be allowed. Meanwhile, my husband has far more patience and tolerance for opk (other people's kids) than I do, on any given day. He's the one making them popcorn for their movie while I'm fleeing for the sanctuary of my bedroom to escape the shrill giggling of little girls.

OK, not quite that extreme, but you get the picture. He's more the Mr. Rogers type when it comes to a host of other kids, and I'm more the Miss. Hannigan type. Adore my own, adore a FEW other kids (friends of mine, basically...one here in my city, hers are freaking adorable!)

And he's judged unsafe...because he has dangly bits. Parents would leave their little heathens with ME, assuming I'm perfectly safe, on the basis that I have a uterus. Meanwhile, I could be (and probably am) contemplating how quickly I could duct tape their child's big mouth shut.

Trust me, out of the two of us, Wolf's the safer bet if you're looking to leave your kid with someone. *HE* won't actually duct tape anyone.

I probably won't either, but that's cause of the whole one armed thing, not for lack of desire or trying.

Oh, The Drama!

2009-04-17T10:34:00.000-07:00

Just a quick explaination as to why I've been MIA. For those new to my blog, I have RSD, which affects my entire right arm, shoulder to finger tips. Wolf's gone back to work as of Monday, which is a wonderful thing for us financially, and for him emotionally...but for me, its meant that I've been chug-a-lugging the meds the minute he hits the door and going to bed, so its seriously disabled my blogging abilities.

Moving on to the real post of today:

The Princess was walking along the edge of the brick raised planter thing the landlords put out front of our place shortly after we moved in. Something she's done a billion or so times before. Last year, they sawed off an evergreen that croaked, leaving a small stump. So of course, when The Princess fell for the very first time, it was towards the stump.

Thankfully, she wasn't hurt. Well. not in terms that you or I would consider 'hurt'. No gushing blood, no eyes missing, no puncture wounds, nothing needing an ER trip.

She does, however, have a scratch in the palm of her hand. About 2 inches long.
And we're out of band aids.

Well, lil Miss Drama Queen keeps looking at the palm of her hand, gasping, and moaning, "Oooooh! Ohhhhhhh!" and coming over for a cuddle, and mournfully pleading, "Ban aiy? Ban Aiy, Momma?"

I sent Diva to the store. I can't take it.

The Princess is now the proud owner of a Hello Kitty! bright pink band-aid, and all is right with the world again.
*sigh*

Better Late Than Never!

2009-04-07T19:06:00.000-07:00

Yes, I realize the last post was Sunday. Bite me.

Moving on.

I'm happy to announce that I'm now affiliated with what I think of as 'The Cool Moms Group' but what is actually called 'Moms Without Blogs'...you can see the button on the left hand side. They took a look at my blogs and decided I was nuts...errr...cool enough to join them.

I'd flip up my collar and do the Elvis sneer, but I'm wearing my uber comfy sweatshirt, and there's no collar. And the sneer just doesn't work without the popped collar, ya know? You just look dorky without the collar.

I was over reading at the MWB site, and it was about getting a pedicure, which brought back a memory of my own, that I thought I'd share.

Back when I was pregnant with The Princess, (I'm talking about 8.5 months pregnant) I waddled in to the local ritzy spa place for my first (and to date, last) pedicure. Wolf, being the well intentioned man he is, gave me gift certificates for a mani, pedi, and massage for my birthday. Now, I don't blame him, entirely. He explained to the folks there that it was for his extremely pregnant wife. (Why, oh WHY they would sell him a massage package is beyond me, because unless you're specially trained, you cannot do a massage on a pregnant woman, for fear of sending her into labour. But that bit comes later.)

Anyways, I took Wolf's cousin's wife with me. (Follow that one?) She and I get along fantastically well, and she was the one willing to mind Diva and Tazzie while I had the next lil critter. So, in we go...la la la.

Well, I thought the poor girl doing the pedicure was going to have a conniption fit over my feet. She scolded me about them, going on and on about the condition they were in. M stared at her in shock, her mouth agape, and I looked at this woman kneeling at my feet, resisted the urge to plant my foot in her mouth and said, "Its kind of hard to take care of my feet when I can't see them let alone reach them" She looked at me like I was stupid and asked if I had back problems. I looked at M, she looked at me, and this time she answered, saying, "Only when she's eight and a half months pregnant!"

Folks, I'm not one of those women that shows up in labour and people question if I'm really pregnant or not. I go into maternity clothes about three days after the stick shows positive, and get out of them sometime near the baby's second birthday, ok? There's no missing that I'm pregnant.

Two minutes after this, the Massage Dude walks in, and asks who is scheduled for the massage. M points at me. Massage Dude takes one look, and says, "I'm sorry, but I'm not trained to do massage on pregnant women."

So, Massage Dude, who looked to be all of twenty could tell at a glance from across the room I was pregnant, but Pedicure Woman who looked to be in her thirties, kneeling at my feet could not.

*blink*

So, at the end of the day, the price of the massage was taken off M's mani/pedi, which was cool. I had pretty feet, even though I couldn't see them. I figured that Wolf wanted me to have a few hours of pampering for myself, which I had and appreciated...and maybe the OBGYN would appreciate pretty feet in his face.

Starting A Commune, Wanna Join?

2009-04-05T12:09:00.000-07:00

*sigh*

I'm getting really tired of some of the stuff that's happening in society these days. The only solution I can think of is finally winning the lotto and buying the acreage that Wolf and I have been dreaming about for years now.

Its just really getting insane.

Take today for example. Diva is 'friends' with the kid across the sidewalk from us. Got invited to the movies. The kid's parents are taking her to see Adventureland. (I say 'friends' because they're the only two girls in the neighbourhood. If Diva had the option of another girl, she would gladly take it.) These are 10 and 11 yo girls, folks. Adventureland is rated 14A, and deals with a story line where the highlight of the lead character's summer is getting to smoke pot all summer long. I soooooooo don't think so. Diva was not granted permission, which led to a long conversation regarding differences in parenting styles, morals, principles, etc.

But, there's more than that. I'm tired of walking down the street and hearing kids in elementary school use profanity like it was a mastered second language, I'm tired of seeing young girls dressed in ways that only seem to serve the purpose to render them physically desireable, and then there's the rising rates of sexual experience amongst children, younger and younger.

And then there's the violence issue. I'm sorry, but I can remember when I was in school, you did NOT talk back to adults. It just did NOT happen, period. Now? *snort*. Things are getting dang scary out there, folks. On the streets, in the schools, in our neighbourhoods.

So, winning the lottery and moving out to an acreage seems like the only reasonable solution. Anyone want to join me?

Happy Anniversary To Me, And A Story

2009-04-03T12:46:00.000-07:00

So, Happy 6th Wedding Anniversary to Wolf and I! Wow...6 yrs. Boggles my mind. I won't waste time contemplating the crimes I could have committed and be paroled for by now, because that would just be a downer. But 6 yrs! That's somewhat impressive...unless you're Sm, or other folks like her that have been married for 17 yrs and the like. 6 years is impressive to ME, ok? :oP

Anyways, Wolf and I have been in a wee bit of a financial bind. I've kept it out of the blog, but its pertinent to this story, so thats why I'm mentioning it here. We're so freaking broke its scary.

So, my gf K came by last night with some groceries that she'd pulled from her storage. She swears her husband, 'Costco J' buys apple juice and ketchup by the vat. She had asked that Wolf go out to the car to bring the stuff in. No prob.

What I didn't know was that the sneaky wench had something up her sleeve. $10 to be precise. Which she slipped to my husband, with the commandment,
"Thou shalt by thy wife an anniversary card. And not one of those funny ones either, Bub. It better be romantic, got it?"

I woke up this afternoon (yes, I was allowed to sleep in...until 1230, at which point folks started to worry that I wasn't actually sleeping but had died, and the attempts to check my pulse woke me) to find a lovely card on my night table. It plays, "How Sweet It Is To Be Loved By You." What really, REALLY got me was what Wolf wrote on the inside. Its intensely personal and private, so I'm not sharing it :oP but it rocked me...One of those, "Wow...he really *does* get it" moments...he really does understand how much I do work at this whole marriage gig some days. Sometimes I feel like I'm invisible, ya know? That he just doesn't see. But he does. And that means more to me than anything else he could possibly have bought or given me today.

Dang. I absolutely DID marry the right guy...and he's bought himself another year of it...poor bugger.

Blogger MPD

2009-04-02T22:58:00.000-07:00

I think its starting to set in. I've even changed my name, and am toying with changing it back again.

Bear with me.

I've been Domestic Goddess for a bit, simply because it makes me snicker at the complete oxymoron at ME being labelled a Domestic Goddess. A prime example of sarcasm at its finest. So, I switched to Not A Stepford Wife on my profile.

But then, I started reading through my posts, and dang, I refer to myself as Domestic Goddess a LOT on here. Which would mean a LOT of editing.

And I'm one handed typing.

Or just lazy.

We'll stick with the one handed typing. And as much as I am very definately the prime living breathing ultimate example of Not A Stepford Wife, its a dang long name to have...so I'm going back to the Domestic Goddess.

Plus...it makes Wolf's eye twitch in that really neat way every time he happens to read over my shoulder and sees it.

*grin*

OK, My Life Is Weird

2009-04-01T19:14:00.000-07:00

And I realize that's not a HUGE shock to anyone that knows me in the slightest (aka has read here a time or two) but geez, folks...every now and then it catches ME off guard, k? Cause certain levels of weird are just beyond acceptable.

Take this am for example. I was still in a lousy mood from the rejection of the short story contest, and ended up blubbering again telling Wolf about it, since he'd already gone to bed when I read the email. Now, at first he tried the old, "they don't know what they're missing, buncha jerks, try again, rah rah rah" speech thing that for some reasons guys actually think will make a woman feel better. WHY? I mean, seriously, does it EVER work?

For any male readers that may be lurking, or that may ever stumble across this article or blog, let me, the Domestic Goddess, author of Not A Stepford Wife give you this one bit of advice that will automatically put you at the head of the line when it comes to boyfriend-hood, and winning the husband awards.

When your girlfriend/fiancee/wife/live-in/significant other has had a disappointment and is upset, tell her you're sorry and HUG HER. Honestly, it will work wonders. You don't actually have to say anything else in particular, perhaps an 'mmmmhhhmmm' or an 'uh huh', but holding her and rocking her will cover everything. I promise you, saying "I'm sorry" is not always an admission of guilt! Honest!!

Now, *my husband* doesn't take that kind of advice. Nope. He stands there in the kitchen, looks at me with tears running down my face, and asks, "Are you drunk?"

I kid you not.

Now, the fact that we're flat freaking broke and have no booze in the house so its a freaking impossibility to start with aside...oy.

Then, I had emailed my gf K when I got the response...forwarded it to her. She responded this am. Thought it was an April Fools gag.

I kid you not.

She had to CALL ME to confirm that no, this was not a prank I was pulling, this was seriously the situation. I'll take that as a serious vote of confidence as to my talent as a fiction writer and the strength of the entry I submitted.

Crazy day.

More Update On Hannah

2009-04-01T07:45:00.000-07:00

Hannah's doctor's have stabalized her enough that she's going to have surgery today. It could be as long as 17 hours. They had been keeping her in a medical coma, but she woke up enough before her surgery this am to smile at her mom before being taken for surgery.

The surgery itself is very risky, as the tumour has at least attached itself to one of her kidneys. If everyone could please pray, vibe, do what ever you do according to your beliefs for Hannah and her parents today, I know they would appreciate it.

No child should be going through this. I know it happens every day...but that doesn't make it right...at least not in my heart.

UPDATE:

THE TUMOUR IS OUT!!! Thanks to everyone for their prayers and support! That the drs were able to get the tumour out completely is a miracle in itself! There may be chemo in the future, but at this point, it can be said that the surgery was a success! Thank you, everyone, and THANK YOU GOD!!!

I'm An Idiot.

2009-03-31T23:31:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting here crying. No, my family is all well, thanks. No, I'm not hurt (anymore than usual) or damaged more than normal.

I had the first results come in from my short story contests that I'd entered. It was from the story that I was most sure of, most proud of, was so certain was the BEST work that I'd done.

Nada. Zip. Zilch. Zero.

So, I sit here, sobbing like a spoiled child whose just been told she can't have the chocolate treat she wants.

I know, I KNOW intellectually what a crapshoot these contests are, that what one editor considers a steaming pile of dung another considers the literary boon to mankind. I know that.

I also know that literary accomplishment aside, placing in the contest would have meant some badly needed funds into the Stepford home.

So I'm sitting here crying.

I'll get my spoiled rump off to bed shortly. Assuming I quit sucking my thumb long enough, of course.

Sharing A Grandma, And A Prayer Request For A Little Girl

2009-03-30T23:51:00.000-07:00

This daily blog thing isn't as easy as you think, ya know. I'm trying though. Because I keep my promises, dang it.

That, and I'm just plain stubborn. Ask Sm, she knows. She won't hesitate to confirm the fact either, at the slightest prompting. And at length. In detail. Great detail. Minute detail.

Then again, my tendency to babble and ramble is one of the reasons that I'm a pretty good blogger, so I suppose the command to 'watch the scenery, Dear' perhaps wasn't one of the better pieces of advice offered to me :oP

Suppose I should explain that tidbit.

Ok. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay back when, before I was a Domestic Goddess, I was a Goddette. (Shup, Sm.) Roll with it people. Yes, I made up the term, Goddette. Deal with it.

Anyways, one fine weekend, I was invited to join Sm and her folks and go to her grandparents. We had a blast, although there was a bit of confusion on the way up as to why there seemed to be bits of misting rain every now and then. (Turned out Sm's Dad is a joker and was deliberately shooting off his windshield wiper fluid so it would drift back on to her windshield. We were teenagers, k? Not so much on the bright part? Hello? Hormones? ok? 'nuff said.)

So, there's me. Grand old age of 16? 17? New place. Never met the grandparents before. Feeling a wee bit uncomfy. So I do what I do best. Babble. Incessantly. Until Sm's Grandma, bless her heart, love her always, kindly reaches over, pats my hand, smiling, and quietly says, "Dear, why don't you watch the scenery?"

Understand, it was said with such a smile, and in such a tone, that you would have thought at first blush it was a compliment...took a full 30 seconds for it to register in my brain that I'd just been royally put in my place by a Master. The entire family roared with laugher, myself included.

One of the best weekends, if not THE best weekend I can remember of my childhood.

Thanks, Sm, for sharing your grandma with me that weekend. Give her my love, and tell her that I still don't watch the scenery as much as I ought to!

====================
A Mom on a message board I'm a member of has a little girl that I'd appreciate everyone keeping in their thoughts and prayers. Hannah went from having the sniffles on the weekend to being rushed to the ER with breathing issues. She was found to have a cancerous tumour today, and even the surgery is life threatening. If everyone would please pray, or do what you do for Hannah and her family, I would appreciate it, and I know they would too. For those of you who have blogs, please feel free to share Hannah's story on your blog, to let your readers know of her, so that they can pray for her too. She can use all the prayer she can get.

May I Draw Your Attention...

2009-03-29T15:54:00.000-07:00

*Ahem, ahem, ahem* Been fiddling around with the layout in these here parts. May I draw your attention to the lovely side bar, found on the left hand side of your screen. Yes, I've been reduced to following my own blogs. I realize how pathetic that is, but there's more to it than patheticness (is that a word? It is now, darn it!) It makes it easier for you, loyal reader (please, let there be one or two of you in existence) to follow me, even if you haven't been able to either a) figure out how to 'follow me' or b) get blogger to allow you to follow me.

Speaking of Blogger allowing things, I've heard from a few folks that Blogger won't let them comment...either at all, or on a consistent basis. So, in the interest of ego stroking (my own) and cutting down on frustration (yours) I offer you my email address if you would like to comment on a blog entry but Blogger isn't cooperating.

domestic.goddess.blogs@gmail.com

How special is that? Yes, I opened the email just for my blogs. All together now, awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!!! That's how much my ego strokes, I mean readers mean to me.

I'll even post it in the left hand side bar for your communication convenience. What more could you ask for from a Domestic Goddess?

More posting, yeah yeah yeah.

I'm working on it, people! Sheesh! There are THREE blogs on the go now, ya know.

*sigh*

Stupid Should Hurt

2009-03-28T00:05:00.000-07:00

Stupid should hurt. I even have shirts, etc that say so in my shop. It really should. So should narrow mindedness, bigoted behaviour, racism...but really, when you boil all that crap down, it comes down at its base to 'stupid' or at best, 'ignorant'.
I don't know if its only that I've become less tolerant (and I know I have) or that it really is on the rise, but I witness more and more stupidity, comments that make me want to reach over and smack the living crud out of someone. Do ppl really believe the crap they're spouting, or is it done in an effort to provoke a reaction? Sometimes I have the urge to ask, but am kinda afraid of the answer. I mean, how do you nicely ask someone, "Excuse me, but are you as stupid as that statement makes you sound?"
Nowhere does stupidity seem to raise its ugly head than in parenting issues. Now, I am not now, nor have I ever been, nor will I ever be, a perfect parent. I don't play one on tv, and I don't even pretend to be one online even. I have my opinions, as does anyone else. But there are some things that are just common sense folks.

Discipline is a fine example. If you don't discipline little Jimmy when he's little, he's going to be a brat. And he'll be a brat when he becomes teen Jimmy, at which point you'll have a kid that's bigger than you, cursing and swearing, intimidating you, your spouse and his siblings. If you're inconsistant in your discipline, its not going to work.

We're not talking The Dead Sea Scrolls here, people. Parenting, while frustrating as holy Hades at times, actually isn't rocket science.

Unless you're a homeschooler, and choose to study rockets. But I digress.

And please, before I'm left a million and three comments about how your little darling has a medical diagnosis, I realize that different children require different parenting. Did I say one size fits all? Nope. I realize that for some parents, finding the right way to discipline is way harder and requires far more creativity than for the average bear, and I salute you.

I salute you for two reasons: one, its simply harder. Two, unlike SOME parents that I've had the misfortune of meeting, you haven't used your child's diagnosis as a 'get out of parenting free card', shrugged your shoulders, and hid behind a three letter label to excuse any and all misbehaviour by your child. Unlike that mother of the kid at the community pool a year or two ago, that just about brained Baby Princess with a weighted diving ring, while she sat on her rump, calling out, "He has ODD!" rather than actually doing anything. Or the kid that ran merrily around the park, throwing sand, stealing toys, shoving kids, while Mom sat on the park bench calling out, "Sorry, he has ADHD...Honey, be nice! Be nice!" which continued until Tazzie had enough and shoved the kid back. Suddenly, there was a problem. Uh huh. Wolf told her, "Sorry, he doesn't have ADHD. He just doesn't like being shoved around."

Anyways. Where was I?

Oh yeah. Stupidity and parenting.

If you buy your kid everything they want the minute they want it, please don't wonder why they have entitlement issues, k? And for HEAVEN'S SAKE, don't be complaining about it where I can hear you. Yes, I'm referring to YOU, neighbour across the way. I just about had coffee out the nose this am when checking the mail. And since when are YOU awake before 6 pm anyways? I know you work nights, because your kid complains about being stuck in the house with nothing to do but play with all her electronic gizmos because you're asleep. Here's another tip: Spending time with your kids. Always, always, ALWAYS a good idea. Honest. It won't spoil them rotten. I know, I know. You think we're ruining our kids, cause they're homeschooled, and they'll never make it in the 'real world'. Your kid told mine that too. Yeah, she's got a real mouth on her, doesn't she? But here's the thing...your kid BEGS to come over here, constantly. Why? Cause I'm HERE, with my kids. Spending time with them. You know, like...doing stuff. Reading, arts and crafts, popping popcorn, cuddling up...*gasp!* I know! What a concept! Unfortunately, between the swearing, lying, bullying of my toddler and preschooler, and general mouthing off, your kid isn't welcome here. Not only that, but despite your not so subtle hints, I'm not interested in being your free daycare. Another tip: If your 11 year old needs boot camp, thats a big old red flag for you, right there, k?

Here's my last tip for the post, and its one that doesn't make me quite foam at the mouth and twitch as badly as the parents that seem to think that children don't require discipline, that they can be their kid's bestest buddy and everything will be just fine and dandy, but its dang close. You ready? Ok. Here goes:
You cannot make up for whatever you missed as a kid through your child. Now, I'm not talking stuff like being hungry, neglected, wearing rags to school. I'm talking about other things. Its very simple, really. Your child isn't you. Your child will not have missed out on what you did, so a closet stuffed with more outfits than they could possibly hope to wear before they out grow them does them no possible good. A playroom crammed with more toys than any child could possibly play with is overwhelming, and if anything, teaches them a sense of entitlement. Its not going to do a thing for the child you were that desperately longed to see something under the Christmas tree, year after year. Only a good counsellor can help that. And I'm not saying that with any mean spirit at all, but with kindness. You can't make up for the fact that you always wanted to play hockey but your parents were too broke, especially if your son loathes the cold and only wants to curl up with a good book.

Spend the time with your child, and learn who he/she is, rather than who you want or need them to be. Take joy in who they are.

Lets Make A Deal...

2009-03-27T12:07:00.000-07:00

Honest to Peter, I'm going to have to set myself up some sort of nasty consequence for leaving my blog(s) unattended. No coffee unless I blog? *gasp* That would be somewhat counter-productive, since I'm unsure that I would be able to type, let alone form coherent words, let alone sentances without my beloved go-juice. So, caffeine withholding isn't going to be an option. Hmmmm...No web surfing before blogging? Now that would work...assuming there was anyone to hold me to it...and there isn't. Diva, who would LOVE to have such power over her mother, isn't going to get such a chance, Wolf would look at me blankly and nod, and the Littles...well, yeah. So not going to work. I guess it'll just have to be my word of honour, that I'll blog more regularily.

*snort*

Uh...I know! I'll view it as a writing assignment! That'll work! Until I realize I'm not getting paid, even by comments...*sigh* Its hard to be a Domestic Goddess when the audience is silent, ya know. So, if you're out there, COMMENT, PEOPLE!! Goddesses require adulation. Its in the contract, read the fine print. Why do you think they had all those temples and stuff, huh? Read Greek or Roman mythology, and see what happened when Goddesses didn't get their proper worshipping. It wasn't pretty, trust me. Don't make me pull out my Magic Erasers and go all scrub crazy on your heinies. Won't be nice.

Now that my pointless and worthless blustering threats are over, I'll resort to begging...please leave a comment, my fragile ego needs it, k? :oP

You comment, and I post more.

Deal?

Sick

2009-03-08T17:23:00.000-07:00

So, illness has hit the Non Stepford home. In the form of cold/snot/flu/migraine. Just a joy, really. Once again, count your blessings that you're not a resident of our fair abode.

The Heathens have been felled, one by one, by fever and snot. Then, it was my turn. A visit to a neurologist on Wed, to discuss the migraine issue, to be followed Thursday eve with the start of, oh guess what! a migraine.

The mother of all migraines, thank you oh, so much.

Now, I'm no inexperienced pansy when it comes to migraines. I've been dealing with them for some *gasp* 20 odd years now. But since RSD hit, they've been getting more frequent, longer, and way, way worse.

The one this week...well, if it wasn't The Worst...I'm scared of how much worse it can get, without my head actually exploding and leaving a heck of a mess for poor Wolf to explain to the kids...and CSI and homicide dicks. Do you think that they'll actually believe that 'my wife's head exploded from a migraine' story? Yeah, I doubt it too. Poor Wolfie.

Anyways, I don't remember Friday. I mean, seriously. I have a dim recollection of talking to a gf while Wolf was out at the pharmacy, and also of taking meds...but that's about it really. According to Wolf, that's about all I did. Bed, shuffle down the stairs, mumble, point, swallow meds, crawl back up the stairs. Throw in some moaning, whimpering, and clutching of head, and that about sums up my Friday, from what I understand. Oh, and add some throwing up in the kitchen sink. I remember that part. Figures I'd remember that part.

To greater illustrate the point, Wolf was getting scared. If I hadn't pulled out of it about when I did, he was getting ready to call for an ambulance.

And just for giggles, that gf I remember talking to...she mentioned something I hadn't considered...the correlation btwn high blood pressure, chronic pain...and high blood pressure and migraines. Followed up on that yesterday with a call to my health link...and got a butt kicking from a health nurse. Next time I get a migraine that doesn't respond to narcotics, I'm to haul butt (or more likely, get my butt hauled) to the ER, pronto. Its a bad bad bad sign of high blood pressure, apparently.

Who knew?

My gf J, apparently.

Well, I'm off. Still not feeling great, have a feverish Tazzie crashed out in my bed, and going to join him.

A Homeschooling We Will Blog

2009-03-04T14:33:00.000-08:00

Dear heavens, I'm going to end up with more blogs than I can shake a stick at. See, I've got different email addys...and all I was TRYING to do was to add another email addy to THIS blog, so that I didn't have to sign in, sign out...I was starting to get MPD just because of email addys. Not a healthy thing, when I've already got some naturally occurring mental instability...my friends and loved ones call it 'the artistic temperment'. Basically, I can live in my head with plotlines and subplots and characters quite happily, while blithely stepping around a pile of 2 wks worth of laundry and so forth.

Anyways, it means that I've fractured myself into yet another blog. Homeschooling, the Non Stepford Style.

Now...question will become if I blog there exclusively for homeschooling stuff, copy and paste stuff from here about homeschooling...or bounce around like a psychotic super ball, posting on every blog.

Who knows.

When I figure it out, I'll let you guys know, then you can follow whatever blog suits your fancy.

Or...I'll end up in a padded room, from Blogger Induced MPD.

Just call me Sybil.

Rejection, and Other Issues

2009-02-23T15:54:00.001-08:00

So, received a rejection today from the biggest parenting magazine in Canada. Or, as my friend J pointed out, they rejected my *pitch* not my *writing* since you send them a query, outlining the idea you have, and they decide if they want to see it or not...and they said, 'not'.

So, theres that. I'll keep plugging away, sending queries along. I wonder what the line is between 'persistant' and 'harrassment'? Guessing I'll find out, depending on if I finally get a positive response to a query, or a 'cease and desist' notice from a lawyer, lol!

On the other side, I do have 2 other actual articles submitted to them, in a different theme that they request full articles to be submitted. We're at week 3 of 6 that they say they'll contact you by if interested. Hopefully I hear a 'yes' from them on one of them soon!

One thing I find myself doing when stuff happens around the house these days is debating if its blog or article material. If I blog something, then I can't really use it in an article...what magazine wants a blog that's already available for free? So, it gets a wee bit tricky.

That the thought even occurs to me at all is a positive sign of how very seriously I'm taking creating a freelance writing career for myself...but may not bode as well for blog followers.

Wish me luck though...I need it!!

Well, Its Excercise, Right?

2009-02-19T09:10:00.000-08:00

Tazzie and the Princess are having a grand ol' time. They're taking turns walking each other. On a leash.

Now, before anyone calls the Kiddie Kops on me, my children don't wear collars. We've *thought* about putting collars on them...shock collars even...but never have. So, they're taking turns holding an end of the leash.

Its Diva's fault, really.

Diva got it into her head to walk Jack the Eunich Cat this am. Went on and on about how he deserves fresh air and excercise, it was mean to keep him cooped up, blah blah blah. By the time she was done, I had visions of my face on a PETA most wanted poster. So, I let her.

Now the littles are taking turns...one is Diva, the other Jack the Eunich Cat.

At least its excercise, right?

Poised On The Edge

2009-02-17T15:06:00.000-08:00

Ever have this feeling?

Its like standing at the very edge of a diving board. You can feel your toes curl over the edge as you stand there. Eyes closed, you inhale deeply, stretching your arms up over your head, and exhale. Inhaling again, you bend your knees in preparation for the jump...

That's where I'm at. Standing on the edge of a diving board, waiting for the whistle to send me hurtling into the air, twisting, turning, spinning. I cannot see the board, nor the pool below, waiting to receive me.

I don't know how high this board is, nor how deep the pool. It could be a board as high as the CN Tower, with only a wet sponge waiting. Or, it could be a mere curb that I'm poised to jump from.

I just don't know.

All I do know is that I'm ready, waiting for that whistle, to blindly take that plunge. Whatever it may be.

I feel poised on the edge of something, and wish, as my impatience often guides me, that it would hurry up and happen already.

I don't know if its a good or bad plunge. I just know its coming, and want to get it over with already, so I can get to whatever comes next.

Hurry Up And Wait

2009-02-17T11:01:00.001-08:00

Seems to be a theme of my life these days. And anyone who knows me even slightly knows that patience is NOT one of my many virtues. Nuh uh. I want it YESTERDAY.

So, I'm still waiting to hear from Today's Parent, both on the submission to 'My View' and an article proposal I sent in. And waiting to hear from Readers Digest, and two other magazines that I can think of off the top of my head.

*listens to crickets chirping*

Ok, so that's a lie. We still have snow here in Edmonton, so there isn't a cricket around.

Also waiting for all the fiction contests that I've submitted to as well. At least I have started another story, and written a cpl more articles as well. That's one of the few benefits with insomnia...I can get up and do some 1 handed typing until I think sleep might happen. 1 handed typing is also slooooooooooow going, which in itself is a frustrating issue...but until the day comes that I can afford a new puter and voice recognition program, 1 handed typin we shall go.

So, that's how things stand here at the Non Stepford house. Whole lotta nuttin going on.

Arent you glad I blogged? :oP

Wow...Four Years Already!

2009-02-15T09:28:00.001-08:00

Seems impossible to believe, but Tazzie is four years old today! I don't know where the time's gone...but it has.

Happy Birthday, Tazzie!!

Meh

2009-02-13T11:13:00.001-08:00

So, the big V day is almost upon us.

Unfortunately, that's not Vasectomy, its Valentine's.

Valentine's day so isn't my gig. Nor is it Wolf's. He doesn't do anything on command, so the idea of HAVING to be romantic just doesn't work for him at all.

And besides, Taz birthday is the day after. Far more important in my books than a societal ordered love fest.

I'd be more enthused about Vasectomy Day.

Go For Broke?

2009-02-12T10:39:00.000-08:00

Ah, dilemmas. Gotta love 'em.

I currently find myself immersed neck deep.

See, I've submitted things to the big parenting mag here in Canada. They have a 6 wk wait period to hear back. And of course, material submitted to them cannot be under consideration anywhere else. So, there's 2 articles in limbo.

I heard back from another big parenting mag...a rejection without even submitting anything. See, you're to query first, then they decide if they even want to see your dazzling prose. Editor kindly wrote me back, informing me that she only accepts work from writers that have been previously published in a national publication.

Ah. The eternal oxymoron. We won't hire without experience, yet you can't get experience without being hired. How can you get published in a national magazine when the prerequsite is to already be published in a national magazine?

*sigh*

So, I drag out my handy dandy Writers Guide that my wonderful husband gave me for Christmas. Start going through the parenting magazines listed. Majority of them are Stateside...and a number of them have being American as a neccisity. Out of the rest, there are some possibilities. Problem is, the pay is crap...$20-$50. I know, I know, getting published is the first hurdle. But again, problem is...once its been published for a mere $20, its no longer 'original' and cannot be submitted elsewhere.

So, I'm wrestling with what to do. On one hand, being published somewhere would build my resume, absolutely. On the other hand...it depletes what I have prepared.

The logical thing to do is simply take the shotgun approach, submit everywhere possible, and keep writing, coming up with new material.

Problem is, the meds I'm on are knocking me on my butt, so writing is even more of a challenge than before.

I think I've answered my own question though...go for broke, celebrate whatever I get published, even if its only a $20 pay day, and build that resume so I can point to published clips and say, "See! I've been published!" in hopes that it lands me more lucrative gigs.

Wish me well...I still have other queries floating around the 'net somewhere, and haven't heard back on yet.

4 wks left in the Today's Parent consideration deadline.
77 days left before winners to be announced on one of the contests.
Other contest notifies winners in June
I swear I saw something that said that contest #2 would notify by April, but danged if I can find that now.

So, whole lot of nuttin so far. *headdesk*

Poor Jack The Cat

2009-02-11T19:57:00.001-08:00

Poor Jack the Cat has officially gone from a 'he' to an 'it'.

He's not at all amused. Bad enough to have the family jewels removed, he's now forced to wear a plastic satellite dish. He keeps running backwards, hoping to get away from it, has caught himself in a doorway, and just now whacked the edge of the wall so hard that he gave up and laid down.

So, whenever you're feeling like you're having a bad day, remember poor Jack the Eunich Cat, and realize it could be worse...you could also be wearing a huge plastic collar.

I know I will, lol!

Holy Stubborn, Batman!

2009-02-10T11:23:00.000-08:00

My youngest child has a stubborn streak that would have most in awe. I figure she got a double dose from both Wolf and I, because neither of us on our own are THAT stubborn.

Here's a perfect example:

This am, Princess decided to throw a fit over what game to play on the Little Leap system, howling and kicked at me. So, she gets her butt planted on the steps until she's stopped howling, and says, "Sorry, Mommy."

The howling stopped almost immediately...but do you think the apology would happen? *snort*

"Princess, say sorry, Mommy"
"Mmmm hmmmm" head nod.
"You have to say the words out loud. 'Sorry, Mommy'"
"Mmm hmmm"

Little turd. It wasn't til Wolf got home and she wanted off the step to see Daddy that she finally chirped, "Soree, Momm"

*sigh*

Seperation of Blogs

2009-02-09T15:47:00.000-08:00

Just so folks know, I'm seperating the CRPS/RSD, WCB issues into a new blog. You can find it in one of the side bars, titled, Chronic Pain and Me.

Goals Met!

2009-01-31T12:18:00.000-08:00

Some good news from me for a change!

I met my writing goals for this month!

As of last night, I submitted to three short story contests!

The first story I'm ok with. Too much editing drove me a bit whacky, and just lost my interest in the story. Its not a bad story, just had to tinker with it too much.

Story #2 I really enjoyed. Its the shortest of the 3, but to attempt to add more would have just taken away from it. Its exactly the length it needed to be.

Story #3 I'm just plain thrilled with. Its a genre that I don't normally write, and not even a genre I read. Normally, I'm a suspense/mystery/horror/thriller/romance fan, so that's what I tend to write. My gf K challenged me to write something completely different, with no 'hook' so to speak. Literary fiction, rather than genre. About people, personalities as the plot.

So I did.

And I have to say, without false bragging, it turned out amazingly well. And for me to think something is GOOD that I accomplished...well, that should give you an idea as to just how pleased I am with it.

I'm planning on turning it into a full length novel, but it requires a ton o'research first.

Sooooooooo, I have other writing to attend to, as pain permits. Somedays I just can't...so I revel in the days I can.

I won't have any idea as to if I've even made the short list for any of the 3 for months. Indeed, one of them only the winner and runners up are contacted...sometime in JUNE. I kid you not.

Thank heavens I've got enough on the go not to be able to obsess about it. Much, anyways.

Two more deadlines next month for writing contests, and I *still* want to submit some articles to magazines.

Here's hoping for some positive news soon!

Updating...

2009-01-27T08:12:00.000-08:00

Ok, so to update everyone on where I'm at...

I'm off work, again.

I gave my boss my Drs note, and she sent me home, saying that head office will have to sort it out. She agreed that I had been in visible pain on the Thursday, and I informed her that the Monday was worse.

I then received a letter from WCB, saying in part that pain isn't a consideration in their decision making about fitness for work, as there's no evidence or way to measure it.

WTF? Uh, they approved my claim of Complex Regional PAIN Syndrome. Wouldn't you think that PAIN would be a consideration?

Then I found this:
http://www.wcb.ab.ca/public/policy/manual/0301p2a7.asp

Its on their own website, a policy specifically to deal with 'chronic pain syndrome'. So how the heck does she think that pain isn't a consideration?

I've gotten my government rep involved, my union is involved, my Dr has both written a letter AND requested a call, I've written a letter, and my specialist wrote a letter, objecting to the work modifications...and dead silence from WCB.

I've done everything asked of me. I still may lose my benefits until an appeal is filed and heard, which can take 3-4 mths from the initial request.

Union isn't due to get my full file for another 4 wks or so.

So, I'm in limbo, waiting.

Updating On Insanity

2009-01-20T20:45:00.001-08:00

Unfortunately, not the ha ha, The Stepford house is so funny kinda way.

Long story short: I'm back at work.

Yeah, I can hear you scream, 'WTF?' from here. Believe me when I say that its pretty much my reaction too.

I was discharged from the WCB program of PT, OT, ET after 4 wks. All goals were deemed, 'goal not met'...but somehow, I'm fit for work.

Yeah, I don't get it either.

So, I have major restrictions. Basically, not using my rt hand/arm. If I flat refuse to go, I lose benefits. So, in I go.

First day...lasted a grand total of 90 minutes. Was supposed to be there for 4 hrs. After an hour or so, the LPN came up to me, concerned, said I looked like I was in pain. Then an NA came by, said the same thing. Case manager came to find me to talk about my schedule, took one look at my face and recoiled. Asked if I was ok. Told her, 'I hurt. A lot.' She sent me home, told me not to come in the next day (Friday) but try again Monday. Went home in excruciating pain.

Monday. Went to the specialist for a nerve conduction test on the left arm. Nerves are ok, but he said that doesn't mean much. Agrees I'm having issues, figures its at LEAST something to do with over use. I pointed out that I'm back at work using the left exclusively. Asked, "In your professional opinion, should I be at work?" He said he'd be writing a letter with further suggestions as to my work capabilities. What that means, I dunno, but definately he's not agreeing with the situation as is. Don't know if he's actually telling them I can't work or what, I guess I'll find out later.

Trundle back into work. Last 2 hrs. Go home, turn around and go to the ER for pain meds, cause I truly could not deal. Get informed at the ER that they would treat me *this time* but that they couldn't be my pain management option. I explained that I've been resisting narcotics, but at this point I didn't care if they gave me a shot of Demerol, or just took me out back and shot me, just as long as the pain was tolerable. Got Demerol with a Gravol chaser.

Brings me to today. Saw my GP, he is still adamant that I cannot work. But, as he said, "I can't force WCB to keep paying you though." Talked to my union, same gig. Document everything, etc...but we can't promise that WCB won't cut you off.

At the advice of the union, I also sent in a letter to my case manager, detailing the last 2 attempts at work, and the results, asking for her assistance, esp considering that my pain doc is out of town, and the soonest appt I could get was for Mar 24.

So, now what? Good question. I'm supposed to work again tomorrow, according to WCB and my job. Not according to my GP. Union says, if Dr says no, you don't go...but it might mean no more $. Great choices there.

Pray that something positive happens ASAP. We can't afford to be without my income.

And The H Has It...

2009-01-16T16:33:00.000-08:00

Courtesy of Jane, another blogger, 10 things of my favourite things that start with H...

Husband. I don't know if he counts as a 'thing' but close enough.
Hope. Need more of it, but its what allows me to dream.
Hormones. Horniness makes the Husband bearable on days when I'd like to bury him in the yard.
Humour. Thank God I still have a sense of Ha Ha, or I'd be buried in the yard.
Home. Place to love, yell, argue, make up.
Heathens, aka the kids. My reasons why, no matter the day.
Hercules. I can't be the only Canadian kid that remembers that cartoon. "Put on the ring, Herc! Put on the ring!"
Hippos. They're cute, and I always feel skinny standing next to one.
Heat. I live in Edmonton, its an essential life giving issue.
Harvey's. The home of the best burgers and onion rings, in all their charbroiled made to order goodness. Unfortunately, not as popular here in Edmonton as in Ontario, and my Harvey lust goes too often unsatisfied.

First Official Submission And Adversity

2009-01-10T16:43:00.000-08:00

Ok, so its official.

I have now entered into a short story contest. Eeep.

Like most other things in my life, Murphy (or whatever name you wanna call it...The Advesary, Satan, Bad Luck) was a copassenger along the way.

My friend and editor, K went with me for moral support (and to fill out the p0stage label) to the post office at Shoppers. Knowing that we'd be going out to eat, I also printed off another story for editing on a whim.

So, everything's signed, sealed, and handed over.

Sitting at the restaraunt, I start looking over the other story...and realize that the first sentance off every page from page 2-14 is MISSING. I'm talking, gonzo. For whatever reason, putting a header into my copy made the top sentance vanish.

UH OH.

I've now submitted for publication an incomplete manuscript that has glaring omissions.

*insert curse words here*

Also, the post office is closed at this point. Naturally.

I call the drug store where the postal outlet is located, and have a mini meltdown, almost in tears, begging the guy to leave a note for the postal clerk to put this aside, I'll be in first thing in the am. Luckily, I opted for Express Post, so I had a receipt, tracking #, etc.

Spent the night up and down like a psychotic yo-yo, praying that they'd allow me to swap it out with the corrected version. Otherwise, not only am I gonna look like a complete donkey that doesn't have the common sense to proof before mailing, but its gonna cost me another $30, btwn the mailing and the money order for the submission fee.

I called my gf J in a panic. Was this a sign that I shouldn't be attempting this, I asked her, or is this someone (see Murphy comment above) screwing with me, trying to prevent me from taking this step. It was her sleepy (time difference, I woke her up) opinion that Satan was screwing with me, and that it was God's guidance that had me discover the error. (If I hadn't printed off the 2nd manuscript, I never would have known. I'd printed the dang thing off I dunno how many times without a problem).

Sooooo, feeling somewhat more hopeful, I trundle in at opening this am. First thing that greets me, as I walk into the store is music over the speakers. Specifically, Wolf and my wedding song. I pray its an omen (good, don't be sarcastic here :P) and head to the postal outlet.

Not only did I get to swap it out, but she voided the envelope and gave me a new one, filled out the mailing info, etc...for free. WOOOO HOOOOO!!!!

So, at least if I don't succeed at *this* particular contest, I know that I was given help and guidance to at least ensure that it got there properly!

Perverse Nature

2009-01-04T19:47:00.000-08:00

Reread that, folks. I said PERVERSE, not PERVERTED.

Thought I'd better clear that one up right from the get go.

Anyways, on to the thought of the moment.

I've been missing from the online world for a bit. Consumed by other duties, mainly focusing on some writing. It waxes and wanes as it always does, but I find myself more confident that it will swing back around.

Problem is, as its always been, my perverse nature.

I *should* be writing right now. And this doesn't count. I'm hip deep in a short I've been working on, roughly halfway through. And I've so far enjoyed writing the story, but I find myself avoiding it. I have a vague idea of how to end it, but not quite sure how to get there from where I am...and a part of me just doesn't want to get there yet. Why, I have no idea. Its not like I don't have a few million other things to do, or that there isn't a deadline looming, because there is. But, here I sit, blogging online.

I think part of it is that I do like the story, and how its gone thus far, and I'm afraid of screwing it up. I'm afraid that the story might actually be...well...good. And its not typical of my writing. Not saying my writing is normally mule puke, but that its not typical of the genre I tend to cling to as being familiar. Unknown territory.

I've already had to change the name of one of the main charecters. Apparently, Oprah has taken to calling girlie bits 'GiGi'. Who knew? Sure as heck not I, but on the idea that there are people out there that watch Oprah, I figured it wise to change the name.

How is it that I avoid doing what I enjoy? Why do I struggle with the idea of potential success? Is it that a part of me is convinced that being published is little more than a child's fantasy? Is it that I don't do well with rejection? Is it that I'm more comfortable with negative in my life than positive?

I believe the answer is yes to all of the above.

And its time to shake that, and get on with it.

Being Led?

2008-12-28T00:27:00.000-08:00

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

2008-12-23T19:26:00.001-08:00

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

2008-12-19T11:43:00.000-08:00

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

2008-12-17T22:04:00.000-08:00

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

2008-12-05T22:06:00.000-08:00

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',

2008-12-05T18:21:00.000-08:00

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.