Family Inheritance, Merry Christmas!

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*

Dark.

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.

Egg Addict!

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!

What I Want For My Kids

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.

Stupid Should Hurt

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.

Well, Its Excercise, Right?

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?

Survivor, Mommy Style

Out wit, out play, out last.

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

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

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

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

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

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

So does the Baileys in the cupboard...

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

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

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

My Children Are Weird

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

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

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

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

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

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

What, oh WHAT was I to do?

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

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

Holiday Traditions?!?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fall into bed exhausted.

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

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

Hows that for traditions?

I'm ALIVE

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

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

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

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

In other news...

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

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

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

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

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

Depressed

Its been a heck of a weekend. Started Friday.

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

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

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

I want some control over my life back.

Breaking My Heart

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

Had a moment with Wolf like that this eve.

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

I love that kid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanksgiving

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Voice Of Grace

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God Bless.

In Sickness And In Health

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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