Why Mobsters Push Their Cars Into the Water

     I now have an "in" as to why so many 'offed' people end up in their vehicles at the bottom of various bodies of water. I understand completely, and have a newfound respect for the thought process. It is not only completely reasonable, but, the only really rational thing to do. Unless they decide to set it afire, instead. That is another good option. But probably not as satisfying as the sight and sound of a vehicle hitting the water. It's probably quite the rush.

     As a matter of fact, I imagine I myself would take unholy delight, in watching my truck hit a large body of water right now. If there happen to be any mobsters at all reading this, any tips for good areas of water to push a large SUV, would be appreciated. In box me. We'll chat. I will make spaghetti. I heard mobsters like spaghetti.

      On to my purpose for wanting to throw my truck into the first body of water large enough to cover it.

     I went grocery shopping after work this past Saturday. I hate grocery shopping anyway, but I REALLY hate doing it after work. I am too tired to think, too tired to care about coupons, too tired to look for sales and deals, and too tired to think about the weekly menu in my head as I go. Added to this, we were having Joe's birthday party the next day, and I needed to do THAT shopping, too. And then go home, arriving at 10:00 PM, and make a large sheet cake. Awesomeness.
    Around the store I stumbled, chucking whatever looked good into the cart, and trying to decided if I could hold my bladder until I arrived home. Seriously. How does one go to the ladies room, with an entire cart full of groceries? What if someone walks away with them? And the energy to put them in the truck and walk back in, just was not there.
     I know, I know. Tmi. But, there is a point to it. Bear with me.

     I finally make it home, and do the whole ' I absolutely can carry all the groceries in in one trip, so lets grab all the bags and hope the circulation in my hand is restored before I lose a finger or two' thing. We all do it. And, where the heck was bearded man? I had just talked to him, half a mile from home and told him I would be home in a minute! So, bouncing up and down, I throw the groceries on the kitchen table, and find Jasin, to ask him to grab the rest, so I could finally get my poor kidneys to stop hurting.

     I never gave it a further thought. I was now officially off for 5 whole days, and I had no intention of leaving my house, short of a fire or medical emergency. I baked the birthday cakes, and went to bed. In an air conditioned bedroom, as the temps were climbing into the upper 80's, low 90's.

     The next day, we pulled off one of the coolest birthday parties I have ever thrown. At least, I thought so. There was a mud pit and everything. The kids were gloriously filthy and full of red juice and cheese puffs. Some of the most disgusting things ever created. Why kids love these things I will never know. Add them to the list of guilt inducing things we give our children occasionally. Cringe, and get it out of your system.

     Anyhow, Sunday was great. Hot and humid and full of water, mud and awful things to eat, guaranteed to stunt growth, lower IQ, and rot teeth. The kids loved it.

     Monday was another scorcher, and I spent the day deep cleaning. And tearing down all the wallpaper in my bedroom, and laundering  every piece of clothing my sons own, and straitening their bedroom. I was on a roll. Tuesday I planned to tackle the girls' bedroom. This would be an all day
affair. It really needed the team from "Hoarders" to do it. But, I didn't have time to write the show, so I figured I would take a crack at it.

     Only, I woke up to my bedroom spinning wildly and a terrible migraine. When i get'em, I get 'em. And this was guaranteed to be a doozy. Oh no. 

     There was hope, though! I was supposed to hear from the VA that day, about a
Clinic job way closer to home, mostly Monday thru Friday, with normal hours.  Which would really help out the family life. Much as I love the surgical floor at the hospital, this really would be a godsend.
     I found I didn't get it. (Insert colorfully worded mental thoughts here.) ah well, I really love my job, and, working extra will not kill me. Still. Woulda been nice.

     A book. I needed a book. I had one in my truck, in my nursing bag. As well as 2 chocolates. Maybe the caffeine from the chocolate would help my head. It was miserable and still spinning. Oh yes, and my Tylenol was out there, too. Out I went. And within a few feet of my truck, came to the conclusion that someone had obviously broken in and left at least 13 bodies in my vehicle. It was that bad. And that, is when I found out what happens when a family sized package of chicken - bone in - is left in a vehicle to bake for several days. The smell, and the flies and the truly horror of it; there are no adequate words in the English language to describe it.

     The rest of the day is a blur. I tried to clean the girls' room. My tea drinking friend, Sue, and her kids came over. And all I could smell was my truck, and my head began to pound harder, and I became very very ill. My truck was now full of flies, and all doors were open, to no avail.

     And that is when I decided this was why we push it into the water. Fire is too good for it. And the bearded man? You know, the one who forgot the chicken? " it doesn't smell THAT bad....."

     The most expensive purse I have ever owned, my nursing bag, it's contents. Everything smells like dead bodies. How am I supposed to drive this thing to work? And put children in it?

      I have tried everything. Febreze, vinegar, baking soda, bleach, Scentsy bars, air freshener, leaving it wide open.... My truck smells like an unattended hearse broken down in Death Valley.

     Insisting on a new vehicle was not even acknowledged. I can deal with the door next to the carseat that has not opened in years - thus hauling George in and out the window to buckle into and retrieve out of car seats. The broken AC, the broken CD player, and the broken 4x4 in blizzard conditions. This smell, I am not so sure I can deal with. Everyone has limits. Everyone. Even God. It is well documented in biblical history, what happens when He reaches limits. People drown, women get turned to salt.... Well, that's all I can think of, but I'm sure there is probably more in there someplace. Please do not in box me with other examples.... Limits, remember? And don't forget the chocolate that was ruined with the corpse smell. I am kinda at the whole limit thing, currently. If you want to send chocolate or cooking wine, you can do that, though. Because of those limits. It might help. Me, not my truck. I don't think it can be helped anymore.

     Anyhow. That was my good deed for the day. Explaining why it is necessary to throw cars with dead people into the water. It's just better for everybody. Well, except for the dead person, but, you know, everyone else.

Super Mom Strikes Again

     About a week and a half ago, Kaila came home from school, and made vague mention of her leg hurting.

And then went on with life in general. Occassionaly she would limp, esp in the evening, and sometimes tell me it hurt when she was in gym, or running. Questioning her went as such:

Where does it hurt?

I'm not all the way sure.

Okay, which PART of the leg?

Weeeeeelllll, here-ish. Maybe here. Sometimes there. I really don't know.

Front? Back? Side?

Ummm, well, right now, nowhere. Sometimes, it's the back. No. The front. I don't know.

Does it hurt all the time, or just some of the time?

I'm not really sure..... I mean, it doesn't hurt NOW, but it hurt earlier, and probably will again. I will just lay on the couch and read or something.

Kaila. POINT EXACTLY where this leg is bothering you.

Well, I think it's here. Maybe.

OMG.

So, I figured maybe she pulled a muscle. She would be active throughout the day, and begin limping in the evening. I had to pull her out of a softball game, as she was in evident distress. And, kept her home for the last game, as well. Maybe she needed to rest the leg. She was still pretty vague about this pain. Sometimes she would run around the back yard, and then an hour or two later, barely able to climb the stairs. She was treated with pain relievers and ice packs.

Finaly, watching her limp the other evening, I decided maybe she needed an X Ray. And then, it occured to me, that any Doctor questioning this kid was going to begin grilling the parent (Bearded Man.... he absolutely does not look like a shady character AT ALL.) as to why we waited almost 2 weeks to seek medical treatment for a possible broken leg.

And my next thought was "Oh Lord. The kids' rooms are absolutely not up to a CPS inspection." Which made me think about the boys' room, and recall that every single stitch of clothing George owns is on the floor. Partly because he loves to dress himself, and must find the PERFECT outfit (sometimes several times a day/evening.) and partly to create a nice bed for the extremely fluffy shedding doggie who is more than happy to snuggle into it at night. Which reminded me that my next day off needs to be spent washing all of George's clothes. Again.

Kaila did go to the pediatritian, who sent her for Xrays, which showed a bruised bone. She was prescribed ibuprofen and lots of rest for the leg for a week. Thankfuly the MD was pretty understanding. I am suuuuuch a good nurse and Mama.



I left work early yesterday, to accomodate the bruised child, and Jasin's work schedule, and the lack of babysitter for half the day, and the possibility of a broken bone to deal with. On my way home, I recieve this call.

Hon, when you get home, can you go see the guy next door? Something happened to his leg, and he wants you to look at it. I told him it looks like he has a blood clot.

Sure. I did such a stellar job on Kaila. Why not?

Arrive at the neighbor's.

So, can you tell me what happened?

I don't know.

Do you take blood thinners?

I'm not sure.

Lord. It's all contageous, obviously. Anyway, you have a hellofa bruise, caused by your cardiac meds. You will live. You do not have a blod clot.



I have the next 5 days off. It will be spent cleaning bedrooms. And, I will probably be aggravated about it. And I will probably yell. And they will probably cry. And then they will have to do all the laundry that I pull out of the cesspit they consider a bedroom, and they will probably cry some more. Along with argue with each other. And then they will try to just throw it aimlessly through their doorway, instead of putting it away, and I will yell some more, and they will cry some more, and declare this the worst summer vacation EVER, and Kaila will argue that her leg is hurt, and this is sure to be abuse. At which point, I will look up the child abuse hotline number, and hand her my phone. Their  rooms will pass CPS inspection now.

The Flower Child has Stifled the Earth Mother.

     We dug a garden. 27X10 feet, for all the veggies I was going to grow and nurture and can and feed my children with, thusly saving money, encourage nutritious eating, foster responsibility with tending this magical patch of wonderment. We dug it, but we didn't plant it. Between the constant rain, my schedule, and general direction of life lately, we haven't gotten past planting peas. (Which are all doing beautifuly, by the way. I do wander between the raindrops occasionaly and check on them.) So now, I have this enormous hole in my back yard, and nothing in it. It isn't even asymetrical, like my other flower beds. Just a boring rectangle strip of dirt, where the swing set used to be. I am a failure,  my children are not going to learn responsibility, and their poor little bodies are going to have to suffer through veggies bought at the store and Farmer's Markets. I am going to hell for this neglect.
Pretty much every single thing, INCLUDING, to my absolute distress, my biggest vice, chewing gum, that one  eats, or serves food off of - is going to kill you. In a slow and painful death, guaranteed to cost outraged taxpayers money somehow, and put a further strain on the economy. Sleep through THAT thought.

It is  too late to plant veggies, I am actively looking for a few per diem and part time jobs, and,  do not have the time to tend and harvest this garden, let alone can anything. Maybe next year. I can decontaminate my water, make safe pottery, grow my own food that is chemical free, and save the world. Right this minute? Mama does the best she can, and tries not to cringe at all the horrors we are serving our families, which is posted with gleeful regularity on Facebook and splashed across the free presses. Short of living in a cave, and going back to the Pioneer way of living, I have to work with what we have.

     All this being said, I still have a strip of dug up lawn to deal with. The options are as such :

Let it grow over, and absorb back into the general lawn.

Leave it until next year, and try again.

Use it for Joe's Boot Camp Birthday party next week, by digging it freshly and adding lots of water, making it into a mud pit.

Turn it into another perenial flower bed, adding herbs and a seating area.

So much potential!!!!!!! I have been wanting to play with a new area and let my imagination go wild with it. And, how amazing is a mud pit for a large group of 8 year old boys? So much fun. So, that is what will happen first.
And then I will still have a large mud pit in my back yard. With all the other options. At the end of the day, I love my flowers. I like to just sit outside on my patio and soak up the peace, while I look at my flower beds. Which, while not Better Homes and Garden's quality, make me happy. And the kids love to run through the garden next to the patio.
Just wandering around the backyard pulling weeds and admiring my plants is one of my greatest pleasures. So, selfishly, I am turning the almost veggie garden into another flower bed.

The ideas have been tumbling around in my head, and were confirmed by a sign. I was scrolling through Craig's List, looking for an inexpensive chandalier for my bedroom, and happened upon a bathtub. Hmmmm. They can be absolutely the tackiest things ever, if not done correctly. I looked up images of  'bathtubs in the garden' online, and had to wince at some of the pictures I clicked through. But, What if I turned it into a little garden pool with some sort of fountain? How nifty would that be? Put some landscaping around it, some stone pathways through the entire garden, build some seating, maybe a trellis arbor with climbing roses, mix lots of herbs in, lots of perenials, add some fun odds n ends - this has the potential to be a really nifty thing in a few years.

Ah ideas. Right now, it is still a strip of dirt. And, this chick still needs to find the time and energy to make it happen. And, I am hoping the bearded guy that continues to stick around, can run any neccissary electricity needed for the bathtub/pool/pond/fountain.
Kinda wondering what the story is behind the identity concealing beard. He is probably a mountain man on the run from the illegal liqour stils in the hills of the South. I don't ask too many questions. It makes me less of an accomplice that way. And, I will take the labor when I can get it. I imagine the relief of not having to think about scraping the house will be great for Bearded Man.

That's the big excitement now. No alter fires, no kidnappings, no car wrecks. It was a blessedly calm-ish week. Take care till next time!

 

Heavy Stuff

     "Mom!...... Moouuummm!..... MOM! WAKE UP! Are you awake yet? It's time to get up."

     "George. What. Do. You. Want.

     Can I play on the I pad?

     It is 4:30 in the morning. No. Go back to bed.

     I have to go potty.

     Then go.

     THEN can I play on the I pad?

     No.

     I think I am hungry. Can you make me breakfast?

    Why the heck don't you ever wake your Dad up?! No! Go potty and go back to bed.

     If I am really really quiet, and stop bugging you, get my own yogurt for breakfast, not eat it in your chair, and go potty by myself, THEN can I play on the I pad? Longer than Joe can?

     Uggghhh. No. Kindly direct any more questions toward your Father.

     Fine. Move over, so I can get in and snuggle with you. You sleep too much, mom.

My kids are absolutely the best and most wonderful part of my day. Even at 4:30 in the morning. And, Lord knows, in the craziness of the world in general, everyone needs at least one thing in their life that makes everything else bearable.

     I have thought a lot about it lately. About kids, I mean. And the crazy world, and parenting. And life. And people, and psyche. And I have reached a few (personaly) unsettling conclusions. Parenting, and trying to do it right, is HARD. And knowing I have these 4 little people with 4 huge personalities, to attempt to guide into productive, independant, decent, hard working, kind adults, with values and morals, esp in this day and age, is HARD. And if I think about it too much, it's almost panic inducing. That is a lot of responsibility.

     When I watch my kids individualy, I think I'm doing okay. Or, they are okay in spite of me. This past week, Lexi had her First Comunion. It was a stressful event, and the first year of a new religious program at church, headed by a new person, and it was pretty chaotic. It even resulted in someone from church coming to the house to get Lexi for an evening class/practice a few days before the event, as we hadn't known she was supposed to be there, and we were both working. Which ressulted in a panicked call from Kaila, telling me someone had just taken Lexi. How do you explain the church just literaly kidnapped your child? They returned her, and, except for the hour and fourty minute mass, complete with the carpet on the alter accidently getting set afire, First Communion went okay. In that, it was done, and she recieved her First Communion, which was the desired end result. Through this, she leaned over and whispered; "Mom. Do I need to make my kids do this some day?"

     Do what?

     This whole first Communion, confession thing?

     If you're Catholic, you probably should.

     I don't think I will. Make my kids do any of this, I mean.

     Lexi, it's not like I dragged you kicking and screaming to the alter, kiddo. And I REEEAAALLLLY don't think I want to have this conversation and the realization I have failed as a Mother in church, okay?

My immediate thought was, 'Dear Lord, don't let my Mother find out about this chat', followed by, 'I have somehow screwed this up, and am going directly to hell', and then, 'I never questioned this. Kaila never questioned this, it never occured to any of us to question this, why would she even THINK to question this?!' Which rolled into, 'That's kinda awesome, that my nine year old is such an out of the box thinker. And I hope she always is.'

In her defense, the First Communion prep, the strict Sunday school schedules, the threats of starting all over again next year, if there was less than stellar attendance, giving up sleepovers and parties, and getting in the required Community Service, signing a lengthly rule book, and the general chaos didn't help this decision. Topped with getting dragged out of her home by a stranger who was yelling at her for messing up everything, and making everyone late, and an hour and a half penance service first thing in the morning, and then an almost two hour First Communion mass, and I can see her hesitation. It was pretty traumatic.

I imagine the stories of that memorable day will entertain us for years. And hope that things in our church settle down enough that she can enjoy it enough to still want to be part of it when she's a Mother. Or, enjoy what she can, while wrestling her own children, anyway.

It's my kids who make the stresses of daily life, and the bumps in the road bearable. It's smiling through tears at First Communions, and award cerimonies, and birthday cakes that go rushing by entirely too quickly, at thier antics, and one liners, and sweet things they do, and thinking maybe I'm not screwing this up too badly, that get me through rough times. And maybe, that's a lot of pressure on them, too.
 I recently watched in proud amazement the other night,  as Kaila was called up to the stage at school multiple times, for various awards. And, as happy as I was for her, I wanted her to know I would love her just as much, and be just as proud, even if she didn't receive any awards. Do our kids know they are amazing just because they are amazing? Do we sometimes make them feel like they have to work for our approval?

It is so hard, to put my kids to bed the night before a 3 or 4 day stretch at work begins, and tuck them in and tell them I will see them in a few days. As I look for per diem and part time 2nd and 3rd jobs, I know it is just going to be more time spent away from these amazing little people. And I will miss so much of their daily lives and stories. And it is hard. Will they know someday, that I have to do this, to take care of them, or will they resent a Mother that seemed like she was never home and there for them? Will this be a good example of hard work, or will it be memories of a tired Mom who is grouchy and impatient when over tired/over stressed? Who knows. Amazing as they are, they still require food, clothes and medical coverage.

A few days ago,  Jasin was in an auto accident, while I was at work. Unfortunately, after I found out everyone was okay, my heart completely sank to my toes, as I realized the resulting cost of this accident was going to mean I needed to speed up the job searches. Everyone was okay, and, the other vehicle had a mother and her twin 5 year olds. She wrote on Facebook the next day, that she Thanked God they were okay, and couldn't stop hugging them. I am so glad the worst part of the accident was me needing to work more to pay for it, and no one was hurt. Miracles are there, if you look, right?

What a heavy post this is! I suppose, in the end, what I was trying to say, is that being a parent is hard. But I love it. And hope like heck I'm doing okay at it. Don't ever judge another parent. Chances are, they are trying their best, too.