A Slippery Slope...

I am so dog gone tired. Exhausted. I haven't been sleeping well the past 3-4 nights. Caden is sick. Snotty nose. We took him to his 9 mo check up last Thursday and he was well. He's just in the 20% for weight. So I am trying to bulk up his calories. He isn't frail or skinny. Just not as heavy as most babies his age. But now with the nose stuff--he doesn't really want to eat much.

Last night was the worst. I went to sleep around 10:30PM on the couch. Caden in his pack n play in the living room with me. I was up at 11:00PM, 11:35PM, 12:10AM (this time because Moonpie needed my help--Claudia had thrown up in our bed), 1:20AM, 3:45AM and 5:45AM. At 1:20 I just put Caden on my chest on the couch with me--he tossed and turned. Flipped and flopped. Whimpered and whined. I changed his diaper. Gave him a bottle and cussed out him, me and whoever was shining a flashlight in a voodoo doll that resembled ME.

I got the kids up at 7:00AM and carried them to the car. I wore my pj's and socks while I drove Calie to school. But then they needed feeding and dressing and talking to and refereeing...I am so tired. I did eat lunch and feed them too.

The exhaustion is what drags me. If I get to tired or draggy--then the darkness settles in. The tone gets rougher--the words snappy. The threats to maim more frequent.

Well, gotta go. Caden is screaming his head off and the other two are too quiet--that usually means someone is naked and the other has a marker in their hand...

Claudie Bean Brag...

I know I gripe (bitch) about my kids alot. But they are so funny, cute and they light up my mind most of the time. Carson's favorite saying of late? "Mom? I like your face. Come 'ere you!" He tells me that he heard this on "The Lion King" (one? or two?), but I never remember hearing it. But it iiiiiisssss cute when he says it.

And Claudia. I don't speak of her alot. But remember? She is the one I used to battle daily. Hourly even. She was part of my major snap. She is the most strong willed child. She is an artist--with the personality to match. She talks in her sleep. Well, argues really. She yells. She is... hmm. Very, Very cute. She IS the little girl with the curl in the middle of her forhead. The actually were decribing HER. She was a very high maintenance baby. She knew what she wanted and she wanted it right now, damnit! She walked at 10 months. By age 2 she would entertain waiters in family resturants by naming all her shapes. I'm not talking squares and circles people. I'm talking trapazoids. Paralletograms (her favorite), octogons, ovals. At 20 months she had over 200 words in her vocabulary. Believe me, once while waiting for Cliff to get fitted for a holter monitor (for his racing/irregular heartbeat)--I wrote every word she could say down (upstairs, downstairs, sweet potato, unusual, unaceptable...). She was almost 4 before she learned to go to sleep on her own. She still carries a "night-night" to school (and sleeps) with it. There is a WAR on it it is misplaced (omg--I've popped many a vicodin over not being able to find that freaking sqaure of cotton and satin).

She is a darling. She can charm you into buying whatever she wants at Wal-Mart. She has tried to steal from there too...but never anything for herself. A pair of capris for a friend. A birthday card for her brother 6 months in advance. A pair of panties for Calie.

And I told you she was an artist. She won an award at school today. "Super Artist". Here are two of my favorites. One is a card she made of a flower (watercolor paints). The other is 2 birds she drew with washable markers for Calie. And I have a picture she made of a horse that will knock your socks off. And a picture of me while pregnate with Caden--with a cute baby drawn inside of it. She is very artsy fartsy. I am one proud mama. I can't wait til she is grown--I can't wait to she what/who she becomes...

Today Was Surprisingly OK...

Moonpie was off work. We had only the boys at home--the girls were in school. Caden and I slept on the couch from about 10AM until Noon. ahhhhhh. Nothing like a 9 month old snuggled on your chest, drooling onto your shirt and smirking and giggling in his sleep.

Moonpie rented "The Fantastic Four" for Carson. Who watched about 10 minutes of it! Moonpie and Carson went to pick up the girls. I held Caden and read (*gasp* I READ) A Million Tiny Pieces (?) You know, that controversial book--An Oprah book. The one they are saying isn't a memoir, but a work of fiction? I mean, really who cares. HE wrote the book. It's HIS story. He was a major alcoholic and drug addict in rehab! Come on. If that isn't lichen to embellish or leave out bits or even make up some good stuff, I don't know what is. Who freaking cares? It is a goooood book. I like it. Anyways. Before my blood pressure gets outta control I leave that topic. hee hee.

Moonpie and I were going to take Calie out on Friday for her Birthday. But we were having a hard time finding someone to watch the (other) kids. I didn't want to ask my grandmother because...I just can't do that to someone who is 70+ years old. One or two is one thing. All three is punishment. I wanted to ask my Sister--but was reminded by Moonpie that she has her own kids to keep--and that it would be infringing on HER weekend time with her boys. OK. Sorry. So we decided to split it up. He is taking her to circuit City to get her mp3 player. And then out to eat. Tomorrow, I get to take her shopping for a few clothing items and out to eat! Calie is soooo excited. She gets her Daddy ALL to herself. And then she gets her Mommy all to herself. I want her to feel so special--because she is. Can't believe she is getting so old--15 is old. When you think that you brought this person into the world. That you nurtured her and disciplined her. You watered and weeded and fertilized this person into a gorgeous flower. That soon will need you less than you have ever wanted to be needed. I hope she has a wonderful time with Daddy tonight. I hope she never forgets how much we love her.

Caden has a well check up tomorrow. Shots. Ears checked. He is turning into a drama queen too. I bet there are lots of alligator tears tomorrow. And I'll bet I hold him all day. Sweetheart.

She Bangs, She Bangs...

Ok, I know I am not too fashion forward. I am VERY loooow maintenance. I make sure that Moonpie buys new scrubs when he wears the crotch out of his old ones (LOL). I make sure my kids are wearing pants that don't look like they came from Urkel's rag bag. I am always last on the list. But I am NOT fashion savy.

I came from the era that had me wearing wings for bangs. Like Farrah. Then my bangs were teased (Na Nana Na Na) to sky scraper proportions--the famous "Texas Big Hair". What I am trying to say is...I have had bangs my entire life. But I am told per Moonpie and Calie that bangs are OUT. That I am outta style. But I don't care. I hate my naked forehead. I literally feel NAKED with my forehead showing. I have tried to grow out my bangs. Really. But it doesn't work. I get frustrated fast. I don't know what to do with the hair in the "in between stage". I can't stand it in my eyes. I hate it pushed to the side. And forget about headbands. I look...Like a DORK! Clippys? no. no. not good.

Me and bangs are like me and blow jobs. I try about twice per year. But I am never able to follow thru. I get about half way there and quit. Then I vow to NEVER attempt it again. So, yesterday I chopped off my bangs again. Whew. Feels soooo much better. I can see. My forehead is clothed. I feel safe. And *I* like it. So there.

I promise to put a picture here of me and my bangs soon. But since *I* am the camera keeper--there aren't too many pictures of me. But I have over 1,000 on my computer of kids and dogs and horses and the such. So you will have to wait until I have an urge to apply make up. It will be soon I promise.

Raindrops On Roses...

It RAINED yesterday. I am talking allll day long. It was a dark, dreary, rainy day. The kind of day that depressed sloths, like myself, LOVE. I kept the drapes drawn. I wore my PJ's until 2PM. I had greasy hair pulled back into a mini ponytail--too cute!

The kids ran around making a huge mess of the living room and their bedroom. We watched TV all day. MTV stuff. Cartoons. Ate Cheetos. Then, my sister, brother-in-law and their 2 boys came over, how embarassing to get caught in your 'draws that late in the day (in the dark house). SO, after they left, I decided to take a shower. Shaved my legs too! FIXED my hair. I am talking there was a hair dryer, flat iron and hairspray was involved! I applied ZERO makeup tho. ugh. Makeup on the weekends at home should be outlawed ('course I don't like to wear it EVER--but I do own some). I put on some nice jeans instead of my sweats. Took out a lasagna I had made and froze 2 weeks ago--and straightened the house.

I almost looked like I had it GOING ON by the time Moonpie made it home at 7:30PM!

So, all in all it started out a dark day. But after I was shamed into getting it together--it was SUNSHINE SUNDAY!

PS: My beloved Sissy is bringing me a Gazelle (YOU CAN DO IT!) and a stair stepper soon. I just might use them too (out in the barn)! No promises tho--that way you and I both aren't disappointed.

My Stay In Hospital...

Here in E. Texas we usually say "I was in *the* hospital". But I have always loved the way the English say "in hospital". So, that is how I say it--with a Texan accent. Yehaw!

When my doctor (back in November) said "I think it's best if you go to the Behavior Health Clinic and stay for a few days. You can get treatment. They can help you." I almost passed out. He was talking "Funny Farm", "Nut House", "Psycho Ward". But his next words were scarier. They were said to Moonpie. "Take her right now. Right now. They are waiting for her. Don't go home and get clothes--you can get those later. Take her now." Holy Crap. The lookon Moonpie's face. I'll never forget it. His voice wavered when he told the doctor: "But she is breastfeeding. What do I do with the baby?" His advice? "You'll figure it out."

So Moonpie took me. I sat in the waiting room crying. Wanting to run. Wanting to go home and hide under a bed. But scared that they would come get me. Put me in a straight jacket and throw me in a padded room. So I cried. And waited. They took me in a little room and interviewed me. Asked me my history. Wanted to hear my suicide plan, in detail. Asked me about what medicines I had been taking. Trying to figure if I was addicted to Vicodin...I wasn't, tho I easily could have been, in time. This is where Moonpie had to leave me. He had to pick up the kids from school--go relieve my sister, who was watching the boys. And he had the task of telling everyone "she is crazy and I need HELP--get here now, before *I* have to take care of these kids by myself!!!!" Then a nurse came and got me. She took my blood pressure. Weighed me. Took my shoelaces from me---OMG. That made me bawl my eyes out. Then she took my picture(!?). I'm sure it was quite the glamour shot.

Then I was taken to the ward. I was told I would be on a "good ward"--whatever that means. I think now that it meant "people over there are crazy--but they aren't thowing poo or taking off their clothes yet". It was quiet on the ward. About 8 people were there then. Some in their rooms (soem crying in their beds). Some in the "day room" watching TV. A a couple on the (two) telephones. I was shown my room--which I shared. Two to every room when it's full. We weren't allowed any glass bottles--no makeup. Nothing with belts, ties. No food or drink in the rooms. I spent the first few hours on my bed crying. Waiting for Moonpie to come visit at 7PM (for an hour) and bring me clothes. I finally went into the dayroom at lunch time. I was told that until I saw the doctor (the next day, sometime) that I would be on "lockdown"--I have to eat all my meals on the ward and then I would be evaluated. So the rest of the group went to the cafe--walked in a single file line with a "tech" on gaurd--watching them, constantly counting them. Unlocking and locking doors for them as they went.

Later that evening a girl came up to me. Brandi. We talked briefly. She told me "the run down"--this wasn't her first (or second) rodeo. She had been diagnosed with bipolar (can't remember the version) and was chemically dependant--and very addicted to nicotine! No one was allowed to smoke--or drink caffine on the ward. You could drink cokes in the cafe--SMALL ones. But no smoking ever, never, ever. I don't smoke, so it didn't bother me at alllll. But it made the other natives restless! I was made aware that we would be "in classes" most of the day. Group therapy. Some classes were for depression/bipolar/scitzo and the other classes were for chemical dependancy/alchohol. I was in the crazy classes.

Moonpie came. Brought me PJ bottoms with a drawstring--couldn't have 'em. Brought me my makeup bag--couldn't have more than half of it due to glass bottles. And he brought me my breast pump--my boobs were about to explode. He had tried to feed the baby a bottle--but he was having a hard time. Caden wouldn't take it. My sister had to feed him with a medicine dropper. drip drip drip. That night they gave me an Ambien (sleeping pill). I was told they were powerful. But I laid on my plastic bed. On my flat plastic pillow. Covered up with my hospital smelling blanket...and thought "When is this thing going to---ZZZZZZZ". Best nights sleep EVER.

Over the next few days more people checked in. I became good friends with alot of the patients. There was George, who had tried to slit his wrists. He lived in another state...and he had to stay there for 4 days wearing blood stained jeans. There was Anthony. He was a prision guard (inhis uniform) who was depressed over his marriage breaking up and was having anger issues. He slept for the first 2 days. There was Cullen (my favorite). A 19 year old homosexual who was addicted to everything. Speed was his favorite tho. When he came down off his high we found that he is high on life all the time. He has a very UP personality. So funny. LOVE him. Wanted to slap mayo on his head and eat him up! There was Amelia (my roommate). Laura. Mona. Susan. Fanny. Miss Viv (who was the epitome of style and money--and a MAJOR vicodin addict). We all had our stories. Our problems. It was easy to talk to them--most of them KNEW what I meant. They had felt it. Lived it. Breathed it. It was in their souls too.

I was there for 4 nights, 5 days. I was put of 3 diff meds. Then weaned off one. I had therapy all day long. I had handouts. Notes. I had visitors every night--most there had no visitors AT ALL. I left on the condition that I go to out-patient there too. 5 hours per day. Monday thru Friday. I did that for a little over 2 weeks. Then I was put in 2 times a week 1-on-1. Then Once per week. I cried when I left in patient. I will never forget those I met there. My last day I made a plaque in "activities" (HAHA). It was a small wooden board. I glued beautifully colored tile stars all over it. Then wrote everyone's first name down that was on the ward. It is on my night stand. I will carry them in my heart always. I pray for them too. And I know they pray for me.

The Torture Of Having A Teenager...

Oh me. Oh my. Will it never end? Will *I* make it. FOUR times? Someone PLEASE tell me...boys are easier, right? Because I will be, ummm...(counting in my head and on my fingers...) 45/46 when my boys are teenagers. My heart and mind may not be able to hande all the stress. pouting. backtalking. door slamming. personality disorders...I mean...changes. And I'm only doing one daughter now. Still got one to go.

She made a video. With her friend. In which she cussed like a sailor. Dressed like a ho. And bad mouthed me. ME. Her MOMMY. Her once best friend. Her confidante. She called me a "fucking bitch". Said she couldn't wait til she turned 18 so she could leave and never some back. Said she hated her family. I was DEVESTATED.

Then I went to my therapy appointment. And was told (about 30+ times) "Developmentally Appropriate for her age". And that the video was her "diary" and that we (me and Moonpie) shouldn't have watched it. I felt like a fucking bitch.

We finally told Calie that we saw the video. And told her how much it hurt us to see it--and that we shouldn't have invaded her privacy. And that if she wanted respect and privacy she had to earn it. We are trying. But it is so hard. She is soooo hormonal. She sulks. She conives. She knows how to sweet tlk us and do extra chores to get us to give/tell her whatever. She wants a cell phone. And a car (she turns 15 this month) and Drivers ED and an iPod--not just any mp3 player but the iPod NANO. And new clothes. And we are POOR. About broke. Debit Consolidators told Moonpie that we spend more than we make now. And we hardly EVER "blow money up a hog's ass" (what? you've never heard that one? Must be my Texan upbringing).

But then she can be so sweet. Curled up in her Daddy's lap. Snuggling with Caden. Every now and then playing with Claudia (they are constantly arguing--and they are 10 years apart). Playing horsey with Carson--or dancing with him. Clearing the table without being asked (once every blue moon or so).

I can't wait til she is grown WAY up and is married and has a kid or 2. That will be soooo worth it all.

Daddy and Daughter Dance/Daddy and Son Hunt...

We got a notice in Claudia's backpack the other day. Feb 11th they are having a dance for the PreK and K classes. A "Dad and Daughter" and a "Mom and her Little Man" dance. Moonpie has to work that day (and night). Can't get off. So he took her on a "date" tonight. She looked so cute. New jeans. New shirt. Hair all pretty in a ponytail. They went to the movies and out to eat pizza. Then she begged that he take her to Wal Mart. They picked out some Easy Bake Oven stuff (that crap is $$). But I'll bet *I* have to "cook" with her. And clean up. And HE will get to eat it. Oh well. She was THRILLED to get him all to herself.

Next week Moonpie is taking Carson camping! CAMPING! He isn't 4 yet. In the WOODS. There are cyotes and wolves out there. And snakes. OH and they are going HUNTING (WITH GUNS!!!!!!)! To hunt squirrels (or "swirls" as Carson calls them). I have banned all dead animals from coming into my house--squirrels look like dead, skinned babies to me--I will NOT eat them. They are just rats with fluffy tails. Camping! Sleeping in a tent. Pooping in the woods. Peeing on trees. I'm sure he will LOVE it.

Lay Down And Be A Baby!

Caden will be 9 months on the 28th of this month! Caden is no longer Army crawling--he is all out crawling. But before he got his gut up off the floor...he was pulling to standing. And only holding on with one hand. and cruising along the couch. Pulling up on the wall. Crying if I walked into another room. Eating Cheerios. and Vanilla Wafers. Holding his tiny arms up to me (pick me uuuup). Crying if you take a toy (or piece of paper--or the phone--or TV remote--anything he has in his hands) away from him.

He is eating stage 3 foods. And some of ours. He is such a happy baby. He squeals at levels that require ear plugs to protect your eardrums. I think he has ANOTHER ear infection (this would be #4 since Nov 15th). He has no stanger anxiety yet. He grins and flirts with everyone. He pats my face when I hold him. He hugs my neck. He *gently* pulls my hair. He *not gently* pulls the puppys fur. Then laughs his head off. He never turns his head away when I offer medicine--but he always grimaces like I am posioning him afterwards.

He is so sweet. I'm glad I didn't follow thru on that awful plan I had... It would have been a crime to not be around to see him--and fro him not to grow up to this stage. I'm glad we are both still here.

Heard In Our Bathroom Today...

Claudia: Mom? Mom!

Me: What do you need Claudia?

C: I need a little help.

M: Are you through?

C: Not really. Some won't let go.

M: What!?

C: Please come here! Hurry!

I go into the bathroom and clean her (v v dirty) behind.

C: That last piece was just hanging on for dear life!

Well, ain't she the cutest thang?

Knock, Knock. Anyone Home?...

Sorry. I didn't drop off the face of the Earth... but I felt like it. If I had a dollar for every time I said to myself "Self! You need to blog!" I would be rich. Filthy rich. Like Bill Gates rich. Not that I haven't had time. I just haven't *made* time.

Still in therapy. Still taking the meds. Still having bad days. Today was one of those days. Still avoiding. Dropped out of MOPS. Just too hard. Mainly because my therapist appointments are on Thursday's (cause then I only have Caden)--and that is the same days as MOPS--but partly 'cause I don't wanna go.

Been having sex on a regular basis. Whoo Hooo. no, really. WHOO HOO!!!! But Moonpie really needs to get snipped and clipped. I am one of those girls who just LOVES condoms. I mean--they are lubricated (can only help), and they contain allll the gross messy mess. Therefore I am not laying in a wet spot--or getting out of bed after. hee hee. And he always brings me a glass of cold water and a warm washrag... The best thing is to pop that trazadone and get after it--then 30 minutes later you can go into your night night coma with a SMILE on your face. Moonpie, one the other hand, hates the condoms. But no condom--no cooter. No raincoat-no ride. No plastic-no p...well, you get the idea.

So, I am back. With lots to post about. Some is funny stuff--some is whiny. Some (I PROMISE) will have pictures.

Stay tuned. Here's the kids at Christmas (my mother-in-laws house)