Oh Immune System Where Are You? And Lungs??? Knock it off.

When I was a kid. I was sick almost constantly. Whenever I got anything it would go live in my lungs for a while. It was my normal for my mom or dad to spend the night or take shifts in my room holding me up so I could breathe. It was normal to cough until I vomited. It was normal to take more meds than an elderly person. This was my normal. Staying in when it was too cold. Swallowing pills as a preschooler-- all my normal.

My lungs still suck and whenever I get sick- it goes to my lungs and lives there, for what seems to be forever. I still cough with enough force that I sometimes throw up. But it is not as bad as it was-- by a lot. Now, after I am sick for a few days and coughing my stomach hurts! As a kid my stomach muscles were so strong- all the coughing in the world would not make me sore.

As previously discussed- I have an eating disorder, I am maintaining my weight (sometimes white knuckling it) but there is the aftermath of the time that I was in the midst of it.  My immune system is one thing that was pretty much destroyed.  And it sucks being sick.  My normal is sick. The good thing is my kids have great immune systems and usually act as Typhoid Mary.  I'd much rather be sick than them.

Because, looking back, I cannot imagine the frustration, helplessness, and desperation when I was sick so much that my parents felt. When my kids are sick, I would literally give my left arm to take it for them.  How many times have parents prayed to which ever G-d they choose to please please please let them take whatever is ailing their kids.

And it took me being a parent for me to see how much my parents must have begged for the same.  Let them take the bad tasting medicine. Let them stay up all night coughing. Let them get stuck again. Anything...just make the kid better.

So, thanks Mom and Dad for staying up with me so many nights.  Taking me to endless doctors. Cleaning up when I threw up. Waiting in boring hospitals for another chest x-ray to be read. For teaching me to swallow pills.  For convincing me to take the bad tasting medicine- even the truly awful stuff.

I can't imagine what you went through- but thank you for doing everything you could.

Horrible Nightmare

Last week I had to go to the doctor for my hip.  While I was there, something horrific happened.

B was badly injured training at a live fire drill.

One minute we were texting each other about my hip, he said that he had to go drill, next thing I know my phone was going crazy as he had fallen trying to force open door as part of their training. When he fell he broke his leg.

Seeing the text that he was hurt but not knowing what was happening was terrifying. Not being able to help was frustrating.

As a mother, my job is to fix things. Make things better.  There is nothing that I can do to help him. Nothing I can do to make it better.  All I could do was go there and be there.

The break was bad enough and in a place that required surgery, I have had a lot of surgery, but waiting for someone to have surgery is something I have less experience with.  Sitting there, watching the screen with his case--- waiting for screen to advance to "surgery complete".

B's job has always scared me- I love and respect what he does, but it scares me.  Because he could so quickly be injured. Nothing is a guarantee.  Every time we talk we end it with "I love you, be safe".  I will not let him off the phone until he replies "I always am".

It has been hard for the kids- he is like superman.  He comes and fixes things and saves the day. His job is actually to save people.  He is not here a lot but when he is he is fantastic with them.  No one gets a better welcome than when daddy gets here.

Truth be told, I am a little jealous about how the kids are so interested in helping him. When I get hurt or have surgery nothing changes, the requests keep coming: "mama what's for dinner??" "where is my shirt?" B gets hurt--- totally different story- they are all over him helping.  Which, honestly is good.  He is dad- and a pretty darn awesome one.

Seeing the message that B was hurt was the most horrifying thing. My stomach dropped a million miles, I started sweating, I was sick to my stomach.  He annoys the crap out of me and irritates me beyond belief, but I love him.

When the doctor told me that he did need surgery, I got light headed--- and its not my leg! A doctor can tell me I need surgery and that is fine, I can deal, but not someone I care about, that makes it scary!

I do have new respect for what B had to endure in the waiting room for me- my surgeries were much longer and I have no idea how he managed.  Being the one unconscious is much much easier.

When he is better, I will have to find something new to say other than "I love you, be safe" because much like the kids-- he clearly doesn't listen.

I am thankful that he will heal.  I am thankful for my sister who saved the day. I am thankful.

Utah anniversary

The night before, Thursday, I came home from Mock Trial team and spread my work out on the floor in the formal living, no one went in there so I could set to work on the mountains of projects I had to complete. My boyfriend called.  He was older than me, my parents didn’t like that. We argued. I knew something was up.  I didn’t know what.

I was sick. I was scared. I was hiding. I was running to try and find something- someone safe.  He was angry- he knew I was not telling him things. I couldn’t tell him. I was terrified.  Everything was so terrifying. Feelings were/are scary. They can’t be reasoned with they can’t be controlled.

My brother came home from work- he was staying with us while he was separated from his wife. We sat down for ‘dinner’.  Which was tense. Always tense. Eggshells. One wrong word, glance, putting a fork down too hard and it would erupt into screaming and crying- saying awful things- just to hurt the other person- hurt them as much as I was hurting. I felt so empty so scared so alone. I felt everything and nothing at once.

Back to homework. I had a final paper to revise, AP physics to prepare for. Exams were next week.

I went to bed.

Set my alarm, made sure that my riding crop was under my pillow. I was terrified of my dad. I was scared- and my flimsy riding crop was all the protection I could muster. I passed out into a dreamless sleep.

The next bit gets a little fuzzy

I woke up. I think it was my parents at my bedroom door—with 2 strangers. I was told that I was going to Utah today—like now. At 4 am.

My mind raced- how could I stop this. How could this not happen. How could I stop it? I thought of saying I was pregnant- even though I hadn’t slept with anyone- but Illinois law said that a pregnant minor was emancipated from her parents. Then again, I wasn’t 100% sure of that and my brother was a lawyer- he would have planned for that reaction.  Also, I was so thin- there is no way anyone would believe I was pregnant. My body could barely support me not another person too.

I realized at some point- that if I left- I may not like it- but I would be away. My parents could not hurt me so much every day. I wouldn’t have to see them an know I was a giant fuck up just ruining their lives maybe this could be ok. I agreed to go. But I asked about my group presentation that I had to present tomorrow… and what about finals? It would all be worked out they said.

I had a few moments to change- supervised. Go to the bathroom- supervised. I would have killed myself then. I would have just to not be so terrified.

I got dressed. Jeans, size 0- too big. A pink camisole. A black wool cardigan with pink roses.  I could take very little: I took my violin, my stuffed bear Tasha (whom later in Utah I would hold and inhale the scent of home) and my favorite book- Pride and Prejudice.  I asked to say good bye to my dog- Fred. My brother had him out for a walk. So I said good bye to my cat- Miss Meow. My parents asked to say goodbye to me, I told them to fuck off.

It was very cold. There was three feet of snow on the ground. We took off for O’hare- me and two escorts. Later I learned how good I had it.  Other girls were drugged and taken. Others were handcuffed and taken. I went on my own.

On the airplane the escorts were nice to me- this was their profession. Taking girls to treatment so they may—just may survive whatever demons live in them.  They gave me a letter my mom wrote to me. At first I was too mad.  Too angry to read it- but as we passed over the Midwest curiosity got me. I read it. And lost what little composure I had. Everything everything came spilling out overflowing in a mess of tears. I was angry and so very hurt—and scared… but being hurt and scared but you on the defense- and that was an untenable position for me- anger was safer. But there comes a time when anger can’t hold everything back. My time for that was somewhere over Nebraska.  I still have the letter.

They offered breakfast. A Danish. Orange Juice. Fat. Calories. Hell no.

When we landed I was handed off to Danielle and Matt. At first Danielle intimidated me- but later I grew to love her- she was the only one who could help me with my calculus. 

What do you do, 4 days after your 17th birthday when you are sent across the country- with no notice- to a treatment center so maybe, maybe I could survive this and come out the other side?

What do you do when for as long as you can remember you have been not good enough- convinced your parents hated you- then get sent away? Seems to confirm everything I had thought.

I felt more alone then than I had ever felt. But a sense of odd relief. I wouldn’t have to see my parents and know I was letting them down.  Hear the frustrated sighs, the disappointment.

The indignity got worse over the next few days and weeks—and I told myself that worst case scenario I would be there for 361 days- at which point I would become legally an adult.  Seriously, it got bad.

One of the worst parts was it confirmed my worst fears. That I was not good enough to be part of our family- so they simply got rid of me- remember 17 year olds – especially 17 year olds who are starving aren’t the best at critical thought.

Going to Utah sucked. It was awful. But it saved my life. I still have my old therapist’s (Alan) email and phone number in my phone- and yes- when things are really shitty- I call him and 16 years later? He still answers me. The man is a saint.

Now- I still don’t let people get close to me. I don’t do feelings well.  I prefer things that can me reasoned with and logiced  (new word, just made it up) out.  Feelings are too messy. Too much.

So today, I am a hot crying sobbing mess- and tomorrow it will be worse.

I am still friends with a lot of the girls who I got to know there- we had very different lives- but they were the first to help put me back together when I fell apart. 

 Now, so many years later- I lose it around my  'anniversary' both going and coming.  I try and keep terribly busy- to keep the tears away, to try and hold it together.  Inevitably, I fall to pieces a few time. A sobbing snotty mess. I can still smell the same smells feel the same feelings. Its like it is happening all over again.

I want to throw things, cry, have someone hold me and tell me its over, never will happen again-- and maybe pry my shoulders out of my ears- someone to be there to help stem the anxiety and fear.

Flashback to my grandmother

B's grandfather is elderly (duh) and not exactly in the best health. Recently, he has had to spend sometime at a nursing home to get back on his feet. 

We went to visit him.

Nursing homes must all be about the same. We walked in signed in and followed the signs to his room. 

In a heartbeat, I was back with my grandmother on a hot summer day instead of a winter one.  I did not anticipate this. Maybe I should have. 

My vision shifted, my ears roared, and my heart pounded.  It was just like my grandmother. B's grandfather's room was at the end of the hallway, and that hall went on forever.  Each step moving us backwards instead of forwards.

She has not been gone for very long, only 18 months, but still, I think of her daily.  I made her fudge for the holidays. I looked at her needle work and admired it.

My grandmother was pretty darn great, and I miss her.

Feed the birds (ducks- in this case)

Today we had a lot of fun-- and spent a whole $1.31.

We fed the ducks.

It was awesome. Every once in a while I bring the kids to a local park to feed the birds and ducks.  Last time we did it,  LittleDude was terrified of the geese and ducks- they were giants to him.

This time he loved it he laughed and squealed- and he wasn't the only one! We all did! Even a woman walking in the park stopped to video tape the fun.

We got out of the car waled towards the pond as we did, the ducks figured out what was happened and came over.  Even a mama duck brought her babies to see us.  The kids gleefully threw food to them and laughed and giggled at their antics. 

Soon the geese figured out what was happening- and came over to have a snack.  The geese were not nice to the ducks and the kids defended the ducks!

Here are Pixie, Peas, and LittleDude feeding the ducks- the mama duck was right there with her babies. 

Now LittleDude quacks like a duck in addition to his other animal sounds. 

So much fun! I am so thankful to spend this time with them.

Canon in D

I had all of my music on "shuffle" today; which if anyone listened to it they would think I have several personalities- everything from classical, to opera, to hip hop (and more- I think I have things from every genre on my ipod. 

Canon in D came on and I immediately got goosebumps.  I turned it up and let myself sit and go remember.  This was the song my sister walked down the aisle to be married with. 

I really did not want her to get married.  Change is not easy for me, and her getting married would be a huge change.  My sister is several years older than me, and while I never had a traditional sister relationship with her, I love her fiercely.  I felt somewhat safe with her, not like I had to play a mental chess game. I idolized her and saw how much my parents loved her and respected her and was (am) jealous. I could never be her.  I could never be as good at (insert something here) as she is. My father told me I would never hold a candle to her - maybe when I was 7 or 8... and I carried that around with me forever as a reminder that she would always outrank me. There was a photo of her with her violin and I slept with it because I wanted to be just like her. Desperately, I wanted to make my parents proud of me, like they were of her and I always fell short. Always.. As an adult that is hard, but as a child it was crushing.

So here getting married felt again like I wasn't good enough to have her as a sister- that she wanted to be with someone else, and I was so hurt.

On her wedding day she was beautiful.  She was radiant, glowing and so in love.. just what a bride should be. 

Its been over 20 years since then and she is still amazing.  I have not lost my sister- we have grown closer now that we have somethings in common. She has three great kids and is an inspiration to me as a mother and a wife-  more than a few times I have thought to myself "what would my sister do?" before saying something or doing something that would be rash. 

The song still makes me cry and gives me goosebumps though.

And she really was the most beautiful bride.

DCFS: Unfounded

We received our letter today from DCFS. It states that the allegation of child neglect is unfounded.

I have been vocal about this on Facebook because of the absurdity of it all.  The individual who called it in admitted it-- we knew who it was, it was just the admission that was like an extra sucker punch.

What she said to me via text was such remarkable crap that I couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry or scream.

Apparently, earlier in the year, when she called 911 when I got sick- my house was a mess.  I'll admit it.  Have you ever tried recovering from surgery and complications and 5 kids- add on 2 dogs and keeping the house? Yes my house was a mess. It was not dangerous though. There were no (and are no bugs) there were no rodents (and are no rodents). There is clutter.

She said that another neighbor was concerned over the care our kids had been receiving.  There was an instance 2 years ago when Pixie got out of the house when I was going to the bathroom- we changed the door latch so she couldn't open it- that same summer 2 years ago husband was in the garage getting something and Pixie toddled off into the road, he caught hell for it and felt awful.

Ok. Fine. So then talk to us. Offer to help. Express concern. If I know a friend or a neighbor is having a hard time I offer to help.  Not judge not gossip. Bad things come of that.  If all of this gossip is happening discuss it with the people being gossiped about- really assuming makes an ass out of everyone.  In fact she had done just the opposite.  She was very stern with my husband about not wanting to help us with childcare anymore- how does that express concern for the children's welfare?

She said it was a shame that I was angry and not willing to talk with her about this- a shame for the kids. Yep. It is a shame. A real shame that she, and adult, would take the words of a 5 year old with apraxia of speech, interpreted to her via a 6 year old child, spoken through a window with out double checking the facts. She showed incredibly poor judgement.

No, I will not forgive her yet. Someday but right now? I am not ready to.  What she did to my children, what she put them through, what she put me through- at the moment makes me so angry I want to scream. My oldest, Princess, was up most of the night worrying over this and is finally now able to sleep again.  

Me?? on a diving board??

Heck, I am pretty reasonably in shape.  I pole dance. I do yoga. I have 5 kids- I have to chase them.

We went to a pool last week.  Princess's friend wanted to go off the diving board.  I made a deal with her, if she did, I would.

I walked to the end of the board- and thought what the hell am I doing here?  I am 31 years old. I have no need to be on a diving board.  Worst, I took my glasses off and I am really blind without my glasses so my biggest concern was swimming to the side of the pool to climb out.

But like any stupid move I have made, I jumped. It should be noted, I am a good swimmer. I just have to wear my goggles--you know the blind thing.

However I was in the water, it was sink or swim, and tread water (thanks for that 15 minutes treading test- legs only) wipe water out of my eyes and swam to the side. Easily. It felt good. My kids laughed.  It was great to see them laugh. 

We swam for a bit more, then headed home, I have no idea what the hell made me do that- but I did. It was fun- but I am not doing it again.

Having fun with my kids is the best part of parenting, seeing their faces light up seeing them laugh- it was a great way to release some stress. 

Pole pics

I have gotten a few question to pose pictures of pole tricks...but I have not been confident.

Please be kind.

I know these are easier tricks.... But I am really confident in these (I know the flatline needs to get more horizontal)

Now That's a Pole Class

After last weeks not so great class, a toe injury, sick kids, and just general exhaustion, I was apprehensive about class.

I actually considered not going.  I was not feeling 100%- I felt tired and kind of like I was coming down with something.

Honestly, I had been having a really hard time being patient with everyone lately and I figured getting out would allow me to refocus myself even if I did not have a great class, as it turned out I had a great, amazing, awesome class.

It would have been a HUGE mistake to stay home.

I had an amazing class.

From the beginning of class I was able to get into it.  Yes my toe hurt. I was more slippery than EVER before.  I was weaker than normal.  Something about it was just right.

We were going to review a few tricks that I wanted get better at, one of them involved sitting on your non-dominant hand.  See after my wrist injury, doing things that put a great deal of stress on my wrist are often quite painful.  Instead of just gritting my teeth and doing the trick, I opted to hop out of it, and try it with my other wrist down.  My right wrist was strong enough and I was able to do it, just fine. 

The other big thing that happened in class is- I took my glasses off to dance.  I never take my glasses off-- really only to sleep and shower am I without them.  I need to be able to see.  I need to have an escape route.  Much like I need to have windows that I can see out of all the time- I need to have the ability to get out of somewhere fast. 

I took my glasses off and had a great dance. 

New and unusual!

So I have returned to pole dancing- no shocker there.

I love it again- also- not a surprise.

What is a surprise is before Little Dude I would just throw myself into a trick and just go for it. Now I am a bit worried. More cautious. Though I am sure my pole teachers think it is fantastic that they need no worry at attempt any CRAZY tricks- or new things without a mat. Now- even with the mat I am more nervous.

I don't quite know how to handle the fear. Is this something that came with turning 30? It is cramping my death defying pole style..

Seriously- I am nervous to climb to the top of the pole flip upside down hold the pole between my legs and let go, I mean really-- where is the fun in that?

The only other time I was even slightly nervous pole dancing was when I got my first cast off my wrist. I was worried about stressing it too much- got over that real quick. But now?

I hope it goes away.