IT’S FOR THE CHILLLDDDRREENNN!! No, really, it’s for a child..a family, really.

The Hogelands (a family in my hometown) were adopting 2 HIV+ girls. They raised the funds to go the first time with intentions of bringing both home, but due to a change in the country’s laws at the very last minute, they were forced to leave one behind. Their other daughter, “V”, had to watch her mama and sister leave without her. They are now having to start back over at square one to raise the funds to go BACK and get V. If you can help, please do. If you cannot, then just–PLEASE–share so that someone else can. They are running short on time. Please and thank you.

HERE IS THE LINK, GO, READ, WATCH THE VIDEO, DONATE, OR–AT LEAST–SHARE (will open in new window):

BRING HOME V

From Kate Hogeland’s blog:

“If you have followed our family’s journey you will know that this is not where we expected to be right now.  My  husband and I went to Eastern Europe to adopt two little girls. In the midst of the process the country we were going to changed their laws.  Children under 5 could no longer be adopted internationally unless they have certain special needs.  Our little ones have HIV, but this is not considered a special need.

We waited and waited hoping the law would be changed to include HIV. However, eventually we had to go ahead and go over for one of our girls because our dossier was expiring and she was aging out of her orphanage soon.  So we went in January of 2012 still hoping that while we were in country the law would be changed.

It wasn’t.

So we got to meet our other little one which was wonderful and excruciating.  She is precious and beautiful and sweet.  We couldn’t spend much time with her but we did see her a good bit.  We watched her preform in a Christmas program.  Several times she held my hand.  On many occasions she brought me her coat and shoes and would say, “Mama, help?”  When we finally walked out of the orphanage with our daughter Eva Marina, “V” stood at the top of the stairs and watched us walk out.  Seeing her up there, and leaving her behind made an emotional day almost more than I could handle.

Our girls are not blood relatives, but they were in the same groupa and were good friends.  Eva Marina has asked about V several times.  She loves to look at her pictures.  It would be so amazing for both of them to get to grow up together.

We knew we would go back for V.  The hard part is starting over so soon after coming home.  And the cost of adopting 2 kids at once is not much more than 1, but now we start almost all over.  Some costs will be less, but we start fundraising all over again.  But now, we have a newly adopted daughter at home who doesn’t do well with too much stimulation and can’t be left for hours on end.

I raised several thousand dollars doing hair cuts last time. I would work for 8 hours a day doing cuts non stop.  Now I can not do that.  Planning events to raise funds has also proved difficult while in the adjustment with our newest little one.  I just can’t find time for everything I need to do.

I am almost paralyzed with fear about the daunting financial aspect of doing this again.  But V is worth it.  I have Hope.  I am terrified but moving forward.

So, here we go again. I hope you will join us on our journey back to our other precious child!”

I mean, REALLY, how can you not share?

Oh, The SHAME!

This photo is going around right now and, not surprisingly, many are calling it abuse. Mental abuse. Humiliating, yes, but..abuse? Ehh…

What say you good people out there? Is this mental abuse? What is your opinion on this type of discipline, in general?

Here is my comment on the post on Babble.com’s Facebook (plus a little more detail), summing up my opinion:

I can’t believe this is seriously being dubbed as abuse by some people. That’s laughable, at best. I got caught at a party when I was 15. My dad carried me and my best friend out over his shoulders. I was forever known as “the girl whose dad busted up the Hope Lake party”. It was humiliating! HOWEVER:

1.) Nothing my parents did led me to that party. I lied and left a football game to go. Peer pressure led me there.

2.) I didn’t lose respect for my parents. I still trusted them, though I was temporarily (very) angry. I understood even then WHY they did what they did.

3.) I learned a valuable lesson: don’t sneak off to parties, I will get caught. It wasn’t my last party, but it definitely slowed me down.

4.) To compare being humiliated for making a stupid choice to being abused HAS TO BE a serious slap in the face to anyone who has ever been mentally abused. My parents were not abusive and, in my opinion, neither is this mother.

5.) My parents are wonderful, amazing people. I love them and respect them. I have never feared them, but I did expect to be appropriately punished for things I did wrong. At 26, my mom is NOW my best friend. I thank God she didn’t try to be my BFF back then.

According to one reader, the mom said this in response:

“Some said the public humiliation would have long-term effects, that she would hate me forever for this. You have to know your child. I wouldn’t do this on my middle child because I don’t think she can emotionally handle it. But this one, she’ll be just fine. Yes, I got the ‘you’re ruining my life’ rant, but after a few hours, she was trying to figure out how she can start an organization at her school to raise awareness about social media responsibility.”

Your thoughts?

Cue Panic, Chaos, Confusion

Last I noticed, the kids were holding hands and dancing in the kitchen, directly in front of my open door. Unbeknownst to me, while I was Facebooking, the son acquired a screwdriver (Stop it. I know you are judging me. Stop.). Next thing I know, son runs toward something and stabs it. After a loud popping sound, Sugar screams, “You stabbed a hole in it!!” I see a cloud of something that looks like smoke…maybe aerosol something or other being sprayed. I jump up and run towards the cloud, screaming, “Get away from it! GET AWAAAYYY FROM ITTTT!!!! “…I don’t know what, exactly, I think is about to happen. Surely, it’s going to explode or something. The kids are inhaling toxic fumes of a substance not-yet identified!! It’s probably blinding them right now! Oh, GOD! It’s going to EXXXPPLLOOODDDEEE! RUN!!!!

So, as I approach the exploding aerosol can of toxic substance, I nearly bust my ass and get sprayed in the face by this stuff! I’m going to be blind, too! We’re all going to be BLIIINNNDD! I finally see the bottle of the deadly, blinding gas…

 

 

 

 

/areyoukiddingme

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s sprite.
/dead

Bottle of Wine: $19.99, Cheesecake: $8.49, Fifteen Minutes of Silence: PRICELESS

I love my family. I really, really do. Those 3 people are my heart, my life…they are my world. I really do LOVE being a stay at home mom and once both kids are in school, I will probably spend my days wishing I had these days back. I rant about them a lot, but I truly do enjoy my family.

Now, with that said, can everyone just calm the eff down for a minute? Please? Dayum!

Here is a little PSA:

Moms get over-stimulated, too!

All day long, the kids are yelling:

Mommy! Mommy! Mom..momma..moooommmmmmaaaaa! I’m hungry! I’m thirsty! Wipe me! I want chocolate milk! No, regular milk! I wanted JUUUIIICCCEEE! I said I needed to be wiped! Can I go outside? Can I come inside? Can I go pee? Can I sit down? Can I stand up? Can I spin in a circle? Can I breath air? Hey, mommy! Watch what I can do! OWWWWW! I did that thing you told me not to do and I hurt myself on the coffee table! WHY DID YOU PUT THE COFFEE TABLE THERE?! Little girls can jump off the couch and get HURT when you put coffee tables in the living room! FEEEEED MEEEEE!

Meanwhile, in the background, the tv is screaming:

Spongebob Squarepants, spongebob squarepants, spongebob squarepants, sponnnngebobbb squarepannnnnnts…

…and all I can do is lock myself in the bathroom for 2 minutes, sit in the empty tub, and rock back and forth while hugging my knees and loudly singing Livin’ On A Prayer. I pray that Hubby will hurry home to help out, but the second he walks through the door:

(((CHILDREN)), Hubby, [Television]

(((DADDDDDDDYYYYY!!!))) Hey! What have you been doing all day? (((I’m SOOO hungry!))) Where are my jeans? Can we eat? Did you lay anything out? [Spongebob Squarepants, Spongebob Squarepants..] (((*Samurai loudly sings made up song*))) Have you seen my shoes? Hey, will you come help me for a minute? Babe? Baby? (((Can I have a popsicle??))) Why do you look so stressed? I know, I’ll turn the TV up really loud– as though I have a legitimate hearing problem! That will make you feel better! (((Mom! Come in the bathroom..I pottied and it looks funny..))) About dinner..Why are your eyes burning holes into my skull? Oh, you want the TV louder? [It’s the best day EVVVEEERRRR..] (((She’s looking at ME!)))

My smidgen of remaining sanity… my livelihood… my ability to love–each relies heavily on two things:

My kids’ bedtime and Hubby’s nightly shower

Those 15-20 minutes are so refreshing. That’s all it takes to be reminded of all the reasons I’ve never actually run away. During that sacred time, I get to drink wine, I get to stuff my face with whatever junk I can find without anyone seeing the animal I really am, and I get to do it—in total frickin’ silence.

PRICELESS.

Bless His Heart

If you are from the south, you know that “Bless your/his/her heart” is usually just a way for Southerners to say something negative about someone without feeling guilty. It’s like saying “no offense” when you say something offensive or a way of saying that you pity someone. For example:

“She is so naive, bless her heart.”

“She’s a homely looking child, bless her heart.”

“He’s a dumbshit, bless his heart.”

In this case, regarding my husband, it means, “It’s your birthday. I pity you because, if you don’t stop being a douchebag, it might be your LAST birthday.”

Because of the fact that I have no means of transportation right now, my plans to go get a cake and a sweet card–went out the window. Instead, I decided to deep clean the worst room in our house: The Bedroom. Listen, y’all, that room seriously gets neglected–I admit it. Whenever we are in the other rooms cleaning, one of us asks, “Hey, where does this go?”, and the other almost always responds, “Hell, I don’t know. Throw it in the bedroom and shut the door!!” It’s the catch-all. We also have a serious problem with coming home from vacation and, rather than unpacking, living out of our suitcase until..well..until we go on vacation again. Don’t judge me!

Anyway, so, I decide to deep clean it. Hubby is always bitching about not being able to find anything and we are always kicking suitcases in the middle of the night, so I thought it would be nice. I worked my ass off. I actually broke a sweat. I know, gross, right? Luckily, I found my super strong muscle relaxers while I was digging through things. I needed those after tackling that mess. My back was, no, is throbbing and I am exhausted. I phone Hubby to see if he wants me to order some Outback Steakhouse to-go. It’s one of his favorites, so I figured it was a win-win for all of us. He says that, no, he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t feel like having to stop to pick it up on the way home on his birthday. I explain that I am about dead and, since he needs help with his resume tonight, it would benefit us all. In comes the bitching…”Well, I don’t feel like stopping. I guess I will just come home and cook by myself on MY BIRTHDAY!” I’m all, “Dude, STFU. I didn’t ask you to come home and cook.” He bitches some more about me “whining” about my back aching (I’ve mentioned my bulging discs and arthritis, right?). I didn’t tell him about the bedroom initially– because I wanted to surprise him. However, at this point..I wanted to go sling shit around everywhere, completely destroying it, then yell, “Surprise, mutha fucka! Happy Birthday!” when he walked in, but decided against it.

Hubby gets home and starts moping around. I run out the door to get cake and come back as quickly as possible. When I return, the kids are telling me about how Daddy said he doesn’t even want cake. The fuck? The kids were so excited about getting him a cake and seeing him be excited. Jerk. Since his mood hadn’t improved and the bedroom door was still shut, I assumed he hadn’t been in there. I walk in the bedroom to put my purse down (I used his car key, by the way..because mine is still missing) and he walks in behind me. Finally! Maybe he will see what I have been doing all day, realize that I wasn’t bullshitting about being exhausted and in pain, and cheer up. He walks through the bedroom and goes into the bathroom without saying a word. I just sat there until he came out, thinking he would be all, “Wow!” on his way out. Nope. Not a single word. He just walked out. Just WALKED OUT.

The rest of the evening didn’t go any better. He continued to mope and wouldn’t eat dinner with us. I had to force him to come sit and let us sing Happy Birthday to him. My eyes had daggers shooting out of them at him. I wanted to yell, “Ever heard the song It’s My Party And I Can Be A Big Bitchy Baby If I Want To?! No? ME EITHER!”

Bless his heart, he might not make it through the night.

The Anxious 5 Year Old: Boo-Boos You Can’t Kiss

Forewarning: This post isn’t humorous in the slightest. I am hurt, sad, pissed off, yet–hopeful.

Some of you have messaged me on twitter or commented on here to check on Sugar and her anxiety, so I thought I’d give a quick update. She was diagnosed with anxiety, with possible OCD–but her psychiatrist doesn’t want to pin that on her yet. She started taking Zoloft a few weeks ago, but had a bad reaction to it (bouncing off the walls, hardly sleeping, destroying everything she came in contact with, and laughing in our faces if we tried to talk to her about it or give her consequences–oy!). Monday, she went back to the psychiatrist and was prescribed Prozac. I haven’t figured out what I’m going to do with it yet. Still researching, but may go ahead and give it a shot. Yesterday, she started therapy. She did really well. She talked to the therapist alone for a while and expressed sadness that her friend moved away, excitement about moving back to our home state, and said she loved BBQ chicken! ha! The therapist suggested using 1-2-3 Magic with her, so I ordered that last night. Disciplining her has been a challenge.. one I have not been capable of conquering (see Winning At Discipline!). I am at a loss, especially considering I am battling a bad case of anxiety, as well. I am on edge, worn out, worried, sad for my little girl, and just a mess most days, to be honest.

Yesterday, on the way home from the therapist, Sugar says, “Mommy, I have been praying to the Lord every night that my fears will go away, but they aren’t. Why isn’t the Lord listening?” I said, “He is. Just keep praying.” She wasn’t satisfied. “But I been praying a million and a million and a million of times and He isn’t making them go away. Why not? Can He not hear me?” I don’t even remember my response…I was just trying to reassure her while trying not to cry and thinking, “So have I..”. Honestly, I got angry. I was pissed. Why isn’t He listening? Are we not praying hard enough? Are we not worthy enough to have our prayers heard? Do we not attend church often enough? Is it because I swear too much or drink? Surely, God wouldn’t punish my child for my behaviors, but I don’t get it. I still have faith and I know I shouldn’t question God, but things just keep happening that I don’t understand. I’ve put every ounce of faith I have into praying that she will get better, and nothing is happening. I have believed whole-heartedly that she would be healed by His hands, and nothing is happening. So,again, why isn’t He listening?? She is 5 years old, for crying out loud. She doesn’t doesn’t deserve this. She deserves to be a carefree, innocent child. This is where those “Everything Happens For A Reason” bullshit responses come in. Give me a fucking break..no, actually, give me one good “reason” she should suffer. I’m going to keep praying, but please, don’t tell me that it’s happening for a reason..unless you can give me a good one.

My little Sugarbear is a beautiful, kind, gentle, and loving little girl who worries about EVERYTHING. She also does things she knows she shouldn’t do because, according to her, if she doesn’t, “her neck will hurt”. She tells me that her brain is crazy and she just needs to go to the hospital to get a new one. She cries about her brain. When she does things she isn’t supposed to, it’s obvious that she feels guilty. She cries that she doesn’t understand why she does things and that she doesn’t mean to, she just feels like she HAS to. Her brain tells her she has to do those things, her brain “is stupid”, “is broken”, “is crazy”…and nothing I say can assure her that her brain is just perfect.

I’m struggling with the fact that this isn’t a boo-boo I can kiss, put a band-aid on, give her a big hug, and make it all better. I struggle with the fact that, sometimes, I just get so frustrated that I freak out. That makes me feel tremendously guilty. When your daughter sneaks a tea bag out of the pantry, goes to “potty”, tears the bag open, pours the grounds into a hairspray lid, mixes them with water, then splashes it all over your sand-textured bathroom walls.. well, it is really hard to not freak out! Do you know how hard it is to clean ANYTHING off of sand-textured bathroom walls? I tell you what, that is one painting mistake I will not be making again! Anyway, back to the guilt.. yes, it is hard not to freak out, but the guilt remains. Even her psychiatrist has said that it’s all a part of her “problem” and something we will struggle with until she is medicated.

I don’t want to medicate my baby. I don’t. I flat out asked the psychiatrist if the meds could affect her producing those chemicals (the ones they help regulate) on her own later in life. His answer? “Possibly. We don’t REALLY know, yet. There are a lot of theories on how these medicines even work, so it would be hard to determine how they will affect the brain long-term.” Awesome. Fucking Awesome.

Prior to being prescribed the new medication, we had started gradually cutting casein and gluten out of our diets. Since we haven’t gone cold turkey, I can’t tell if they are really working yet. She has always reacted badly to red dyes in food, so maybe this will help. If only it were easier. The more I try to cut out, the more we crave it. The kids have been begging for mac & cheese for a while now. Hopefully, that will taper off soon and they will get used to the new eating habits. Hopefully, I will too.

I know I am all over the place, but that’s where my emotions are.. all over the place today.

Sorry for being a Debbie-Downer. I have bad days, too.

First World Problems of a SAHM

First World Problems Of A Stay At Home Mom

• I woke up 2 hrs before the kids. I wasted quality sleep.
• I’m out of caffeine.
• The children expect to be fed at least 3 times a day.

• I am running late for something, as usual.
• WHERE IS YOUR OTHER SHOE?!
• I can’t find the DVR remote. How am I going to do anything if I don’t have SpongeBob on demand to occupy the children?
• The baby took off her diaper in her crib at nap time. She had pooped.
• Laundry

• I just poured the kids’ cereal, only to discover that I’m out of milk.
• I have to go grocery shopping…with the children.
• Another toy is clogging the toilet, yet someone pooped in it anyway.
• I woke up later than the toddlers. They found my craft drawer.
• Why must I listen to the kids fight over which one gets which color cup?!
• The baby is poopy. DAMN IT! I’m out of diapers.
• The parents in McDonald’s play area keep trying to talk to me about their kids.

• I forgot to lay out dinner.
• Hubby didn’t take out the trash. It’s full and the trash can is by the road.
• Someone colored on my couch.
• My corkscrew is missing.
• There is nothing interesting to read on the interwebz.

• I have a stomach virus.
• The children have a stomach virus.
• I’m out of wine.
• The kids finally learned to open the doors on their own.
• Baby gates are no longer effective.

(These are not necessarily all mine. I compiled the list from other SAHMs, as well.)

Tell me yours and I might add them to the list!

*Disclaimer: I am very well aware that I did not create the “First World Problems” meme. Not claiming to, either. There are a lot of FWP of SAHM posts out there. Just clarifying.

Winning At Discipline!

“Some’uh y’all done lost y’all minds,
Some’uh y’all done lost y’all minds,
Some’uh y’all done lost y’all minds,
And it made me cry, cry, cry.”
-Kilo Ali

Kilo wrote this chorus with me and my future children in mind. He was specifically thinking of how this past week would be for us, I’m fairly certain.

Lately, Sugar has been very, how do I put it?..DESTRUCTIVE. Sugar and The Samurai have both been destructive, really. It has gone way past the typical shredding of anything shreddable and disassembling anything with multiple parts. I have cleaned up insane amounts water, paint, whiteout, sugar (of the edible variety), salt, and toothpaste out of the children’s bathroom floor. I have scrubbed toothpaste out of rugs. I have cleaned cereal out of my living room floor. I cleaned glitter glue off of my hardwoods.

Not my kids.

I can’t let my 5 year old go potty alone anymore, nor can I go to bed at night without waking to some sort of unnatural disaster having occurred in one room or another. They either do it instead of pottying, pretend to be sleeping and do it once I’ve fallen asleep, or they wake up ridiculously early and do it before I realize they are up. I am just going to start including my Klonopin in my morning cocktail of drugs I take to function.

I am already taking it damn near daily anyway! (Chill out, I have a script) Hell, I took a piece of one half-way through a grocery store run tonight–just to stop myself from parking the buggy containing the kids down an empty aisle..and running. Fast.

I have tried every form of discipline known to man, short of stringing them in a tree by their toenails. That’s next.

I’ve gone the gentle route..talking. I think I’m doing it wrong. They smile at me the entire me I’m speaking. When I ask why they did whatever it was, they laugh and say something like, “Because my brain is a silly brain and it told me to!” Sometimes, they just say, “POOP!” /sigh

I’ve tried time-out. It isn’t effective for one of two possible reasons: 1.) They don’t care; or 2.) I have ADHD and forget they are in time out 30 seconds after I put them there. It’s probably both.

I’ve tried “grounding” them from certain things. They haz no caring.

I’ve even done the unspeakable…I spanked. When your kids giggle while you are spanking them, you are doing it wrong. I am doing it wrong.

I give up.