Real Shit That Happens To Everyone Yo


You got the best of me
Rest of me
Tried and true test of me
I lied for you
Cried for you
A piece of me died for you
I wasn’t good enough
Understood enough
I knew I’d withstood enough
You took your leave that day
Slipped away
No words of goodbye to say
You left a shattered heart
Torn apart
Tears won’t stop when they choose to start


I could have handled the sinuses.

It moving to my chest was to be expected.  For me.  Everything moves to my chest.  I have a great chest, after all.

But what I woke up to last Tuesday, the day before my 10-year-anniversary, was a bit much.

I woke up for my shower at about 6.  When I got out and went to lie back down to snooze and meditate, and just procrastinate on being awake (A vital part of my wake-up routine, I schedule it in.  This is why I have 4 different alarms spread between nearly 2 hours every work morning.) I realized I couldn’t shut my eyes, either one, without an intense burning sensation.  It was like the sand paper was covered in acid, as it sanded my eyeballs smooth.  I got a wet washcloth and pressed it hard over my shut eyes and that allowed me to keep them closed.  45 minutes later, I was fantastic and good-to-go.  Aside from the sinus crud.

As the morning progressed, I noticed my eyes were burning, and I kept losing vision.  In both eyes.  I could blink it back, but my vision kept blurring and getting foggy.

Granted, the foggy made sense when I looked in the mirror over my lunch break and observed the layer of snot covering both eyeballs.  Also, the pink and swollen.

Now, I don’t exactly have a ton of experience with pink eye.  I never got it as a child that I know of.  Only my middle little has had it of my 3, and his was so bad his eye was swollen shut.

But while I’m no genius and only play a doctor on the internet, if the eye oozes, you get thee to an eye doctor!  Thank nacho cheese god (a minor god… or major depending on your love of the cheese) for them being able to get me in same day, no notice.

Sure enough.  Thank sweet baby Buddha that it was bacterial pink eye and not viral.  I was only contagious if my eyeball made out with other eyeballs.  Totally killed its plans for the night but I kept it in isolation.  In my head. (That joke was officially taken too far.  I’m sorry.  Not sorry enough to take it down, mind you.  But sorry enough to apologize.)

I’m a baby when it comes to my eyes and putting stuff in them.  Contacts?  No thanks.  The puff of air during the eye exam?  First time in my life I consented, and only because I had a double eye infection.  Eye drops?  Only if I’m dying at it will be my only savior.

Well, guess what.  Pink eye?  I was counting the minutes until my next eye drop dose.  Oh, the sweet and instant relief.  Oh glory to the good stuff!

Granted, I did confirm I could close my eyes, drop it in the corner, and then blink it into place.  The good doctor suggested an extra drop each dose, then ordered me a slightly larger bottle.

Still.  Progress.

So yes, for my anniversary date, I was one hell of a hot mess.  We went to dinner and then played pool, with maximum strength sinus meds and eye meds in tow.

I was bringing sexy back!

Apparently the theme for this anniversary.

Because later that night, I brought sexy back.

And I ain’t referring to eyeball snot. *wink*



Everything I said the other day about standing out in the cold to reserve a pre-K seat, how I was #19 but it was all worth it he got in?



About that.

Seems, that nobody bothered to mention the class was for 4-year-olds only… Oh they did go to great lengths to make sure you knew no 3-year-olds, but nothing was said about 5-year-olds who aren’t ready for kindergarten.

It wasn’t until days later when I went to fill out all the registration paperwork and we were discussing busing… See, even though his big brother comes from the same home and would be going to the same school, they are cutting the funding for the pre-K busing no exceptions.  Ironically, that was a huge reason we were choosing that pre-K, he’d be bussed.  So I mentioned that might be a deal breaker and I might just put him in the regular kindergarten instead.  She was confused.  I explained he was old enough for kindergarten but not ready, so I was putting him in pre-K instead since he only had one year of preschool under his belt.  And that’s the story of how person #21 on the waiting list just had their day made.  They were out in the cold from 4:30-8 AM, they deserve it.

While I was there, learning I couldn’t put him in their pre-K, I asked when the lottery opened and closed for regular K-12 so he could still go there, where his brother goes, but just be in kindergarten, and we could master letters over the summer.  Oh, that opened and closed in February.

And that’s the story of how I learned I have no place to place him next year with his brother at all.  Period.  End of discussion.

My choices are his current school, which is expensive and doesn’t seem to be effective for him (it’s him, not the school), another program with likely the same cost and results, or just homeschool the kid at least through Kindergarten.

OK, so we’ve discussed and discussed the idea of homeschooling all three kids.  With Thomas we decided the regular school was the best choice for him.  With Luke, I think his best bet might actually be at home.

Fact is, the kid has quirks.  He’s ADHD, showing signs of OCD, and there is also something else.  I don’t know what.  He’s 5.  But there is something there.  Tic based.  Mood based.  Something.  It’ll get figured out as he grows into it.  No immediate rush.  The main concern now is the ADHD and keeping him safe from himself and that’s being handled.  The rest can wait as long as it isn’t causing harm, and it’s not.

Either way we look at it, there is a mile long list of pros and cons for all the school options.  But unlike Thomas, I think Luke’s best bet when everything is measured out, is to keep him home.  Ohio has a wonderful homeschooling program.  He will be teacher led over a computer they provide, and it doesn’t have all that ridiculous testing that the federal government mandates.  Luke is more imagination/creative based and doesn’t do well with structure, so he won’t standardize test well.  That’s just setting him and his poor teachers being graded on his test results, up for failure.  Especially since he’s incredibly smart, but not in the format the US government would prefer.

So, we’re pretty set on giving it a try.  And come next January, we’ll take a long look at if it’s working.  If it isn’t, come next February we’ll lottery him into his brother’s school.  But if we’re right, and home is what’s best for him, then home he will stay through at least middle school if not all the way to graduation.


Two, two hundred, two thousand, two million, two billion.  All named Fred.  That’s how no one has been punched in the face.  I name them so I mind their existence a little less.

We’ve had a leak in that spot of the basement forever.  There’s also been a known pipe issue right there forever.  So, you know, is how it goes.

I’ve also been noticing a weird something(?) for a long time that I’ve understandably thought was part of the wall disintegrating.  It’s right there with the water leak and oh hey, everything thing else wall related is falling apart in that spot.

Then finally after way too long, I noticed little almost clear bugs and that something weird seemed to be a tunnel they were building.  Pat took a look, consulted Google, and declared them termites.  So.  Awesome, yes?

Yes! (No!  No!  No!)

So Pat called the apartment complex and told them flat-out with no uncertainty that we had termites.  And they sent their bug guy out.  He spent about 2 minutes in the basement, agreed they were termites and then told me husband that he doesn’t do termites, they’d have to call in the specialist.

Ok if you don’t do termites why the fuck are you here to begin with?  Oh how I wondered and angered.  Then I joked that the termite guy would spent 1.5 minutes (he’s the expert so he wouldn’t need the full 2) looking, agree they were termites, and then leave.

I loath being right.  Except when it’s convenient to be right.  This is the opposite of convenient.

I sleep in that room.  They are eating the floor above my head.  I’m going to wake some morning to find myself in bed with the dining room table.

Now, I could have written this post a month ago.  I would have, even, but I figured I’d hold off until I could announce that something had been done.

The only thing that’s been done is I’ve rearranged my whole basement.  Honestly they haven’t invested to the point of the furniture being in danger but why chance it?  Also, I do still sleep right there.  They are eating the walls, the floor and allowing flooding of my space.

And I can’t go all angry Karen on them because Pat warns I’ve only seen the workers which are pacifists.  Apparently there are warriors somewhere in my walls and they are less paci, and more fist.


I suppose it’s a month early, but I’m very thankful this week.  Of all I’ve been handed, I’m keeping it in perspective and being thankful I wasn’t handed more than I can handle.

I could be cranky that it freakin snowed in October, or I can be thankful that’s all Sandy handed to us.

I could be cranky that my kids have to wear coats over their costumes this beggar’s night if we do go out, or I can be thankful that the neighborhood we will visit isn’t submerged in foot after foot of water.

I could be frustrated with the gas leak out back that will cause our gas to be shut off, taking away our heat for roughly 7 hours today, or I can be thankful that it’s only 7 hours, we have an electric heater, we won’t freeze, and, again, it’s only 7 hours.  We were preparing to lose power for days depending on how Sandy hit us.

I can be pissed off that the in-door trick-or-treat option provided to the community was an epic failure, or I can be thankful that they tried so hard.  It was set up weeks ago as an attempt to provide a safe alternative to hitting the streets, and they could not have foreseen the thousands that would see them as the safe haven for little kids who don’t understand and parents who can’t break little hearts by telling them trick-or-treat isn’t logical this year.

I can be upset at the cold, wind and rain, or I can be thankful I don’t have sharks swimming in my backyard.

I’m assuming my 9yo would be pissed if he knew he were missing out on shark action.  Shark week live and in 3D.

I can be amused that my 4yo is still obsessed with the weather channel, though I do wish my little worrier would watch more Dora and less Sandy, too little to understand what he is seeing on TV isn’t outside our back door.

I’m finding myself trying to take deep breaths and take things on one moment at a time.  The next moment is the 4yo’s class party*.  Then comes figuring out the plan for Halloween.  We were doing the in-door thing in-place of hitting the streets, but with it being a bust I’m not sure.  If it’s just cold, not wet, we’ll deal with coats.  As pissed as I was last week about having to cover the costumes, suddenly I’m shrugging it off.  As long as it isn’t wet.  If it is?  We’ll dress them up and go eat burgers and fries.  The candy can be bought tomorrow for half price anyway.


*So the 4yo’s preschool does not celebrate Halloween.  Instead, they are having a “Noah’s Ark” party.  While this was planned months if not years ago, I am finding no end of amusement in the theme considering the storms.  Irony.  Preschool should teach it.

Also note, while I don’t take the end of the Mayan calendar being the sign of dooms day seriously, I’m also amused that we’re all of 6 weeks from its end, and this week brought us the worst storm in recorded history.  I’m not saying NYC should sacrifice a virgin or 2, but maybe we should all hug our loved ones a little closer.  The end is near.

Or it’s not, but there is not such thing as hugging loved ones too much.


Is sad lonely eyes, staring right back at me.

Alright.  So A few weeks back I was thrilled to the moon over a new friend I had found in the mother of my kid’s friend.  I guess I didn’t know she assumed I was Christian.  And the irony in this compared to what I had originally said about her is not lost. (The part at the very bottom slays me, now, in hindsight.)

The thing is, I only have guesses.  She hasn’t actually told me to my face that she has a new found problem with my family.  And she certainly hasn’t said what it was.  But the only change that occurred between her being thrilled with my family and now there being a coldness that could freeze fire is her realization that hey, we don’t worship.

There wasn’t a point where I said “Oh, by-the-way.”  I think she just pieced a few things together and jumped to, admittedly correct, conclusions.

When my husband and I dropped T off at their house for a zoo trip, Pat was wearing a Gothic style head cover.  By no means Satanic or otherwise inappropriate, but you know how Gothic style can go.  I guess I should have seen her reaction to our Pink Floyd poster coming.  I’ve never given it a second thought.  And we only ever get compliments.  But then, most of our friends aren’t exactly conservative.  She didn’t say anything, but since my husband who can read people like a coloring book was the one to catch her facial reaction, she didn’t have to.

In retrospect, I can’t honestly blame her. They are technically naked. With their back to their camera not revealing anything hard core, and it’s tasteful and artistic as hell. But they are naked, and either you’re bothered by it or you’re not.

Later that evening when confirming the sleepover scheduled for the weekend to come, I got word that little man was nervous about spending the night in a strange house.  Not yet realizing that something was majorly wrong, I went into understanding momma mode and told her that was way fine, he’d could come hang out and if spending the night wouldn’t work, that would be fine.  If he wanted to try to spend the night but couldn’t make it, I’d get him home myself no matter the time.

They showed up.  He was left.  He thought it was insane I’d even suggest to call his mom at bedtime, he was having fun and wasn’t even a little hesitant about crashing in a strange house.  I texted her to update her on things being well, I got arctic chill.

We haven’t heard boo from them in the 2 weeks since he was picked up that morning.

Pat and I had a long talk where the reader of people detailed what he’d noticed, I confessed the signs I had seen, and I started processing being so very wrong about my hoped for new friendship.

I started out so very mad.  Which is actually why this post took 2 weeks.  The nerve! I mean right?  Way to judge me on my morals and actions.  Let’s just write me off because I don’t worship your God.  Your God, who has made it clear it’s his job to judge me, and not yours.  I’m pretty sure should the pearly gates be real, I’ll receive enough judgment there, I don’t need it at the door to my own damn house.  And seriously?  I may not worship like you do, but I am spiritual, moral, and good.  I’m not perfect.  But I’m good.

Oh that rant would have continued on for paragraphs into pages.  Twitter even got some of it.

But now I’m resigned to acceptance.  If I am written off so easily because of my religion, or lack-there-of, then I’m not the one losing anything here.

Then less than a week later I found my people.

And I’ll tell that story later.  But hint?  It involves me climbing that wall, though it doesn’t start there.


I haven’t written in a while.  Not any real content really.  And not for lack of things to say, but for lack of words to give the thoughts form.

Sadly, this post isn’t to say that I found those words.  This is simply here as a place holder to let the world know I’m alive and well.  My family is well.  And while things aren’t 150% perfect, they are damn good.

I have some things to sort out in my head and writing here will be an important part of that process.  Just not yet.  I’m still giving a touch more time for me to process things before I take to writing.  And while that may sound like something horrendous happened, it’s nothing of that sort.  I’ve had my feelers hurt.  But not by someone I was invested in.

Just someone I wanted to invest in.

And yet, where I lost one. I may have found 3 to take their place.  So I think I’ve truly come out ahead.  As long as no one else is affected by the lost.  And I’m not imagining the gain.

Sorry to sound so cryptic.  I just haven’t found the proper words to give everything shape.

Shit on a shingle, I don’t even know if it will be 1 long post a couple shorter ones.

In the meantime, here is my baby at nearly 1.  Because oh holy hell, this time a year ago I was having constant contractions but I couldn’t dilate because of scar tissue on my cervix.


Also, she is gorgeous!

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