Archive for March, 2011


Posted March 31, 2011 By kmarrs

Thomas graduated therapy today. Which isn’t to say he’s cured. But he’s doing awesome in school and there is marked improvement. And well, there just isn’t any drama to keep us going back time and time again. He is by no means perfect. There is no such thing as perfect, anyways. But his behavior is within the realms of normal 7yo, and that is good enough.

If something comes up and we need to go back, there is always that option. And I’ve made sure he understands this. But in the meantime she has taught him some coping skills and how to reframe some of his negative thoughts and it’s helping.

The past two sessions were actually pretty amazing. 4 weeks ago we had to redo his regular paperwork. Every 6 months we have to reform goals and such and such. Normally he is all eager to play with the toys, which is a valuable part of therapy, and is limited in his focus on anything else. So I wasn’t expecting much from him during the paperwork session. But he actually was amazing! He waited patiently, answer questions and helped with goals. The goals part was hard because well, he’s been doing so much better. The big one is basically listening to and follow directions at home. (But show me one 7yo who doesn’t struggle with that.)

Then today he had a full conversation with his therapist where I just sat back and listened (ok giggled… they were talking about the class bully who also happens to be stinky because he farts and burps a lot. Apparently one fart was so bad it shook the whole classroom and everyone passed out for 100 minutes.) It isn’t that they haven’t talked before, it’s just normally they have to pull me into the conversation to get regular responses from him. Today, he just opened up. None of it was anything serious. So there is no reason to think he needs to keep going back for more. It was just nice that we could end on such a high note.

This is just a complete 180 from 6 months ago.

Anyway, it was on mutual agreement from all 3 of us that he was ready to bring therapy to an end. So we said our goodbyes and that was that.

Besides, there are always the teenage years for more, I’m sure.

Be the first to comment

Can I Go Back To Bed Now?

Posted March 30, 2011 By kmarrs

I’m just having one of those days where I’d have been better off staying in bed. Never mind that I was in bed til almost noon. You’d think that would save me some trouble. But, apparently not.

First order of business, I discovered the cat chewed my headphone cord. I assume it was the cat. I don’t think my husband got hungry in the middle of the night. And I’m pretty sure the kids know better. She didn’t just lightly mangle them. She destroyed them beyond repair. Because that is what she does. Tiny Cat is more evil than the red headed 3yo. And that’s saying something. No offense to the red headed 3yo who I’m sure will grow up to be sweet. Probably. Maybe.

This is the same cat who runs head first into the glass back door. Repeatedly. Because she sees her reflection. I mean doing it once and learning from it would be understandable. Maybe even forgetting it a month later and doing it again. Fine. But multiple times in the same night every night? I can only assume that the first few times gave her sufficient brain damage and well, it’s only getting worse.

So apparently the request, “Can you turn on the dryer while you are down there?” wasn’t specific enough. What I needed to have said is, “Can you leave the wet clothes in the washer and the lump of wrinkled clothes that have been sitting there for 2 days now in the dryer and turn on the dryer so they can dewrinkle for me so I can go down in an hour and fold them and then switch out the loads.” See, I was about to go down into the basement to do it myself when dad mentioned he was about to go down there. So I’m like, score! Fat pregnant chick can avoid a trip up and down the stairs! Turning on the dryer is no big task so while it’s a huge favor for me, it’s a simple one that won’t take much effort on his part since he’ll be right there anyways. 5 minutes later he comes up and tells me the clothes that were in the dryer are now on my bed and the clothes in the washer are in the dryer. Sure, enough there was a lump of wrinkled clothes on the foot of my bed. So I took the wet clothes out of the dryer and put them back in the washer and put the wrinkled clothes back into the dryer and turned it on. While he looked on confused. I explained that the whole point of turning on the dryer was so I could dewrinkle those clothes before I folded them. He’s still confused. BTW, simply doing it myself the first time would have taken A LOT less work. Lesson learned.

Yes, I sometimes have clothes that sit in the dryer for a couple of days before I can get to them. It happens.

Oh, and on the subject of dad. Apparently he isn’t moving out. There was a long talk and things are going to change and yada yada yada. Which is fine. Until his next temper tantrum next month. But whatever. It isn’t that I want him kicked out, per-say. I’m just getting sick of the constant drama over bullshit. Because that’s what most of this is: bullshit.

It’s currently snowing. Or at least it was last I checked. And I realize, this isn’t the end of the world. Won’t cost me time, money, or energy. But it’s been snowing for 6 months now since it got started early last fall. And it’s suppose to be spring. And well, I’m sick of snow. Though I am grateful it’s not ice. Or hail. That was freaky.

One day last week, when Thomas was home sick from school, he and I were cuddled up in bed. We spent much of last week like that, actually. Out of the blue, Pat sent Luke down because a storm was coming and the tornado sirens were going off. I set the boys up watching cartoons and came up to investigate. Pat checked the weather report and saw the storm was still a half hour out, so we let Luke come back upstairs. About 5 minutes later, a brand new storm formed literally on top of us and the heavens broke lose with hail the size of golf balls. Luke, who was on the sofa, looking out the back door, stood there frozen in sheer terror. I grabbed him up and raced him back down stairs. The entire trip down he clung on and thanked me profusely for “saving him from the scary outside.” BTW, the initial storm that caused the sirens missed us by quite a bit.

So Sunday was fun. I had to work 10:45 to 6:15. But when I got there at about 10:30 and went to the bathroom, I discovered I was bleeding. And more than just spotting. Paired with the cramping I’ve been having for the past few weeks, I wasn’t taking any chances. I went up to the front of the store, told them what was going on, and then left straight for the hospital. 4 hours later I was pronounced fine. The bleeding was indeed coming from my uterus but there are no clots, and everything seems to be in order so they are pretty sure it’s just my placenta implanting on the uterine wall. Which can cause bleeding. But they were glad I came in because there are lots of things it could have been, most not so routine. Plus, because my blood type is A negative, I had to get a shot of Rhogam just in-case my blood mixed with the baby’s blood. (I get this shot with each pregnancy about 2 months before delivery.) I’ll tell you, of all the shots I’ve gotten to the ass in my life (my ass being the preferred place because well, there is a lot of muscle and fat so I generally don’t feel a thing) Rhogam is the worse. That shit burns! I didn’t feel the initial poke but once it started spreading my right ass cheek and hip were on fire for HOURS. Which is totally normal. And something I get to look forward to repeating in a few months because we aren’t close enough to time of delivery for this shot to cover that. Joy.

It is really snowing out there.

Since I’ve already brought up the pregnancy on my non-pregnancy blog, I might as well add in this little tidbit.

Remember when I was saying sleeping pill dreams (don’t remember which one specifically) were messed up? Well, they have nothing on pregnancy dreams. I’d forgotten how completely deranged these dreams can be.

Thomas (as a 7yo) committed murder in my dreams Friday night in a really bizarre way that I don’t remember. I do remember that he hid the body in a tree. How he got it up in a tree (it was an adult) is beyond me. And yet, if it had been Luke in my dream who did it, I would have found none of it odd.

Ok, this post started out being about my day so far (the whole 3 hours I’ve been awake) but apparently it morphed into something else. Go figure.

2 Comments so far. Join the Conversation

I’m Tired

Posted March 22, 2011 By kmarrs

I’m not going into a lot of detail about this. It’s a tough situation and I’m trying to be considerate that someone who doesn’t even know about my blog is deeply involved.

I have shared parts of the back history on this here. My dad lives with us. He doesn’t contribute to any of the household expenses. He throws temper tantrums at least once a month where he ceases to do even what he did do to be helpful.

About a month ago he disciplined Thomas for something Thomas did deserve to be disciplined for, right in front of Pat before Pat had a chance to handle it himself. If Thomas had done something that affected Grandpa, we wouldn’t have been pleased with Grandpa trying to take the role over as Thomas’s parent, but at least we would have been closer to understanding. What Thomas did, don’t remember now and it’s trivial anyway, had nothing to do with Grandpa and he just happened to be there. Along side Patrick who also witnessed the whole thing. Pat informed Grandpa he was out of line and Grandpa threw a hissy fit. He decided since he couldn’t do right by the kids, he wouldn’t do anything with the kids.

He stopped picking Thomas up from the bus stop after school. This means Pat has to take me to work and pick me up 3 times a week so he can get Thomas instead. So we are going through twice as much gas. Which is expensive. Especially when we alone are footing all the bills around here.

He stopped getting up with Luke in the morning. See, dad likes to get up at 5:30 in the morning and take his shower. Which wakes Luke up, who would otherwise happily sleep til 7:30 or later. So in trade, Grandpa would feed Luke breakfast and watch tv with him while everyone else slept on. Now he continues to take his shower at 5:30 in the morning but leaves Luke to Pat. So, well, Luke has been sleeping with Pat every night so he’ll sleep til 7:30. This is no picnic for anyone. But dad of course.

So we were already at our wits end. We’ve been debating telling dad he had to move out for a long time now. Every time he throws a temper tantrum, to be exact. But we just didn’t have it in us.

Thomas is sick. Has been since 1pm Sunday afternoon. He can’t go more than 30 minutes to an hour without puking. It was like that all night. He’d sleep for 30 minutes, wake up, puke, sleep for 30 minutes, repeat.

I was up until 4am. One part couldn’t sleep, one part worried about Thomas. One part rinsing out the throw-up bowl. Thomas was sleeping in the living room with Pat, but I was trying to let Pat get some sleep while I handled things so he could take over at 4 and I could get some sleep. That was the plan anyway. I don’t know how well it worked. I was downstairs except when I heard Thomas puking, so that me being up wouldn’t keep Thomas up during his 30 minute sleep stretches.

Anyway I was up until 4am at which point I crashed into a deep sleep. Thomas was up, for all intent and purposes all night. Pat was up and down from about 4am on.

At 7am dad started vacuuming the kitchen. Which is like 10 feet from where the sick kid was currently sleeping. And about 9 feet directly above my head. The sun wasn’t even up.

Pat went into the kitchen and asked him to please stop 4 times nice and calm. Dad couldn’t hear him over the vacuum. So Pat shouted it. Dad didn’t take that well and the epicest of all epic temper tantrum ensued.

That was the straw that broke the camels back. Dad has until April to find someplace new to live.

There was of course a huge fight involved in this. These are the details I’ll leave out. I think the highlight that will make my point was when dad said he’d put together a bill of what we owed him money wise. To which Pat said he would do the same. Anyway, it wasn’t pretty.

So I guess we’ll see what happens. I’m not entirely sure dad took the April deadline seriously. I’m not sure what will be done to enforce it. I don’t know if he’s made any phone calls to try and find somewhere new to live. I just don’t know. So we’ll see?

2 Comments so far. Join the Conversation

So, what with me working Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday every week, Thursdays are my Mondays. Just kinda how it is. And of course, I have come to hate Thursdays.

Today, hated me back.

We all have those days when every little thing that could go wrong, does. No one died. I didn’t lose a limb. But all the little things sure add up.

  • My darling 3yo dropped a tv tray on my big toe. Right at the tip of the nail causing it to bend down. That shit hurts! 2 hours later it was still throbbing!
  • I get to the gas station expecting 50 cents off per gallon. Only got 30 cents. Which is nice, but…
  • At 50 cents off a gallon, I would have been able to fill the tank with the allotted budget. 30 cents off came close but not quite.
  • Went to call my husband to tell him about the gas situation to discover my phone wasn’t in my purse. Because at night it’s by my bed so it’s alarm can wake me. And if I don’t bring it upstairs that exact moment I get out of bed in the morning, it no longer exists in my mind.
  • I was all the way to work before I realized I’d also left my apron at home on my desk.
  • Which of course meant I also left my name tag, chapstick, cheat sheets, pens and pocket full of hard candy at home, on my desk, tucked inside the pockets of said apron.
  • Do you know how hard it is to time a 15-minute break when you don’t have a phone and therefore no clock? Even a minute over leads to a write up because the 15-minute breaks are paid.
  • So instead of sitting on the nice bench resting for my breaks, I instead had to stand at customer service so I could keep an eye on the time. Keeping in mind I have NO sense of time so I can’t just sit for what seems like 10 minutes and watch the clock for the last 5.
  • I normally have a backup clock for the times (once a month or so) I forget my cell phone. I keep it in my apron. Oh yeah…
  • It doesn’t really matter. The battery died in the back-up clock a month ago and I threw it out because the replacement battery cost more than the cheap watch I bought on clearance for like 3$.
  • Normally we have a selection of clearance watches so I had options. I didn’t really want to spend lunch money on a watch, but it would have been used more than once, I’m sure.
  • None of them had working batteries. True story.
  • I should just grab a watch from home to keep in my purse. None of their batteries work either though, so I’m seeing a pattern.
  • I’m sure there is more but I’m tired so F it, this is enough.

3 Comments so far. Join the Conversation

Clothing Defeat

Posted March 2, 2011 By kmarrs

Luke usually wears the same pair of jammies a couple of days in a row. To be more accurate, half the time we don’t dress him for the day and he wears the same pair of jammies for a couple of days and nights in a row. As long as they aren’t dirty, that is. He’s 3, it’s hit or miss. Long run, it cuts down on laundry. I do enough laundry as is.

If we are leaving the house with him, however, we dress him. He’s too old to wear his jammies to the store. This happens usually once a week, not counting weekends with Grandma. (This will change when things warm up and he plays outside more.)

Anyway, This week broke the norm and he went out with us two days in a row. Hell, Pat actually left the house two days in a row. That right there breaks the norm. So he’s had a total of three different pairs of jammies three different nights in a row. This, simply, isn’t normal.

I’m behind on laundry. Even though I just had the past 4 days off. (Today was my first day back. I wasn’t sick. Simply spending time with my husband. I requested the days off.) Anyway, I knew I wasn’t going to do it Friday. I meant to do it Saturday but simply forgot and figured no biggie, I would do it Sunday. Sunday morning I realized Sunday is my dad’s day to do laundry. There is no changing this fact. I couldn’t do it Monday because Rob, our friend, was coming over to do laundry. So laundry was happening tonight and all day tomorrow.


Only, we were going through jammies for the kid faster than usual.

So tonight when I went downstairs to get him jammies I figured they would probably be miss matched, but whatever, as long as he was covered.

Jammie shirt. White t-shirt (he sleeps in them on warm nights, tonight is too chilly for just a t). Jammie shirt. White t-shirt. White t-shirt. Jammie shirt. White t-shirt. White t-shirt.

Three jammie shirts and 5 t-shirts, but absolutely no pants. Go figure.

Well, at least his top half is warm tonight.

Now, there is Thomas.

Thomas wears a uniform to school. White or navy polo shirt, and navy pants. Simple. Clean. Nice.

Last year we bought 5 shirts and 5 pants. Just enough for the 5 day school week. Then he proceeded to lose various items of his uniform through the school year. I’m still not sure where half that stuff ended up. Narnia is my guess. It’s not like he lost it at school, so it has to be in this house somewhere.

This year we were smart, we bought extras. Which honestly should have been common sense from the start but when you’re broke, you’re broke.

This year, he hasn’t lost anything, but EVERYTHING is getting holes in it. The knees of pants, while unfortunate, are understandable. I’m confused as to what the hell is happening to his shirts! I mean tiny little holes happen. Flaws in fabric, whatever. They happen. But these aren’t those tiny little holes. They are coin-sized and they are driving me crazy! They aren’t even in the seams. They are right in the middle of his torso. What is this kid doing to his clothes?

The shirts with holes I throw away. I don’t like it but I’m not letting my kid leave the house with holes in his shirt. It just looks like trash. The pants with rips in the knees I’m setting off to the side and if he doesn’t have any other pants clean, he can wear them, but I prefer that not happen.

The kid is driving me crazy!

Luckily so far he still has more shirts than there are days in the school week. And the pants are well… whatever.

Be the first to comment