The 13th Apostol

Turkey Bingo Rules!

Mer-boy rolled his eyes at me in the rear view mirror...

THIS...is how I know the lil guy who used to eat red play-doh is actually mine...and after the last 24 hrs, I could use some red play-doh myself.

Mer's tests went well. The anxiety and worry about going to the Cardio which brought upon the need to snuggle and be close is gone. He's back to thinking I'm the biggest idiot in the world and being the royal pain in the ass I love.

Our home is a mess (to the anal retentive one)...when hair is stuck to the bathroom floor with hairspray, I consider the house a disaster, BUT...I'm learning I'd rather have a happy kid than a spotless home. (breathe)

Tonight is the ever eventful "Turkey Bingo" at Wilson, MC'd by one witty Chess Club teacher (that's the main reason I go) He's so good with those kids, and they all love him because he doesn't treat them like they're morons...I call that a brilliant teacher! They all get his sarcasm, because he uses it in such a way there's no shame, no humiliation, no B.S.

I adore all the teachers at Wilson, even the one who yelled in my face last year (found out she'd done it to other parents, so it wasn't about me) "Control Issues"

Educators in Oklahoma are 48th in the nation in pay. We have some of the best and brightest, uber cool educators at Wilson. Doing cutting edge teaching, always learning more themselves. It makes me sick to know their income isn't much different than mine, just sick.

So far I've damn near missed half of Mer's 5th grade year being incapacitated physically, slowly getting stronger each day...this is his last year at a school I've worked my butt off to make sure he stayed in.

So "Turkey Bingo" huh? What could that be...it's BINGO right before Thanksgiving. The kids love it, the parents love it, it's a great way to blow off steam.

I have an abundance of steam needing to be blown off at this point. So let's hear it for "Turkey Bingo"!

OK...maybe not.

Mer-boy Sees the Cardiologist Today and I Can't Tell the Difference between NaBloPoMo vs NaBloWriMo

Please forgive my ignorance, when the other day I utilized the NaNoWriMo term in lieu of NaBloWriMo (an event I'm certain to miss due to some gremlin inside, either my head or my computer)

I cannot seem to login...THIS, in and of it's self makes me as irritated as burrs on a saddle. Not that I ride, but the term is well taken in Okie-ville.

I have conceded to myself NaBloPoMo must suffice in as that I overdo just about everything. Hence, totaling my car trying to play "SUPERMOM" in August. Balance is foreign, but I'm attempting it.

I use my cane to scare small children and hit people (what are they gonna do to a crip?) Yes, I know "This woman is not well".

Ah ha! I never claimed to be (one time in court, but the statutes of limitation have expired)

Over the weekend Mer's Uncle took him to Little Saigon and bought him a Blue Crab. My sensitive boy wanted to keep this angry creature as a pet...when I say angry, I mean angry, nearly took my finger off...(where the Hell was I supposed to keep a pissed off Blue Crab?)

Mer and I discussed that perhaps consuming the pissed off Blue Crab was the best route to take. He conceded, but I made him leave the kitchen while I dropped the PO'd Crab (joyfully) in a giant pot of boiling water.

I've never seen my child eat like that before. Every tiny little splinter of meat sucked from Mr. pissed off BC...it was like shrapnel flying across the table. Of course the next morning came with it the guilt. So I told him he now had "Blue Crab Spirit" like the native Americans when the eat their kill.

They consume the spirit of the food and it makes them stronger, wiser, more powerful...Mer liked that. Thought it was cool he had "Blue Crab Spirit" in him.

Mer sees the Pediatric Cardiologist this morning, and it has me awake at 3am, a nervous (more than usual) histrionic mess, gulping mug after mug of coffee...(certain to calm me down.) I did zero laundry, failed to force my preteen into the shower last night because I didn't want the battle, my pain level has skyrocketed, which it does when I'm not DEALING with things.

What if the Dr. wants to put a stint in his valve...OMG, OMG, OMG, breathe, breathe, breathe...

Mer just isn't growing, he's a picky eater to begin with (sans Blue Crab), but the joint pain from EDS has gotten worse (I just HAD to have my concrete floors) The Family Physician we both had we don't anymore...another thing I have to do this week. (breathe) it's time to see Endo and Genetics Doc's and I'm driving around town on a freakin DONUT tire, attached to a car owned by my EX, because everytime I think I'm going to get ahead from the accident, WHAM...somemore LIFE hits me between the eyes.

What I am learning, not that anyone gives a rodents butt, is this:

Right now in this moment, I am OK. Right now in this moment, I have all that I need. Right now in this moment, I have more than enough money. When I need it it comes, when I don't it doesn't. Right now in THIS MOMENT, we are each precious creatures doing the best we can.

Now, if I can just hold on to that while I'm cleaning the cat box I'll be OK!

Mer is in the best of hands, this I know...this I KNOW with all my heart, this I BELIEVE with all my heart...

Believe.

Psychotic Ranting/Anonymous Foaming!

Thank GAWD Eden finally has a category for me!!!!!

So excited I could wet my pants (I do that anyway though) It's called GETTING OLD...you just wait kiddies.

Mer-boy is awake, and past the stage where he comes into my office to say "G'Mornin' Mama" OK, so I have a flippin dog and cat...who the Hell cares?

I (sniff) do!

What shall we do today, this lovely Indian Summer Saturday?

Lets see, mer will yell about what a terrible house keeper I am (I'd rather have a happy kid than a spotless house...that will have to wait till Monday)

Mer will yell about how "I KNOW mom" when I try to tell him anything.

Mer will do something destructive and or artistic (one can never tell) because he's Mer.

I will take my Cymbalta...and my lighter just quit on me. (good thing I had thirty five candles lit huh)

I will try to appease mer by singing a Chicago song "Saturday, in the park" and mer will tell me "STOP! I'm trying to watch "Phineus and Ferb"

I'll leave mer hear and go to Target to get a gift for a friend, smoke many cigarettes, and try and figure out WHY I had children?

When I return, Mer will unlock the door with a game in his hand saying "I'm Hungry"

I give up.

...but only until, like last night, he crawls into bed with me, the oatmeal dog, and Bubu the cat and tells me "I love you mama"

He is still my heart.

NaBloPoMo Vs Nanowrimo (sigh)

Of course, I'm late to get started, and can't seem to expedite Nanowrimo via the UK, Google Chrome, standing on my head or selling my first born to whomever will pay dividends...

I...have become a SAAAAD writer, a sorrowful Photojournalist, and on occasion a venting (near black out) mother. Yes you say...join the black out club. When ones angelic angel becomes a "I HATE YOU" preteen...what's a mother to do but comply.

"I know you do, now eat your grilled cheese damn it"

"But Moooom, the dog chewed a hole in the crotch of my best jeans"

Yeah, well, welcome to the club...in fact I still have items at the tailors I need to pick up (freakin dog) "But I waaaaaant a Jack Russell Mom!"

...and you got it, so did I, the floors, the carpets, and anything she could shedd upon (en mass)...so we got her a 12 yr old cat, MY old cat, whom she will surely kill from exhaustion. Run, run, chase, chase, it never ends until Bubu the cat smacks Achi chi the wonder dog in the face. At which point she comes whimpering to me, wanting to spread her "oatmeal love" all over my lap (the dog smells like oatmeal)

Yes, she needs a bath, but where to find the time...I'd have to give her a doggie valium if I took her to a groomer. Please don't get me wrong, this animal was so severely abused when we rescued her, and she's come so far in almost a year...she's a family member who still has "Burrowing" instincts. If we are in bed, she MUST burrow under the covers, leaving my lavender smelling sheets like, you guessed it...oatmeal.

Achi chi sleeps with Mer-boy at night, and so far I think (by pulling up every scatter rug on our concrete floors, I've been able to break her of relieving herself on his floor in the middle of the night. The FIRST thing I do in the morning is take her sleepy, yawning (so cute) ass out back and...there she goes! Comes RUNNING back in and climbs in bed with him.

She's terrified of the rain (I shudder to think of snow) horrified of the dark, thunder, and carrots...God knows what this poor animal went through.

She's been good for Mer-boy, at least he has someone as speedy as him.

It's been a long time coming, that we would own our home, be able to have a dog, cat, and Beta...gut the darn place and then make it ours...so many years I promised Mer "Soon honey, soon" as I worked so hard to clear up past debt...now here it is.

Smudges from little hands on every corner and doorway I can't stand to wash off...someday Mer won't be here, then maybe, but for now I love the fact I don't have to tell him every five minutes, "Honey, we don't own this house!"

I have one bare wall of concrete and sand with re-bar exposed. I LOVE this wall. Very Georgia O'Keefe, very Southwest, as is most of the home. As I was remodeling after closing, the lil buggar carved his beautiful name in the wall...and it will stay there forever...

...as I hope we do. 

"Home" is so much more than a house. 

Byron Katie's "The Work"

There are times when single parenting, such as now (Cough, hack, spew) that all one wants to do is curl up in bed with their non-existent two-year-old and cuddle, reading "Goodnight Moon", all the Nancy Wells books, and the all-time favorite "Are You My Mother?"

My baby is gone, growing into this amazingly strong, self-sufficient young man...and it's so hard, so very hard to let him go. There will be no more children for me, no more babies that smell like rose petals, no more sleepless nights...I waited too long in my grief and stonewall of the opposite sex.

I write about this now, because of the work I'm doing with Byron Katie, a 6 CD set called "Your Inner Awakening" "Katie" as she is called, speaks as though an angel took her tongue. Katie speaking of "The Work" of all the horrific pain, but in such a loving tone, almost song-like, as she requests you "Turnaround" the person, place, thing, situation that you have given your inner peace to.

My friend Laura, one of the most gentle people I've ever met, whose family (read: Brood) took Mer-boy in after my wreck turned me on to Byron Katie after gently suggesting her several times over the course of a year.

I wasn't ready until desperation, the reality of my will run rampant, and "Supermom-ism" took it's toll and I could not get out of bed. I was mentally, physically, and spiritually drained from having "Been in charge" for so many years...I wanted peace.

As I walk through my losses, feel the pain, experience the "Turnaround", a peace comes over me, physical pain is diminished, I am healing where I've never healed before.

...and I am precious.