The 13th Apostol

Finally the house is asleep.

Finally the house is asleep. The highway hums through an open window, breaking the darkness into degrees. There is a thick wedge of guilt residing between my son and I, limiting my ability to embrace him fully. I never understood the true meaning of shame, until the state took my children. Throwing the word around with all the other good buzz words of the 80's. It's now a life sustaining organ. Sacrificing one to save the other. Is this what the Jew mothers felt? I fear Iv'e reached that familiar place of self protection again, as if I couldn't possibly write another word. I know women who have lost children to diseaase and death. Agonizingly slow, heartbreaking death. These women shattered, healed, and are forever changed in a way that only the death of a child can change you. I don't meet the criteria to be in their club. How selfish am I to wish for the closure only death inevitably brings? More shame to add to my spectacular collection.

I live in the United

I live in the United States of America. I have no criminal history. I received my first speeding ticket two years ago. I went to private school as a child. Both my parents had M.A. in fine arts from SMU. I had a good childhood. Mom's alzheimers didn't affect her until I was eleven. She deteriorated quickly. I took care of her the last ten years she was alive. When I was twenty one she shot herself in the head. I believe she was lucid when she did it. She was an amazing woman my mother, full and intense, wounded and fragile. The only pain greater than watching your mother regress to in infant, unable to feed, clothe or bathe herself, is having your own daughter taken almost from your womb against your will... and not being able to stop it.

I'm either pre menstrual, or

I'm either pre menstrual, or writing about Athena has depressed the hell out of me. Considering I've only had two periods in the last year it's most likely the latter. Somehow I have to forge ahead, knowing that on the other side will be a life again. My life. Or some semblance of it. This is literally the most I've ever consistently written about her, about what happened to my children and I, and I've not written anything have I? Rewriting my profile wiped me out for half the day. I posted it, took a shower, sat down on my bed, and couldn't get up. Writing about it, like talking about it, makes it far too real. If it's real, then I have to accept somehow the unacceptable.

The rain. First measurable rain

The rain. First measurable rain since last summer, the wildfires are proof. She's a force to be reconed with. Burning my last candle until the first of the month, and only once the bills are paid... then maybe a few candles for inpiration. Cartoons and the cat chasing Al through the house. The cat that believes himself a dog. Im sad and out of sorts. Athena. Rain. Thowing myself out in traffic, in front of oncoming vehicles traveling at high speed. That's what this feels like, that somehow I'll write the truth and be punished for it. Blow out the candle to last the weekend.

Rain is on the way.

Rain is on the way. No call from the school concerning my Olsen Twin's attire. Of course I did slip a pair of shorts into his Yugio backpack as he was eating his peanut butter sandwich this morning. I may have mentioned they were there on our way out the door. I love my child more than life. Al is the strongest person I've ever met. There is no telling how far he will go, but I have a feeling he will do great things with the life he's been given. His school carnival is tonight, and somehow I commited to running one of the games. This is so far from where I was six years ago. Having just given birth to our daughter a week earlier. Perhaps if I move gently into this, slowly like a caterpillar, the pain will not be so intense? Or just slam myself quickly through the wall of facts keeping me a prisoner? Maybe her name, that can't hurt much... I named her Athena George. Athena- The Goddess of wisdom and justice. George- A Greek family name, and also St. George who slayed the dragon. Athena. My daughter. Surreal. ...wrong again.

What do you have against

What do you have against christians? Who can disagree with a message that has offered such consolation and inspired such sacrifice and commitment?:

"Who can support a message that has been used for such oppression?"

It's "dress as your favorite

It's "dress as your favorite movie star" day at Al's Elementary school.
The culmination of spirit week.

He is going as an "Olsen Twin".

My friend who is a Psychologist, brought over some clothes of her daughter's last night. Notice how I threw in the "Psychologist" part?

I'm going to count the minutes before the school calls me to come get him.
As controversial as this may be, I have to embrace his exploration of alternative possibilities. I don't want a dead teenage son.

No, he did not specify which Olsen Twin. This is good I think.
I hope he eats lunch.

 

We are half an hour

We are half an hour away from an iterview with a Charter school. I started this application process nearly three months ago, but never really took it seriously. Now I'm stomping through the house yelling at him about ignoring me while I'm talking to him, just because gd "Aurther" is on! Way to go mom, that ought to help the kid feel centered and secure. I hate interviews. I hate the whole process. Somehow it's a reflection on ME how well he does. If they only knew. I cant stop thinking about what will happen if he doesnt get accepted. He will get the same impression I did as a kid trying to get into schools. My parents always tried to tell me some BS about how it had nothing to do with me. My parents believed me to be a moron apparently. I wont do that to the kid. Cant. Not sure how I WILL handle it, but as always I will. After I yell at him for more stupid shit. My parents perhaps, were correct.

What is it about soggy

What is it about soggy fruit loops that smells like cat pee? Mornings for an ADHD family are sooo long. I medicated Al for three months, one week, and two days last Fall. I was working full time, so by the time I picked him up from the fundamental Christian lady's daycare at 5:30, all the poison had worked it's way out of his fragile system. He seemed fine. I was exhausted. Ritalin breeds compliant boys and peaceful family evenings/mornings for low to moderate income families. It wasn't until Christmas (theres that word again) break when he was out of school and I walked out of that crappy life extenguishing job, that I was able to see how medicated Al was. I took him off the garbage and within a day the spark was back in his eyes, but also the disorder and chaos that pains him so. Why are our boys especially, so medicated? What has happened since I was a child that has caused our society to see "Boy" behavior as "Problem behavior"?

I went to a private, cutting edge,(for it's time in the 60's) Montessori. We had a couple of true ADHD kids. Boys who you could spot a mile away terrorizing teachers and students alike with unwarranted bursts of rage, unable to stay on task to save their lives.
The kids I'm seeing today, the majority don't have symptoms anywhere near the above mentioned. Yet prescriptions of stimulant medications to children (boys) under the age of 13 has skyrocketed in the last 10 years IN THIS COUNTRY alone. Why aren't they medicating their boys in europe at the same rate? What the hell is going on that we are so desensitized to (in my opinion) typical boy behavior? What happened to "Boys will be boys"? What are we doing, what message are we sending our boys? These are the boys that will be the angry (goes with the territory) teenagers of tomorrow. Who will someday have partners and children of their own.
Who will be taking care of US and running what is left of this country.
Should we really be medicating them, and telling them they arent ok just the way they are?
"Calm down"
"Dont do that"
"Stop"
"Be quiet"
Girls don't get that message do they? No. Because girls ARE different. By nature they are just more calm, centered creatures. Right up until you throw hormones into the mix, then the rules change. The early years though, more calm, agreeable, centered etc. (the "average" girl)

Al reminded me of something this year that I had always known, but chose to ignore or forget.
Let me preface this by saying Al is very bright in general, with a full scale I.Q. of 146, but academically he bottomed out this year. (2nd grade) Going from being a "Super Speller" at the head of his class last year, to not being able to pass a spelling test with a grade higher than a 45 this year.

He was reading chapter books at home, so I knew he was capable. And yes he was bored, but we are dependant upon a public school system that has much to be desired. (It took me 7 mos. to get him on an Individualized Education Plan)

It wasn't until Al got suspended for taking an "unauthorized" pair of craft scissors to school,
that I realized there was a big ass problem. Seriously. You know, craft scissors. The ones with the ROUNDED ends.
Suspended for three days because he took them to school to give to a little girl he liked. She inadvertently took them on the playground. Another boy took them from her. The boy broke the scissors and gave one half to an additional boy. Now two boys are on the playground with the pieces of the scissors that Al brought to school to give to the little girl who TOOK THEM ON THE PLAYGROUND TO BEGIN WTH.

Some kid (whistleblower) tells a teacher and well, the rest is history.
The pertinant fact is this though:
The only ones suspended were Al and the two other boys.
The mini she devil was treated like a VICTIM.

Not long after the scissors incident, during a coversation with Al about something completely unrelated, my son proclaimed he wished he were a girl. I started paying attention a little more closely to what was going on at school.

I pick Al up early a minimum of twice a week for Dr.'s appointment's. It never fails that when I go to the office to sign him out, there's a string of boys seated on "The Bench" in front of the Princial's office. Most are repeat offenders, and a few are habitual. (Habitual what, Boys?)
The point is, I have not yet this year seen one single little girl on "The Bench". Not one.

The above is merely one example of experiences that are shaping our boys to men today.
Who do we want them to be tomorrow?

For what it's worth, I

For what it's worth, I believe this is the begining of something important for me.

We (Al and I) are on the way to youth choir practice at church.
He sings his lil heart out and I sit around thanking 'whatever" that I'm not sitting in some other church trying to explain my questions.

I struggled with returning to First Unitarian, but basically did it for him. A sense of community he wasnt getting in flippin A.A. meetings w/ me just playing his game boy.

So two years after the loss of my daughter we went back, and have been there ever since.

To be a Unitarian in the bible belt is akin to burning the flag...no thats probably not a good example.
How bout slapping mother theresa. Yeah thats about it.

Slap a significant spiritual figure, then defend yourself in line at Buy 4 Less. K.

Al has a dad.
Aspbergers. asberge...i never can spell it right the first time.
He basically cant live on his own and cant live with us so...well its just that way.

The daughter.
My daughter.
maybe later, its time to go sing.

Who invited Harry Potter to

Who invited Harry Potter to the Easter Egg Hunt at First Unitarian? Tis fitting, but still...