The 13th Apostol

Three Strikes Your Just Plain STUPID

I received a call from Mer's Art teacher yesterday morning, the call went as follows:
"Is this Mer's Mom?"
"Yes"
"This is Mr. Dumbass at Mer's school, I'm going to let Mer tell you in his own words what happened"
(pregnant pause)
"Go ahead Mer" (in the back ground)
"Um, I, um, was shaking this mask..."
"NO!, Tell her all of it" (still in the background)
"I...I...there was a mask I was shaking and..."
(Takes the phone from Mer, it's at this precise moment the top of my head blew off, but I maintained enough composure to ask Mr. Dumbass one question)
"Mr Dumbass, I still don't understand what the reason for the call is?"
"The reason for the call is, there are these plastic plates the children use for texture, Mer picked one up and acted like he was licking it, when I confronted him about the behavior he LIED to me about it, over and over and over. THEN, lied to Mr Shithead when he asked him why he was sitting on the bench outside the office."
"Is this for real, are you serious? THIS is what your calling me over?"
"Yes, and Mer has been informed of the charges against him, and he is being given a referral...I just wanted you to know"
(I was riding with my friend at the time, on our way to a meeting thank God, because as you'll soon see, I needed one quite badly)

I turned to my friend Jerry and said (so Mr. Dumbass would hear) "Jerry, can you take me down to Mer's school at 1:00, we have a problem?", to which Mr Dumbass on the other end of the phone says: "What's that?"
This is the part where that itty bitty teensy weensy bit of self control smacked into the top of my head on it's way out of my body, leaving a mess on poor Jerry's truck and psyche. You truly can jack with me all day long, all month long, hell SIX MONTHS long as the previous posts can attest to. But please, Oh pretty please do not fuck with my kid. It's just plain stupid y'all.

Download the_mer_referral_22708.jpg.pdf

"This is what's going to happen...are you listening Mr. Dumbass?"
"Yes"
"Your going to go to the office and pull Mer's Individualized Education Plan, your going to, unlike most of the staff at that school, READ it. Your going to read the (I may have said Fucking here) Behavior Intervention Plan outlined in the IEP, and I will see you at 1:00"
Then I hung up on the ass. The ass who by the tone of his mumbling through my ranting, had no clue there even was an IEP for Mer. Well golly, now he does. Now he knows he violated my child's civil liberties by removing him from the classroom, and in a nutshell, discriminated against a person with disabilities.

Of course once at the meeting, called upon to share, I realized I could not under any circumstances go to the school. I would make matters worse until I was centered enough to be productive. Remember Internet, I come from the John Wayne school of parenting...to fantasize about kicking in the main doors, six guns-a-blazin', and "rescue" my child from the educational prison that is the principals office...makes perfect since to me...PERFECT.

So I waited until school was out and prayed my ass off to what I don't know, it was more an act of surrendering to my own delusions. They don't like me down there, they don't like the fact my kid has an IEP, and is most likely the ONLY kid who has an IEP at this school. Most of my PTA moms are like "An I.E. what?"

So I didn't kick in any doors, but I did arrive a little before three, so at least the little guy would know I rescued him before the others. I walked into the principals office, and without acknowledging anyone but my son, motioned for him to get his things and come with me. Mer could tell by my tone I was mad as hell, so I gave him a wink to assure him.

"Go upstairs and get your messenger bag, I'll wait right here" (secretly hoping to see Mr's Dumbass or Shithead, but instead was greeted by the office secretary whom relations have already been strained with "Here's his referral" as she flitted past me, handing them out to the other little criminals in the office.

I made the mistake of opening this ridiculous document right there in the hall outside the office. Within minutes I had The Mer's Disability Law Attorney on the phone, reading the document to her.

"I don't get it" she said, "What code of conduct did he break?"
"Oh, haven't you heard about the new "Zero Tolerance on Pretend Licking" they implemented last fall? I mused "Yeah they actually take class clowns out behind the cafeteria and shoot the now. What's worse is what they do to liars...public lynching on the playground"

If you Speak, Make Sure it's From Experience

It's 6 a.m.
I should be in the shower, but I'm here. A place I feel safe, because we all know the fucking shower isn't safe for someone like ME.
Why is it I think I'm special, unique somehow to life's adversities?

I'm furious at myself for being such a hack over Marc, for not being able to write, for giving up the only thing that made my life bearable, for buying a stupid iphone, (which I'm selling if anyone's interested - cheap, cheap) for...oh Christ I'm such a whiner.

I'm tired of hurting, inside and out.
Tired of having to do this all on my own, and nothing has changed except I feel it all, all the fears and anxiety I didn't feel for three years I feel again.

The Mer needs a mother who can do life unaltered, but fucking happy...I am NOT that woman today. I know the solution, I know it's about surrender, about throwing in the towel AND the car. I also know what will happen if I don't, but the very last thing I want or need is someone who has no experience in my particular situation, telling me what I should be doing.

Sorry. I quit hopping from one man to another when I became a mother.
Oh I've tried a few times, but the last one kicked in my back door and held me hostage for three hours until I convinced him I loved him and wouldn't go to the cops.
So I have made a conscience choice NOT to jump from one man to another to take care of me.

I imagine financially it might be easier if I did, but it would destroy my son.
One day I'd wake up and my teenage son wouldn't want a thing to do with me, or he'd be doing the relationship dance himself. No, I'll wait, wait until I can do it on my own two feet, then and only then will the man I'm with be an equal and not a rescuer.

Nuff said.

Quiters Win, But Only On Leap Year

I had so completely meant to post every day, with all my heart I did..those INTENTIONS haunt me everywhere, every turn of a corner I make brings ruthless, deep seated anxiety, again I will fail...then, then they will all know me for the phoney I truly am.

Life has been challenging to say the absolute least since the first of the year, with one seemingly catastrophic event after another. Key word 'seemingly', because these are merely life events, nothing anyone else isn't experiencing. Mine just appear exacerbated by my most recent adjustment in chemical assistance, or lack there of.

Getting off pain killers is hard.
The pain medication was used therapeutically...right up until it wasn't. In all honestly until December. Even then it was used in a manner to control pain, not get f'd up.

The pain is from a Tumor in my spinal sheath called Schwannoma. It's the worst at night, making sleeping unbearable, which makes every other aspect of my life unbearable. No sleep plus chronic intractable pain equals ...a crazy person.

It feels as if everything is burying me right now, and I wish my dad were here to somehow make it better. He ALWAYS knew what to say or do to make life not feel so ominous. He gave me strength through mom's suicide I never knew i had, even after caring for her with him those last long ten years of her life, while Alzheimer's wracked her spirit and wasted her body like a common cancer patient...she was still his wife. He stayed till the end because heroes don't leave their one true love, just because they leave them.

The mer's dad DID sell the van, but rather than give me, the ADULT the money, he went and paid part of storage with it, leaving me without a way to cover the numerous checks I'd written to buy gas and groceries necessary to care for his child. I'm now, over $500 overdrawn at the bank, in addition to being so far behind on utilities I'll have no choice but to default on the payment arrangements made last month.

How long does a man expect the mother of his child to carry the entire load? Even more important, how long will I continue to allow the man to use The Mer's love for him as a way to manipulate me? He has used me up over the last six months, while I've jumped at every opportunity to make money. From scrubbing toilets, to retail ops, so he could spend time with Mer while I was working odd jobs.

On Valentines night I worked a nine hour shift in really bad pain. The mall had been a mad house of "Oh shit, I gotta get a "Thing" fast!"
i pulled up in my driveway after I closed, and didn't want to go inside...really didn't want to go inside and see Mer, because I knew I'd have see him too.

So I sat in the car, smoked three f*ing cigarettes, and prayed my ass off for the man, for his health, wealth and prosperity. As soon as I felt strong enough, I exited my vehicle and approached my home.

I could see through the massive windows, every light I had was burning, including the light on the ceiling fan which, you guessed it, was on too. He was in he back of the house on Mer's computer, while Mer was stoned on TV, positioned less than a foot from the screen and had not been fed, nor had any attempt at homework been made. The man has, at 46, never paid a bill in his entire life. All I could muster was "Please say your goodbyes and leave my home now"...all of a sudden it was crystal clear.

I have a vehicle with a rear main seal leak that finally gave out on me today.
Over $1,000 in debt in just three months of letting this creep suck on us
I have no family left to turn to at any moment of financial need...so I've done it all myself,  and Internet, I can't do it anymore.

I quit.

Creepy Crawlies

Sooo..."Why yes Ms. Snuffaluffagus, we'd love to replace your damaged property. Just fax us an itemized list (with digital images) and we'll get right on it." just happened.

As in,  I just got off the phone with Mr. Adjuster guy fifteen minutes ago. The catch is there's no way I can accomplish this feat alone, which means I have to do that thing that makes my skin crawl...

Ask for help.

Size Matters

The adjuster, you know...the FARMERS INSURANCE adjuster who came out yesterday morning to assess the storm damage to my roof from the December 12, ice storm? The first adjuster failed to acknowledge said roof damage, while agreeing only to pay for damage INSIDE the sieve-like leaking roof...cutting me a whimperingly disgusting $432.00 check, and wishing me a good day.

Really? Hmm, I thought this was a catastrophic event, even that moron in the White house agreed. Catastrophic event. Send aid. Oklahoma. Next?

While I knew ahead of time my coverage never under any circumstances included mold and or fungi, apparently Mr. Adjuster guy was having a human feeling day today.
Because at 9:00 this morning Mr. Adjuster guy returned to my property to meet Mr. Roofer guy. There were loud thumping noises as if Santa and all eight ten twelve a lot of his reindeer were traipsing about, followed my a giant THUD, then expletives, silence, and eventually a knock on my front door.

Where Mr. Adjuster guy, looking disheveled and out of sorts, announced he was working up an estimate in his car and would be just a moment longer if I could wait.
An estimate? Wait? Lets see, I've been waiting three months almost, I guess I can make it another ten minutes for another crappy $400.00 check.

This is where I get all menopausal and shit.
I waited, then decided my meeting was a little more important than another crappy check. So I grabbed my fake Louis (it's such a good knock off I have to treat it like it's real...shame really) and headed to the car, at which point Mr. Adjuster guy comes limping my direction from his car.

"Ms. Snuffaluffagus Apostolopoulos I'm almost finished, I'm printing your check right now." He grimaced.
"Well", I lied "I have a very important business meeting I need to be at. Can you mail me the crappy check?"
"No I really can't due to the size of the check, if you can wait I'm almost done."

OK, here comes the menopausal shit. I literally had to come back in the house to keep from doing the cry-scream thing. sizE? siZE?! SIZE?!!!

Not only are they paying to replace the roof, they are paying to have the DAMAGE from the water repaired in the kitchen. i.e. they can't cover the mold, but they can cover the damage from the water which resulted in mold...go figure.

All I know is were half way there.
Now all I have to do is convince them that - "Why yes Ms. Snuffaluffagus, we'd love to replace all your damaged property as the result of the leaking roof we are replacing...just LOVE to"

I'm not greedy.
I'm just right.

...and grateful OK? I'm grateful too. Damn Humility.

In the Words of Shawn Colvin "Get Out of This House"

Last night I unearthed active black mold in the house from Hell, the home that once held so many dreams seems to be slipping from my grasp. Just another kick to my gut that would not listen when it screamed at me last summer "DO NOT DO THIS WOMAN"

Yet like a good addict I chose to ignore my voice of God, for fear I would never buy if I didn't buy THIS house, at THAT moment, in THIS neighborhood. Now I'm financially wrecked due to "He who shall not be named's" lack of ANY financial support of our son in the last four months.

This morning I awoke to a friend request from a guy named K.
K. is homeless on the streets of L.A. somehow with a laptop and a digital camera, but that's the suspicious addict in me rearing it's ugly head. I was homeless and none of the folks I new had either, but then this is OKC, not L.A. County.
Maybe even the homeless in Beverly Hills have more, but my gut says something just isn't right about the dudes story. If we DID know someone on the street with electronics equipment, they wouldn't have had it long.

Not if I'd had anything to say about it...that's all I'm sayin y'all. But reading his profile, which I will not link to since he may be a Journalist and need his story to hold.

Sad he doesn't realize true homeless people can and do get off the streets and work their way up to owning electronic equipment of their own.

Of course because their geniuses like myself they also buy adobe homes while residing in the midwest...the very damp midwest. Where they and their son successfully raise mold spore farms.

We Must Leave the Things We Love

I better do this now.
I overslept. Stayed at my old next door neighbors house till 1:00 a.m. babysitting for her son so he could live another day.
No one gets how hard this motherhood thing is if you don't get to go out and play on a regular basis.
We MUST leave the things we love, in order to return and love them more deeply.
Dang, how hard is that?

My friend J. and his wife W. just adopted not one, but THREE little girls...AT THE SAME TIME. I'm waiting for breaking news that London has erupted in a mass of unexplained whirling electrons, creating a worm hole the size of, of, of, whatever large landmark they have in LONDON y'all. ALL because J. and W. flat out refuse to go out and play. Don't want to traumatize the damn babies, or anything.

Fuck.
I'm sorry, but I can't do this trapped happy mom routine.
I missed a meeting yesterday, because i didn't want to ask for help, didn't want to ask all three of my friends to let Mer hang for a WHOLE HOUR so I could go quiet the dragon.

After my friend got home last night, we agreed she would watch Mer several times a week while I went to a meeting, and on Saturday nights I'd watch her kids no they could live another day.

That, and were gonna see about getting her brother off Methadone.
Wonderful evening all in all.
And yes, it's still raining.   

Resentment (and the "Love Machine") is the Number One Offender

Little to no sleep last night.
Tossing, turning, RESENTING...
There's a 1980 Chevy Van with a flat tire backed into my driveway.
Not just a van, a "Love Machine"...you know the ones, and I want it GONE.

No child support since November, two months behind on the storage unit payments I was altered enough to believe the man could make, and there's at LEAST $200 worth of scrap in that thing.
Hold on, I'll go take a picture...this one you have to see to believe.
Where are my shoes? CRAP, where are my sho...

Can you even BELIEVE that? It's been in my driveway for the last MONTH! I live here, this is my neighborhood, nice, quiet, peaceful, NOT GHETTO.

It's just ridiculous he even brought the thing here.

Why? Because it was going to get towed at HIS HOUSE. I am truly a sick individual, this I am beginning to realize. He is The Mer's dad, and try as I might to think otherwise, he loves the little guy.

But being a dad is more than just doing the fun, easy shit. By fun, easy shit I mean...Cub Scouts, Chess Club, and playing on MY electronic equipment when he's supposed to be visiting Mer.

Hater.

The Winehouse Dialoge's

So The Mer and I are watching The Grammy's on my bed last night, right?
We all know from a previous entry The Mer said "No, no, no" to rehab...

Here dear reader, begins the journey...
An opportunity slapped in my face by the smoky haunt of one the greatest voices ever to grace this earth...for most probably, an achingly short flicker in time.

The Foo Fighters Nirvana legacy, Amy's dying ember, my son gets to hear the truth about addiction...theirs and mine.

There is no cure...
Terminal...
One out of two...

"So Amy's gonna die Mom?"
"If she doesn't get help, yes."
"When?"
"That's the hard part Mer, some of us can stay alive for a long time, but it's not really living it's just sucking air."
"Mom?"
"Yeah baby?"
"I used to be afraid you wouldn't wake up."
"Me too kiddo"
"Mom?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm not that afraid anymore"