The 13th Apostol

Mer-boy Plays (or I will never give said Mer back his DSi)

I hurt, fact.

Mer on the other hand does not. Mer WILL practice his lessons, or he'll never see another gaming device until he's eighteen. At which time, he may buy (with his own money) whatever the Hell he wants.

This is a child so mastered at multiple things, if there's no challenge for him, he loses interest...and quickly. He is a pro manipulator, and knows when mom hurts the cat, no scratch that, the mice will play (their video games)

Every gaming system this child has wanted, Hell for that matter, every THING this child has wanted I've catered to. I say "No MORE" or "No MER". I simply cannot afford the life he's accustomed to and get out of debt.

So learn to understand the love I feel for you, heart of my heart...when I do say "NO Mer", it is you who have this future all mapped out of Classen SAS, then OCU...not I.

This is YOUR life child, and I refuse to enable you to fail at your dreams any longer. You may not realize this as of yet, but you are my life.

I only want for you that which was unavailable to me.

National Kiss a Teacher Day Begins Tomorrow

Thought parent teacher conference was somehow in a black abyss of time-space, out of sight, out of minded-ness (that would be me) had to resched. for after Neuro on Friday when I can hopefully be mobile w/ out the use of a Lark. (Not going to moan after weed eater man)

My sister, being an educator will officially beat me with a stick. (she thoroughly enjoys it though) I had to listen to her from Poteau to Little Rock the entire trip this morning about the hideousness of PTC (pray for her...I sure won't)

She could have found the lost city of Atlantis, (BA in Archeology, studied under the father of Anthropology Dr. Clyde Snow) but noooo, had to get her teaching certificate just because...what WAS his name? Anyway, left her w/ two kids and no resources.

So if you haven't hugged your kids teacher today (well, tomorrow) by God do it...they live just below the national poverty level and practically raise others children where WE fall short.

Kiss a Teacher Day starts tomorrow (after John Beebe's Birthday of course)

"Life Touch" Needs to Get a Life

So by now most of you with children of school age have received the"MARK YOUR CALENDAR" brochure from "Life Touch" School Portraits within the bowels of their back packs. Or worse yet, said child(ren) have already circled the items they want by the time the brochure hits your hot little hands.

Now, one can even obtain images on CD, with said child's name and grade emblazoned across the ever-popular wallet size, (2 1/2 X 3 1/2) retouching for an additional five clams, with as many poses and colors to choose from.

The kicker is, the least expensive "Package" (and I use that word loosely) is $33.50, with the Granddaddy of "Life Touch" being a whopping $72.00 (photo magnets included)

I have one question:

What the Hell happened?

I mean, when did "Life Touch" win the monopoly on school portraits, and (Ok, maybe more than ONE question) start strong-arming parents into buying, not once, not twice, not three times a year...but every flippin' quarter...the grand finale' being the worst since they shoot, THEN send the pictures home for your "Approval"??

And the "Photographers" are like twelve and just got fired from Wendy's, get zero training so you almost ALWAYS have to do retakes (maybe it's just Mer's cowlick, but still...it's called a COMB)

Seriously, we know are kids are cute, but at the cost of our flippin' gas bill? This year I draw the line (I have SEVEN YEARS worth of school portrait packages...and I'm gonna wallpaper the bathroom in them)

I have more wallet size images of Mer than I like to admit, not to mention his image on everything from key chains to coffee mugs. No more! I know what my kid looks like damn it, I own a camera, a phone with a camera, HE owns a phone with a camera...MIRRORS for Christs sake. His ego will be just fine...or will it?

THAT'S where they getcha', right in the old maternal guilt spot...the limey bastards.

"What if his picture isn't in the yearbook?" "What if this is the year a girl wants a wallet size emblazoned with his grade and name?" "What if he grows up, digs through the entire ROOM full of Mer-mobelia and doesn't find his 5th grade "Life Touch" portraits?"

The "What if's" combined with "Maternal Guilt"...

I'm in the wrong industry.

Censured

Over the weekend (whilst I don't write) I received a call from...dum, dum, dum...my brother (who's REALLY gonna be pissed off I wrote about him.)

He, being my brother, needed to censure me, in a kind and loving (for my brother) way. "You don't need to be talking about shit like quitting pain killers after your wreck" (said, (cough) he.

I'm OK with that. Because I'm almost certain NO ONE has EVER had a PROBLEM with MOOD ALTERING substances. Almost certain. Right?

Pretty sure Heath Ledger was a homicide, and Michael Jackson, well...he's REALLY alive and well and living in the freakin Bahama's.

The worst part being, those that need pharmaceutical assistance, get treated like the above mentioned idiots, err, addicts, when they really do.

So, for my brother, I hereby will no longer talk about pain killers on this site...I'll just moan a lot. Sigh, deeeep sigh. Hypocrisy notwithstanding, I love my brother with all my heart and then some. He's shrewed and calculating, yes...but he's built something from nothing.

Nothing.

I suspect we both have in different ways, but while he's shrewed and calculating, I'm out trying to save the world...which he reminded me "You can't do" So, I'll refrain from all attempts at saving the world one day at a time. Albeit difficult as Hell, it serves me not, takes from my family that which they need, and leaves me feeling spent and discombobulated (wow, spell check didn't even go off on that one)

I'm proud of my brother, grateful his eyes see things mine cannot, grateful for his external strength and internal gentleness. Amazed that after twenty years we have somehow come to a happy medium of acceptance in regards for the other.

(man am I gonna catch it for this post)

He may not know who Frida Kahlo is, Kandinsky, Klee, Walter Benton, or what living with chronic pain is like while raising a child alone...but I feel he cares deeply for me.

However, censorship happens to be something I'm strongly opposed to as it violates my First Amendment Right to Freedom of press and speech. The Net being the only place I'm allowed to write as I will...just sayin'

Only for you bro, only for you.

iPhone Now Has Another Reason Mer Won't Go to College

...and they sent us a txt to let us KNOW, those sweeties at AT&T.

At .30 a pop, I wanna send picture txts to everyone...it's so inviting...here I am smoking a cigarette at "Cuppies & Joe", here I am in the carpool line, here I am sitting on my ass sending picture txts, ooh, and here I am in church (that's the Minister, the one with the cool robe), here I am at the Wedge in DD, here I...you get the point, I totally LIVE for pictures, photographs, digital imaging, enhancement, etc., and ever since I got the FREE Photogene app, and the not-so-free Camera Bag app...the crappy iphone pics aren't so crappy anymore (OK, they're still pretty crappy) but more fun to play with.

I love my "Husband" and am still attempting to recover data from my poor drowned Ex (rest his sim card) I would expect my child to go without food before I let go of my "Husband"...I need him to function fully...I don't have to 'splain it Lucy, not if you're also married to a smart phone, single, over 40 and have a child.

It tells me things I forget constantly, as long as I remind it to at that precise moment, other wise I'm screwed. I'm screwed 1/4 the time anyway, at least 3/4 the time I'm on target.

Yesterday at the...Pharmacia, there was an elderly woman, very sweet, soft spoken, whom I over heard telling the assistant she just got her license to carry a concealed weapon. Bought herself a freakin' .357 Mag.

She reminded me of the older lady in the not-so-humorous Hallmark cards, who's always saying things like "You're not 55 years older, you just can't poop on your own and need pharmaceutical assistance to sustain an erection...Happy Birthday Youngin!"

I gave her an "Attagirl" as she was leaving...with a cane. OMG that's scary the world's become so violent a widow gets burglarized, heads down to H&H gun range, buys a weapon and takes lessons...and NOW can carry the damn thing anywhere she wants to.

I mean, I'd do it to, just not legally. I don't want anyone knowing (anyone being the freakin Government) what I have or how many...which for all intents and purposes is none.

It was pretty wicked-cool to see someone her age so proactive in defending herself, that's all. Let's hope she stays lucid when the mail man comes a few years down the road, ya?

Mesta Festa is this afternoon at Pearl Mesta Park on 18th & Shartel from noon - 5:00, but unless I can bring this metallic/canvas hybrid Adirondack chair and do nothing but sit...not going. AND...I just remembered the laundry sitting in the washing machine from last night. (Probably not a good enough excuse not to go)

I woke up in horrific pain that's lessened as I've moved around, but something has to change. This is no way to live at my age. My 98 yr old neighbor moves better than I do.

There has to be a happy medium, a place of moderate pain, tolerable pain that still allows me to do things like...go to the grocery store and shop...not just hit Walgreens because it's small, quick and relatively painless...but extremely expensive.

...over half the people in the US live with Chronic, untreated pain. M.D.'s get like one semester on pain management, one semester on addiction, then shit like Michael Jackson hits the media outlets and the people who truly need it are screwed.

Insurance wont pay for alternative healing, chiropractors, acupuncture, you have to be dying to get an MRI or physical therapy. Then the "Specialist's" want to start cutting you open with a half assed chance it'll improve, and a half assed chance it'll mean more surgeries or worse pain.

So I write.

I write to save my life, to keep from going mad, to channel constructively the pain, to TRY and not focus on the life I had before the accident. (I'm not listening, lalalalalala)

...and because, it's what I do.

Some days are focused outward, others in, but it's what I do and have always done, at times exceptionally well...this, this is NOT one of those times.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale...(wanna see a txt of me breathing?)

Narcissism Act I, Scene II

So I couldn't flippin write this morning due to some bizarre foul-up with Mozilla...then I did the brilliant and mundane IE w/ Google Chrome.

Retarded.

Then I wanted to fight about Religion and the First amendment with just about everyone on FB, so I went back to bed. It made sense at the time.

I'm usually pretty even keeled about this stuff, then that moronic Kirk Cameron starts spewing his twisted crap all over the net...it was more than I could take.

I'm not a radical by nature...oh, that's BS I am too. Radically pissed off I've gained ten lbs and can't fit into any of my jeans w/ out that, that, that mother bulge thing. Muffin top, yeah that's what it's called.

So between Mozilla's demons, Cameron and the muffin top, it's just been a narcissistic day from Hell. AND I'm not even sure why I'm writing except that if I don't, I wont...for a long time.

It boils down to "I'm fat, and the God that doesn't exist hates me"

Oh lord, err, I mean, well I'm not sure WHAT I replace my expletives with. I know I miss the pain killers and when I'm in pain I'm pissed at the world. Mer-boy's going camping and leaving me here with his neurotic dog he was gonna die w/out getting back.

Shit. OK, so I did get the clothes OUT of the dryer and folded (took a break), then filled the basket with dirty ones (took a break) swept the living room (took a break), the hall(break) bedrooms (break) (break) and now I'm on the porch...taking a, yep, a break.

Every movement is riddled with shooting pain, so I figure the more movements in small increments throughout the day...and it's like a normal person, Oh I don't know...walking from their car into Target.

I'm exhausted and I want my drugs back.

This morning, I'm going through my bag, and there at the bottom, staring up at me with a maniacal grin on it's face...was one...lonely...little...PILL, that had somehow been discarded amongst the tobacco, receipts, gum wrappers, etc.

I stared it down...slowly, as if not to frighten the lil guy, reaching, reaching, r e a c h i n g..."MOOOOOM?

FUCK.

"What honey?"

"I can't get the cap off the toothpaste again"

"Here, give me the damn th...here honey, let me do it"

"Tmandgs mmm"

"Anytime" (now, where was I? Shit. It's almost 7:15, let's get a move on)

It wasn't until I was at the pharmacia, visiting my beloved Alan for my weekly refill (can't be trusted w/ a whole months worth. Hey, I'm the one who set it up that way, so shove off) that I remembered...

The lil guy at the bottom of...shit, just do it.

"Hey, um Alan, can you um, put this in the trash quickly, then remove said rubbish receptacle from my line of sight?"

Alan, taunting as ever "Why can't you do it?"

"Just do it! Please?"

(Him and that shit eating grin)

As I reached for the lil guy, I swear it tried to jump away, felt warm to the touch, as if welcoming me into it lair. GOT IT. Slowly I moved my quivering hand across the counter towards the trashcan being held up for my reach...and it was a loooong reach.

Then, then, then the lil guy gave me this sorrowful look of utter abandonment and betrayal, like "How could you? After all we've shared together?"

Like this: and I opened my hand.

I've thought of him a lot today, what that one lil guy could have done had I let him. Yes, yes I miss him (and all his roomies) over the last few weeks we did share some special moments together. Or rather, I perceived them as such, that's the trick.

One lil guy is too many, and...well, you know the rest of the story.

I wonder when they take the trash out at Buy 4 Less?

"Pull Yourself Up by Your Bootstraps and Get on Out There" isn't What the Other PTA Mom's Say

Dear Mother Eartha Kitt,

thank you the worst is behind me...now if I could just move w/out the pain! L. came and grabbed Mer-boy, who was inadvertently left at school because we got our wires crossed.

I have NEVER left my child at school ONCE! I'm a horrib, no I'm not, I'm not gonna get on my back today because it can't handle the extra weight.

Shit happens,kids get forgotten at school once in a while and that doesn't mean your a bad Mom.

Mer stayed at L's last night because I was just too sick to be there for him...that's what good mom's do, I'm guessing.

I honestly don't know, I just try to put myself in Mer's place. I hated taking care of my mom...but I loved her.

Alzheimer's and mental illness stole so much of my childhood, I believed at the time I was being a "Big Girl" helping take care of her. You can ask anyone who watched me scream into my teenage years what that does to a child.

Hell on wheels with no brakes, and it's not that I didn't care, it's that I just didn't care...if that makes sense. I was making up for lost time, lost years spent spoon feeding a mannequin mashed potatoes who thought I was her sister Chris half the time and her ex lover June the other half.

Dad, being the wise one, just watched and waited for one or all of us to come to him. Then he'd sit down and we'd have these amazing talks about anything and everything...he was my rock. Then I buried him too.

I parent like my dad, which kinda sucks for a little kid "Pull yourself up by your bootstraps and get on out there, you'll be fine" isn't what the other PTA mom's say to their kiddo's. They say things like "Oh sweetie, are you OK...poor baby, kisses"

Barf.

I couldn't say that with a straight face if I was getting paid (depends on the amount actually)

Mer-boy has a tough road ahead, and if I coddle him it's only going to make it tougher. I nurture him, we cuddle and play, but I'm not gonna blow smoke up my kids ass when he stands 48 in tall in what should have been 6th grade (held him back a year to undo the damage that his previous school did)

He has to learn to run with the big dogs, focus on his gifts, learn to be a leader not a follower. The two biggest trouble makers in 5th grade got Class President and Vice President this week...squeaky wheel Mer, squeaky wheel.

Girls love bad boys, and any combination of such. It's always the ones who draw the most attention to themselves, then ignore you, yeah that's how I ended up choosing to have you by myself.

Too much mama drama kid.

So find your own rhythm, sing your own song, dress however you want and-I-don't-care-if-you-wear-nail-polish-to-school-if-you-like-it...it's your life. Long hair, short hair, blue hair, no hair, you are your own person.

Celebrate you!

(That goes for you too beautiful...)

Happy Birthday Sweetheart! Hey, Marc was right.

Let Go and Let (fill in blank)

All I can say is dang this sucks.

Bundled up like a bear, huddled in my giant purple & black striped American Apparel hoodie, shivering. Not because of the flippin cold, but because i flushed my stupid pain killers yesterday.

(Because I'm a rocket scientist)

So I better write before my hands fall off. Hey, there was only a weeks worth left, it wasn't THAT dramatic, but I know myself, and I know I could feel myself really starting to neeeed them.

I need a better idea of what my pain level really is. Not the rebound pain I'll feel immediately after wards, but the true pain from the damage in the wreck.

I'm not a woose, even though some will argue this point (but they're all incarcerated so it doesn't count) I also needed my blood pressure up for the MRI tomorrow. Pain increases your BP, which thusly allows techs with fake nails, short skirts, and perfectly coiffed hair to get a freakin line in.

Which, according to above mentioned tech "Has never happened before"

Yeah, K.

So I'll get the stupid MRI in excruciating pain, BP up, cath line in, dye injected, contrast films, good to go...home and feel like shit.

They saw something on the films they took last week, because yesterday I got a call from Neurosurgery wanting me to come in TODAY. "Umm, well ya see I have to get another MRI on Thursday"

"Oh, well then lets wait on the results...the next available is Oct 2nd, can you make that?" Hell yeah, sure beats having to wait six more months, which was what I was looking at before the last MRI.

Of course the call came literally 37 minutes AFTER I flushed the last of my pain killers. Brilliant, or Divine.

I woke up wanting to chew on shards of glass to get my mind off the pain in my back (NOT sane thinking) Maybe if I can just sleep I'll wake up and it'll all be over (stop laughing)

I'm grateful I wasn't on them any longer than I was. Six weeks is six weeks too long. Why my insurance wont cover Yoga, Chiropractors, alternative forms of medicine...just ridiculous they want to pour poison into us, then scream "Addict!" and head for the hills.

Flush you!

I'd just like my sense of smell back, a desire to...well, a DESIRE period. The thing about pain killers is you can be perfectly at ease on your bed with a copy of "O" magazine, and the world goes away.EVERYTHING goes away.

Not so good.

I happen to like most parts of the world (especially the parts I'm in) and don't want to sacrifice my place here, what I have to offer to others.

Mer-boy made me a "Walking Stick" (I refuse to call it a cane) and it really helps when my EGO will allow it. he wants to put leather and feathers, gem stones, and bling all over it...I begged him not to, saying "I love the eau natural look and feel" It's hard enough to use an instrument of destruction to ambulate, let alone it draw more attention than necessary.

9:00 AM and the pain is greater, but the w/d are not, minus a pounding head ache. I'll try and sleep now.

Keep me in your "Happy Place" until...

"Trudge" = To Walk With Purpose

I'm up to my ears in "Will Power" rhetoric. It doesn't count unless you're playin' poker.

I don't deal with physical pain worth a crapola, and both my kids were sans Epidi's. I can TAKE pain...IF...I know there's an end in sight.

Living w/ a body I've not been terribly nice to through the years, then smashing into two lovely, new, sub-compact, vehicles and totaling my SUV (still haven't figured THAT one out) two months ago, has taken it's toll on a body coming into, what the Greek's call "Prime", and Network Executives call "Cougars"

Doesn't feel "Prime", let alone, umm, (cough) Cougar-ish...so send positive, healing, JuJu my way, as I to you. Believe in the power of "Prayer", of "Thinking on" another, when driving, shopping for garbanzo beans, brushing ones teeth, pulling weeds...matters not how. The power is in the act.

Light a candle, play with your children/Grandchildren, watch the rain, wonder at nature, feed the birds, you don't need a man to be happy. It could be nice, or it could bring more baggage than you ever thought was humanly possible into your life. (speaking from experience we all know this as fact)  What I'm saying is, like myself, find a way to be happy where you are, as you are. Even if it means living with pain.

We are related.We are one.

Much work ahead in the coming months, mind, body and soul aligned. Right thinking leads to right living, which leads to forgetting of self. (remind me of this later)

To all my relations, who know, who need not know and to all my relations who have yet to know...

To "Trudge" means "to walk with purpose."

Therefore I trudge...

albeit begrudgingly at times, but by God I trudge.

Rain Now for a Week Straight...

...and it's, well maybe it's not the rain it's self per se' that's getting on my nerves, but the incessant draining, the drip-drip-drip of water on the splash board out side my studio window.

Cabin fever is inescapable. Ready to get my life back in full swing, maybe at half-speed, for now. Mer is "Bored" because he's been staying with a family with 42 children...of course he's "Bored", he's having to relearn how to entertain himself.

The realization I needed to write, or stop forking over $$ to Six Apart every month, just hit me. I write for no one in particular, but I rarely write anymore.

"My Chair" is a metal and canvas Adironnak hybrid, taking all the pressure off my lower and now upper back. So I have one place I can sit relatively comfortably.

Sitting at my desk is still a task, as is sleeping through the night, bending, etc., you know the drill. Coming out of what may have been some degree of shock over totaling my vehicle and getting hurt as badly as I did...yeah, it's just now starting to sink in.

In a split second every aspect of my life and my sons life was affected.

That's all it took. A split second.

I know he worries, I can see it in his eyes. As single mothers society looks upon us with scrupulous eyes, not admiration for the challenging task of raising children alone.

You can tell your children all day long "Honey, it's all gonna be just fine. It always has hasn't it? We've always made it haven't we? Nothin's gonna stop us now!"...but they to can see the worry in our own eyes.

Give them credit for nine times out of ten being smarter than we are.

I'm surrounded by elderly, far right-wingers, who think there's something terribly wrong with me. The old guy across the street mows the vacant lot next to me, but has never offered to mow mine. He sits on his porch with one of the other oldsters, just rocking in his swing. Owns every house darn near surrounding mine like he's building a fortress.

Watching like spiders, watching, gossiping loudly because none of them can hear (yet I can, Mer can...and it hurts him), filling in the blanks until they believe their own stories...If I ever get that way, my child has permission to suffocate me in my sleep.

I'm beginning to understand why my brother is so jaded. I don't trust him, and I really want to...but a leopard doesn't change it's spots. He's done things behind my back I'm not happy about, but time will tell. Maybe, just maybe, he'll stop thinking about himself long enough to realize how good it feels to help others...and maybe not.

Life is calling me, and I refuse to capitalize on anyone's greed. I am my own person.

I no longer willing to miss a single moment of drip-drip-driping the Universe has to offer.

Now I Know Why Automobile Accidents are Called "Wrecks"...

There simply isn't enough web space to write my soliloquy over the last month. Dare I even attempt such a foolish act of self-indulgence?

When the Universe screams in ones ear, one must heed the call...this "One" anyway.

Whether it's ones iphone (AKA "Husband") falling into the deep end of a 12 ft 100 yr old pool, diving, against all odds to retrieve said item...to no avail. Walking dripping wet into the nearest Apple store with the look of a child with a broken china doll..."Please, can you fix?"

Despite the fact I'd been eligible for an upgrade since February, I'd put off any major purchases due to...well, due to the fact I'm a penny pinching miser. The OG worked just fine, and I'm not so impatient I need so much SPEED! Regardless, and nearly $300 later (not really sure how THAT happened, except tax, plus Mer-boy just HAD to have a metallic orange incase) I sloshed out of the mall with my new "husband"...were still arguing over email clients.

Needing a hot, chlorine free shower, I went home rather than make a night deposit at the bank to cover the purchase. "I'll do that first thing in the morning" I told no one in particular.

First thing in the morning, I go out to run to the bank while Mer-boy is watching "Tom & Jerry" sharing his breakfast w/ the dog. I notice the drivers side door isn't closed all the way. Once I open it I realize why.

My car, the only car I've ever paid cash for, kept the insurance up, tag current, etc. (yeah, I know) has been vandalized over night. Papers were all over the car, the clove box empty of it's over stuffed contents, console broken off, I couldn't have found important papers if I'd needed to...but wait dear reader, there's more!

I call 911 from the drivers seat, so as not to alert Mer. Dispatch informs me an officer will have to call me back to take the report over the phone. I leave every thing as is to take pictures of, and make my way to the bank. Almost home when the phone rings, and it's a Sgt. needing info from me. "Um, can either I call you in a moment or visa verso? I'm driving and am pretty shook up."

No. She needed at least SOME info right then. I'm fumbling around with my right hand (so it won't know what the left ones doing) trying to find my wallet. Glancing away for a split second was all it took.

A car changed lanes in front of me, and the car in front of him was stopped at a red light...I stomped on my non anti-lock breaks, but it was too late. 1, 2, 3 cars. My Pathfinder was totaled, but they all drove away...how the Hell did THAT happen? Of course I hit two brand new, dealer-tags-still-attached-automobiles.

I don't do things small.

The car is trashed, can't locate my insurance verification, can't find my glasses, phone, or stop crying hysterically because I've never even had a flippin speeding ticket, let alone a major wreck. (and why does my shoulder, arm and back hurt so bad?) "Ma'am, EMSA's on the way."

EMSA? Why? Huh...no wait, I have to get home to Mer-boy & the dog. I'm fine really (ouch) but could you please assist me in locating my Austin Powers glasses and phone?

After signing a release and promising to go to Hospital of my own accord, after having the officer talk w/ Mer on the phone assuring him I was OK and he'd be bringing me home shortly, after watching the "Wrecker Dude" hoist my baby onto the back of his flat bed, after one of the other drivers involved giving me go-to-Hell looks for an hour while the other guy took the time to say "Hang in there, I hope your day gets better"...I remembered Mer's Birthday party was the next day.

Well then.

I rented a car for a week since I had rental coverage...then much to my chagrin, found out not only did I NOT have rental, neither did I have medical or road side assistance.

Over a four year period with as many different agent changes during that time, someone had altered my policy and was unaware of this vital information. All I knew was Farmers automatically withdrew my monthly premium each month.

That's neither here nor there at this point, since yesterday the new agent pulled my original policy, and the little girl I was trying to help by using her as an agent, NEVER added the excluded items to begin with...it would only have been $20 more a month.

I have a slowly healing clavicle according to the ER Doc, and my back, which was bad to begin, with is now officially shot to Hell. Then my Doc finds I'm consumed with a high grade infection of Bladder, Kidney's UTI, etc. I may have had for three to six months

Why? Because mothers, this one anyway, takes care of the child first, then herself. Makes sure Mer eats a well balanced meal, and if there's not enough to last the month, lives on crackers and cream cheese (or some other tasteless staple)

As the adrenaline subsides, Mer's birthday party involved me sitting in one spot feeling like a truck had hit me. School was getting ready to start, immunizations needed to be had, and by the beginning of the following week couldn't, with all the will power at my command, get out of bed.

Mer goes to stay w/ a family from church for a week, then another family, then a dear friends family, as I'm healing, having tests run, and waiting. It's starting to weigh heavy on Mer, and I need my son. Things are not easy as a single parentt. There's stress over money, no siblings to play with, and all I thought I knew about being a good parentt is slipping from my fingers.

The lessons, piano, studies, dance, scouts, sports, swimming, Jr Life guarding...anything he wanted I made sure it was possible somehow. Even at the cost of replacing glasses for myself. I showed Mer i loved him, but I failed to show him I loved myself back.

I hope to have him home sometime soon. When the transition happens, things have to be different. I cannot be "Super Mom" any more. Going 100 mph from 4:30 AM to sometimes midnight in order to get it all done.

It's not worth my health, or the relationship with my child.

When all is said and done I'm getting less than half of what I paid for the vehicle three yrs ago...it's only a stupid car, but OKC has the shittiest Mass Trans system in the continental US, and it won't be enough to replace said vehicle.

That's why I'm grateful the Universe is in charge...if I let go.