Got my lunch packed up...

Did I tell you? I am back in school. I pretty sure the decision to finish my degree spawned out of boredom. It seemed like a fantastic idea until I actually had to do homework and study. Although, I would be lying if I tried to pretend like I didn't like it.

See the thing is I love winning. And being the winner. And being better than everyone else. It makes me happy. In a sick, sad way. My first time in college, I was not the winner. Sure, I passed Calc II, but barely. But now? I kick school's ass. I don't know if the classes are easier or if actually caring about attending classes and doing the work makes a difference. Who knew you should actually show up to class. Sober. And while I know I am putting in much more effort this time around, I am pretty sure this school is just slightly easier.

Take my management class for example. We get bonus points. For wearing orange to school on Fridays. Like it is Kindergarten. So every Friday I rock my orange, so I can have a 112 average. Except, I couldn't just wear my free Friday shirt like everyone else.

Bleh. Friday shirt.

Nope. I had to be the Friday orange winner. So I turned mine into a scarf. While you fools are in your orange shirt and sweatpants, I have on real pants.

Friday shirt + scissors + elastic thread = Friday scarf

And. Oh my God. School makes me look sleepy.

I think I am back. But I may forget to write again for another year.

Hello, Old Friend. I mean this blog. Not you. I wouldn't call you old. To your face.

Where does one pick up after writing twice in the past year? Do bullet points work as an update on everything that has happened? I think so.

In no particular order, Dec 2010 through now.

• Moved. Same neighborhood. Different house. And it has a craft/sewing room that is all mine. I like to hide in there.


• Ran a bunch of races. Running my second Half Marathon in three weeks. Running 10 for Texas in one week.


• Went back to college. Already changed my major once. Contemplating changing my minor again. Turns out I love Accounting. The numbers line up in such pretty little rows.


• We bought another landscaping company.


• Jill is no longer in elementary school. I swear she just started Kindergarten.


• A bunch of other random crap. I can't really remember it, so that means you really won't give a shit about it either.

The End.

Mrs. Lunatic

As Kenny and I were driving past the elementary school today, it dawned on me that I had forgotten to add money to Jill's lunch account. Jill's lunch was in twenty minutes. I had no time to make an online payment, so we stopped by the school. As I walked into the cafeteria, I realized it was right in the middle of Emmi's lunch time. I was definitely not getting away without stopping by her lunch table. As I hugged her hello, the other children clamored for my attention. Behind me, I could here one of Emmi's playmates attempting to get my attention.

"Excuse me! Mrs...... Mrs..... What is Emmi's last name," Emmi's playmate asked, turning to the child next to her. The child next to her (let's call her The Instigator) whispers something.

"Mrs. Lunatic," Emmi's playmate called out to me, completely unaware of what she has just said. As I turned toward her, several of Emmi's classmates started to snicker. A few children start to chant led by The Instigator, "Emmi Lun-a-tic!" They, obviously, did know what they were saying.

For a few seconds I stood perfectly still, not quite knowing how to react. This is how these children were treating Emmi to a parent's face? How were they treating Emmi when I was not around? Honestly, I have been expecting this moment for years.

Emmi is different. She does not talk as well as the other children due to her cleft palate. She does not understand everything they say due to the language delays. Her flashing cochlear implants over her ears make her an easy target. Bullying happens. It doesn't take being deaf or having a cleft palate to make a child a target of bullying. It could simply be your shoes or the style of your hair. But when a child is so clearly different, you can almost guarantee they will be the target of bullying at some point in time. This is something I have come to accept as a fact. My child is different, she will be bullied at some point. I just wasn't expecting to be faced with it quite so head on.

After I recovered my composure, I looked the child who had so clearly started the attack in the eye. I squatted down on her level and calmly said, "What you are saying is rude and can not be tolerated." I watched as the look of defiance transformed to fear. In reality this was just another first grader. A six-year-old child who just realized that she was seriously in trouble. For a brief moment, I felt sorry for her. But only briefly. For this was also the child that lead several children to taunt my child in the lunch room. She may have realized she was in trouble, but did she really understand the ramifications of what she was doing?

I know bullying existed when I was child. It existed before I was a child. It will continue to exist, until we, as a society, stop tolerating it. We blow off little things. We chalk name calling and taunting up to simply being a kid. But why? Have we not had enough proof that these "innocent" behaviors are not all that innocent? Have we not watched as children suffer from depression, fear going to school, even go so far as to commit suicide? How far will we continue to allow it go?

I made the choice today to not tolerate it. I spoke directly to the child. I informed the office staff. Together we made a plan. A plan that is based around educating the children in both the effects of bullying and the acceptance of difference. I plan to face this head on. I will not tolerate what I saw today.

Snow Day

Minus the snow.

But we did get some ice, which is really all one needs to slide down a hill.

Posh Punk

Emmi's favorite little friend (who happens to be the daughter of one of my besties) had a birthday party weekend before last. For her present, I made her two sets of pajamas. I love to sew. I am constantly making things for my kiddos. Jill just has to have an all white nightgown for character dress up day? Well, let me make it! But sewing for other people? It just wasn't something I had ever done. Yet, as soon as Emmi's little friend unwrapped her gift, I had two moms asking me to make sets for their daughters. They both spent the rest of the party convincing me that I needed to open up shop. So that is just what I did.



My little venture is just in its infant stage and has a long way to go. Over the next few weeks, more items will be added to my etsy store. In the works are more pajama sets, infinity scarves (inspired by Jill and her love of scarves.....just like her mom!), layered ruffle skirts, and much more.

World's Best Run On Sentence

My favorite part of reading the online news is reading the comments. It might be the best form of entertainment. Ever. How can you not love things like this?

Couyld you people who leave comments at least learn to spell, I realize it is hard to spell correctly when you are evidently in the process of hating the person you are commenting on, however to the Misfit character, it is their, not there grief, or whatever the purpose you used the word, their and there have two different meanings, so perhaps instead of jumping to leave a comment, try picking up a thesaurus (yes that is a word too, in fact it is a book a lot like a dictionary which you should also use, ) so instead of hating, try learning to spell, that goes for all of you haters.

They spelled "could" wrong when bitching about poor spelling. Although, I applaud them for attempting to make that all one sentence.

What the hell was I thinking?

So I ran my first ever race on Saturday. It was a small race. And only 5K. Our next goal was the ConocoPhillips Rodeo Run 10K in February. Yet, somehow we let ourselves get talked into signing up for the Run Thru the Woods on Thanksgiving Day. Five miles. We had never run more than 3.2 miles.

The day after our race, when we should have been resting, we hit the pavement. Our goal was four miles, which we easily hit. Today, we did a short run. Funny how two miles equals a short run now. Tomorrow our goal is 4.5 miles. On Wednesday we will run only one mile, and then Thursday we will attempt to run the whole five in the race.

Honestly, I am not sure what we were thinking when we signed up for this race, but I am really excited to run in a "real" race!

Hooked.

Nine weeks ago, I joined a beginner running group. For the first group run, we had to run for ten whole minutes. I thought I was going to die. Nine weeks later, my running partner and I ran in our first race.

My awesome running partner. Without her, I would have quit 8.5 weeks ago.

And we are off....

Almost. There.

Crossing the finish line.

Our original goal was to simply run the whole 5K. Then we set a time of 34 minutes. When we broke 32 minutes last week, we reset our goal to under 30 minutes.

I finished with a time of 29 minutes and 26 seconds.

As we sat through awards, I realized I was SEVEN minutes behind my age group winner. I felt my competitive drive kick in. I. Want. To. Win. In two weeks I have gone from the girl who was just hoping to finish the race to the girl who wants to finish first. I want prizes. And to run faster. And farther. I am completely and hopelessly hooked on racing.

I am dying. Not really. I am just paranoid.

All of my crazy symptoms like the randoms fevers, and the pain, and such have been around for years. Years. Yet now that I know they are a problem, I am suddenly more aware of them. And slightly crazy about them.

I keep a cup of water by the bed. Always have. In my car is a cup of water. Look around my house and you will find water glasses everywhere I have been sitting. Did I also mention I am really bad about leaving my water glasses everywhere and never picking them up? My husband loves that. I am never without a drink. Because my throat gets scratchy without one. My mouth feels thick. This has never really been a problem for me until....

"Do you often have dry-mouth," my doctor asked.

Oh shit. My need for constant water isn't some weird quirk. It is a symptom.

Days later, I am sitting at my desk, when I absentmindedly reach for my water glass. Before I can take a sip, it dawns on me. I. Have. Dry. Mouth. Oh God. I am dying. I just know it. In fact my kidneys are shutting down as we speak, because my mouth is dry. And is my left index finger joint swollen? I think I have a fever. Does anybody else see a rash on my legs?

Maybe those others doctors weren't too off the mark with their diagnosis of anxiety after all.

Goodbye Starbucks. Goodbye cupcakes.

I flip-flopped back and forth on whether or not I would even write this post.

1. How do you write nothing for months, and then just reappear? And with drama.
2. I hate sympathy posts. And complainers. And other people's health problems.

For several years, I have suffered from some seemingly random symptoms. Chest pain with no known heart abnormalities. Severe abdominal pain. Bouts of insomnia. Numb hands and feet. Fatigue. Achy joints. The list goes on. I have seen many doctors. Each one eventually determining I was depressed or anxious. Not one offering any solution other than anti-depressants.

When a blood vessel in my eye burst a few months ago, my opthamalogist became concerned. She pieced together some of my other symptoms and suggested I see a Rheumatologist. I made my appointment, and then braced myself for a diagnosis of Rheumatoid Arthritis.

I was completely thrown off when my doctor told me that I did not, in fact, have RA. Instead, I have a rare genetic condition that is also an inflammatory auto-immune disorder. Except, I get the added fun of organ failure. Predominantly kidney failure, followed by liver failure. Yay.

There is no cure, and it is progressive. The really good news is there is a known treatment that will significantly reduce my chances of kidney and liver failure. The downside is I will have to take this for the rest of my life. And there are some serious side effects. The biggest is it speeds up your digestive system (read: diarrhea. ew.) AND blocks absorption of some vitamins and minerals. Almost all patients have severe weight loss. I am a size four. I doubt I need any severe weight loss. Especially given the worst part.

I will have to give up dairy while taking this medication. No Starbucks white chocolate mochas. No cupcakes with milk every evening. This, my friends, is the part that makes me tear up. You want me to give up cupcakes? Forever? And while I can eat as much as I want and still be skinny?

The results of my liver function test should be in by Tuesday, which means I should start on a low dose of my medication by Wednesday. I have to be dairy free three days prior to my first dose. That gives me through Sunday.

Don't worry friends, I started two-a-days in preparation. White mochas in the morning. Peppermint lattes in the afternoon.

Practical Advice

The kids go back to school on Monday. A few days ago, they posted teacher assignments. Jill was a little upset because they split up her and her two best friends. What she was most upset about was being stuck with the one kid who acts like an asshole to her all day, everyday. I started to spew off some nonsense about how she just needed to remember to kill him with kindness or some crap like that. But then I stopped myself. Why do we also tell our kids this bullshit? Why don't we tell them how it really is?

Some people are just assholes. Being kind to them isn't going to make them less of an asshole. It is just going to peg you as the person who won't stand up to them. Maybe this will make them look for another target, but more than likely it will make them decide you are the perfect target. I say put them in their place. When some little punk boy mouths off to her, she should respond with "Assholes like you grow up to be assholes who will never in a million years get a girl like me. You are going to be forty, alone, fired from four jobs, twice for sexual harassment, once for anger management issues, and once for just plain being stupid. Your best friend is going to be your beer can, and even your mother won't be able to stand you."

That is practical advice.

August 15th

It's almost been one year, since Kenny and I were married. It some ways it feels like no time at all has passed. In other ways, it is hard to imagine that it has only been one year with everything that has happened.

Kenny, thank you for being the husband and father that you are. You are an amazing man. And pretty damn funny, too. I am thankful for every moment we have had together, even if I still haven't figured out how to get you to put your cups in the dishwasher. Although, I guess if that is worst that I have to say about you, then I have it pretty good. Happy Anniversary. I love you.

My Current Obssession.

Yesterday, we went out with some friends for some wakesurfing and wakeboarding. Kenny was able to toss the rope in while wakesurfing, and I attempted some tricks that are way to advanced for me (but I am determined to learn right this minute). I spent the whole day practicing techniques and watching videos. You know because I am going to be a pro some day obsessed.

But first, how stinkin' cute is she? I am absolutely in love with how adventurous and courageous this kid is. When she is out there wakeboarding, you see a different side of her.

And my favorite photo of the day....

Although, I should probably mention, he actually flipped of the board on purpose (which is what I was trying to get a picture of) when he started to lose his balance!

Awkward.

Many years ago, like over ten, I dated a guy. Let's call him The Ex. The Ex and I dated for several months. At eighteen and nineteen we thought we were a big time, serious couple. But then as most relationships between teenagers, we broke up. I turned into evil, vengeful bitch, and several of my friends may have participated in the tormenting of The Ex. Because we went to different colleges, I never spoke to him again.

Fast forward to over ten years later.

The plan for the day was the guys were going wakeboarding, and the girls were cooking dinner. Kenny went on ahead of me to meet up with our friend and another guy he had never met. When I arrived to help with dinner, I immediately question my friend about this new guy. Why? Because he happened to have the same first name as The Ex. A name that is not common at all. As in, I have never met another person with said name.

I breathed a sigh of relief when, even though she didn't know his last name, she did know that he was only twenty-four. Thank goodness, because that was going to be really awkward.

Awkward like when they walked in the back door, and my husband and the new guy are chatting away and I freeze because it is clearly The Ex who is definitely not twenty four and he has just been hanging out with my husband.

Breaking My Bloggy Silence...

....to introduce Jill the Badass. Seriously, I might have the coolest kid ever.


Let's recap our summer so far.

While tubing, she takes time to pose.

Cliff diving. A sport that every nine-year-old should try.

And then she bought herself this.

And did this at her first lesson ever.

Ignore my inability to focus the camera on her. I blame Emmi. She was tugging on my arm. And speaking of little Emmi. Even she took a turn.

What I learned about customer service from Starbucks.

Oh Starbucks. I have been pretty open and honest with the Internets about my obsessive love for you. To protect our relationship, I have lied to my husband. I have hidden evidence. What? That cup? That's from last week. Hmm? Yes, I do find it weird that the ice has not melted since last week. When we were weighing out the options on our move, "No Starbucks in new town" was on my negative list. Sometimes, I plan my day around you, Starbucks. If I run errand A at such and such time, I can drive past a Starbucks. So Starbucks, you see, we have had good times, and I find it hard to talk bad about you. But. But. I am a tad bit annoyed with you right now.

The two closest SB's are a good fifteen minutes away, in two opposing towns. Both are slightly inconvenient. I have to go a bit out of my way to get to either. That leaves SB number three. It is about twenty minutes away, but near other stores that I sometimes need to go to. Read: TARGET. It's not everyday that I make it by SB anymore. My sometimes twice a day habit is now down to twice a week. If I am lucky. So on those rare occasions that I do get to SB, it better damn well be good.

Yet SB #3 sucks. Consistently. Once, they made the wrong drink for me. I ordered correctly. I had the receipt in my hand to prove it. Then, they fussed at me for not wanting the wrong drink. I mean, it was cold outside, I should want a hot drink. Why on earth did I order a cold one anyway? The second time, they forgot the white mocha part of my iced white mocha. When I explained this, they were severely confused. I wanted extra white mocha? I don't like white mocha? How about a new cherry mocha! Today, I figured, third time's a charm. They were bound to improve. Right? Wrong.

I ordered my usual. I stepped aside. Then, the barista explained that she just needed to restart the empty coffee maker. While the other three employees watched. Meanwhile, I waited and the line at the register grew. When the coffee maker was restarted, I expected the barista to go back to making my drink. That I had ordered a full five minutes ago. Instead, she returned to the register to help the two men that walked in less than a minute ago. Obviously. They placed their orders, plain coffees and pastries. Which she immediately served. At my, "Excuse me," and gesture she responded, "I am sorry, their orders are just so much easier." Oh yes. That makes sense. I will just stand here until someone orders a much more complicate drink.

At first I was annoyed. Then I realized. I am clearly in the wrong and know nothing about customer service.

PS To all of our clients. We will only be mowing those houses with very little flowerbeds to maintain today. They are easier. Don't worry, we will still charge you. And make you wait indefinitely until we feel like getting around to you. Thanks.

A new thing.

Hey There,

It's been awhile. I'd apologize. Except, I hate when people do that. And, I am not sorry. Obviously, this blog is not my main priority.

I think there was a time when it used to be a priority. Now I can't even say that. It was fine when I actually talked about what was going on in my life, but then things started happening that I wasn't entirely comfortable sharing. Pretty major things. Not secrets exactly. In fact, if you sat down with me for coffee I love coffee, I consume it for every meal, I would probably talk your ear off about it. But, since it has a lot to do with my kids, I don't feel like the internet where I have used their actual names and pictures is the right place to do such. There is no need to immortalize everything. Right? So I made the decision not to talk about certain things.

But that lead to trying to search for things to talk about. And that became exhausting. This was no longer my outlet, but just another job. And we all know I don't really like working all that much. The postings spaced out, lacked depth or character, and even I became bored reading them. I read some of my earlier posts, and think, "That shit was funny. What happened?" But I know what happened. My life changed, but I never adapted my blog.

I thought long and hard about what to do. I don't want to give up this blog. I have put a lot of effort into it, so I won't abandon it all together. I am definitely going to keep reading all of my favorites. I will post when I have something to say. But mostly, I am focusing on a new project.

It is a blog format. Completely different from this one. I will be writing anonymously. That means you may or may not ever find me. Sors. Don't worry, most of you won't care. It is all about raising two kids with disabilities.

So until next time...which could be tomorrow. Or next week. Or next month.

Tricia

Old

Listen, Self.

I know we turned 30, and promptly came down with strep throat in protest. Five days later, for extra fun while still on antibiotics, we spiked a fever of 102.

What gives? Did my warranty run out?

T-Mobile is not full of sparkles. Or magic.

Today has been an irritating day. Very irritating. And T-Mobile, you are to blame.

I woke up this morning. And the screen on my phone looked like this.





That's right. Blank. Nada. Nothing. Redundant, I know. I was standing in front of T-Mobile when they opened their doors this morning. I expected magic. And fireworks. And sparkles. Instead I got, "Go home, and try this. Then, dial xyz cause I can't remember what he actually said from your cell to call customer service." Oh really, genius. I should call them. From my phone that won't turn on. When I told Mr. Not Magic or Helpful At All Man that his lack of action pissed me off, he proceeded to tell me all about his bad day. Guess what. I don't care.

At home, his special magic fix, did not work. I made my first call to customer service. Not from my cell phone. Which, of course, required extra top secret verification that I should in fact be attempting to fix this broken phone. Because it would be a real issue if someone not on the account attempted to troubleshoot my phone. And although, I was in fact on the account, they decided I was not. Even after calling my husband fourteen times and having him confirm my ability to be trusted with my own phone. And so, argument and thirty minute phone call number one began.

Five phone calls and two and a half hours later, Blackberry technical support determined they could not fix the problem. I needed a new phone. Which is funny, because that is what I said. TWO AND A HALF hours ago. "Ma'am, just call T-Mobile back, and tell them you need a phone exchange." Which sounded simple.

Except then T-Mobile was unconvinced, and thought perhaps they should send me to Blackberry technical support for further assistance. The same technical support that sent me to them for a new phone. This was a fun loop. Finally, I began responding to all statements and questions with, "SEND ME A NEW PHONE."

Ma'am can you hold, please. SEND ME A NEW PHONE.

Ma'am, have you attempted to take the battery out. No, of course not, asshat. Nobody in the past six phone calls though to have me do that! SEND ME A NEW PHONE.

Ma'am what does the screen look like now. SEND ME A NEW PHONE.

As we headed into hour three, they finally decided to SEND ME A NEW PHONE. I guess they got tired of my screaming and analogies. "If I bought a shirt and it ripped before I even took the tag off of it, I would take it back to the store. The store would then not send me home, and ask me to attempt to sew it myself. When they failed, they would also not send me to another store to ask them for help. They would simply get ME A NEW shirt." How was this complicated? The phone was dead. Shit happens. Phones mysteriously die in the dead of the night.

And now, three hours of my life have been wasted.

T-Mobile. I hate you.

The Big 3-0 = Strep Throat

My 30th birthday was this weekend.

For my birthday, I got strep throat. Awesome. Kids dropped off with my parents for the weekend, and I start to feel horrible. Fever. Sore throat complete with white patches. Horrible headache. Did I mention awesome?

Don't worry, I let the antibiotics do their thing, and managed to do some celebrating.

And car shopping.

And present getting. And because my husband is way more awesome than strep throat, he got me this

Although not so much that, as a confirmation number for that, as it doesn't come out until next week.