Filling in the Gaps: Divorce and Moving

In January 2015, I wrote a post I titled "Coming Clean".  Here is the bulk of that post (edited down just a bit), which kind of summarizes the changes I had faced to that point:

Although I'd never shied away from writing about the stressful things in my life, there seemed to be a shift.  I felt like if I were to continue writing about the daily goings on under my roof, it would be less how-to from a Mom who'd been-there-done-that, and more Jerry Springer.

Writing about PTSD and trauma and RAD of my young children, in the vein of venting and commiserating and also educating?  What's wrong with that?

Writing about misdemeanors of now adult children?  Not so easy to go there.

Writing about the fall-out of parenting children with mental illness, trauma-based or otherwise? It's all in the name of keeping it real.

Writing about 911 calls, paramedics, police, questioning neighbors, in-patient admissions?  We've moved on to a different realm. 

And aside from the parental side of my life, there's the marital.  How does one write about a separation after 26 years of marriage and not feel just wrong on so many levels?  There's privacy to think about, my kids to think about, my feelings, his feelings, trying to figure out how I feel/he feels/where we stand from one day to the next.  How do you write about that sh**?

Although I know first-hand all that is wrong with "wearing a mask", it is something I have been guilty of.

Nothing to see here!  We're just one big happy family that managed to go from three kids to four through international adoption of a special-needs child, then from four kids to six with the addition of two older internationally adopted kids with mental health issues including RAD, PTSD and more!  Woo hoo! Plus my husband and I were high school sweethearts!  We can weather ANY storm, right?  

Holding that image up for all to see is a disservice to me, to my family, to my readers. 

If I can't write on my blog that it's ok that we are where we are, how am I going to convince my kids?  How am I going to sell it to myself? 

The truth is, it IS ok. 

It's ok that two of my three adopted kids have had their lives dominated by the fallout of the trauma-born mental illness that is often part of the fabric of the lives of adopted children.  I have dealt with those issues with dignity, compassion, and love.  I have been able to tell my children that no matter what they do, I will always love them, even when their actions have caused me to take drastic measures such as eviction, filing charges, hospital admissions, outpatient programs, residential treatment facilities.  It means I love them enough to do whatever it takes to help them become the best persons they can be, even when they may feel that my actions prove just the opposite.

It's ok that life is difficult for the entire family when one of my children (one that's wearing my genes) is dealing with the ramifications of his own mental illness demons.  He didn't ask for it.  My husband and I, given our unique genetic histories, should never have spawned children.  It was the perfect storm. What the family has gone through in dealing with his (and the others) sequellae have stretched us to the limit.  I love my kids for their resilience, their flexibility, their adaptability, their compassion.

It's ok that my husband and I may not have a happily-ever-after marriage.  It just means that we're honest enough with each other that we can attempt to deal with it, that we can own up to having problems, and we can have the courage to try to fix them.  I can't tell you how things will end with us.  All I know is that we're trying to figure out if we have what we need to make our marriage succeed.  The answer may be yes, and it may be no.  Right now the answer is elusive, but I pray that God will show us the answer in His own time.

I am proud of myself for having weathered so much, and to still have the strength I need to deal with problems as they continue to surface.  Let's face it, my life is one big Whac-a-Mole game, and I have to keep sharp and quick in noticing the issues and dealing with them as they arise.  Have you ever watched someone playing Whac-a-Mole?  Their face is always a mixture of both fun and determination. I've got to keep that smile on my face and have fun. 

It's life. 
It's MY life. 

And it is what it is.

It's hard to believe I wrote that more than five and a half YEARS ago!  So, just to bring you up to speed, here is a brief summary of what's happened between that post and now:

• I dabbled in my own business, Birdsong Bits and Pieces, creating art, decor, and refinishing furniture.
• James moved out, first to live with my sister in NJ, but when he burned that bridge, on to NY.
• Started the process of divorce.
• Fixed up the house with a good bit of help from my friends, to put it on the market.
• My Mom was given a few months to live, went into hospice care, and died at home with her children around her.
• Rosie went off to college.
• Bought a new smaller house, a few miles from the old one.
• Plans for selling the farmhouse changed: Fred moved back in to the big house with Daniel. 
• I fixed up and moved into my new house with Patrick, Julie, Bella, (plus a friend of theirs that moved in with us), and Rosie when she was home from school.
• My daughters' friend moved out.  Julie started going through another round of new problems, culminating in let's just say drama of many varieties.  New ground rules were set that she had to meet or move out.  She moved out.
• James was brought back home when things got really bad for him in NY.  He seemed to be getting things straightened out here, but sadly has fallen off the rails again.  He is currently (and it breaks my heart to say this) in jail.
• The divorce was finalized.
• I have a new job (still in the field of Occupational Therapy, doing home health care) with a great company that pays well and provides benefits even though I'm only part time.
• And as you may know, I've gone through a bunch of health issues this year (which resulted in four hospital admissions and countless tests and procedures), including surgery to remove a weirdly positioned stone up in my liver, pancreatitis, and open heart surgery. 

And that catches us up on the big picture items.  I'm in my new house with Patrick (commuting to college and working part time), Rosie (who with any luck will be doing a semester as a student teacher this fall to finish up her college education), and Bella (who is working at Goodwill).  Julie is, for the time being, living with Fred, as is Daniel.

Thank you for letting me catch you up!

On my next update I will take you through a tour of my house, that I am very much in love with. Can't wait to show you!

   

Wordless Wednesday - Holding Hands

Wordless Wednesday: He's BACK!

MY BOY IS BACK!



HER boy is back!








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Thanks!



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Rudeness disclaimer:

I love all your comments,
I read every one!
But I can't hit 'reply',
I've no time for fun.
Please don't judge me,
Please don't hate.
If you have a question that just can't wait,
Send me an email at farmbeachgal@yahoo.com,
And I'll answer right back because I'm, you know, the Mom.

Wordless Wednesday

My oldest child left yesterday for a 2 week trip to Italy with the high school.

I know he's 18, but a mother can worry, can't she?






















Arrivederci, my son! Be careful!



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Thanks!



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In case you didn't know it, I'm like the queen of blog-hoppin' lately. It's kind of like square dancing but without the dated outfits, smelly gym, and elderly caller.

Come join the fun!

*************

Rudeness disclaimer:

I love all your comments,
I read every one!
But I can't hit 'reply',
I've no time for fun.
Please don't judge me,
Please don't hate.
If you have a question that just can't wait,
Send me an email at farmbeachgal@yahoo.com,
And I'll answer right back because I'm, you know, the Mom.

Death. A Portrait in Melodrama.

My oldest is a junior in high school.

Right now he's in the process of going on college tours, attending college fairs, getting counselled on all things college from the school counsellor, and making one last desperate effort at pulling his GPA up out of the toilet where it has been residing since he started his freshman year.

And it's all very exciting, to be sure. Just as I looked forward to when he would take his first step, say his first word, so I anticipate this time in his life when he will move out on his own and become a fledgling adult.

But at the same time? I feel
and this is oh so embarrassing
like I'm facing his death.

Ohhhhhh, the melodrama. It's oozing out my ears and dripping from my fingertips.

But it's true, I tell you!

This child turned us into parents.

For the last 17 years he has been front and center in our lives day after ever-loving day. And now, soon,

he won't.

Does that sound weird to anyone but me?

He won't be in my house when I wake up every morning. He won't be there when I turn in for the night.

He won't be there.

And I can't seem to wrap my head around these conflicting emotions:

Glad for him to be moving on to the next phase of his life (nice and normal)
Devastated that he won't be part of the everyday fabric of my life (completely Psycho crazy of me).

So. How do you think I will handle it when we actually drop him off at his dorm next year? Will I....

a) Give him a civil kiss on the cheek and turn and walk to the car as if all is perfectly normal?

or b) Fling myself at his knees and wail and cry like a banshee, demanding that he explain to me how he can DO this to his mother?????

Lord help that boy....







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Image courtesy: sodahead.com

Sunday Social - Sunny

Next one down on my siggy line...

Anne,
Wife of Fred for 23 years
Mom of:
Patrick (16)
James (16)
Rosie (13)
Bella(14)
Julie (13)
Daniel (12)
My children around the world:
Milly in Taiwan
Eun Hae in South Korea
Felice in Hong Kong
Nadya in Germany
Obrin in New York
And our critters Blue, Sunny, Annabelle, Fiona, Sophie and Cindy-Lou; Mamfy, Mali and Punkin; Nick; Frog 1 and Horny Toad; Charlie and Dizzy; Minnie and Alice; Elfie, Frex, Crope, Tibbit and Ozzy; Genevieve, Pippin and Finnegan; and a dozen or so chooks.

I'd like to ask God why He allows
hunger, poverty, and injustice
in the world,but I'd be afraid
He'd ask me the same thing ...



Is Sunny.
















Sunny is our infamous yellow Lab. She is Patrick's "Baby Dog".

We picked her out on a farm about five years ago. Well. More like she picked us out. I had a black Lab in mind. Never did care for the yellows. But all these pups were squirming and rolling all around us, and after a bit they lost interest and ran off in pursuit of something more interesting like a bug. All except this one. She stayed right by us, following us everywhere. And after a few minutes, we got the hint and scooped her up, paid the man and brought her home.

She was tail-waggin' hell the first year or so of her life. She ate everything. She chewed up hundreds of dollars worth of pool pumps and hoses. She ate the siding on our house.

She was lethal when she first learned to swim in the pool with the kids. In her enthusiasm to swim over near them, she'd generally end up scratching the bejesus out of their backs and shoulders. Kids learned to put their hands out when they saw her coming and yell, "Space, Sunny, SPACE!" and she'd veer off to the side at the last minute.

When she was about four, she developed an enormous hematoma in one of her ears and ended up needing surgery. That was fun. Nearly two years later the thing is still draining and smelling like death warmed over. We take her back to the vet now and again, each time more hopeful than the last that they will be able to give us a cure-all, each time just as disappointed as the time before. You can smell her across the room. We clean it, we ply her with ointments and drops and pills, but she will forevermore be stinky.

Every night she faithfully follows Patrick up the stairs and sleeps on the foot of his bed. She is completely devoted to him. They play this hide and seek game where we have her sit in another room while he hides, and then we ask her, "Sunny, where's Patrick? Find Patrick!" Then she goes absolutely berserk looking for him everywhere. She whines, she runs, she pants, she sticks her head out the dog door and looks left and right, then back in to run around looking in every nook and cranny till she finds him. When she does, and she always does, she dissloves into a puddle of wiggly happiness.

Fat, happy, wiggly, stinky.....

Sunny.

Sunday Social - Patrick

Next one down on my siggy line...

Anne,
Wife of Fred for 23 years
Mom of:
Patrick (16)
James (16)
Bella (13)
Rosie (13)
Julie (13)
Daniel (11)
My children around the world:
Milly in Taiwan
Felice in Hong Kong
Eun Hae in South Korea
Nadya in Germany
Obrin in New York
And our critters Annabelle, Fiona, Sunny, Sophie, Cindy-Lou and Blue; Mamfy, Mali and Punkin; Nick; Frog 1 and Horny Toad; Charlie and Dizzy; Minnie and Alice; Elfie, Frex, Crope, Tibbit and Ozzy; Genevieve, Pippin and Finnegan; and a dozen or so chooks.

I'd like to ask God why He allows
hunger, poverty, and injustice
in the world,but I'd be afraid
He'd ask me the same thing ...


Is Patrick.











He's my first born. The one who brought us kicking and screaming into the world of parenting.

And I kicked and screamed for a good long while. When he was a baby I got to experience the neonatal jaundice and three day hospitalization of my firstborn. I got to experience a colicky baby and a horrific entry into the world of lactation that ended three months after it began.

When he was a toddler/preschooler I got the joys of learning to cope with the tantrums and opposition and "high energy" and "difficulties with transitions" of a boy who would later be diagnosed with ADHD, but meanwhile I had to run around thinking I was doing everything wrong and feeling exhausted every minute of every day. Good times.

Sigh.

But now? He's 16. Starting his junior year in high school. At about 6' 1", he's taller than his Dad. I've had to crane my head back to look sternly into his eyes for nagging purposes for some time now.

And he's still oppositional and distractible. But no longer so much with the high energy thing. Or the tantrums. We have learned to deal.

And you know what? He's amazing. So sweet with his little sisters. So dang smart. Remember how I said Fred is like the smartest person I know? Well, Patrick can usually beat him in Jeopardy now. And he's my go-to person if one of the youngers has a math question that's out of my league (read, from fractions onward) or a question about a word spelling. Or pretty much any academic question. Period. Don't even try to play him in chess.

He can debate the hind-end off a mule, though I'm not sure when that particular skill would ever be needed. Still, good to know it's there.

He's awesome with the dogs. Did some agility training with Blue, and Sunny is pretty much velcroed to his leg. She follows him everywhere, she sleeps with him every night. She goes absolutely insane when he plays hide and seek with her until she can find him. Then she finds him and goes more insane.

Generous as a little boy, still generous as a young man. And kind. And compassionate.

His future? He has no clue. Nor do I. Though he aces every test without cracking a book, he has this little problem with the whole homework thing. As in he usually does it, but the turning-it-in step gets missed more often than not. As a result, his grades tend to hover somewhere between the sewer and the toilet. But alas, we are finally realizing it is his battle, not ours. With any luck, some college somewhere will accept him after he graduates and he can move on to higher education, but who knows? He'll do alright in life.

Like I said, he's a good kid.

History of a Driver

3 years old
Learned to ride a trike. Clean driver's record.

4 years old
Bike with training wheels. Hard to operate on gravel drive. Tires would spin in place, gravel shooting about, resulting in road rage.

5 years old
2-wheeler. Fair share of spills and scraped knees. Often plowed headlong into shrubbery.

6 years old
Power Wheels. Had it going 0 to 2.5 in a heartbeat. It was either pedal to the metal or standstill; no middle-ground cruising speed. Couldn't drive a straight line to save his life. By the time he outgrew it, the pathetic vehicle was gravely in need of body work.

8 years old
Golf cart. Now you're talkin'. He would drive down the lane with the wind in his face (he had demolished the windshield early on) screaming in sheer delight. He careened about, landing the cart in ditches, stuck in the low-hanging branches of trees, into mud puddles that could swallow a cow. Neighbor gave him a restraining order, banning him from operating it anywhere near his property.

14 years old
No longer interested in outdoor pursuits, he became more.... inwardly focused. When his gaze was fixated on a screen, the world around him dropped away. Result? Looking up from a hand-held screen from the passenger's seat, he would ask (a 1/2 mile from home), "Where are we and how long till we get home?"
Orientation skills? Nill.
Awareness of surroundings? Absent.

16 years old
In their infinite wisdom, the employees of the great commonwealth of PA issued Patrick a driver's permit yesterday, which states that he is now qualified to operate a 2000 pound hunk of steel and glass.
On the roads.
Around other people.

The boy who can't remember to hand in his chem labs will now have to steer, maintain speed, brake smoothly, and know the difference between a red light, a blinker, and a 4-way stop. He will need to know that hydroplaning is not landing a small seaplane on a lake, the braking distance on dry roads vs wet, and who has right-of-way in a traffic circle.
All while breathing.

The folks at DMV may have said he is ready.

I, on the other hand, am not.

Where am I and How Did I Get Here?

In an out-of-body experience the other day, I looked down on myself in my kitchen, being yelled at by an abnoxious 15 year old with long dirty blond hair (emphasis on the dirty).
Seems he was upset with me for making him go to school (on a school day mind you) because our home district buses were cancelled.

So I looked down upon myself (and it's not the most flattering angle, truth be told) and asked myself how I came to be in such a position. My child was back sassin' me; telling me my decision to send him off to school was retarded.

Wasn't this the same child for whom I endured 23 hours of labor, which included suffering through traditional labor, use of forceps, a Hoover applied south of the border, and ultimately being surgically flayed open to bring him screaming into the world?

Wasn't this the child I nursed through multiple ear infections and viruses, night terrors, appendicitis? Rocked and paced and cried for hours on end when he was a colicky infant? Stood in steaming bathrooms in the middle of the night to help ease the croup?

I was quite certain that this was the same boy whose bottom I wiped and diapers I changed so frequently that the act invaded my dreams. The child from whom I tolerated snot, pee, poop, vomit and strained pees in my hair, on my clothes, in my mouth and up my nose.

The boy I taught to read, ride a bike, use the potty and tie his shoes. The one I learned side-by-side with to find out all there was to know about dinosaurs, "constuction appointment", castles and bugs.

Looking back upon all I sacrificed - all the madness of being a Mommy - I found it unfathomable that any halfway grown child of mine should do any less than bow in supplication when I entered the room. How then, was I witnessing the scene before me? Had I truly let my children chisel away at me bit by painful bit to the point where there is nothing left but a shriveled up shadow of a human to be yelled at when their wish was not granted?

I wanted to scream and pull my hair out, but since this was an out-of-body experience, such was not possible.

So instead, zhwoop, I re-entered my body, grew a 1/2" taller (still puny compared to his 6' stature) and lay into him about respect and loss of privileges and blahblahblah. He quieted down about it, but still held a grudge for awhile. As did I. You'd better remember that I rule over everything you hold near and dear, son, and will not hesitate to take it all away in a snap.

Don't mess with this Mama.

First Day of School (3 Weeks Late)

Learn lots, Bella.....

Have a great day Julie!

Rosie, your project turned out great. Nice job!

Time to go scope the freshman girls, James. Keep that smile turned on....

I know, I know, Patrick, sophomores have no time for Moms and their 1st-day-of-school-pictures. Have a nice day young man!

Bye kids, I'll miss you!
(Woo-hooooo!)

Must be doin' somethin' right......

Had a full docket this afternoon. Had to run out for appointments and carpools for about 4 hours, but lucky for me I've got great kids. Julie cooked and served dinner for the rest of the kids. Patrick unloaded the dishwasher and Daniel emptied the kitchen trash and took it downstairs to the garage. All without adult supervision.

If I'm not careful I'm going to be out of a job soon....

Switching Genres

I think most people would classify my life as a comedy, simply b/c there is almost always some hair-brained thing goin' on around here that will bring on a case of the chuckles. After last night, however, my life has taken a decided turn from comedy to disaster movie. One of those flicks where everyone is screaming and running in a blind panic.

After getting deluged with rain for the last few days, to the point where I was starting to pair up my animals and get out the lumber, we finally had some drop-dead gorgeous weather. The kind the kids wanted to go out and play in, instead of going on threat of consequences if they didn't get their butts off the couch and get some fresh air, dammit.

So for a few treasured moments I had the house to myself as my young ones frolicked and cavorted outside, riding bikes and scooters, drawing pictures in the driveway, playing a little basketball. I was starting to prepare dinner and review in my head the list of evening's activities, including Karate for Julie, homework and studying with Bella, and taking James to his "job" where he tutors a friend of ours in Russian. Mentally planning what preparations were needed for our trip out of state day after tomorrow for my father-in-law's funeral. Relatively simple, quiet night.
Until all hell broke loose.

Seems Patrick and James were playing outside and started having one of those knuckle-headed Boys Will Be Boys Moments. They HAVE NOT and probably WILL NEVER learn that if one gives tit, the other gives tat and it's done. Even-Steven, game over. No. Tit, tat. Schmit, schmat, and on and on it escalates up the ladder till they've reached the precarious top rung and there's no turning back. And so it went yesterday, and they followed/chased each other inside and fists were flying in my kitchen.

To sweeten the pot, the last few weeks Patrick has been walking around with this broken bat. It's split in half, top to bottom (I don't even want to know how it happened or where it came from). He's been walking around with it like a tot with his Blankie for some indeterminate Testosterone-based reason. So of course, when he took an outraged swing at James' head, bat connected with skull. James of course swung back and I threw myself headfirst into the frey. I broke them apart like a diminutive ref between two prizefighters. As I sent them to their separate corners and tried to process what just happened, I glanced at the floor and saw blood. A good bit.
"Who's bleeding?", I bellowed. Patrick had gone upstairs, but James was in the next room and came back in, bleeding pretty heavily down his ear and face and neck. Blood splatter covered his shirt and shorts. I sat him down and tried to find the wellspring beneath his thick curls. When I finally discovered it I did a silent-film star knuckles-biting gasp and grabbed my keys.

Instead of going to Fred's hospital, which is more than a half hour away, I opted for our little local hospital, which is about a 5 minute drive. I figured I didn't have Fred as leverage anyway since he was right then attending a conference as far away from us he could be and still be in the continental US.
But I should have gone to Christiana.

After James was seen by the triage nurse, we waited over three hours in the waiting room before we were taken back for treatment. Poor James was dizzy and hurt, but at least the bleeding had stopped. After a bit, he lay his head in my lap to rest and I began pulling the strands of blood-soaked hair away so I could get a better look at the incision. The people in the chairs across from us saw his wound and reacted with horror (see silent movie star reference above). Naturally they wanted to know what happened. Now, I'm all for honesty in my kids, but a measure of discretion would be a good thing, too, as I soon learned when my youngest yelled out for all in the lobby to hear, "My brother hit him with a BAT!"

Can you say White Trash? Can you say Reality TV? Not that it mattered, for I soon learned that my daughter had been texting with blinding speed, sending out all the gory, embarassing details for all the world to read about on Facebook. Great.

While we were waiting, the kids were getting antsy, so I told them they could go outside to walk around. It's a very rural area. The hospital has a hitching post for God's sake. I'm not kidding. So I thought it would do them some good to get some sunshine. But at one point when I was trying to get a visual on my youngest, I couldn't spot him anywhwere. I told my daughters to sit with James and I ran outside, calling his name, looking in my car and behind the pine trees. He was nowhere. So I ran back inside and over to the window where the clerk or nurse had checked us in and very calmly said,
"I CAN'T FIND MY SON!!!!!!!"

To which she replied
(and here I pause for effect)

"Oh, wow, I don't know what to tell ya' "

I was speechless in dismay for almost a full heartbeat and then sedately asked her if perhaps she couldn't

CALL A SECURITY OFFICER!

Luckily my brain's editing faculties were in full working order or it might have been neccessary to clean up that quote.

But just then Daniel walked in. I checked myself from throttling him (we were, after all, in the presence of medical and law professionals) and asked him where the bleep he had gone off to.

"Well, you told me I could go for a walk, so I walked around the building".
I wasn't kidding when I said it's a small, rural hospital.
So glad he stopped to consider my SANITY before he decided to walk around the building.

Anyway, crisis resolved, we went back to waiting. Fianlly, to relieve our boredom I think, they called us back to an exam room, just for kicks. There we waited some more, with my natives growing more and more restless (and hungry and thirsty) by the second. Just for consistency's sake they decided which chair was the Good Spot, started calling it, then fighting over it.

At long last they started an examination and began sending James off for x-rays and CT scans. It all took a while, but at least things were finally getting accomplished. More than six hours from when we walked in, we walked out of the ER. James had a large head laceration with 15 staples holding it together, and a Retaliation Fracture of the 3rd metacarpal of his right hand. His head was bandeaged up like a mummy and he was sporting a splint and sling on his arm.
I drove the kids to the McDonald's drive-thru for burgers (they were open -- there is a God in Heaven) and then finally home.

It was just before midnight.


After I put the kids to bed I promptly went into the game room and unplugged the X-Box and set it by the steps to take up later and secure away under lock and key. When Patrick saw it this morning, he asked why it was out there. I replied, in a simple and understated way, "Because of last night".

"But WHHHHHHHYYYYYYYY?!"

This time, I was speechless for more than a heartbeat.

A Week of Icky Sickies and More ...

Monday
I had big plans of surprising the kids on their day off school by taking them snowtubing in the Poconos, but the weather was quite nasty. Not cooperating at all. So I had to scrap those plans and take the kids to one of those indoor kid-habitrail places where they climbed, tunneled and slid to their hearts' content for a few hours.

Came home where Fred quickly pronounced his hatred for me. Seems I gave him my cold and he was apparently dying a slow, miserable death. I said, "You mean the same cold I've had for a week?" He looked a pathetic site sitting there with his tissues and arsenal of cold remedies.

Tuesday
Got all the kids to school, but got a call from the nurse an hour or so later that Patrick was sick. Picked him up and took him home where he vegged and recuperated on the couch the rest of the day.

Wednesday
Patrick still sick, so he stayed home.
At one point I asked him to help me get the Christmas tree tossed over the deck for the goats' afternoon snack. Of course he came out in barefeet and stepped on a rusty piece of metal. The thing was about 6" long and about the diameter of a fireplace match. It had gone in through the bottom of his toe and out through the top, on an angle, coming out just next to his toenail. There was about an inch sticking out the bottom and about 4 - 5" sticking out the top. He looked like a distant, mutated relation to Wolverine. Decided I was not gonna touch that thing, so I took him into the hospital where Fred took it out. Patrick was a big boy throughout the whole process and never cried once. Unless you count begging for a milkshake afterwards as crying.
Rosie came home at the end of the day and slept the entire afternoon. We finally woke her up around dinner, but she had a fever and couldn't eat.

Thursday
Patrick back to school (with the metal splinter in an envelope as a souvenir to show off to his friends), but Rosie home sick.
Fred still managing to stumble off to work each day with his cold.
Patrick sick again at night with fever and dizziness.


Friday
Rosie and Patrick home sick.
Rosie has fever, sore throat and swollen glands. Off to docs to check for strep.

Four Days of Fun

Thursday
I awoke to a familiar noxious odor and came downstairs to find that apparently the stomach of one of my dogs had exploded in the night all over the wood floor.
Cleaned it up.

Cooked breakfast for all my chillens.

Got through a relatively easy morning with them until about 5 minutes before the bus came, and then all hell broke loose. Broke up two fights and calmed several people in tears, including myself.

Got showered and dressed. Ah, my good friend had arrived to visit for a few days, what nice timing.

Drove Daniel to school, but on the way he felt that his stomach, too, might explode. Pulled over to do an assessment and decided he seemed fit for school, so got him to school with the promise that I would call after my dr's appt to check on him.

Submitted to my retinal exam which included having several drops squeezed onto each eyeball, then having a stick poked in each eye, then bright lights shone to check my retinas. Stumbled out of there barely able to see.

Called Daniel's school, hoping against hope that he would be OK so I could treat myself to a quiet pampering morning at Borders to spend a gift card I had received for Christmas. That was not to be the case. Daniel was sick, so I drove back to his school to pick him up and take him home.

When checking e-mail, learned from one of James' teachers that he had lied about homework and was in danger of getting an after-school detention.

Took James to an appt with his therapist shortly after the kids got home from school. On the drive there he decided he would be mad at me for not taking him to a candy store, so he stopped talking to me. I had to wonder, fourteen or four?

Friday
Fred left for a conference for several days, so I knew I would be all on my own.
Took Rosie to a middle school dance at Boomer's.

Few hours later, picked up Rosie plus three friends. Drove them home with the car rocking back and forth to their singing and dancing along with the radio.

Nearly hit a deer, having to hit the brakes and swerve hard to the right to avoid it.
Instead of singing and dancing, the girls were now screaming and crying.
For the next hour or so, tried to keep the girls somewhat quiet and contained till I finally succumbed to exhaustion and dropped into bed.

Saturday
Cooked breakfast for 10 kids.

Reminisced with James and Julie. This was the one year anniversary of their arrival home.

Said goodbye late morning to the last of Rosie's friends.

Baked two cakes: one an anniversary cake, one a birthday cake for Patrick and his friends. He was having a party a month early so he could take them out to see Sherlock Holmes.

Patrick's five friends arrived and headed out to the pond for a bit before it was time to leave for the movies. They got in a cattail fight and came in covered in the feathery dust from the disintegrated plants. One of the boys had his shoes (which I later found out were relatively new) nearly sucked off his feet by a patch of deep mud.

Found some pants and shoes for him to borrow.

Headed out to the movies with 7 big boys in my car, Rosie staying home with her friend Lauren to babysit Julie, Bella and Daniel.

Stopped by Wendy's on the way home to pick them up some burgers. One man looked incredulously at our group of nearly 6 feet tall 14 and 15 year olds and asked if we were from a bus. I just smiled.

Tolerated (best I could) the noise and rambunctiousness of the beasts running through my house playing hide-n-seek, video games, and whatever else they could think of.

Brought out the cakes and sang Happy Anniversary and Happy Birthday.

Cleaned up and ran the dishwasher for the 2nd (3rd?) time of the day.

Hid out in my room. Tried to make it through the news but fell asleep.


Sunday
Cooked breakfast for 11 kids.
Said goodbye to Patrick's friends late morning and then orchestrated a clean up before the house could be condemned.

Finally stole away to the computer to treat myself to some reading and writing time.

Enjoyed the idyllic scene out my window of about a dozen neighboring Amish kids playing ice hockey and having races across our frozen pond. Oooh, I just noticed a couple of them are still in their Sunday best. Are they gonna get in troubllllle!



I'll try again next week for Borders. Wish me luck!

Too Much Goin' On

I haven't really posted about happenings here on the funny farm in a couple weeks as I've barely gotten to my computer in that time. I last wrote about Rosie's "moving up ceremony" from elementary to middle school, and Patrick's 8th grade graduation ceremony.
In a nutshell, here's what's gone on since then:

6/10
James spent the day at Hershey Park on a field trip (ha) and had a blast. He went on rollercoasters and in wave pools and had the time of his life.
Rosie had her moving up ceremony.

6/11
I spent the day at the school pitching tents and filling water guns for the 4th grade Civil War encampment. I swear, the teachers come up with very inventive ways to get out of actually "teaching" during the last week or two of school.
Took a couple kids to dentist appts.
Patrick's graduation ceremony.

6/12
Fred had back surgery to relieve some nerve compression that was making minor things like walking and standing (and sitting and lying down) a bit difficult. He did great and walked out of the hospital about 7 hours after he was wheeled into the OR.
The 4 youngers had a field trip to see a play of Willy Wonka. You know how important it is that kids these days learn about magical chocolate factories. Vital to their education.

6/15
Another dentist appt for another kid. If it was up to me I'd just pull all their teeth and be done with this nonsense.

6/16
Attended party at school. I got off easy and only had to bring in water bottles. The teacher knows me and must have had mercy. Of course, I was one of about two Moms that forgot to bring a camera.

6/17
Last day of school! I think they were there all of about three hours. Spent the morning putting up decorations for the pool party we were having for Patrick and his 8th grade buddies and Rosie and her 5th grade BFFs. Once the kids got home I had them help me fill over 200 water balloons and inflate and hang helium balloons. They all got stoned from the helium tank, so I'm still anticipating authorities knocking down my door anytime now.
It rained. Of course. But the kids didn't seem to mind. They were soaked anyways from the water balloon fight, the pool, the water gun wars. There was pizza and soda and cake. And lots of mess. And lots of water all over the house. But before we knew it the whole thing was over.

6/18
More dentist appts.
Took Daniel to NJ to pick up his ring bearer tux for his cousin's wedding. Went to the rehearsal but Daniel started feeling sick and we drove home, skipping the rehearsal dinner.

6/20
Back to NJ again for Tim and Crystal's wedding. Daniel did great and the wedding was a blast. We all had so much fun dancing the "Y-M-C-A" and the Twist and Paradise by the Dashboard Lights. Well, Fred didn't twist so much, being only a week out of surgery, but he enjoyed the company of his family anyway. When the DJ announced the wedding party entering the room, Daniel strutted in like a runway model. Funny, I never saw that as a career option for him, but who knows ....? We got home after 1am and crashed into bed, exhausted.

6/21
Father's Day. The kids all had sweet, funny cards for their Daddy. We gave him one of those digital photo frames for him to keep in his office, so I'm sure he'll have fun loading some pictures and video clips onto that. At least this photo frame is easier to update since I keep adding more kids to the family! We went to Fred's favorite restaurant for dinner and we all shouted Happy Father's Day to him, which turned a few heads. Well, pretty much the whole place turned around. I think he was a bit embarassed. Ooops.

6/22
Bella and Julie started summer school. They go M - Th mornings till about the end of July. They seem to be enjoying it so far, which definitely makes things easier for them. And me.
Another dentist appt. Does anyone know where I can get kid-sized dentures?

6/23
Seems all I'm doing these days is playing the part of evil monstrous referee. With the addition of two more kids to the mix and everyone of them being teen, pre-teen or tween, it's been non-stop bickering, which is not our norm. It's driving me insane and turning me into someone I don't like very much. I'm constantly separating, removing privileges, adding chores, sending kids to their rooms, giving early bedtimes. It's no fun. Methinks this is going to be a loooong summer. Course, we're only one week out of school, so maybe we just need a few more days to adjust. Right? Please?

But there are nice moments, too. Yesterday Daniel packed up a backpack full of first aid supplies and water bottles and asked Julie if she'd like to take a walk with him. They walked down to the RR tracks and the creek, and when they got back they sat on the porch swing in the fading light and talked for awhile.
And there was the time Rosie and her best friend Lucy packed up a picnic basket of lunch and snacks and rode their bikes out to the creek and had a summer-best-friends-picnic-by-the-creek moment.

So if we can just get the squabbling under control, I think we have the fixins for a magical summery summer. I just need to brush up on my managerial skills and dust off my referee shirt and roll my sleeves up.

Pomp and Circumstance

Weds morning, Fred and I sat in folding chairs on the playground of our childrens' school, and watched with pride as Rosie's class (well, the whole 5th grade) performed their "moving up ceremony", marking the end of their elementary years. That's right, folks, in a few short months my first daughter will be entering middle school. A world of lockers and homework and bells to switch classes, and crushes. Hard to believe.

Then the next night we went to a nearby university to sit and watch as my oldest son's 8th grade class had their graduation ceremony. In gowns and everything. We were very proud to know that he made it, even with all his struggles throughout middle school (don't think we didn't check to see there was actually a paper inside the diploma case).

A Week In The Life ....

Monday
Patrick to an appointment in the morning.
Daniel to appointment in the afternoon.
Picked strawberries with my 6 kids plus 1 friend. Took home way more than we needed.

Tuesday
Dropped Rosie off at the Ashland Nature Center in the morning for a two day, one night field trip.
Picked Bella and Julie up from school at 5pm after their all-day excursion into Philadelphia with the rest of the 4th graders.
Julie enthusiastically demonstrated (the whole car ride home) how her duck-quacker worked that she got from the Duck Ride Tour.

Weds
Arrived at Ashland to pick Rosie up, but she asked if she could go to her friend's house for a few hours, so I headed back home in time to get the kids off the bus.
Out again later to pick Rosie up from her friend's house.

Thursday
Tried to get some yard work done but the weather wouldn't cooperate.
Kept kids apart as much as humanly possible. With only two weeks remaining till summer break, they're all fidgety and restless and jumping down each other's throats.
Took Daniel to a play at the school we're considering for him next year.

Friday
Mother-Dtr Book Club arrived for the end-of-year bash. The girls jumped in the pool while the Moms tried to keep out of the rain under the umbrella. Then we ate, talked about the book Twilight and watched the movie on the couch. Hard to believe this is the same group of girls that first started meeting as 2nd graders. From Junie B Jones to Twilight in three short years. Sigh .....
Patrick got all dressed up and headed out the door to his 8th grade semi-formal dinner dance.
He and his friends had made plans to go to the movies afterwards and he said he had rides there and back with parents. But at 2:15 in the morning he wasn't home yet. Only then did Fred and I realize we didn't know which Mom was driving, which theatre he was at, and that he didn't have a cell phone for us to call him. We wrung our hands and paced the floor and wondered whether we should start calling parents of friends but decided to wait a bit longer. He got dropped off around 2:45 with a smile on his face, his tie askew and carrying a bunch of balloons from the party. We are soooo not ready to be parents of teenagers.

Saturday
Fred's annual surgical resident's party in the afternoon.
Got the worst of the weeds pulled and the pool spiffed up just in time for the guests to arrive.
Daniel's friend cut his knee pretty bad. Good thing there was a houseful of surgeons. Didn't end up needing stitches, though.
Julie puked bucketloads of food all over the pool patio. Got her cleaned up and taken care of, then began hosing down what remained of her lunch. Watermelon and tacos does NOT look pretty revisited.
Four of the kids' friends slept over.

Sunday
Flipped a few dozen flapjacks to feed 10 kids for breakfast.
Played lifeguard most of the morning while all the houligans swam off their energy.
Hoped I could retain some of the sun's energy myself, to prepare myself for next week's round of appointments and chores and parties and fieldtrips and field days and .......

And the winner of the science fair is ....

I have no idea. But Patrick and his project partner Garrett went to the county science fair with their project. Good job, boys!

Snippets of Conversation

James: Patrick, computer .....
Patrick: James, it needs charging, it's low on batteries. BAAA-TER-EEEES.
James: Patrickkkkk, computer!
Patrick: BAAAAA-TER-EEEEEES!
James: Patrick, you owned!
Patrick: No, YOU owned!
James: Patrick pookala [pass gas]. POOOOO!
Patrick: No, James pookala!
(These last two you can play on a loop as long as you like)

Rosie: Julie -- M and I are going out sledding. Wanna come?
Julie: No. Julie, Mommy.
[Julie's sentences resemble addition word problems, where she strings together a bunch of words as though adding them all up]
Julie: Mama? Julie, Mommy, macheena, storya. Yes?
Me: No, Julie, not right now. Nee see ches.
Julie: Mama? Julie, Mommy, help, mmmmmm, oojin? Mmmmm, dinner?
Me: Yes, Julie, you can help me make dinner.
Julie: Owww!
Me: Julie, maybe if you give Mom some space (gesturing like a crazy person), I won't step on your foot when I turn around.
Julie: yaneepaneemyou [I don't understand].

Patrick

Our first-born child, Patrick is quite the character. Stubborn from before he was born (I was induced the morning of Fred's BD, but he was finally dragged kicking and screaming into this world by c-section the next day -- guess he wanted his own birthday), he could debate the hind-end off a mule. Many's the day that Fred and I were left scratching our heads in wonder, not knowing why parenting this kid was so trying. It didn't work for us to go by the books, suggestions from friends and family, our guts or our hearts. We pretty much had to throw out all the rules and wing it. Though we've come a long way and have learned a thing or three, he sure keeps us on our toes.

In the past, he's dabbled in wrestling, soccer, karate, and even dog agility (with our awesome Aussie Blue), but these days he's content hanging out with his friends playing x-box, listening to music, or watching some of his favorite shows or movies. When he's not ridding the world of evil zombies, he enjoys wrestling with his sibs, paint-ball in our field, or tetherball, BB, riding his bike or his Ripstick in our driveway. Just between you and me, he also enjoys reading and chess.

He could get straight As in his sleep if he would buck up and consistently do his homework, but since that's not his thing, Fred and I are left singing the "...you can enjoy these privileges if ..." song (any other parents of teenagers know that tune?).

He's a great kid, though. Always willing to help a sibling with homework, very giving, bright as they come, sharp wit, full of vim and vigor. I've yet to see his eyes without their sparkle and he's always ready with his next wisecrack. There are times I try not to laugh, wanting to get my point across with a stern look on my face, but he breaks me down and I'm left giggling helplessly.

I've heard that you don't learn as much about yourself from your "easy" kids as you do from your "difficult" ones. If that's true, I've learned more about myself from Patrick than I ever cared to know! But I can't imagine life without him. He changed my world completely, and he is a young man whose life I feel blessed to be a part of.