Take it or Leave it

Back to regularly scheduled programming....

2012-02-13T08:53:00.000-08:00

I've changed my mind about switching my blog. I got the worries about the issue I didn't want to publicize out of my system, and I'm too attached to this blog. It's a lot of trouble to change and I'd rather just stay here.

Andy was home most of last week. This sickness just wouldn't leave, and on Wednesday night he had a very painful ear infection, so we went to the doctor on Thursday. He's back to school today and taking antibiotics.

I really could have used some sleep, but I think the time home was helpful to him. He's been awfully stressed out lately. So have we all, really, but it's harder on him being a child. We attended a birthday party for one of his classmates this weekend, and I got to meet a couple parents from his class for the first time.

Reading the "Diary Of A Wimpy Kid" series with him has been a lot of fun. We watched the movies this week too. The boy in the story reminds me quite a bit of Andy in many ways. He's very conceited but not as selfish, and more bossy since he's the oldest rather than the middle child. Hunter is a lot like the boy's best friend, actually, despite the fact that he and Andy aren't getting along. He's always willing to go the extra mile, help someone out, and gets taken advantage of by Andy if I don't keep a lookout. He's very unselfconscious, which is great and will help him out in school. I think Andy will probably get swept up into the cliques of the school more easily. I wish I could prevent it, but it's a part of who he is. I'll just try to minimize it as much as possible.

It occurred to me that we don't know anyone who can give Andy advice when he goes into the older grades. Everyone we are close to was homeschooled. He doesn't have aunts or uncles or family friends who can help him out from experience and be supportive in the problems he might encounter. That bugs me. Grandparents' advice might be somewhat helpful, but very outdated.

Someone at the school apparently told him the principal can paddle the kids. I assured him that's not true. I hope it was a rumor started by the kids because of what some parent said, and not by a teacher or other school official. He didn't seem clear on who exactly told him that. I told him it's against the law and he should tell me if anyone tries to spank him.

Mark went to the clinic on Saturday and they had closed early due to weather. They reserve the right to do so, but the weather wasn't at all threatening, just some melting snow falling. He and I both called to find out what he should do, and were treated very rudely. They basically said that it wasn't their problem if he had to go into withdrawal, and he should have gotten there when they opened. They didn't bother to tell him that they were re-opening on Sunday for an hour to make up for it, so he didn't find out until too late, when a friend called to see if he had gotten there.

These people are vampires. The whole methadone thing is such a blatant scam, just a way for the government to get in on the drug dealing business. Oh, and to top it off, he still has to pay for the two doses he missed. The woman explained that this is because they provide the service and it isn't their job to make sure he's there to take advantage of it. !!!!!!

At least this will make the drug talk with my kids easy. Forget all that moral stuff. I will just tell them, "Don't ever use drugs because if you get addicted and they start destroying your life, stray dogs will care more about you than the shitheads you have to deal with in recovery."

Morgan will be four months old this week. She is going to be in 6-9 month sizes soon. She should have her first teeth in a couple of weeks; you can see the little white nubs in her gum. Her hair has turned strawberry blonde like mine, and will probably change a lot more before she reaches adulthood. I hope she keeps her blueberry eyes, even though most of us didn't. Andy and Hunter both have green eyes now. We call her the "Blueberry Princess" because that's what they look like.

She used to look terrible in pink, but not any more. As long as it's not a baby pink or hot pink shirt, her complexion can handle it. Mark likes to have her in those little shirtdresses (it's too cold for real dresses yet).

Oops, she's awake lol. Gotta go.

Kids and stuff

2012-01-26T08:18:00.000-08:00

I used to think it was terrible when I heard mothers wishing school breaks were over so their kids would be out of their hair again. I understand a little better now. I still wouldn't say it in front of them. But really, it's almost impossible to get anything done when you can never be more than ten feet from your child.

Andy was home sick Tuesday with a cough. It wouldn't be a big deal if he didn't persist in coughing without covering his mouth, and not only that, but make it a point to cough on anyone near him because he thinks it's funny to gross them out. So I figured I'd spare his class the ickies. I should have kept him yesterday, but I had my OBGYN appointment to deal with the prolapse. So I had to send him. Today he's coughing pretty bad, so he's home again. Joy, joy. He spent half the morning so far making the silliest noises he could come up with, and the other half telling me how bored he is. Even though he has a stack of books he HAD to bring with us to read.

Oh yeah, we're staying at my parents' house all day because my Mom's mother passed away. So she and some of my siblings - the ones who are usually home - are out of state for the funeral. Someone has to stay here with my Dad's mom since she has Alzheimers and needs round-the-clock attention. I'm sharing the task with my other siblings in the area. It was supposed to be my week to relax and catch up on some much-needed sleep. So much for that idea.

Andy turned 7 this month. We got him his first library card. I wanted to get him a kids' Bible, but they don't make any that aren't just rewritten as stories or else have tiny print. His eye problems make that a bad idea. I'll have to let him use our large print one. I had in mind something that was maybe all the Bible accounts, in real translation, without the genealogies and other not-so-relevant-to-a-child's-mind stuff. No luck.

Anyway, the library card. I told him he could get books from the junior section now, since his comprehension level is beyond his reading level. He likes a challenge and would rather struggle with words than be bored with the story. After all, Mark read the Encyclopaedia Britannica when he was 8 years old.

So he went right to science fiction and started grabbing all these creepy books about demonic stuff. Not just, you know, futuristic stuff. I mean actually evil. Stuff I can't believe they publish for kids. I said no way. He said all his friends have them. I doubt that, and I still said no way.

It was not a pleasant trip.

The second trip was much better. I'm no fan of those stupid Black Lagoon stories, but they beat that other crap. And he likes Diary Of A Wimpy Kid. Which is actually pretty funny, now that I'm reading it.

This kid is nothing like me. Except in almost every aspect of his personality. SOMEBODY HELP ME!!!! Lol. At least I don't cough on people. And I cared about good penmanship. I think that's a boy thing, though. Most of my brothers and most boys I babysat thought neat writing was pointless.

It's been interesting watching the differences between my boys. It's surprising to me that empathy and gentleness don't necessarily go together. Hunter is much more empathic than Andy. Yet he reacts with aggression, where Andy reacts with manipulation. I think I mentioned that before. I would have expected Andy's self-centered mindset to cause more violence, because he is often inconsiderate of others. But it doesn't. And I would have expected Hunter's loving gentleness to prevent physical aggression, but it doesn't. He hurts when people are upset with him, yet he seems to want them to hurt because he hurts. Maybe it's because he thinks they must know how he feels and are deliberately hurting him anyway?

I talked to my pastor Sunday about some of this. I've been coming to realize recently that I am so afraid of using religion to manipulate my kids, that I'm raising them pretty much without faith. And that bothers me. I rely heavily on my own faith, and I want them to have it as well. But I'm terrified of making them feel like I use God to threaten and bully them with. I also avoid reading the Bible when Mark is home, which is the most convenient time to do it, because of the negative connotations he has with those memories. Family worship at their house meant a couple hours of lectures by the Other Mother on why they were all going to hell because God hated them for being such brats and making her life miserable.

I told him about my efforts at gentle discipline, and how despite my best efforts it seems to turn into no discipline. I feel like I could do a lot better if I had more tools, but the fact is that I don't and that's not going to change. I can't just sit here and wait for the changes I want. I rather thought he would agree with the gentle discipline idea, because he is a very gentle person and loves to play with kids. Andy and Hunter love spending time with him. He didn't, though. He said that he really thought it was necessary sometimes to use corporal punishment, not as a regular part of life, but to maintain important boundaries when the kids test them.

I pointed out that I talk to other parents who have more stable families and started earlier, and they are making it work; and I feel my kids shouldn't suffer for Mark's and my mistakes. He reminded me that the Bible tells us children will suffer for the sins of their parents; not because that's right, but because it just is. That's true. Somehow I don't think a court would care, though, and if I advocate the outlawing of corporal punishment, I have to think of that.

I also pointed out that Hunter is one of those kids who isn't afraid of getting hurt, and I will eventually have to really hurt him in order to make corporal punishment work. He said that if I feel that way, of course he doesn't advocate causing injury to a child, and I will just have to turn my whole focus on making the right things a priority in the household.

I am a bit distressed over this. Yes, I can stop doing anything for myself for the next 12 months and spend every minute of every day focusing on my children and their needs. But too many of their needs clash, especially with a new baby who needs to eat frequently and must have quiet to do so. In our tiny house, it's becoming difficult to even feed her when Andy is home until Mark comes back with the iPhone. Only then does the constant pestering and whining and fighting with Hunter cease for any amount of time.

I could make it work for them over time. I'm sure with one year of giving them my undivided attention, I could make a turnaround. I'm just afraid that I won't be able to handle that mentally.

I have a hard enough time just being by myself in that tiny house. It's the size of a 2-car garage, literally. The claustrophobia can be unbearable at times. When Andy gets home, I have to focus on just plain tolerating him. Let alone working with him. I know that's not right, and that it's not his fault. But it still is. And I worry that setting down the path I feel I must in order to make gentle discipline work, will cause me to resent my children inside.

All my life I have been a doormat for other people. I was a servant and babysitter growing up. I became practically a foster mother to Mark when I left home. I have put myself on the back burner, and sometimes just plain off the stove, for my whole life so far. And now that I actually NEED to put myself on hold for a while, I feel like one more year of ignoring myself is going to kill me. I'm supposed to make sacrifices for my kids. I've just been sacrificing so long that I feel like I've got nothing left.

I could visit some friends occasionally for support, if I had my own car. I could invite a friend over occasionally for support, if I had a place for them to sit. I could be more relaxed when the boys get home, if I could get a nap occasionally. I could keep the house neater, if we had any rooms bigger than a walk-in closet. I could play games or do puzzles or make foods and crafts with them, if we didn't barely have room for our furniture and dishes. I could give them some quiet time in their room to calm down when they won't stop kicking each other, if they had a room. I could give them incentives to finish their chores, if we could afford more than the bare minimum or if we had room to do anything beyond survive and watch TV.

How much should my needs that aren't being met be allowed to affect my children?

It's not like Mark can just work a little harder and get us a bigger place. Not in this economy. It will take time. A lot of time. I'm stuck with the way things are for longer than I can justify leaving our discipline issues unaddressed.

Should I consider antidepressants again? Or an anxiety medication? Just to avoid spanking? When most parents around me think a spanking is normal and few of them are abusive with it? In fact, it's ironic that my MIL being the only one who I would call abusive with no hesitation, is one of those who would never encourage having her precious grandbabies punished for anything. I guess that's the BPD though.

I don't know what to do.

Are you KIDDING?!

2012-01-24T10:06:00.000-08:00

I have long since ceased to be amazed at the level of cluelessness the Other Mother can at times display. Like when she informed Mark and I on Sunday that she thinks her second oldest son and my youngest sister would be a perfect match. (Insert loud horror film scream here.) My sister has always liked him, but knows better. For one thing, after all I've been through with that family, and what she remembers from her own childhood, I really doubt she wants Donna for a MIL. Mark's brother, at the same time, has never gotten along with me, and I'm sure he doesn't want me for a twice-SIL. Add in the fact that he's abusive to his girlfriends AND to his dog, has both anger and alcohol problems, and has the same PTSD from childhood that Mark does, though less apparently severe and manifesting differently; and, well, I am not about to see him with any girl I give two hoots about.

Still, she seems to think all he needs is a nice young lady like my sister to straighten him out. Whatever. She's a moron, nothing new, I should be used to that by now.

But I was rather shocked when she visited yesterday and jumped right back into the subject, apparently trying to enlist my help in getting them together. I managed not to say ANY of the vast array of replies that came to mind. I think I deserve more than a Klondike Bar for that.

Maybe I should give her the number for the psychiatric hotline.....

Breastfeeding - past and future

2012-01-19T09:03:00.001-08:00

A lady whose blog I follow regularly posted about breastfeeding older children. She had two articles that made me really think, and the other one is linked in the one I just linked to.

I always assumed that up to 2 years old was a reasonable age to breastfeed, if mother and child were so inclined. My mom was my lactation consultant, and she didn't go over a year with any of us as far as I know. But she also breastfed her kids against the liberally expressed opinions of her religious mentor, who viewed formula as another God-given invention to make our lives easier so we could spend more time in His service. Which of course had nothing to do with caring for your children, but involved lots of political and religious campaigning to make the future world a more Christian place for your kids to be adults in. So of course my Mom wasn't going to breastfeed beyond the bottle stage.

With Andy, I figured I'd let him wean on his own. But then I got pregnant with Hunter. I just assumed that my body could not support pregnancy and nursing together, so I weaned him at a year. Looking back, I don't think it could have without several changes. I could have made those changes had I been of the mindset that tandem nursing was normal. And if I'd known then what I know now about nutrition. But I didn't. I had a hard enough time nursing Andy, being constantly dehydrated, malnourished, very stressed, and not taking vitamins because I didn't realize I needed them while nursing and I wasn't going to spend the money.

I was completely absorbed by Mark's problems at the time. His doctor had given him 6 months to live without major lifestyle changes, and that's why I got pregnant with Hunter. I was scared of turning into that single mom with a single son whose relationship becomes emotionally incestuous because they both have no one else. I knew I'd never get remarried. I wanted Andy to have a sibling for his own health. I was constantly depressed, didn't know that sleep deprivation is a big factor in poor milk production, couldn't keep enough bottled water around because of Mark's family and friends helping themselves to it regularly, and ate snacks most of the day because I was too exhausted and miserable to prepare a meal.

So it didn't even occur to me to keep breastfeeding through pregnancy. And if I had tried to, I couldn't have. Had I wanted to try, though, I would have probably researched it like I did everything else, and learned things that might have made it possible.

Then I weaned Hunter at 7 months, because he was so heavy and my back was in agony. He had begun to teethe, and wanted to nurse every half hour for about 3 minutes. His jaw was crooked when he was a baby as too; it straightened out around 4 years old. So that meant lots of plugged ducts and sore nipples, as well as feeling like I was constantly drenched in my own breast milk. Most unpleasant. I couldn't take it any more.

Looking back, I wouldn't have had those problems if Andy was still nursing too; he would have been able to nurse evenly and prevent the plugged ducts, as well as finish what Hunter was constantly starting and then abandoning just when I let down. As for my back, when it still hurt dreadfully after more than three years, my mom paid for me to see a chiropractor who determined my hip was out of whack from the difficult birth (10 lb. 7 oz. baby, shoulder dystocia); and after only a few sessions with some electrode thing, I was much better. Should have done it right after he was born. Just like I should have gotten physical therapy for the prolapsing.

So. In the end, coulda, shoulda, woulda. Can't do anything about that now. It got me thinking, though. Both boys have pretty bad cavities. Andy wouldn't have nearly so many without the Other Mother sneaking candy to him every night throughout toddlerhood, but still: would that have been prevented if I had breastfed them until, say, 2 years old? Or even 3? Probably.

I look at Morgan now. She's teething full blast. Having most of the same issues Hunter did, but she's smaller and my back is better now, so I will make it through. I figured I'd breastfeed her about a year. Until she can hold a sippee cup. Now I'm rethinking that. Maybe if I stick with this longer, she won't have the bad teeth her brothers are suffering with. Maybe our bond can be stronger.

And that's another thing. I can certainly see where nursing longer would have greatly improved my relationship with Andy. He would have suffered a lot less from the stresses of our household, I think. There would probably be less antagonism between us, more openness, more peace. It would have made gentle discipline easier. My most regretted moment with him is when he was about four and a half, and Mark was in rehab, and the stress of that was starting to bring out the repressed memories of my own childhood. I was wandering around crying and freaking out, and he tried to give me a hug. I shoved him away and screamed, "Don't touch me!" I will never forget the look on his face, complete shock and confusion and grief. I broke something that day that I'll never fully recover. And that's when I knew something was wrong with me. I wasn't just repressed and jittery and irritable. I had emotional problems and I needed help.

I still haven't been able to get all the help I need, but I found some of it. I apologized to him soon afterwards, of course, but it was already done. I hate being touched. Truly. I have learned to control my aversion over time, once I accepted that it wasn't normal. But it's still there. I tense up and cringe when I have to hug someone. But I wish I had allowed Andy to maintain that bond longer. It would have helped his emotional state during those stressful years.

Mark still isn't healthy. I will consider us very fortunate if he's still around when Morgan enters high school. And she is already such a daddy's girl. Even at only 3 months old, you can tell they have a strong bond. So anything I can do to strengthen the bond between her and me, without interfering with theirs, I should do. Because Daddy may well be gone by the time she enters those vulnerable teenage years. I need to have her trust, and she needs to know she has my unconditional love. Her childhood isn't going to be a basket of roses.

I can't say I will nurse until a certain age. I don't like the kind of clothes I have to wear for nursing, I don't like being unable to go out for more than a few hours without either soaking my clothes or stopping to nurse, I don't like having sore breasts and smelling like sour milk. But I'm a lot more willing to put up with it now than I used to be. We'll see what happens.

The Lord's Prayer

2012-01-09T08:35:00.000-08:00

I have decided to double-post for a short while, to give my readers a chance to move over. Apparently I cannot email anyone from their profile link because I share a computer, and it would require configuring the email to my address. And since I've shared posts on FaceBook from many of you, I don't want to leave my new blog address in your comments. If anyone is having trouble getting my email address, it's as follows: pippi_st.germain@yahoo.com

This week our pastor was gone on a mission trip. So they declared it "Youth Sunday" and had the young people from the church leading the service. Our congregation is small, and last year at this time we had only two families with teenagers in the church. I had the only children. Two more have become regulars since. So it wasn't at all the madhouse you might envision if you attend a church with lots of teenagers.

The 17-year-old Filipino boy who gave the message preached on a subject that has been a major part of my search for true Christianity. The "Prosperity Gospel." He pointed out how many Christians today think that evangelism means telling people all their problems will disappear if they trust in Jesus, and how baseless that concept is if we actually read Scripture. How that what faith truly means, is having the peace within to bear up under the trials that are a part of our everyday lot as humans on this planet. If Jesus had meant to bring us wealth, his disciples would have had fame and fortune, not prison cells and poverty and worse. He brings us hope, peace, forgiveness, and love. The intangible things that make the rest of this difficult life worth living.

I have often thought this past year about the Lord's Prayer and its requests. I think it shows in a nutshell what God feels we should expect from Him: daily bread, forgiveness from our trespasses, and deliverance from evil. That's all it asks for. And we aren't promised those things in this life either. If we receive them, it is only by His grace.

I wish the story of the widow's mite was more elaborated on. We tend to assume that because Jesus commended her decision to give her last coin to the temple, she received temporal abundance shortly thereafter. But we have no reason to believe that, in fact. Maybe she went home and starved to death. Does that mean she wasn't blessed? Every Christian who has ever lived knows the story of the widow. She is immortalized in human history. Blessings come in many forms.

Someone gave Mark a copy of Cormac McCarthy's "The Road." We read it and then bought the movie. (The book was better; the movie left out several pivotal moments, probably because they would not have been appropriate for visual depiction.) I felt I could relate to the father's feelings as he struggled with the reality he was faced with vs. the faith he once felt. He chose to believe that God must not exist, and tried to find another way to depict good and its importance for his son. In sharp contrast to that eventual conclusion is the flashback to one of his happiest moments as a young man, when he thought that "if he were God, he would have made the world just so."

Why do we so quickly accuse God when humans wreak destruction on His beautiful creation? I struggle with it, too. I can't understand why God didn't stop the abuse Mark suffered as a child, when he begged and pleaded and prayed with all the sincerity and faith a small child can muster. Just like Jesus said we are supposed to. Nevertheless, it was his mother's responsibility to stop it. His grandmother's responsibility to prevent it. They were the human beings to whom God entrusted this new life, and they failed to fulfil their obligations. God had the ability, but chose to let the consequences of their irresponsibility, and of the abuser's evil heart, play out. Maybe we don't have a right to blame God for that. But just like we feel better knowing there is a Creator out there, we feel better making it His fault when we (not as individuals, but as the human race) screw up.

I think "The Road" is eerily prophetic. Aliens aren't going to take over this planet; robots aren't going to destroy the human race. Our own ugly selfishness will eat us alive. As I mentioned once a while back, evil is not the opposite of good in the way that we typically think of opposites. It is merely the absence of good. Like heat and cold, light and dark. Humanity minus God (in other words, minus a respect for and belief in God) equals evil. Uninhibited cruelty, destruction, and uselessness. The curse of intelligence and free will.

Change It Up

2012-01-07T12:42:00.000-08:00

I have been thinking of changing my blog title again, and my last post decided me. I am nervous about any anonymous family or friends potentially reading it. I have deleted it from here and reposted it on my new site. So anyone who wants to follow me to the next blog, please email me and I will send you the address. This one will be deleted once I get it saved to my flash drive.

Do we really deserve this?

2011-12-21T12:49:00.000-08:00

So, this year Andy's class requested donations to the family they are sponsoring in lieu of teacher gifts. I've been griping to myself about how I can't afford to give money, and feeling very guilty about that, and I had been planning to give the teacher something handmade but with the new baby, I haven't even made it through the hat I've been crocheting her for a month now. Hunter's school fundraiser came along, and I barely managed to get the cookies made, and then sat up way too late the night before, while getting sick, when I should have been sleeping, to starch and pin the crocheted snowflakes I finished just a little too late for LAST year's fundraiser. Only to find the next morning that starch was nowhere nearly stiff enough. In fact, I was supposed to have used fabric stiffener. And all I had to show for it was a bad case of laryngitis. The last few years holidays have just made me feel pretty useless because I can't manage to give anybody anything.

So I was awfully surprised when the pastor's wife called Sunday to see how I was doing (I was home sick with a sick baby), and tell us that their community had sponsored us for Christmas. She had mentioned something previously about a group getting gifts together for us, but I thought it was the church, and since they are a small church, consisting largely of elderly people on a fixed income, I had tried to be nonchalant and act like I wasn't desperate to collect the gifts or anything. I have a hard enough time asking for help without knowing that the people giving it have had to sacrifice to do so.

She said they would bring the things by on Monday. And on Monday, she and the pastor showed up, their car stuffed with enough boxes and bags to fill all the floor space in our small kitchen! I was pretty shocked. And I can't help but feel like we don't deserve it. I mean, aren't there people out there who DON'T have minimum clothes for their kids? Or who have to live on beans and rice? Didn't I just read about how the average food stamp benefit per person is $4 per day? We certainly get more than that. Then again, groceries here cost more than twice what they did in OK when we visited my sister, so that's probably a national average. Still, I have a very hard time accepting that we are being helped. And not because of pride. I just don't feel deserving of it.

I talked to my sister about it, and she said she felt the same way after Joshua was born and passed away, and so many people helped them out during that crisis. (Another time when I felt like a turd for being unable to pitch in.) And she said that when she looks around at what other people who are considered needy have, she realizes that she really shouldn't feel bad. I don't visit people since I have no car, and even if I did, I doubt many people in this area live very frugally. My sister sees much more of that where she lives. And having her say that made me feel less guilty.

My expectations for the holidays are always high, and especially with Mark having a real job this month. But the fact is that my biggest purchase for the boys this year was probably going to be a DVD player that works. The Other Mother always gives them a lot of toys all through December, and we are so overwhelmed with "stuff" by Christmas that it's pointless for me to buy them anything inexpensive. There's nothing we can afford to buy that she hasn't already given them; anything that would really impress them is financially impossible. Hunter saw Santa outside the grocery store and asked for a remote control airplane. Andy wanted an iPad. HA! Neither of those are a good idea even if we could afford them. (And the iPad in particular remains a bad idea, even though Mark got an Android which is similar, I have no idea why; and which I'm furious about, and which is useless without wi-fi, and a liability for theft or breakage, and we couldn't afford it, AND it was a completely inappropriate gift for any 6-year-old, especially one who mouths off and refuses to do a single chore and says horrid things to his little brother! Can you tell I'm angry?)

Moving on.....

The gifts were wonderful. Lots of clothes for the boys, some really nice things for Mark and I, adorable things for Morgan, and a few toys. My exasperation over the Lego sets, after I JUST finished collecting and confining the ones Mark and his mom got before Morgan ends up with one in her throat, was abated by the set of Disney beanbag Seven Dwarves. So cute! I have to admire them myself when I'm done vacuuming up tiny eeny weeny Legos.

Anyway, I started feeling a lot less guilty after I sat down and decided what the new budget was. Once I allowed myself to indulge thoughts of what we needed, it became a little overwhelming. I went out and used the gift cards for things I was going to scrape out of today's paycheck, and then started on the returns/exchanges. Don't think I'm stuck up; we can only use so many glove, hat and scarf sets lol. And several of the sweatsuits were too large. I started with the fewest items first, and went to Target, where I traded a couple of oversized shirts for nursing pads and Vitamin C. Relief to get those out of the way. I have a very bad habit of forgetting things completely after I've gone to a place a few times without being able to purchase them. It will take me a month to remember them again while I'm there. Then I went to Gymboree with a beautiful sweater that was too big for the boys. Hunter needed pants. Between the holiday sale, the return, and a coupon, he got a very nice pair of jeans with the elastic waist he needs. Whoohoo! Those are so hard to find. Then I traded some of the way-too-big clothes from Macy's for a sheet set. (I only wanted a fitted sheet, but they only carried sets. Why is that?) But we needed sheets after Hunter's recent Adventures With Scissors. The small holes get bigger with every wash.

A few things I was able to give to siblings, like socks that were too small for the boys, and bath towels that one of the newer couples in our family needed. We have plenty of towels because Donna brings us the ones left behind by summer campers where she works. They gave us things like hand soap and toothpaste, stain remover, dishwashing packets which I passed on to Mom, and a pretty wall placket that goes with the cabin as if custom-made. I intend to leave it there when we move, because it's perfect there. :) And I still have a big pile of stuff to return to Kohl's. With that I hope to replace the icky rug in front of the sink, and maybe get a blouse the right size. I guess when you tell someone you are an extra small, they just plain don't believe it lol. That's the 3rd time Vicki has asked me what size I am and then given me something medium. Hehe. She's a wonderful friend, but I think that extra small must not exist in her world. And don't bother hating me. I'm not dressing in oversized clothes just so other people feel better. :P

So maybe when Mark gets paid tonight, we just might be able to get something special for the boys. I'm thinking in-line skates. We don't have a place for them to ride bikes, and the skates can be transported much more easily. They've both expressed an interest. And I'm so happy that I can even think about getting them something they really want.

I think what it comes down to, is that I feel bad for having so many people care about me. Maybe I don't have more stuff than other needy people. But I still feel blessed, because I know that we aren't going to starve or be homeless. And that knowledge is worth an awful lot.

New photos

2011-12-15T13:03:00.000-08:00

My sister took these photos for me today. :D

Laa-dee-da-da

2011-12-12T08:31:00.000-08:00

Things making me happy today:

I'm killing time at Mom's while baking cookies for Hunter's holiday fundraiser at school on Friday. Yummm! This year I finally get to help out, since I live right across the street.

I actually have enough money this week that I can afford to plan some errands tomorrow and make Andy's annoying trip to the eye doctor more worthwhile. That will go a long way towards making the ridiculous wait in his office less annoying. :D

Even though Hunter was a monster when we went for family photos, and Morgan was screaming by the time we waited an hour in a crowded store for our appointment, we still got a fantastic shot of all three kids with their eyes open! And normal expressions on their faces. I can't wait to mail the New Year's cards.

My sister A. is coming home tomorrow night for a few days!!! Yayyyyyyy! I miss her so much. She hasn't seen Morgan or the newest nephew yet, so it will be baby spotlight time, hehe. Plus all the nieces and nephews adore her and miss her terribly. And she's the best photographer in the family, so I miss her double. I hope she will have time to take some good pictures for us.

Mark is still in the treatment program. And maybe the only bright spot in how long it's taken him to do this, is that I also count the days and weeks he has stayed clean, and feel a sense of relief and victory with each one that passes.

Andy's reading challenge at school is going great, and helps get him back into books. We ran out of books he could read independently, having logged nearly 200 between home and school, so I checked out the thrift store. I found several cute ones, the kind they USED to write back in the good old days before video games, Disney books, and Marvel comic stories. And I also found him a winter jacket in great shape for only $4.00.

It's the little things that count. :)

Perfect Moments

2011-12-08T11:40:00.000-08:00

A fellow blogger's post reminded me of a post I keep forgetting to write, lol. I never knew what people meant by "perfect moments" until recently, but I had two in the first few weeks since Morgan's birth.

The first was at her two week checkup. It was just past the peak of the fall colors, and it had been storming all day, but as I came out of the office, the slate gray clouds were still scudding overhead, and behind them the setting sun was lighting up all the trees with vivid color. I love that weather. It was a perfect moment, walking out into the late afternoon with my brand new baby snuggled against me.

The other one was a week or so later, when I got up during the night to feed her. After I went back to bed, and she settled down again to sleep, for almost half a minute I could hear all four of my sweethearts breathing softly in the stillness; Mark, Andy, Hunter, and Morgan. Eventually someone broke the pattern and stirred, but those several seconds were a perfect moment.

All About Morgan

2011-12-04T15:13:00.000-08:00

Soooo..... Where to begin? I constantly think of things I want to post about, but always draw a blank when I finally get time to sit here. Lol. Her hair is so much lighter now, and getting a definite red tint. She is about to outgrow the biggest of her 0-3 months outfits. She also is having an awful lot of trouble nursing without swallowing huge gulps of air. I started pumping today and feeding her a bottle. Which she loathes, hehe. I hate to miss out on breastfeeding, but we have no comfortable place to sit and my back is killing me. Add to that having to spend an hour out of every three nursing her because of all the air swallowing, plus having to burp her several times in between, and it just seems totally impractical. She will still be healthy, my back will fell much better, and I will savetime. Plus hopefully have a happier and less colicky baby. After she accepts the bottle. Meanwhile, I'm still breastfeeding her afterwards to ease the transition.

I'll miss seeing her sweet little face from that angle, though. And having her little hands holding tight to me. Breastfeeding is my favorite thing about having a baby.

She wants to be involved in all we are doing. I wanted to get her a bouncy seat with the activity bar, but realized when I went to buy one that she will outgrow it within another 6 weeks. So I decided to take advantage of the Black Friday sales, and with the gift cards we got at the baby shower plus $5, I got an exersaucer. She can't really sit up in it yet for more than a few minutes, and I have to prop her up with a blanket, and her feet can't reach the bottom. But it's going to last a lot longer. In the meantime, she's getting very annoyed at being put down regularly.

Mark still adores her, almost obsessively. He looks at her first thing when he comes in at night. She is starting to smile and make baby talk, and it's so cool. Andy is very impatient with her, and dangerously unconscious of her presence in that small space. Our house has become actually hazardous. Hunter loves her, and is very helpful, but also treats her a little too much like a puppet, lol. I have to remind him often not to open her eyes, turn her head, or pull her hands or feet in a particular direction.

She also has three doting little cousins in my three local nieces, who range from 1.5-3 years old. The oldest especially cannot stay away from her. It's really sweet.

I got professional pictures taken with another coupon, and we got a really spectacular one. I was heartbroken over some of the ones I had to pass up due to money, but the one we did get was amazing.

More later, hehe. It took me all week to type this so don't hold your breath. :)

Free Range Kids

2011-11-26T08:16:00.000-08:00

This past week was my Mom's birthday, and one of my brothers thanked her on Facebook for raising "free range kids." And it's true. More and more these days I realize just how different my own upbringing was from my siblings, and I'm gaining more respect for their point of view. That's not what I'm writing about today though. I like the line, because I think that's what most of the people I connect with over parenting are trying to do. Raise "free range kids." In different ways, perhaps, but still with that goal.

I had Andy's parent/teacher conference this week. It was very encouraging. He does well academically, and loves being challenged, and it appears this teacher is a good match for him. His word skills have doubled (by whatever confusing standard of measurement they use) since September, his math is right on course, and while his reading level for accuracy is fairly average, he is way ahead in comprehension skills.

His teacher mentioned that he expresses himself through his drawings. That was a light bulb for me. I've always told him what a good artist he is, but in fact he isn't good from a skill standpoint. It's the amount of expression he conveys in the scribbles that is so amazing. And I decided to stop worrying about what Mark will think and let him draw as much as he wants. We just have to find a way to keep the papers put away. Somewhere. In a fourth dimension. Mark threw away all the paper while I was staying at Mom's, and has a fit every time he sees more, so I've been trying to push Andy in other directions. But he needs to draw.

Hunter's conference last week also provided a light bulb. I've always blamed Mark's OCD for neatness on his mom's behavior, since cleaning was always her outlet, and was one of the ways he could deter her from getting mad at him. But apparently Hunter is the same way, at school. I guess he just feels overwhelmed at home and doesn't bring it up. His teacher said when they have playtime, if the rug gets too cluttered he stops playing, starts to become agitated and asks if it's clean-up time yet. I know now why he gets so angry when Andy blames his own messes on Hunter, and why he is always eager to help clean up even if it's Andy's chore. I thought he was just trying to save Andy the trouble, and have been making him leave it for Andy.

Time to rearrange some of my household strategies.

Morgan weighs nearly 12 lbs. She will outgrow the bassinet in just a couple more months I think. Yikes. Where am I going to put a crib?! Our whole house is smaller than Andy's classroom.

I am very glad I decided to send him to school this year. I'm starting to realize that our school district really is one of the best, academically. If we move closer to Mark's new job (which we have to if he keeps the job, and he had better keep it!), I want to wait until the school year is out. I don't know that I'd be so quick to put him in the school district we'd move to. It's not a bad area, but people have moved here from there just because of the schools. Still, we need to be away from here for other reasons. An hour's drive between us and the Other Mother would be fantastic. And I really like the area as far as the landscape.

Mark went into a treatment program last week. I am so glad. He has to go every morning at a ridiculous hour, so at least it's a program that requires commitment. And they are making him see a counselor.

The church threw a baby shower for us on Sunday during their once-a-month Fellowship Luncheon. It was so lovely. And I got professional portraits of Morgan on Monday, while she still has her hair - yayyy! The pictures were amazing. I only wish I could have purchased more.

I'm making our Thanksgiving dinner tonight. It works out better that way.

Fall is awesome

2011-11-14T12:40:00.000-08:00

My only regret with being laid up at Mom's for two weeks is that I missed the fall peak. But it was worth it. I am eternally grateful to her for taking care of me to make sure I had a good head start on my recovery.

Plus, she reminded me again what good cooking can taste like! I feel inspired once more. Now that I can reach the stove and sink, I can bake and cook good meals again.

My little brother left for OK to stay with our sister for a few months, so my two weeks were blessedly peaceful. That has made it hard for me and Morgan both to adjust to the chaos of the cabin. I cherish the few short hours when both boys are in school. And even after Hunter gets home it's not too bad. He is quiet and mostly helpful on his own. Andy is the chaotic one these days, but Hunter is the antagonist.

I have been agonizing over whether or not I should go back to work, and I just can't see it happening. My social worker is trying his level best to cut us off of food stamps, will not answer any calls, would not let me talk more than a few seconds at a time when he called me, and it will be really hard to go to court without a car or a babysitter. But I don't see a choice. Andy's behavior had fallen through the floor when I went to work last year, especially after we moved in with my parents last fall and Mark ended up spending most of his time with them while work was scarce. The two weeks after Morgan's birth, they pretty much ate cereal and sweets at night and on weekends, and watched grossly inappropriate shows on the TV. I decided not to freak out over it and just get through the time, and when I moved back in I collected all the problem DVDs and hid them. And I may have to hide more. Andy doesn't listen to a word I say, he screams and yells constantly, he kicks Hunter, he fights over EVERYTHING, and I am at my wits' end with him.

He is doing great with his math skills in school, and reading was never a problem for him. Penmanship is a struggle. His teacher constantly puts reminders on his papers about spacing and punctuation, but he refuses to pay attention. Ugh. I have his parent/teacher conference next week, and that should be interesting. I am happy with how independent he is, though, and he is learning to solve problems with other kids. Now if only I could get him to solve problems with Hunter......

As the cold weather closes in, that cabin feels dreadfully claustrophobic. My parents got us the futon, so at least we have a teensy bit of floor space in the livingroom instead of having a mattress on the floor. But the low ceilings and crowded shelves still make me feel manic at times. And I fell down the small, narrow staircase the other night. Thank God I wasn't holding the baby.

Speaking of Morgan, she weighs about 11.5 lbs. now and has a big double chin, lol. She also has the sniffles. :( Which doesn't help with all her air swallowing. That's her biggest trouble with breastfeeding. I can't seem to fix it. Her hair is still there, though. I'm hoping it doesn't fall out until after the photo appointment we have next week. She'll be a tall one; she's outgrown several outfits already.

Mark practically worships her. He holds her at every opportunity (I had to pretty much DEMAND that he hold the boys) and says she's the most beautiful thing in the whole world. He gets a kick out of what he calls her "foraging;" that head-bobbing thing that breast-feeding babies do on your shoulder. I'm glad he's responding well to her. Maybe a new baby and a new job will bring some new life to him and to our family. I can only hope. And make sure I don't count on it.

The new job is far enough away that we would need to move at some point soon, which would be great. Not too far to visit, but not on the Other Mother's way home either. Isn't once a week often enough?! But although nothing has or really ever will change with her, I just don't feel like ruining my day by talking about it.

If any of my readers have experience with IUDs, I'd appreciate your input. I'm probably going to get one. They make one that has no hormone, but can cause heavier and more painful periods in the beginning; and mine are already pretty bad. Then the Mirena is said to only have a little hormone, but I'm so reactive to things that even a little might throw me off emotionally.

I am feeling much less depressed since the birth, and back to being angry instead, hehe. But in a calmer and more determined way. I'm still trying to find a daily routine that works for me and the kids, which is hard. But I'm sure eventually we will. The midwives had sent me to a hematologist because my platelets were so low, and she mentioned that a B12 deficiency can cause anemia and affect your mood. I had wondered since the prescription vitamins I was taking seemed to drastically improve my overall wellbeing. So I've been taking B12 and plan to keep taking it. I've always been anemic and I guess maybe that's why.

Gotta go; I've run out of computer time according to Morgan. :)

The News

2011-11-12T10:54:00.001-08:00

Well, the week was going nicely. Then the Penn State story broke. I'm rather glad it made national headlines since that saves me the trouble of explaining to everyone what I'm talking about.

As you may imagine, there's a huge rant here waiting to come out. But since I have motherhood to tend to, I'll just try to condense it.

My biggest problem with all this? They fired the famous guy whose inaction embarrassed them, but the one nobody heard of who actually WITNESSED THE RAPE OF A CHILD wasn't fired! As of yesterday, at least. No doubt public outcry will remedy that shortly. His ass should have been out on the curb before the story ever hit the news, and charges of conspiracy filed by the DA. What is wrong with people?

A writer for the local paper said it perfectly when he wrote that McQueary "will always be the guy who saw a big man hurting a little boy.... and did nothing to stop it." Yes, he will. And for that he deserves to share a cell with the actual perpetrator.

Who, by the way, is free on bail.

Maybe vigilantes are good for something after all, since he's reportedly had to go into hiding due to the threats.

I saw a marquis on the highway that said something about how the team will suck now. I suppose they mean because dear old "Joe-Pa" is gone. I wished I could put a brick through it.

I have nicer things to say about other subjects, but those require more time than I have now.

I should add, though, that MARK GOT A JOB!!! :DDDD A really good one, working along the river for the Department of Environmental Affairs. He starts in a week. I am so glad. I hope this turns out to be the break we needed to get back on track financially. I will elaborate another day.

More Photos

2011-11-07T17:23:00.000-08:00

Mom took this photo for me.

I love how she smiled just then. Even if it is gas.

Her hair is already getting lighter.......

Photos at last

2011-10-22T10:37:00.000-07:00

So, finally I have some uploadable photos. :) These were all taken yesterday. The only newborn photos we have are on cellphones.

I got my wish for a dark-haired baby finally. As a newborn she looked just like Mark's newborn photo. Since his hair fell out and came in darker, and ours falls out and comes in lighter, it will be interesting to see which hers does.

My sister-in-law made this hat for her, and it is so adorable. With her dark complexion she looks like a little Indian maiden.

You can see her hair better here. She has the cutest little nose too. And actual earlobes! I'm jealous. As tempting as it might be to get them pierced, though, I won't. I feel like that would be stealing a milestone from her later on.

Mark glows when he sees her. She's the first baby he has held willingly. (Even my Dad wasn't going to hold her, he said he likes to wait until they bounce. Haha. My mom set him straight.) I think we have a Daddy's girl.

So, today I'm chilling out with Hunter and Morgan while my parents are looking at wood stoves and Mark is at work with Andy. Hunter has been looking very sad and left out lately, and I'm glad for the time with him. He's happy about being a big brother, but very upset when the baby cries. Andy is more practical. He loves to hold her, sing songs to her, and manhandle her until I have to remind him that she is not a drum and patting is supposed to be gentle. He's very upset that we didn't name her Matilda, and still calls her Matilda and sings "Waltzing Matilda" to her every day. That's fine with me.

Having mixed genders among the kids makes all those curious questions so much easier to answer. Hunter was horrified to discover that girls poop from their bellies (her umbilical cord stub), lol. I tried to explain what it was but he was still grossed out that I wouldn't wipe it off. When I told them she was hungry, they both took off for the kitchen, shoving and pulling and shouting "I want to feed her!" "No, me!" "Please Mommy can I have the first turn to feed her?" It was a few minutes before they calmed down enough to realize that I wasn't just feeding her, she had to actually eat from me. Andy shrugged it off and moved on as soon as he realized what I meant, but Hunter keeps hovering whenever he's there to make sure she is getting real food. He can't quite understand how the whole process gets food into her. He was a nervous wreck this morning when she had a major dirty diaper and was screaming by the time I got to nursing her. He watched anxiously while I waited for her very tiny mouth to open wide enough, and when she finally started nursing he took a deep breath and said, "Ok, now she's getting the food." Hehe.

Nursing is painful with her. She has such a very small mouth, and a powerful suck, and I have blood blisters and scabs from it. I hope they go away soon. She's getting into about a 3 hour routine, and the last two nights has gone for a 5-hour stretch, which means I get 4 hours of sleep. She never had any trouble latching on; when they handed her to me in the delivery room several minutes after birth, she chomped down right away. Ouch. I had meant to have her stay in my room at all times, but I was so thankful for the nursery the second night. I'd have gotten no sleep otherwise.

Anyway, she's waking up and Hunter is tired of decorating himself with washable markers, so it's time to go. Take care all.

She's Finally Here!!!!

2011-10-17T16:24:00.000-07:00

Well, Morgan has finally condescended to grace us with her presence. :) After a week of stomach flu that either exacerbated the false labor, or was exacerbated by it, I went to the hospital on Saturday night because I started having the shakes and bleeding a little. Neither of which I'd had with the boys. Something seemed weird. They said I wasn't in labor, just lots of pain because of the flu, and at 12:30 AM were still trying to send me home. Finally around 1 AM I asked for pain medication, because I couldn't move and I felt like my stomach was going to rip open. Plus I was bleeding so much I was scared to leave. (We live 40 minutes from that hospital.) They said the midwife had to approve, and eventually called her. The midwife decided to come in and see what was going on, and she was only 20 minutes away so said not to give me any until she arrived. I was horrified, thinking I might be facing several hours of this because no one was taking me seriously. But Morgan beat her there at 1:49 AM, so it became a moot point. :D At least she was quick once she decided to make an appearance.

So, the 16th grandchild was born on the 16th of October, weighing ...... *gasp* ....... 9lbs 1oz. So much for watching my sugar! She's the spitting image of Mark, hehe. Quite the little athlete, I predict. When she starts really running around I think Hunter might forget that she's not a little brother.

When I have some photos to post I will put them up. Hopefully later this week.

Summer in Photo Review

2011-10-08T09:10:00.000-07:00

Since Baby Girl is still taking her good old time :( I decided to post some pics from my old phone.

This was at the Lego Store right after I got the phone.

Andy at the back door of our cabin.

Hunter and one of his cousins.

Blowing bubbles on the front porch.

Lunch after strawberry picking.

Andy with the giant cake my mom made to celebrate Patrick Henry's 275th birthday. She invited the homeschooling families from the surrounding area to come over for activities. Andy recited part of his famous "Liberty or Death" speech and got a special button. :)

Showing off the candy they collected at the parade.

Andy with his two best friends at a birthday party.

Decorating Hunter's homemade Super Mario birthday cake.

Seeing a dolphin at the aquarium.

Andy's favorite pal.

Bugeyes at the preschool.

In the neighbor's tire swing, while waiting for Andy's bus.

Headed to first grade. :)

Hunter suddenly discovers a love of coloring after refusing to even try for years. And he's good at it!

Here and there

2011-10-05T07:19:00.000-07:00

I've been getting impatient for this baby. She's growing fast; I've gained four pounds in two weeks and it's not showing anywhere but my belly, which no longer fits into most of my maternity pants. :( It's getting too cold for skirts, and buying bigger pants only a few days before I'm due is out of the question. Ugh.

Both boys caught the flu this week, but thank God so far I feel fine. Just in case, I'm taking oscillococcinum (a homeopathic flu medicine that works well for me) as an added precaution. Hunter missed a day of school, Andy's missing his second, but we're getting extra homework done so it's not bad.

My parents kindly ordered us a futon with a bunk, and the company wasn't exactly up front about the time involved or the requirements for delivery. Mom tried to cancel the order and they said she'd have to pay a fat restocking fee because it had already left the warehouse. Funny thing, a week later we still haven't gotten their 24 hours notice for delivery. Liars. I just hope they don't decide to deliver on the day Baby Girl arrives, since they require us to unload the truck or pay an extra $100 for re-delivery. Not to mention the furniture that has to be moved out to make room for it.

Mark had a bad weekend and told me some more about his childhood. He's been very disturbed since talking to the counselor. He still hasn't set up regular appointments. He keeps saying they will think he's creepy, or he knows they won't believe him, or he doesn't think a woman can relate to where he's coming from. I asked if he would rather talk to a man, and of course he said no immediately. I'm trying to be patient. I know it must be really hard to break this ice. But he has to eventually, and he's put it off so long.

I decided I'm going to put the things he tells me on a flash drive and keep it hidden. I've struggled with not wanting to remember it, because he has to live with these memories every night. I discovered Violence Unsilenced in an effort to acclimate myself more to what he was telling me, but it's still not the same. Some of the stories cost me some sleep, but I don't have to live with those people and see the effects of the abuse in their daily lives. So I can eventually move on. I find that impossible to do with Mark. And he tells me things that people who write down their stories may hint at, but you just don't write those sorts of things in detail.

I have thought that I should write it down so I can let myself forget, but I'm terrified of someone finding it. These aren't things anyone would want other people to know happened to them. Especially their kids. I can't take any chance of Andy and Hunter finding these things. So I think I will store it on a flash drive, and if he ever needs it, it will be there. And I won't have to remember it so that he can forget.

Some of it had to do with his father, and was very depressing. He may have been a kind, loving person who wouldn't deliberately hurt anyone, but apparently he exposed Mark to a great deal of drug usage and to drugs at a young age. That makes me so sad.

The rest of it just makes me want to kill the Other Mother and The Wretch (her mother). It's simply not possible that they could have been completely unaware of this stuff. I loathe and abhor them more every day. Out of respect for the kids, I will refrain from dancing on their graves when they die, though I will probably spit on Gloria's when no one is looking. But I hope to God they are taken out of Mark's life for good before he is completely lost. He will never fully heal as long as they are in contact with him.

Things are going to get ugly with The Other Mother soon, I feel it. She is now dropping by the house unnanounced and inviting herself back, calling me every day to talk about Mark's back problems and what she thinks are his religious problems, and it will only get worse after the baby is born. She is going to force a confrontation; and I'm putting it off as long as possible but when it comes, I'm not pulling any punches any more. I'm done with her. Forever. I have been for a long time, and she is refusing to read the message. So I guess it's time I screamed it in her face and let the chips fall. I'm not letting her have the kind of relationship with my daughter that I mistakenly allowed with my boys.

Sabbatical

2011-10-01T16:32:00.000-07:00

I may not blog much for a while. I'm due in one week, I switched to a pay-as-you-go number because the phone bill was too much, and I won't be online as much for a while. So, just letting you guys know. I will be sure to post after the baby is born.

Good grief

2011-09-28T08:38:00.001-07:00

This has been a crazy few days. I went to the consignment sale on Saturday morning. I had $200 to spend and Mark said he had a small check to cash, so I spent most of it. I got so many cute outfits, plus fall clothes for Andy and a pair of well worn Italian leather sneakers to replace his Skechers that are falling apart. He likes worn shoes anyway. It was a great morning, and my mom very kindly waited in the line of 50 people with all my stuff while I went home to rest. It was almost 90 minutes before she got back.

We untagged all the clothes and I started doing baby laundry. Mark left on a bad note because he took $20 from my wallet when he left and refused to admit it. Sure, okay, somehow it magically vanished on my walk home even though it was in there when I left the sale after giving my mom money for my stuff. He always does this. Then he supposably couldn't cash the check because of the I.D. problem, even though it was a small one. But his mom wanted some little things done, and said she would pay him. She'd been calling me every day telling me she wanted to give me $100 or so for baby stuff, but I know her well enough not to count on that. Not because she's stingy, by any means. It's just that she doesn't let a lack of ability dampen the size of her promises in any way. She merely gets angry if you hold her to them.

So, I figured she'd at least pay him for his work. I wanted to get the boys haircuts that day. He took Andy with him, which also annoyed me because both of them spoil Andy rotten and are always looking to please him, but leave Hunter by the way since he's not as demanding. I spent the afternoon at my parent's house watching Grandmom and sorting baby clothes with Hunter.

Mark called late in the afternoon. He said his mom had given Andy money to buy a video game, but Andy left it there and was it worth going back for, or should he just let Andy spend the seven dollars he had on him. I asked if his mom paid him, and he said something about her not having cash so she let him put gas in the truck with her debit card. I started screaming. It was just the last straw. Really? You take what little money I have left, don't cash the check you told me you'd have within an hour, spend all afternoon working at her house while our house desperately needs cleaning that I can't do at 38 weeks. And all you come back with is a half tank of gas and money for another cursed video game?
I told him that he and his mom could both go f#@% themselves and hung up. Mature, I know. But it was certainly true to my feelings.

He called back and said something about her and a baby shower I wasn't supposed to know about. That was just insult to injury.

I told him I didn't want a baby shower, I just bought everything, I needed money for bills and groceries and everything else, I hate his family and the last thing I want to do is sit in a room with them and pretend to be happy about it. And hung up again.

I spent the rest of the weekend crying. I just can't fake it with her any more. I'm sick of Mark not taking it seriously, I'm sick of him not taking our finances seriously, I'm sick of her feeding Andy craploads of sweets every time she sees him and giving him tons of junk to bring home so I can be the bad guy and throw it all away because there's no place for it. And I'm sick of Mark letting that go on too. Andy was a monster for the next three days. All he ate all day with her was cake and ice cream and candy. She could give a rat's ass about the boys' health. All she wants is their attention. And I am just done cleaning up her messes. In Mark's life, in the kids' lives, and in my own life.

So we didn't talk all weekend, and I slept upstairs and cried all night, and Mark slept downstairs and cried all night, and early Monday morning I came to the conclusion that the only way I can live with her existence is to go on antidepressants. The alternative, since Mark can't leave her, is to eliminate him from our lives. And that's not good for the boys. I thought he would be staying at his Dad's, since he never wanted to leave; but now that he's out he doesn't want to go back. And nowhere else he would stay is a place I'd let the boys go. Plus she'd still probably assume she was welcome. If she can decide to forget what I said last Thanksgiving, nothing I say will ever get rid of her.

To get antidepressants, though, I have to go to the community hospital in the city and walk in. We're talking probably a whole day for the intake. And I haven't had the time yet. I may not at this point.
Monday evening I went over to my brother's house to look at baby clothes with my SIL. Turns out that was the baby shower. And Mark's mom put the money in a card for me.

I still don't know what to say. Whatever possessed my brother to invite her is beyond me. I know we can't relate to each other much, but I guess the disconnect is a lot bigger than I thought.

It was a very nice shower. Everyone bought things I could still use, all the boring stuff that no one likes to buy but costs big money. And that I deeply appreciate. I have lots of diapers and wipes, baby products, towels and washcloths, receiving blankets, bibs, bedding, nursing pads, and a beautiful diaper bag - yayyyy! Plus three more absolutely gorgeous little outfits.

I spent the money she gave me on nursing clothes, which seem to be in amazingly short supply. I've been hunting for weeks now and found only a few tops, a couple nursing tanks, and a sleep bra. I guess breastfeeding just isn't as popular as I assumed.

I still don't know what to say to Mark. I was immensely relieved that it wasn't her family doing the shower. I still feel the same way about her. I'm still furious that he took the rest of my money and refused to admit it. And that he didn't think it was important to bring it back. I'm still not letting Andy go back to her house with him, because there is no excuse for all that sugar and another freaking game and bag full of crap I have to throw out. But I feel awful that our whole weekend was ruined over something he couldn't tell me. I just don't know how to handle this screwed up situation any more. I need her gone. Nothing she ever does for us could make up for what she's already done TO us. I wish she'd just stop pretending.

Meanwhile, though, I've had a ridiculous amount of energy the past couple of days, and got everything I can think of ready for the birth. Now I just have to wait.

The last days

2011-09-24T04:12:00.001-07:00

Of pregnancy, that is. Lol, you really thought I had something epic to say at this stage?

Couldn't resist.

I have given up writing anything long from my phone. Twice in the past month I've had a very long post almost finished, only to have someone call me and scrap the whole thing. Something to do with the battery being too low to access the server and save it. Even if I don't answer the phone, it still disappears. Oh technology, how I loathe you
.
Yesterday I had to watch my grandmother for a while, so I thought maybe I'd post something after catching up on all the printing I have been putting off. But Mom took the computer with her. I give up.

School is going well for the boys. Mark finally contacted SOAR and has talked to them a couple times. The police finally decided to interview people about the robberies earlier this year, so they talked to Mark and I and who knows who else. The kids' consignment sale I've been waiting for is this morning, and I can't wait. Baby stuff! I bought a bottle of Dreft to wash everything in, and decided unless she breaks out terribly, I will stick to the free-clear stuff we use for ourselves. That Dreft is like buying gold laundry detergent! Highway robbery. Plain and simple.

I started taking arnica in anticipation of labor, and I wonder if it has made a difference in how I feel already. I've been so sore from the pressure that walking and sitting were very uncomfortable. But the last few days I feel much more mobile. I also finally got enough money to buy more cod liver oil for my joints, which makes a huge difference at any time and no doubt helps my mobility as well. Here's hoping it lasts.

Next expense? Nursing clothes. Ugh. And diapers. And a bed. I can't sleep on the floor with a baby all winter. This isn't Belize.

One of the other moms from the preschool gave me her car seat and stroller, and a portable bassinet. That was wonderful. One less expense to worry about. She is from Mexico and has the neatest baby wrap I ever saw. It's like a long, wide scarf that stretches just a bit, and she tucks it around the baby and walks hands-free. It looks so much more comfortable than a sling. I have to find one.

Anyway, it may be a while before I post anything real long. Or have a chance to comment. But I'm still reading regularly. Happy fall!

Baptism

2011-09-13T07:43:00.000-07:00

I have never been happy with my baptism. When I joined the community church I attend, I briefly mentioned it to the pastor, but without really explaining why. He said he felt that it was the state of my heart that mattered, not the circumstances or the person who performed the ritual. But it doesn't set right with me.

I got saved/asked Jesus to come into my heart/committed my life to God at the age of 7. Whatever you want to call it, it was real. And life-changing. It also wasn't some sort of instant cure for all of life's ills as many Protestants seem to believe. Of course, the next step was to be baptized. I assumed it would be immersion in a creek or pond. I didn't like the idea of it being public, but we were supposed to be declaring our commitment to the world, so that meant having to put up with people staring at me.

My memories that far back are not entirely clear. It seems to me that I had wanted to be baptized by the pastor of the chapel we had sometimes attended before my 4th brother was born. Whether I expressed this wish, I don't remember. I asked my mother about it, and she said that our family had been disinvited to the chapel by that time due to differing religious beliefs.

All I know for sure is, that in the end, my mother's mentor June traveled up from Tennessee to baptize me herself. She laid a towel on my parents' hall floor, poured a pitcher of water over my head, and declared me baptized. I was shocked, confused, and angry, but didn't dare let it show. When I questioned how you could baptize someone with a pitcher, I heard a long spiel about how there was no way John the Baptist could have immersed all those people, clearly he must have used pouring or sprinkling (both accepted methods by the Orthodox Church IF circumstances prevent immersion), and I knew better than to argue. I felt like crying all day. It was not at all the joyful and blessed experience I had anticipated. I got wet in front of my family and the boss said some prayers over me. Big deal.

Of course I felt profoundly guilty for not being thrilled, so I hid my reaction carefully. Over time, I came to much the same conclusion that my pastor expressed: I knew that my commitment was real, and that's what mattered.

I never subscribed to the Baptist belief that one's salvation is not complete until immersion. I am not sure I believe in the doctrine of instant and complete salvation anyway. But after going through the adult period of questioning God and religion in general, and renewing my commitment to Christ with a different outlook, I have been increasingly unhappy with that event.

Ultimately, it isn't the method that bothers me. It's the person who did it. I feel that I was baptized by a cult leader. It's very hard for me to put that in writing. But it's true. When I started researching Orthodox Christianity, I put the idea of rebaptism on hold, because I didn't want to be rebaptized into the Protestant Church if I really didn't believe their tenets.

This past Sunday I went back to St. Michael's. Mark didn't go. I started getting serious about the Orthodox because he has always said that's what he believes. But after attending there a few times, it's obvious to me that he actually has no intention of attending any church with us. No matter what denomination, culture, or creed. So I have to decide for myself where I feel closest to God.

I believe more in the doctrines voiced by the Orthodox. But I can't pray to Mary and the saints. It's too foreign a concept to me, and I see nothing in Christ's teachings to support it. From the standpoint of simply talking to our loved ones or to good people we believe are in heaven, I can handle that. But I just can't call it prayer. I've cried to Mark's Pop-pop a few times. I don't know where he is, or if he knows, but it makes me feel better to think someone else out there still cares about Mark. I wouldn't call it prayer, though. I believe in guardian angels, and maybe that's all the "patron saints" assigned to infants in the early church really are in the end.

Also, I miss the singing of hymns as opposed to the chanting. I have no objection to the chanting. I always feel blessed by the concentration on worship at St. Michael's. But there is all the ritual on top of it, and much of that I find impossible to follow or feel a connection to. The fellowship there is certainly more to my liking. No one tries to pet me or hug me, and they somehow manage to be much more outgoing and communicative without hovering. It helps not being the youngest family in the church, no doubt. Old people are always more obsessive towards young people, and my church is mostly the 50-80 age group. In fact, I doubt there are more than a few under 60 if you don't count the teenage and adult children of some members. So that's just the dynamic of the place, not really a reflection of their doctrine. Still, it makes me uncomfortable.

But I concluded that I want to be rebaptized by my current pastor. I'm not comfortable being baptized Orthodox; I don't think I can embrace their mode of worship fully enough. I will continue to visit there. I hope that doesn't cause my pastor to be uncomfortable rebaptizing me. It's time for me to start being honest about my beliefs though. And my questions in the areas I'm not settled on yet.

The Battle of Blenheim - or, Am I A Pacifist?

2011-09-10T07:25:00.000-07:00

THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM

by: Robert Southey (1774-1843)

T was a summer evening,
Old Kaspar's work was done,
And he before his cottage door
Was sitting in the sun,
And by him sported on the green
His little grandchild Wilhelmine.

She saw her brother Peterkin
Roll something large and round
Which he beside the rivulet
In playing there had found;
He came to ask what he had found,
That was so large, and smooth, and round.

Old Kaspar took it from the boy,
Who stood expectant by;
And then the old man shook his head,
And with a natural sigh,
"'Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he,
"Who fell in the great victory.

"I find them in the garden,
For there's many here about;
And often when I go to plough,
The ploughshare turns them out!
For many thousand men," said he,
"Were slain in that great victory."

"Now tell us what 'twas all about,"
Young Peterkin, he cries;
And little Wilhelmine looks up
With wonder-waiting eyes;
"Now tell us all about the war,
And what they fought each other for."

"It was the English," Kaspar cried,
"Who put the French to rout;
But what they fought each other for
I could not well make out;
But everybody said," quoth he,
"That 'twas a famous victory.

"My father lived at Blenheim then,
Yon little stream hard by;
They burnt his dwelling to the ground,
And he was forced to fly;
So with his wife and child he fled,
Nor had he where to rest his head.

"With fire and sword the country round
Was wasted far and wide,
And many a childing mother then,
And new-born baby died;
But things like that, you know, must be
At every famous victory.

"They said it was a shocking sight
After the field was won;
For many thousand bodies here
Lay rotting in the sun;
But things like that, you know, must be
After a famous victory.

"Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won,
And our good Prince Eugene."
"Why, 'twas a very wicked thing!"
Said little Wilhelmine.
"Nay ... nay ... my little girl," quoth he,
"It was a famous victory."

"And everybody praised the Duke
Who this great fight did win."
"But what good came of it at last?"
Quoth little Peterkin.
"Why, that I cannot tell," said he,
"But 'twas a famous victory."

I began to learn about the abandoned POWs because we met veterans of the Korean and Vietnam wars. One of them I corresponded with through most of my teens, and then very loosely as an adult; and he sent me many articles and old newspaper clippings. I loved getting his letters because he was a good sketch artist and always drew funny or pointed political/military cartoons on the envelopes. I never had the chance to meet him in real life. The closest I came was having him pointed out to me over the heads of a crowd at the Korean War Memorial dedication. Last year I sent him our New Year's card with a request to forward, and the people who received it were kind enough to return it with the date of his passing.

I have kept that pile of articles, letters, and artwork, and I always intend to. It had a strong impact on my life. We were taught that pacifism was evil and cowardly, the result of persons being too weak and lazy to stand up for their rights. At the same time, my family being a "hybrid" as Mark once described, and willing to think rationally, my parents had great respect for William Penn, the Quaker who founded Philadelphia, and his writings.

I'm not sure what, if anything, my mom and the veteran with whom I corresponded thought I would glean from the war history I was given. But over time, I think that like the poet, what ultimately stood out to me was the futility and cruelty of war. I have gone from viewing it as a heroic thing, with clearly defined good and evil sides, through a period of disillusionment where I realized that wicked people on both sides manipulate the events for their own ends. And today? I think I might be a pacifist.

Not that I have a passive nature, mind you. I am partially Scotch-Irish, after all. I prefer to always react aggressively in a one-on-one situation. Having children toned me down a lot. As a teen and young adult I was fiercely defiant. I have never been afraid of death, from a personal standpoint. Perhaps in part because I never found anything to live for. Once I became a mother, that changed. Now the worst that can happen is not my death, but the fallout for these little persons entrusted to my care.

When I told my mom that Mark and I were separating, one of the things she mentioned was that she had told my dad long ago, when she saw the relationship developing between us, that I had found my own personal POW to rescue. Yeah, I guess that's true. I can't deny that I was drawn to him mostly because I resented the treatment he received from his so-called family, and the unfairness of his life. I have ever been ready to fight back against bullies, especially bullies in authority, and that will never change. But the way I prefer to fight certainly has.

My family are all major Second Amendment advocates. I think I'm the only adult child who has not gotten a carry permit, and they used to constantly ask me when I was going to. The overriding factor by far has certainly been Mark and his brother's lifestyle. It would be terribly irresponsible of me to keep a deadly weapon in a house where someone is frequently suicidal, and very stupid when I never knew what illegal substances - or wanted persons - might be around. The police were never called to our house, partially because a local officer lived next door to my in-laws and chose to handle things himself whenever he felt they were escalating. Not to mention it was always convenient for avoiding violent confrontations if someone got really wasted, to say, "Hey, keep it down, a cop lives next door!" But just in case, I wasn't about to let them find a weapon registered to me along with whatever else they might discover.

But since I wasn't willing to say all this to my family, I came up with other reasons. And realized that I truly felt that way. The other reasons were things like, I'm not the type to reach for a gun if someone breaks in; I don't focus that well when I wake up. I'd prefer to have a heavy floor lamp nearby because I'd rather grab something to swing. Or, I am not going to shoot someone to stop them from taking my purse. No one's money and posessions are more valuable than a human life. I might not even kill to keep from getting beaten. Then again, that's one of those things you never really know for sure unless you are in the situation. I would certainly kill to protect my children from a predator, or keep from being raped; but how do you predict those kinds of intentions far enough ahead of time? I feel safer with a knife, because I don't need to aim it, I can choose to hit with the butt end rather than cut if I think it will be effective enough, and if my kids are not present, I'm not particularly afraid of a gun if the other person has one. People die horribly painful deaths from cancer and other diseases, or accidents, every day. Getting shot is probably the easiest way to die.

Then, there's the fact that I tend to get very flustered and full of rage when I feel threatened, which is not a state of mind that lends itself to handling a gun competently. The first step to being a responsible gun owner is knowing when you aren't one. Most of my family are actually the type of citizens who really should own guns. They respect human life, believe that taking it requires an extreme threat, and are not reactionary under pressure. My dad was a firearms instructor during his years in the military, and the first thing he taught us about guns is that their purpose is to kill, not to threaten. You never, ever draw a gun on something or someone you are not willing to kill if necessary. And I really can't think of enough situations I'd be willing to kill over, to make it worth carrying a gun.

My oldest brother once blasted the gun rights advocates who were calling into a news program talking loudly about their right to protect themselves from the bad guys. He pointed out that the Second Amendment had nothing to do with "bad guys" and criminals. It was put there by men who had just fought, and WON, a war against the most powerful government on the earth at that time; and they wanted to make sure their descendants could do the same. It was to ensure that the government could not outgun the citizens. Of course, nuclear warfare changes that dynamic tremendously. But that's a whole other discussion.

As time has gone on, I have concluded that I do not ever want to carry a gun. And I do not believe that war usually solves anything. I may someday own a weapon, simply so that Ruby Ridge doesn't happen to me. I hope I will never be so radical, but even the radicals have rights. And oppression always begins with the extremists and progresses to the mainstream. That's the nature of government takeover. Like boiling a frog. So it's important that we maintain the human rights of the people we think are weirdos too. But I think there are much more effective ways to maintain those rights than building an arsenal and digging yourself a foxhole. Violence, even when justified, always opens the door for manipulation by those who stand to gain something monetarily. And that is the main thing I have learned from my extensive education about war. I'm not willing to be someone else's pawn.

Does that make me a pacifist?

School begins

2011-09-07T12:06:00.000-07:00

Andy started first grade yesterday. Yikes! He is loving it. I am extremely nervous, but trying not to show it. I hope today goes as well. We had a rocky start when the bus never came. Fortunately since we live within walking distance, except that there is an uncrossable major highway in between, it wasn't a big deal to drive him over. He only had a half day though, and I called to confirm the bus number and stop, which they assured me was correct. So at 10 past noon I was up there in the pouring rain with Hunter, waiting on the neighbor's porch.

After a half hour I called to see where he was, and was told the buses were all running late. Okay. Another half hour. I was getting mad. Not too worried, since I figured worst case they would take him back to the school and call me. We have no sidewalks here, it's too rural (or was when the roads were laid), so they won't let the kids off unless it's the assigned bus stop. But shivering in the rain for an hour was not in my plan for the day. Finally the bus arrived. The driver was sure they had given me the wrong bus number, and complimented Andy on the good directions he had given her. He was thrilled about his adventure, telling me how he got a tour of the whole district, hehe.

Turns out the school added our stop to her route at the last minute, and neglected to give her an updated route map. So today the bus came like it was supposed to, and hopefully drop off will go well too. He rides with the neighbor boy, and that's helpful since there will be days I may not get over there to meet him. He can just run across their backyard to get home.

He loves his teacher, the school menu looks awesome and very inexpensive, and according to the other neighbor boy, that particular teacher is a favorite among the kids. That's encouraging.

Hunter starts next week, and is very upset he doesn't get to ride on the bus with Andy. I almost wished I had put him in kindergarten there after we visited. The academic standard is about the same as the Pre-K class he's going back to, and even the small amount we have to pay after his scholarship is a difficulty. But he will be with his friends from last year, and hopefully get over his miff once he's actually started.

I had my last WIC appointment today before the baby comes. These milestones help me. I feel like things are progressing somewhere, towards something, hehe. And I found out I don't actually have to get vaccinations to stay in the program. They just would like me to think I do.

The midwives told me because of the physical issues and history of dystocia, I qualify for an elective C-section. But I don't want to go that way. I'm prepared for the possibility of ending up with one, but elective? Not now. Maybe in a few weeks, if the discomfort gets worse, I'll feel differently; but I doubt it.

I keep trying all kinds of different blanket patterns and yarns, and have not been happy with anything so far. Lol. I think I'm getting a bit ridiculous about this baby and her style. I need to chill out and just accept that her blanket will not define her.

Space issues are really getting to me. I can't turn around in that cabin. But I'm trying to cope by spending as much time at my mom's as possible. School having started will help tremendously. And I will try to lie down as much as possible during school once Hunter starts. That should make these last few weeks more bearable.

Andy lost his first tooth! I almost forgot. And another one is getting quite loose. Ahh, my handsome little man is growing up. I'm so proud of him.

Baby steps

2011-09-03T05:28:00.001-07:00

I have to say, as much as I love having babies - even labor and nursing - I truly loathe being pregnant. I hate the physical impediment it presents, and besides, who really thinks getting kicked in the rectum from inside is a pleasant experience?

One of the biggest things I hate, though, is how scattered my thoughts are. It took me nearly 24 hours to remember that I had, in fact, already laid out a bare minimum budget for Mark when he was planning to go to Connecticut (That hasn't happened because of his health and because they refused to hire him as an employee.) It would have cut the conversation much shorter, and saved me a lot of anger, if I could have remembered that right away. This month he actually came pretty close to that scraping by budget, which explains why things have been a little easier. A chunk went to Hunter's birthday, but still.

The part of me that always wanted to be a psychologist knows, somewhere deep down where rational thought still survives despite the stress and the hormones, that he has to go through these pendulum swings of self-pity and unreasonable assertion on his journey to finding himself. It's normal. And it's also incredibly hurtful to me, because he's already projected onto me for so long that I just can't take any more. It highlights the reasons why separation is important during this time. Because he has to go through this, and let his emotions and thoughts out, no matter how unreasonable they may be, in order to sort through them and begin finding a balance. And I can't be there for it. That's what counselors are for. That's why he needs a professional. I have other needs and obligations that supercede being his sounding board.

I was talking to a lady I rode the train with by phone yesterday. She is a family counselor and proponent of gentle discipline, in spite of the fact that her youngest child was killed by running out in front of a car while still a toddler. I rarely call her because I want to be friends with her, not just a needy whiner. But when I do, I always feel encouraged. She believes in keeping a marriage whenever possible, although she is divorced, and that makes her easy to talk to, because her beliefs are much like mine, but she doesn't believe in just grinning and bearing it like my mom does.

We pay rent weekly, and last night I sat down to rewrite and thoroughly explain that budget for Mark, and realized we already paid the whole month's rent because there were 5 weekends this month. Whoohoo! Now I have to decide which other need must take priority, hehe. Probably propane. Trouble is, where to hide the money if I save it. The tank will need refilling soon and will cost about $350. We have nothing set aside yet. But when I set money aside, it always vanishes. Ugh.

I'm going to the grower's market today. I haven't been there all summer, and I want some of the chamomile soap they sell for the new baby. Plus I need produce and have to spend cash for that right now. Hopefully it will be a rejuvenating morning.

Did he really say that?

2011-09-01T15:26:00.001-07:00

Mark called me this morning to tell me he bought a truck. I tried to sound as though I actually cared. He needs a vehicle badly, of course, so he can get a reliable job. I'm just not getting excited over it unless it turns out to actually make a positive change in our lives. I want to tell him to just stop telling me anything. If he wants me to know something, he can let me know by his actions. I'm sick of hearing about this or that plan. He supposedly had bought a van several months ago too, and all I ever saw of it was the money that disappeared under its guise. The body shop he said was working on it was suspiciously close to where Tim lived, and maybe the fact that he moved explains why Mark hasn't mentioned the van recently.

Well, I guess the truck is real, because he showed up in it. He needed to get money together for the title transfer. I just spent the money he had given me on groceries, since our food stamps don't last a whole month due to him eating here although the county has him as living at his dad's. He has never changed his address from there in all the time we've been married. So I didn't have any. And the money someone from church sent me at the old address, which he told me about on Sunday because he presumed to open it, has been conveniently "lost." Whatever.

Anyway, I tried to seem positive for the boys and told them to go see Papa's new truck, complimented his find, etc. He mentioned that he got it through the Turd in exchange for all the missing back pay, which was supposed to go to my parents to replace the bail money. But a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, and I said as much. I never really believed we'd get that money anyway.

After he left he called to ask if I wanted to go for a ride in it tonight. I said sure. Honestly, I don't. It's his truck, it's not big enough for the kids, the only way it will benefit me is if he actually gets a real job with it. But so that he doesn't feel worthless and despised, I pretended I wanted to.

He went on to remind me that transferring the title and getting insurance will take up a good bit of the money that he has coming. He added that the toolbox is going to cost him an additional $250. Ok, whatever, it's a good toolbox already installed and he needs one. Plus he owes another $500 on the truck. Whatever. We're separated, right? What do I care? Even though lately he seems to have missed the bulletin and expects me to leave the door unlocked every night so he can come in late.

I've been pushing about the futon with upper bunk that I planned on getting for this cabin before we ever moved in. It's increasingly difficult for me to get up off the sofa, downright dangerous in fact with him sleeping on a mattress right in front of it. Plus he kept allowing the kids to sleep on the only remaining floor space at the end until they now take it for granted. One of these nights I am really going to hurt myself and someone else by falling down in the dark when I get up to use the upstairs bathroom. A futon would solve most of the space problems and make room for a bassinet, which we don't have.

Anyway, he mentioned that futons will have to wait another couple weeks, and asked why he can't just build the kids some bunk beds upstairs. Umm, because the roof slopes deeply on both sides, remember? And this after he asked the other day why he and the boys can't just sleep downstairs the way they already do, and I sleep on my old bed upstairs with the baby. Well, for starters, you don't live here, remember? I didn't say that though. I got rid of my old bed, which was falling apart, because it took up the entire room and the boys need at least a little floor space for playing. Especially over the winter. (He disagrees.) Plus they will just insist on sleeping wherever I do. And finally, how dare he try to regulate me to the upstairs after he was the one who insisted we stay here?

Still, I tried to keep my cool. I was doing okay until he went on to ask how little I could get by with until the 10th or so. How should I know? He suggested skipping the rent, and added that I shouldn't need any more groceries until the food stamps are reloaded since I just went shopping. I told him I don't want to skip rent while he still owes them for the bail, and that I will need at least another $50 for groceries since all I could get were a few days' worth of basics. I didn't even think about Hunter's very small (comparatively) tuition payment that's due. I reminded him that he will typically take back at least a hundred of what he brings home over the course of two weeks, for everyday expenses, and now gas will be added to that. He says no, he spends so much on rides that he will be saving money on gas. That's quite possible.

Then he went on to say that we would have to make some sacrifices over the next several days to make up for this truck, and where could I cut expenses? That's when I started to crack. I asked what he thinks I already do every day, and he hurried to assure me that he understands all that, I do a great job, but the futons have to wait and what else can wait? I started reminding him that my expectations have not wavered a bit since we moved in, I made it clear what we needed from the beginning and have been making do without ever since, and he is the one who insisted we stay here over the winter. He said, "Please don't start crying, I know you're right, it just seems like everything is always solved by giving you money and there's never a cheap way to do anything. It always comes back to cash flow."
I was totally speechless at that point. If I started talking I would just scream. Maybe the fact that he thinks everything is solved by giving me money explains why he has presumed to come back here every night since he gave me - Oh Joy! $600 to pay rent and a small portion of the bail, and another $400 to pay the phone bill, out of which I was able to keep somewhere around $300 to buy non-food necessities for once. Thankyou, kind sir.

When I didn't answer, he breezed on congratulating himself for giving me over $1600 in the past month. I don't think it counts as giving me money when over a thousand goes to rent and his bail debt, and he takes back money every day from the remainder, plus a chunk of it went to Hunter's birthday trip. I still didn't trust myself to say what I thought.

Then came the kicker. He asked if I got anything special for dinner. I stammered around in disbelief and finally managed to coherently ask, "Uhhh.... What?" "Well, you went grocery shopping. I mean, is there anything for me to look forward to when I come home tonight?"

WOW, ASSHOLE, I JUST CAN'T TELL! Maybe I should be the one asking that question! Do I have anything to look forward to tonight, besides rubbing your back while listening to more excuses for why we will continue to be broke a while longer? Did those words seriously just come out of your mouth?

What I actually said was that all I had gotten were the basics, nothing fancy. He sounded downcast and asked if we didn't have anything in the freezer worth making. I managed to choke out that I would come up with something (read: Go ask Miss Morgan from the mall to cook you dinner, or maybe Tim, you son of a bitch - literally), and hung up the phone, and cried my eyeballs out.

Which of course upset the boys, and when they couldn't calm me down, they ran upstairs in frustration and started fighting.

Oh, right, I'm separating for the wrong reasons. How could I forget?

Is this really singing?

2011-08-31T05:56:00.001-07:00

So, yesterday's post was a bit uncalled for. It wasn't at all what I meant to write when I sat down, but after venting about the counseling issue I just sort of ran off on all the things that are upsetting me lately.

I chose my URL because I felt like a canary who hadn't been allowed to sing, and I meant to start singing. But too much of what I write sounds more like angry squawking. No doubt it's aggravated by late pregnancy hormones, but still, I'm beginning to feel that learning to sing instead of scream is a much more difficult process than I had anticipated.

There ARE good things going on, in spite of my depression and physical drawbacks. I registered Andy for first grade yesterday, and he has his evaluation this afternoon. I'm sure that will be a breeze. We toured the school Monday evening, and after seeing the classroom, I feel I could have registered him for second grade instead. But I don't want him to be pressured academically.

I was unimpressed with the tour. It was mostly a sale for the school's "Spirit Wear" and a recruitment for Scouts. We couldn't meet the teachers, which really surprised me. But it was better than nothing. We bought the pack of school supplies, which saves me an annoying extra shopping trip during which I am guaranteed to forget something, lol. And the boys played on the playground. Andy was afraid of one playset, and broke down in tears because I couldn't help him over it. I felt bad knowing other kids will probably mock him for it, so I finally compromised by standing underneath to make the ground feel closer. Not without trepidation, knowing we'd both be injured if he fell on me. But it worked, and I was glad I did.

Hunter is competing with Andy for my attention these days, which makes things rather overwhelming at home. The prolapsing is starting to hurt as Baby Girl settles down, and I feel like I should be on a partial bedrest schedule, which is simply not possible in this small space with two active boys. So I will be very relieved when school starts. They desperately need more activity than I can provide them with right now, and it will be good for all of us when they have it.

The power is back on. Thank God for those small/gigantic things we take so much for granted.

Counseling

2011-08-30T13:27:00.000-07:00

So, at my last midwife appointment I talked to the counselor on staff. The idea was for her to help me figure out how to get family counseling through MedicAid - or so I thought. Turns out MedicAid will not provide family counseling, without some major extrapolations of the individual counseling. I was told that to get it, I needed to go to the psychiatric treatment center and tell them I am severely depressed, I'm worried that it's affecting my kids, and that I am concerned about postpartum depression. In order to prevent trauma to the kids, they will then assign a family counselor which would include Mark in the sessions.

No. Way.

NOT to say that I am not, in fact, concerned about all of these things. Except the postpartum aspect. I could never not want to take care of the baby. I am very worried about the effects of my depression on myself and the boys, though. But I am a lot more worried about going on record as needing psychiatric treatment, which is all they are willing to provide. If I end up in a custody fight with Donna in court, there is no limit to what she will say to ensure that I cannot control her visitation. The lies she makes up will be bad enough without the added ammunition this would give her. Of course, the advantage to growing up with her is that I have siblings who could - and hopefully would - testify to her abusive treatment of them, even though her own family will paint her as the World's Best Grandma, whether or not they really believe it. But it's not worth adding anything to her advantage.

To my relief, in spite of the pressure Mark was putting on me to be the one who sought treatment, he agreed this was not a good idea. It looks like our only option is for him to keep the promise he's been making for so long to seek treatment through SOAR. They will provide counseling at no cost if we can't pay, but it has to start with him as the victim of the abuse; and he has been unwilling to accept that. Lately he's been going on and on about how badly WE need counseling, and I have had to bite my tongue awfully hard to keep from lashing out. I didn't need counseling when we first got married; just friends. All my problems stemmed from being lonely and isolated. And he not only added to that by ruining every avenue I had to change it, but added his emotional problems and addictions to the mix until I have gotten to where I DO need counseling - to cope with him! And if he was to vanish from my life tomorrow with no strings attached, I wouldn't need counseling any more. But having two children involved changes the dynamic tremendously, because I can't just decide what they do or don't need.

One thing she did say that was helpful, was that I should probably stay in the cabin for now despite the crowding, so the boys have a secure place to interact with him. I rather thought so, even though it grates on me; but having him visit at my parents' house will not work well, and having them visit his family will not be healthy for them.

I was pretty pissed when he told me some girl at the mall named Morgan gave him her number. So that's where he got the idea, huh? I was also pissed to find out that Tim is now living in the apartments next to where Mark always got dropped off for work. And when I started flipping out, Mark was all like, "Well he was getting evicted, I had to help him find a place, I can't just turn my back and let them live in a car." Oh yeah? But you could turn your back when I absolutely couldn't live with that dysfunctional collection of self-centered cretins you call your family, THAT was no problem at all! I would have lived in a car to get away from there, but guess what? I DIDN'T HAVE ONE!

Like I said to Tim - they should have gotten married. Neither one of them can take care of their real families for shit, but they obsess over each other's lives and can't stand to be apart. Ugh.

Mark said his cousin called the other day and told him that when I worked with her, I told my coworkers that I thought he was secretly gay or bisexual. What a load of crap. I don't know whether to believe that she really said that, or to believe that Tim interpreted my comment that way and repeated it to Mark, and Mark was afraid to tell me he had been talking to Tim again. Who knows. It seems rather unlikely to me that his cousin would say that; but she is a Belisari, after all. And maybe the mouthy, vindictive little control freak who was her best friend in the office told her I said that. THAT wouldn't surprise me. But whatever. He can believe what he wants. I have nothing to lose any more; only his children do.

The other night he was talking about how much he gets it now, etc., all the stuff he always says when he gets into a funk of self-loathing. It's all bull, because what is really happening is that he's hating himself again, and thinking that I must feel the same way, so he thinks he understands how much I must go through to keep him in my life. But it's never anything remotely connected to what I consider the real problems. Anyway, he said how he's been so angry that I didn't have an abortion, because it ruined my chance at becoming independent, but he realizes now that's a selfish way to feel. Yeah, right. If he did, he wouldn't have even brought it up. Once again, biting my tongue. Not because I want him to keep trying with me, but because I think if I say what I need to, he will give up completely, and where does that leave the boys?

But you know, I wished afterwards that I had. I'm so sick of him projecting his own and other people's perceptions onto me while refusing to hear a word I say. I told him early on that if he didn't want this baby, he could leave. And to be honest, I was both surprised and pretty angry that he didn't. Because I knew he wasn't going to actually step up and contribute in any meaningful way. All he would do is use it as an excuse to wallow even more in self-pity/self-hatred, and justify not being a meaningful part of the family. Which is exactly what he's done. His idea of not abandoning me seems to be continuing to hang onto my hand so I have the pleasure of his company, when really he's just preventing me from functioning properly. I don't have a husband. I never have. I have a 30+-year-old foster child with severe emotional and health problems. Why on earth would I possibly need him to stay? The way I see it, he's just too much of a coward to be the one who leaves. And I don't want to give him the satisfaction of throwing him out, so our boys can look at me as the homewrecker. But maybe that's what I'll have to do if he can't get it together fast.

An abortion? Really? The only positive things I have to show for 9 years with him are my beautiful, smart children. And I should give one up so that he will still be comfortable coming home and eating our food (yes, OUR food, since the freaking county provides it because he can't!!!), sleeping with us, etc.? This baby will undoubtedly contribute more to my life than he has. But he thinks I should have eliminated her - why? So I could keep working and letting him be a deadbeat?

He often talked in the past about how we needed to have our own lives, independent of each other. Always when I was angry that he spent oodles of time with friends or his brothers but never wanted to do anything socially with me. But I've realized over the past year, looking back, that what he really meant by that was that I should be working and providing for myself and the kids, so he wouldn't have to. If he really wanted me to have a life, he wouldn't have complained every time I filled the gas tank, refused to pay for car insurance or repairs, and questioned why I needed to go anywhere but the grocery store.

The midwife commented to me about my social situation being different with this birth. And I told her that no, it really isn't. I've just accepted the reality of how things have always been, and I'm sick of waiting for the promised changes.

I told my mom that we were separating. I figured she had to know sometime. She kept going on about my reasons, and what incentives I should be providing him to work things out, and it just started making me mad. She kept saying that of course she knows I have good reasons to separate, she just didn't think I was doing it for the right reasons. You know what, I don't have to freaking justify myself after all I've been through. If she wants to keep believing in that whole "Faith moves mountains" and "Love conquers all" garbage, that's fine. But I've proven it doesn't work. She persists in believing that I must not be praying enough if these things are so unbearable. And I just have nothing left to say. It is what it is, it has never been and will never be what she thinks it is, so butt out.

Mark went up to pay the rent that night and she apparently was beseeching him with tears to go "wrestle with God" and ask forgiveness for whatever sin is holding him back, and not let us fall by the way. I'm just sick of this. So completely sick of it. If I didn't already feel the power of Christ in my life, I would completely abandon religion at this point, because everyone around me interprets it in the most ridiculous way and presumes so many answers that are NOT, in fact, part of Scripture, and for someone like him who has been fed all the politics of Christianity and none of the actual substance, it just makes things worse. I want to go back to that Orthodox Church. Maybe what my mom believes is real for her. But it isn't for me. Nobody there thinks their advice as an older Christian is automatically right, or mistakes giving advice for giving love and empathy. Where did people get this idea that to follow Christ they have to be telling everyone around them what's right and wrong? I want no parts of that religion.

I know I posted this before, but it bears reposting.

"Who Are My People?"

My people? Who are they?
I went into the church where the congregation
Worshiped my God. Were they my people?
I felt no kinship to them as they knelt there.
My people! Where are they?
I went into the land where I was born,
Where men spoke my language....
I was a stranger there.
"My people," my soul cried. "Who are my people?"
Last night in the rain I met an old man
Who spoke a language I do not speak,
Which marked him as one who does not know my God.
With apologetic smile he offered me
The shelter of his patched umbrella.
I met his eyes... And then I knew....

- Rosa Zagnoni Marinoni

The joys of Amish living - halfway

2011-08-29T06:57:00.001-07:00

So, hurricane Irene did some pretty extensive damage around here. Nothing like near the coast, I'm sure. Our particular nook missed the tornadoes, flooding, etc. that plagues our surrounding towns. But while many of them have power again, ours is expected to remain off for another 36 hours or so.
We are still some of the fortunate ones. My dad has a generator he hooks up to the well pump a few times a day so we can all flush the toilets and wash dishes. Since the main house has oil heat, they still have hot water, so we can still get showers - yay! And we've been able to keep the refrigerators cold enough by swapping them around. Not so much the freezers, but hey, it's better than nothing.
And the next few days are supposed to be sunny and fairly mild, so not having lights and fans won't be a major burden.
Thank God for little things.
I will have a much longer post when the power is back, but I don't want to waste my phone charge, hehe.

The Blues

2011-08-21T09:44:00.001-07:00

I really don't like the options ahead. I thought somehow I could make this tiny little cabin work because Mark seemed at peace here, for the first time in his life. But as the birth draws closer that feels more and more impossible. We needed some serious changes in our furniture to make it work, and the money for that hasn't come and clearly isn't going to at this point. Already I will have to spend the recovery period in my parents' house, and I am NOT looking forward to that. Now it looks very possible, with Mark's health issues, that I will have to actually move back up there; assuming they would let me, since I don't do things the way they want. Even the prospect of being there for a month is making me sick. The only way my Mom knows how to relate to me is through criticism and advice. It's always been that way, and always will be. I'm not in a good mental state to handle that. I fled that place 11 years ago, with every intention of never going back, in much the same state of mind I am right now. My mom has changed, but not when it comes to me. She will never see me as an adult with a mind of my own. Only as an unfinished project that somehow slipped away before she added the final touches. My younger siblings she can see as individuals. But I was supposed to be the clone, the one whose life and personality and dreams were already pre-planned, and she can't understand why I wouldn't just accept the pigeonhole I was offered. It was a perfectly good pigeonhole, with everything she would have needed if she were me. But I had the rebellious nerve to go and be different, and reject the comfy little space she worked so hard on. I wasn't supposed to have wings, and especially not a wanderlust. I was going to be the sitter. The perfect one. The mannequin.
And I feel like she's still trying to find where she went wrong and fix it, rather than accept that I wasn't created for the role she expected.
I really, really don't want to live there. It's not going to end well.
Neither, as far as I can see, will the only alternative - staying in this miniature dollhouse built for one. I love this cabin. But it's not big enough for three children. And I have nowhere else to go right now.

Long Night

2011-08-19T11:29:00.000-07:00

Last night was the most spectacular electric storm I have ever seen. It lasted for a long time and the lightning was nonstop. I needed to sleep, but the storm did seem to fit my mood.

Baby Girl must like the electricity in the air, because she kicked and thrashed violently the entire time. As the storm moved off, I fell asleep again, and was rudely awakened when she kicked my elbow hard enough to pop my funny bone. It scared me half to death, and when I reached down to see what hit me, her little foot was practically sticking out of my side. I could actually grab hold of it! Little rascal.

I had discovered a couple weeks ago that Mark and Tim were talking regularly. So I blocked Tim's new number. Apparently he hadn't given up his old number, because that one showed up again right away. So I reblocked it as well, and sent both of them an angry text.

I guess Tim decided last night was a good time to get pissed off about it. Maybe he was in withdrawal or something. He sent me a whole slew of ranting texts just after I fell asleep. I was furious. I lashed back at him without caring how it sounded, told him that the two of them should have gotten married, and then asked him where my parents' missing bail money is since I figure one way or another, it found its way to him. He of course said he had no idea what I was talking about, but for once it actually shut him up. I blocked him from my phone as well this morning. I have enough stress in my life without his bullcrap too.

Mark wants me to name the baby Morgan. He says he dreamed it last night. My initial reaction was "Eeeww no way," but I looked it up and it means "great circle." That's a little scary. Pretty powerful name. I wouldn't mind it as a middle name I guess, but we have to pick the first name carefully. I don't want our list of names to sound like three boys, for one thing; and I don't want to trap her personality. That's a pretty specific name. I like Katrina. I'm pretty stuck on it. Mostly because she reminds me of a hurricane, lol; but the name means "pure." Katrina Morgan would be nice. Mark doesn't like any of the names I like, and I wanted her to have one he doesn't actively dislike because I don't want him to start acting all "Well she's your daughter anyway" and not care to be part of her life. But you know what, that's on him. I'm naming this baby whatever I please. I won't name her Caroline, because his reaction to that was so immediately negative, and I don't want that. But I don't really want a unisex name. The names that have meanings I like with Morgan are names I don't like the sound of, like Brielle and Brianna and Ariel.

I'm sick of trying to please someone who is never happy anyway.

Time marches on

2011-08-18T13:39:00.001-07:00

Well, I had another ultrasound yesterday at the midwives' request to see how big Baby Girl is getting. She's right on average. Ha! I think I may relax my diet a bit. I have to eat more. I'll still try to do things like avoiding candy and sweet cereal, and white rice, potatoes, and bread. But at least whole grain bread and wild rice and granola have to come back in.

Hunter loved the aquarium. He also had two horrendous fits. I decided immediately there will be no more public venue trips until things settle down. I felt so bad though; when we got in the car to leave, he broke down sobbing I asked him what was wrong, and he wailed, "I never found my birfday party in there!" Poor little guy. We had told him the trip was instead of his party, and he apparently thought there was going to be an actual party there :(

As for discipline, the next day, after a confrontation over his car seat that got way out of control, I decided to implement a no-tolerance policy for now. He only gets one chance to obey. I won't fight with him. If he doesn't listen, he doesn't get what he wants.

I realized that where Andy fights for attention, and is often best punished by being ignored, Hunter is fighting to prove his superiority. And he seems to view my arguing with him as evidence that he has the upper hand. So I'm not giving him that satisfaction. He's not happy about it at all; but it's already working.

I decided to stop the eye drops with Andy, because they seem ineffective in every way except messing up the vision he has. He refuses to wear a patch, which the doctor says is the only realistic therapy available. So I decided to try using his need for attention. I told him I want him to wear the patch for an hour every day, and that hour will be our time. I will do whatever he wants with him for that hour, as long as it doesn't involve lots of physical activity which I'm not up for at almost 33 weeks. He agreed. And now, of course, the patch is missing. Hehe. Ugh. I suspect he may have thrown it out. He did that with the first prescription of atropine. I'll have to get another one.

Today we went to the Picture People for photos. I had a coupon from the maternity store, and although I am not into maternity shots, I figured I might as well use it since the boys were allowed to participate. Hunter refused to be in the pictures at first, but got in two of them. I have to say, the guy did an awesome job considering the kids' inattention. We got a great shot of all three of us, and I got a copy of the other one as well, plus a really nice shot of Andy and I. Very cool.

Mark saw the papers I printed out about the spinal fluid leak. He was as upset as I was. I didn't mean for him to see them, but he came by earlier than I expected. The next day he was still pretty sick. I went to the bank with him to cash his check for last week; they postdated the big one for the previous two weeks. That's a whole rant of its own; but basically, they finally admitted they had no intention of making him an employee and said they will be paying him as a subcontractor; no pay guaranteed until job completion. No wonder they kept putting him off about getting the paperwork in order. I want him to quit and not go to Connecticut. This job is already a bust; it will only get worse. He will never be able to support us like this. But he won't discuss it.

Anyway, yesterday he couldn't stand up straight any more. So he went to the ER. Or so he says. They told him he has a kidney stone. I rather tend to believe him, since he doesn't really have a good reason to make that up. He said he tried to tell them about the fluid leak, and just got a blank stare and then the same old, "So how do you rate your pain from 1-10?" He snapped at them, and of course they were hugely cooperative after that. They gave him the name of a health clinic for uninsured patients to get cheap medications on self-pay, and said wait for the stone to pass.

At first, he seemed like he wanted to convince me the kidney stone explains all of this, and he will be fine once it passes. I don't believe that, of course. He has every single symptom of SCSFLS. And kidney stones don't last for years. He's had this for a long time.

But later that night, he called me, very upset over something that happened while he was driving the Turd's truck. (Don't ask.) He said he was turning a corner and a sudden pain shot through the side of his head, and he lost vision temporarily in that eye. He ran the truck up on the curb, and it took several seconds for the pain to subside and his vision to return. He was extremely upset. So was the Turd.
Who, by the way, still hasn't paid him - at least to my knowledge.

So now he's ready to seek medical help. Trouble is, the ER is unlikely to either diagnose or treat this condition. Even the article I read said so. It pretty much said, if you read between the lines, that treatments are expensive and have a low success rate. So if you have it chronically, you're probably screwed and will soon become disabled.

His biggest fear has always been that he'd die or become unable to work before he gave us enough to keep going. Too bad he's gone about preventing that in all the wrong ways, and simply taken what little we had. I don't say that to be harsh, either. It's simply a fact. But I still wish I could do something.

I can't keep walking this line between Mark and my family. They are the ones I can rely on, and the ones who are willing and able to be there for us. I don't feel right living in one of their rentals when they could rent it to someone else for more money, someone who would actually pay on time. And I'd be more comfortable in their house, physically, emotionally, and financially. I could sure use that money we put towards rent, even a part of it. But Mark can't stay there. Not after the robberies and now the bail money missing. It looks too suspicious. He wouldn't want to, even if they let him. And I don't want the boys staying at his brother's house, or visiting there. His dad's would be okay, but there isn't really room and he has no intention of moving back there. Oy. What to do? Especially if I have to hear my mom criticizing everything I do. I just don't know what the next step is financially.

Why?

2011-08-16T05:55:00.001-07:00

Well, Hunter's family party went very well, considering the pouring rain, which we desperately needed. Mark came back that night and stayed. I was glad because the boys haven't started asking questions yet, and I'm dreading that. He was having one of his mental breakdowns. Hunter heard him crying after a while and asked if he could come down and help Papa feel better. I decided to let him, because he is very loving and straightforward with people, and I thought it might help on a small level.

Well, I don't know about help. It was pretty revealing though. The exchange went something like this:

Hunter: "Why are you tywing, Papa?" No answer. "Is it betause you going to die?" Me: Speechless and regretting my decision. Mark didn't answer, and he repeated the question. I started to intervene, but Mark spoke up.

"Nobody's dying, honey. I just hurt."

Hunter: "Where do you hurt?"

Me: "Everywhere, Hunter. Maybe you should go lay down now."

Hunter, after a pause and starting to look like he was going to cry: "Sometimes when I'm twying, it's betause I think you're going to die."

So I guess it's not something I can protect them from after all, no matter how hard I try. That revelation of Hunter's sure explains a lot, though part of me would rather not have heard it.

All I really wanted was to make sure my kids had good memories of their father. I know he's not going to live much longer. I miss his friendship, but if I could just be sure that they wouldn't lose their dad so young, and that they'd remember something about him other than him being sick all the time, I'd be okay. I don't want his daughter to grow up with nothing but pictures and second-hand information.

Why can't I give them that?

At least by separating, I can eliminate some of the bad memories. But I can't give them good ones. I don't need a doctor to tell me that without medical intervention, he won't last long. Maybe a few more years if we're lucky. I'm getting to the point where I'm ready to just call an ambulance the next time, and hope the ER actually makes a few connections and starts treating some of his problems. But that's not what the ER does, and the chances are slim.

I don't even know what kind of funeral he wants.

He had fluid leaking from his ear during the last episode. I was freaked out, and he blew it off, saying it always happens when he has these breakdowns. I googled it later when he wasn't around. Spontaneous Cerebrospinal Fluid Leak is what came up. You can look it up on Wikipedia; they have a short and comprehensive article on it. It's not good. Whether it comes from the lower back injury of 13 years, or the case of meningitis he contracted early in our marriage, I don't know. But he has all the symptoms that accompany the actual leaks. Since many of them can be withdrawal symptoms too, that's always in the back of my mind, even when he hasn't appeared to be on anything. If only he wouldn't write off his health issues so easily. He's been having these episodes, as well as accompanying seizures, since Andy was a baby. They've gotten more and more frequent. And how is he going to get a CT scan with no health insurance and no money?

I can't keep him alive by loving him. I can't even give him a few years of happiness by loving him. He doesn't know how to be happy any more; it makes him feel guilty because he doesn't believe he deserves it, and scared because he's sure something bad will happen to ruin it. It's what he was trained to believe from his earliest years.

But I just wanted the kids to be happy with him for a little while. Why is that so hard?

Basket Case

2011-08-13T08:09:00.000-07:00

Well, I found out that Longaberger does not have a minimum monthly sales requirement! Yippee! So I have nothing to lose but $20 by trying it out a second time. Between my mom, my sister, and I, we have a pretty decent inventory of their classic products: so I think I can order the kit of catalogs and flyers and fabric samples, and not worry about product samples. Now I just have to decide when to start. Logic tells me to wait until the holidays, since Baby Girl will be here and I will hopefully be recovered. Holiday shows are good starters. But the impatient ME of course wants to hurry up and start now. I'm trying to control that urge.

Isn't it hard enough to eat during the last trimester without a diet? Ugh! I am really starting to hate this diabetic diet. Not because the sugar/carb craving is so uncontrollable, either. I definitely feel better without them. But the trouble is, I don't have enough other things to eat, and I can't seem to get enough nutrition. Everything gives me heartburn when I lie down, even my vitamins. And since I have to lie down a lot because of the prolapsing, that makes me not want to eat as well. Protein of every type (beans, meat, fish, and eggs) exaggerates it, and of course tomatoes and citrus; and for some reason, even apples! Spices I can do without, but I can't live entirely on limited fruit and veggies! I need more plain yogurt. That seems to be the easiest thing on my stomach these days. What I really need are those vitamin shakes to drink, but they are expensive and there is no room at all in the budget for them. A friend gave me some hemp protein shakes, but on top of still giving me heartburn and lots of gas, they were the most vile concotions I ever tried. Blech.

Mark decided to work for his Stevie this weekend to get some cash, so we can take Hunter to the aquarium. His check is supposedly being mailed now from New England and should arrive today if we're fortunate. Monday if not. I have had a WalMart money card for a while that I didn't use, and I found out that it is now accepted at banks as a second form of ID. For a while they weren't accepting debit cards, even bank-issued ones! Only credit cards. But since that seems to have changed, I ordered a second one for Mark and decided that we will start using it for him to "send" money to me while he's away. It will also help him cash his checks without his boss present. So that there won't be any issue of money missing that was supposed to be available, I will just take out all the money he tells me to for the pay period right away, from an ATM; and he will be responsible for whatever is left.

I admit I'm nervous about having any financial accounts connected to him. But it seems to be the most practical way to solve the issue of how he will get money to us when he gets paid from away, and how to establish a paper trail for my income beyond handwritten receipts.

He says he's going to file charges of fraud in the Case of the Missing Bail Money. We'll see where that goes. Maybe Tim can forge a signature as well as he can pass for Mark in a barroom. But I want the court to find out.

All I ever know about Mark's activities, financial state, and that of his health, are what he tells me. That needs to change if he wants to get back together. I have never once seen any medical paperwork about him, despite his serious health issues. I have never seen the house he supposedly owns, or any paperwork about it. For crying out loud, I don't even know for certain that his other son is still living, or that his father actually died! I have no reason NOT to believe those things, of course; but you get the idea. It's been nearly 4 years since I saw anything resembling a legitimate paycheck in his hand, and if I didn't drop him off at work most days, I'd have to wonder if he even has a job.

He said yesterday that he knows how I must feel with him working constantly and never having any money. I just didn't even know how to respond. He clearly has no idea how I feel, or he'd have long ago done something to correct the problem. Like go work at Target, for crying out loud, if that's the only way he can get a steady income! I didn't say anything. I couldn't think of anything that would actually express my reaction. It angers me that he mostly appears to be just sitting down and thinking, "Oh well, I blew it, she's never gonna trust me anyway, I guess it's over," when he's never made any effort to change that other than arguing with me.

He did say he wants to go to counseling. But I'm not holding my breath. We need to, obviously. And hopefully will soon. I just wonder deep inside if he's hoping that in therapy, I will remember how screwed up his life has been and get all sympathetic again, and forget that he has never been honest with me about anything that matters in our future. Being honest with me about his past is not going to hold our relationship together. He has to be honest with HIMSELF about that. He needs to be honest with ME about where he is right now, and what kind of teamwork he's willing to be part of in order to maintain a family.

Re-planning

2011-08-11T07:52:00.000-07:00

As usual, this job has turned out to be no more reliable than the last one. The excuse this time is that most of the workers already left for the next job site in New England, so the boss man is busy up there and can't get back down here to pay anyone. I don't even care any more. I'm so used to this crap by now that I just take it for granted.

All Hunter's schoolmates seem to be unavailable this week anyway, which is working out well in the end. Saves me the embarrassment of canceling on several people. Instead, my sister was picking up discount amusement park tickets from her job, and our youngest sister is home this weekend, so she was going to take us all up there on Monday. Unfortunately, the tickets sold out. Crap! What do I do now? If Mark gets paid, I might still be able to squeeze out enough money to take them to the aquarium, which Hunter would enjoy more than an amusement park. But that is no guarantee at all. Neither is the amount if he does get a check.

Meanwhile, it's a good thing we have food stamps, because we'd long ago have starved otherwise. And I'm royally pissed off that we're still having to use them.

For now, we set up a couple of playdates for him instead, and I hope he will have fun. Yesterday a set of what he calls his "fish toys" arrived; he has been promised them since April and we haven't had $50 to order them until last week. Actually, we really didn't have it then either, but it's been too long and I was determined he would get them before his birthday. He is delighted. I had a couple more gifts in mind, but I'm thinking we may not be able to get them. Oh well. We are still having cake and ice cream on Sunday afternoon for the family.

Andy is more disappointed about the party, since he is the planner and had actually come up with several fantastic ideas for games, etc. Hunter just wanted to see his friends. Only about half of his class is coming back for the Pre-K class this year, and one new student. The economy is so bad even in this area. I feel bad that he has the scholarship when I'm not sure I can even pay the small amount they are still asking. But then again, it's not like I could enroll him anywhere else. It's that or stay home.

My parents signed the agreement with the realtor yesterday, and she was telling me how our tri-state area is considered the top place to live in the US because of access to D.C., Baltimore, Philadelphia, and NYC. And how the economy here will always stay afloat because of that. Yeah, right. I don't see it happening. All the yuppies are shopping at WalMart now. That's not encouraging. Enrollment for private schools is wayyyyy down, rent keeps climbing, and house prices keep falling.

I was looking into the direct sales industry again as a way to get some income while the baby is little. When I did that before, I tried several different ones and decided that I just simply didn't know enough people outside my family, let alone people with money, to make it work. With both boys in school now, I figure I'll be meeting a lot more people, and thought maybe it could work. I wanted to do something involving kids' products, since I will have three of varying ages and skill levels. Not to mention all the nieces and nephews.

Most of the kids' companies have shut down. Discovery Toys is still around, but you can get that stuff too easily at stores in this area. There was a felt storyboard company that looked neat, but I am not the kind of person who could sell that. And all the pieces in our tiny house? Ugh. Noah's Ark was one I tried before, but they have cut back their inventory so much that it isn't very interesting any more. Plus, the supplies are too bulky with all that stuffing. Barefoot Books I had tried as well, but although I love many of their publications, they have several consultants locally; and besides a lot of their books are weird. Some to the point that I'm uncomfortable marketing them to people.

Makeup isn't something I use, so it would be hard to sell it. Body products are the same. I'm a fan of organic or natural stuff, and most of those seem to be out of business. Kitchen products I don't have a good feeling about. I have a hunch our WalMart-yuppie community is not the right market. And candles? My God, there's like a million different companies! I did PartyLite for a while, and I loved the candles but hated the accessories. They were cheaply made and grossly overpriced. Watkins is deceitful to their employees, and sells too many of their products in stores. I gave that one up in disgust almost as soon as I started it.

The only company I really loved (that's still in business) was Longaberger. They have a unique and beautiful product that seems timeless to me. Unfortunately, it's also incredibly expensive. And I know plenty of people who would buy the products in a flash IF they could afford them. It's the IF that worries me.

So, I'm not sure I should go that route. I may. I still have enough of their products left from my previous efforts that I will have a decent inventory to start with. And they have lowered the size and cost of their starter kits, which you can pay for on a six-month plan. That means the investment is low, and the products I'd get would all be ones I could use for myself if it doesn't work out. But I have to find out what the minimum sales are for each month. That will be the real issue.

Decisions, decisions.

Remembering Pop-pop

2011-08-09T18:56:00.001-07:00

I saw an ear specialist recently whose office turned out to be very close to the cemetery where Mark's grandfather is buried. So I stopped by with the boys. Andy left a little blue dolphin on the stone, to Hunter's great displeasure. Even though he has other dolphins at home. It cracked me up as we walked away; he stomped along with his fists clenched and scowling, and said emphatically, "You should've gived that to me! Not to that guy in the ground back there. He doesn't want it!" Pop-pop would have laughed too, I'm sure.
Apparently everyone was there for the burial on Saturday and stopped by the gravesite, and were very touched by the little dolphin. Mark especially.
Hunter's party is canceled this weekend due to lack of funds. :( Since all his schoolmates seem to be away, maybe it's better. We are going to get those discount amusement park tickets through my sister's job instead, and hopefully do that as a substitute.
Mark is supposed to leave Friday now for the next job site, but says he's not going anywhere until my parents are paid back. I hope it happens. He will probably be staying at his brother's house between trips for the time being.
The midwives at the hospital saw me yesterday. The appointment took forever since they had to go over all my records too. Next time I am scheduled to see a counselor who can refer me to a more specific counselor in my insurance network. I'm looking forward to that. They are sending me for another ultrasound, to monitor the baby's size. But the good news is, they don't think the prolapsing should affect labor and delivery, other than greater discomfort (oh joy). They will send me to a specialist during the recovery for an evaluation though.
Meanwhile, I'm getting school forms filled out and jamming my calendar full of appointments. Yikes! It's gonna be a hectic two months or so. And my parents are finalizing which realtor to list the property with. Lots of big changes coming. I hope I get to the other side still sane.

Are some families really just toxic?

2011-08-07T05:25:00.001-07:00

I was planning to tell Mark when he got home yesterday that I intend to file for legal separation. Strange that the first words out of his mouth should be that his three married cousins are split up or splitting up. His brothers don't even try to maintain committed relationships, except the youngest; one breaks up with every girl after a year, the other keeps two or three available at all times and will gladly take time out for anyone else who throws him a wink.

Is there a pattern here?

Mark even said that himself.

Apparently no one wanted to talk to him about it because, according to his brother, they all figure we are next.

I really do loathe these people. They have nothing better to do than sit around sabotaging each other's lives. Every marriage in this family breaks up: Gloria the Wretch, her kids, and now all her grandkids I guess. The women in her family are the most two-faced, conniving, backstabbing group of snakes you will ever meet. Anyone naive enough to marry into this whitewashed sepulchre has to have such a thick skin that they don't make a good partner anyway, or they'll be crushed under the ridicule and venom that permeates the clan. Either way they are pretty much doomed.

It especially pisses me off, because I am so stubborn that knowing people are watching for us to split up makes me want to stay, just so they can't have the satisfaction. And of course, at some point I'm only sabotaging myself that way.

I really wish I'd never met these poisonous people.

What next?

2011-08-05T16:52:00.000-07:00

Well, the court showed me paperwork with Mark's signature on it showing that he picked up the check on April 6th. I haven't told him yet. I looked at it, since the infamous Tim has used his ID in the past. But it was his handwriting. I haven't told my parents yet either. The court said it would take a few days to find out from the bank who cashed it, so that's all I told them for now; but I know if he picked it up he cashed it. And I never saw a penny of it. I was still working then, he wasn't making anything and clearly had no motivation to go back to work while I was. That wasn't his money. What the hell was he thinking? How much money has Lance really given him all this time? If he was willing to steal a thousand dollars from my parents, why should I think he's ever going to provide for us?

No doubt he thought of it as merely borrowing the money for another 30 days and making a big break somewhere to pay it back. But he didn't "borrow" it to help me and the kids out, although we badly needed it. And the alternatives are all bad.

I feel like it's gone beyond giving him another chance. No matter how much I want to, I can't. My only worry now is how much to tell others, and when.

It's times like this when I feel most keenly the lack of a trusted friend IRL. Did my mom think I'd never need to talk to anyone but her? Or maybe she just thought I should never need to talk at all. Given our recent discussions I find that rather likely. But I do. Desperately. And you know what? I DON'T HAVE ANYONE!

Mark is supposed to start traveling with his new job in 8 days. For two week increments. I'm rather relieved. Maybe this will be a good chance to see, not if he's changed since clearly he hasn't changed enough, but if he cares enough that I can count on money every week. I suspect the answer will be no. But he won't be able to say I never let him prove it.

I'm not going to the funeral tomorrow. I'm through being the Mushroom Girl, and they've all helped him keep me that way. Screw that whole sick family.

Death, banks, or the government?

2011-08-05T10:05:00.001-07:00

As in, which is worse?
Mark's uncle's wife passed away on Monday, so the funeral is tomorrow. Everyone in my family will be gone, so we don't have a babysitter or a car. The car wouldn't be too big a deal if it didn't mean riding with the Other Mother. Ugh. But I could probably suffer through unless she decides to stay all afternoon. I can't be on my feet that long. And sitting doesn't do much better for the prolapsing.
I'm more worried about taking the boys, since they don't know anyone who will be there other than Mark's immediate family and grandmother, and one cousin. And they will be bored to no end. I'd rather Mark went alone, but that seems unfair. We'll see.
Meanwhile, we've been trying to get the bail money back that my parents posted for Mark last year. It's the most ridiculous ring-around-the-rosie. The first time he went to the county seat to pick it up, after waiting the 30 days they said it would take for the release, they supposedly told him they didn't have the correct paperwork from the district yet. So he supposedly went to the district and was told they didn't have anything, the county should be handling it. My parents need their money back. So this time, I went. First to the district, who told me the bail should be released to me since I posted it. They looked up the case, said it was closed, and gave me the phone number for the county official who handles it. She told me the bail could not be released to me, only to Mark, because he signed as the responsible party. And said they cut a check the day after the hearing was closed (what happened to the 30 days?), but she couldn't tell me anything more. Mark got on the phone trying to find out if it was mailed or picked up, and whether it was cashed, since he always has a problem cashing checks due to not having a credit card or a car registration. She said they would have to look into it and it would take a few days. She suggested I go online and look up the case number to prove the bail had been released, but I told her that didn't matter if we never got the check. So she gave me the check number and date, and the name of the bank it was drawn on, and suggested I talk to them.
I went right over. They of course said they cannot release any information to us about a check unless it was deposited into our account with them. We don't have one. So they said we have to wait for the court to follow the paper trail and get our information from them. How comforting.
Oh, and in the meantime, the court kept 30% of the original amount as a standard fee. Nice of them to tell us that up front. NOT!

Cheering your kids on

2011-08-02T06:22:00.001-07:00

It occurred to me this morning, watching the boys at the playground, that maybe one of the differences between how self-confident many younger children in a family are as opposed to the eldest, is having their older siblings to cheer them on. Andy constantly tells Hunter how to do things, but he also praises him and encourages him in successes. I rarely do that for Andy, and Mark never does. I think I need to praise and encourage Andy more, even in the things that feel insignificant.

Those Funks

2011-07-30T11:05:00.000-07:00

I'm in a funk today. Maybe because of the recent parent stuff, maybe because of the 3rd trimester and its attending exhaustion, maybe because of just the knowledge that birth is getting closer and none of the things that really needed to be taken care of by then have been, or appear in any way likely to be.

Our anniversary is coming up, and for the second year in a row I really don't feel like celebrating. In the past I always celebrated with optimistic feelings of "things are probably on the mend, surely they will be better next year." I just don't believe it any more. Another birthday has come around, and combined with all the thinking I did about my childhood memories, this year it just seems to drive home the realization that only once in my life have I ever done something I wanted to on my birthday. Growing up, it's because my parents (or maybe it was June, who the **** knows at this point) just didn't believe in making a big deal about birthdays. We got gifts, mostly from relatives but I do recall a few special ones. And we got to pick out the dinner. When we turned 13, Mom and Dad took us to a restaurant of the type Mom liked (i.e. the type I hate, candlelight and overpriced unintelligible menu items lol), I guess by way of celebrating the end of our childhood.

And I always figured when I grew up, I'd do whatever I wanted for my birthday. Of course, it took a little while for me to figure out enough of what there actually was to do that I could decide what I wanted to do. The year I turned 21, Mark took me dancing at a club down by the shore. I loved it. Ever since then, that's what I've wanted to do for my birthday. But he didn't want to. I wouldn't drink or take pills with him, so it wasn't any fun. He always did dinner and a movie (sooooo boring) if we actually had enough money to do anything at all. And since I've rarely had a working vehicle, it's not like I could make plans of my own. Or make friends to have plans with. I've wanted to go to concerts on my birthday. Never happened. If I had money, I had no one to go with, and no car to get myself there.

So this year is just a little discouraging.

**** I typed this last week, and never posted it, and I forget what else I was going to say. So, moving on.....

It's one of those Wants vs. Needs things, in a way; I mean, who really thinks their birthdays define them? Of course I don't need to have my birthday celebrated. On the other hand, it's one more example of how I feel like I'm always doing for everyone else, but no one ever wants to do anything for me. What I need is to have someone treat me like I matter as much as they do, and these days that someone should be Mark.

Since I started having children, my mother has been there for me in a way she never was when I was a child. And I am very grateful. I would not have survived this long as a wife and mother without her. (On the other hand, I feel a portion of that is the fault of my upbringing because I wasn't allowed to grow up or learn any useful life skills other than homemaking; but that's of no use to argue now.) My sisters have also done many helpful things for me as they got older.

But the fact that Mark doesn't care enough to do anything for my birthday that I would actually enjoy, is painful. It's not like we ever do anything fun at any other time, so I don't feel like I'm acting entitled to expect him to do something special for that. If I don't want to hang out at some guy's house while they play beer pong and watch TV, I'm just SOL. And that really isn't fair or right! He doesn't see why I should care as long as he doesn't stop me from doing what I want. But if I wanted to be on my own, why on earth would I go through the trouble of sharing a house and a bed with someone else?

This year, though, it's not like we had the option. Because as usual, we have been waiting and waiting for money that never comes. And finally Mark became just about one tenth as fed up as I've been for the past 3 years, and quit The Turd. He had another job offer that will give him the first paycheck on Monday; and even though we're still a thousand dollars behind now thanks to that scumbag, never once has Mark ever been paid in full by him, so it was inevitable we would lose at some point. Enough is enough, and if Mark actually sticks to his guns and this other job actually pays every week like he says it will, I will gladly give up that thousand dollars just for the peace of knowing it's over. We stayed afloat this past two weeks on the birthday and anniversary money we received; and that's after we already owed my parents back rent. So there again, another way in which they are so there for me today, and I'm grateful.

So, maybe some good things are happening at long last. It almost makes me feel bad for complaining about my birthday. Except that I did tell him 3 years ago to let this BS go, and if he had maybe we'd have a place big enough to live in and the furniture we need for comfort. Better late than never, right?

Large family, or overextended ideology?

2011-07-25T16:53:00.001-07:00

My mom is still on a mission to convince me that spanking is right and necessary. And while I cannot deny that Proverbs does in two places imply the use of corporal punishment as an acceptable form of child discipline, I still feel that if you put the idea of spanking being THE way to train your children out of your mind, those verses can be taken many other ways as well.

But that's not the point of this post. She is convinced that I simply attribute the normal level of discipline necessitated by having many children to a bad teaching. The implication of course being that even though she didn't want to punish so much, she had to in order to keep the home functioning.

And that's a tough subject for me to argue with her for two reasons. First, I am not about to accuse my parents of doing wrong by having many children It's one of the reasons I certainly will not have so many, but I do believe in God's will and to say that my mom shouldn't have had more kids than she could handle gently, is the equivalent of Adam telling God, "That woman whom YOU gave me....." The point being, don't blame the circumstances for the faults.

Besides, while many secular people might feel that way, I don't. I have a very different explanation for the overuse of corporal punishment in our home, one that is equally sticky to address.

My parents did a major work while I was growing up. They reprinted several old childrens' books, both schooling and literature; and since my mother was a very talented musician and pianist, she also set to music an extensive collection of early Christian songs for children, and made recordings with us for attending cassettes. All of this was an enormous task for a mother who was always pregnant or nursing, and potty training too. June did a lot of work on it as well, and others helped from time to time. This vast project accounts for many of my good memories from childhood; but also for a great deal of tension, exhaustion, and in my opinion, neglect, although I know Mom would disagree.

On the one hand, I would never want to trample her life's work to her. She poured so much of herself into it, at great physical and emotional cost. On the other hand, June was constantly pressuring her to put all of her time into that work and insisting we should be able to take care of ourselves. I don't think the effects of such an atmosphere require an explanation. But I do believe it bears directly on the use of corporal punishment as the first line of defense in our home. And I can't quite figure out a way to say that without hurting my mother deeply.

I know, myself, that our frequent spankings stemmed much more from the fact that she was trying to run a publishing company almost single-handed in the midst of a very large household, than it did from the large household. And I can't say to her just yet that I don't believe that was right. But nevertheless, I do believe it. And I still stand by my conclusions.

I hate software updates

2011-07-21T12:32:00.000-07:00

I had some conversations with my Mom and my sister the past few days that were very helpful, and I spent about two hours this morning writing a whole post about it to send via my phone email, only to have the phone shut down for a software update and lose it all. And I just don't feel like dealing with this any more. You know what, if I've given the wrong impression of how I feel about my parents vs. how I feel about my upbringing (which for reasons I've already explained ad nauseum are not the same to me), I'm sorry, but too bad. I'm moving on. I came to these conclusions over a long period of time, with much study and observation, and I am not about to change them.

Instead, I'll just add this note that I had posted on Facebook for my siblings to read after the previous note upset them so much. It's important to the conclusion.

***I have been going back and rereading my blog and the links to follow once again the process by which I arrived at my conclusions. It occurred to me that I completely sidelined the original reason why I began to research spanking. I've read so many posts from grown children whose parents were far more harsh in their punishments than mine, that I began to focus on that as the major fault.

But the fact is, while I always knew I would not discipline the way June promoted, most of my negative associations with spanking do not stem from personal experience. There were some, mostly the extreme incidents, but the vast majority of my issues with my upbringing stem from two sources unrelated to discipline. One is the crushing isolation that June demanded of us as God's special holy people. The other was the invasive takeover of our family and home by people like her and others, who routinely overstepped all boundaries of reason and, from my standpoint, robbed me of my parents and my home. These two factors have played a far greater role in the problems I have faced as an adult than any punishments I received.

My quest to discover the truth about spanking had nothing to do with my upbringing. It had to do with the widespread sexual abuse of children in our society, and my belief (which pre-dated any research I did) that spanking blurs the concept of physical boundaries for young children to a dangerous extent.

I don't expect anyone who has not experienced abuse as a child to fully grasp what I am trying to say. It's a case where experience is everything. If you choose not to listen to someone who has been there, go right ahead; but don't bother arguing. Those of us who have been there know. Anything you say will only be so much hot air. Like telling someone who has received Christ in their heart that God isn't real. Say what you like, we know better.

I was very obsessed a couple of years back with learning how to spank my kids without blurring that boundary. I became convinced it was not possible. Now, by spanking, I do not mean a swat on the backside when they refuse to do as told. However, as we all know, that is not always effective. And then a parent must decide how to proceed.

What I mean by "spanking" is the event, when corporal punishment is turned into a regulated routine. THIS is the act I find to be so dangerous. It teaches the children two main things: First, that getting hurt by an authority figure means they did something bad; and Second, that if they feel guilty, it's because they have sin in their hearts.

Since both of these impressions come naturally to child victims, regardless of being taught so, establishing those beliefs as part of their religion is fatal. A child who has been abused is extremely unlikely to tell anyone, even the most loving, gentle parent. If they know they will be punished physically for doing something wrong, the chance drops below zero. That child will guard their secret (the abuser's secret) at all cost. It will never even occur to them that they may not have done wrong. It's the only explanation in a child's mind for this awful feeling they have.

Both the structured spanking of children AND the victim blame mentality are heavy influences in the Fundamentalist doctrine. I am absolutely convinced that both are poison. And that inspired me to research the biblical instructions on spanking. I felt it was instantly clear that the teachings promoted under this guise are warped extrapolations of the verses quoted. And I stand firmly by that conviction.

You can tell your kids all you want about what their boundaries should be. It's worthless. If you do not PERSONALLY establish those boundaries for them by respecting them physically, you are wasting all that time. All your child will know in the end, if someone actually does violate them, is that they let something happen they weren't supposed to, and they must conceal it or face further pain and humiliation.

THAT is why I am adamantly opposed to the doctrine of spanking.

I Wonder.....

2011-07-19T11:31:00.001-07:00

I am posting this mostly out of respect to my mom and her right to defend herself if she thinks what I say is wrong. I thought about giving her access to my blog, but I need to be able to speak freely, and I have never yet been able to if I know she is involved, so this is my compromise.
For starters, she is of the opinion that when it comes to religious and family affairs, making sure that the overall "testimony" is preserved is of monumental importance over explaining your position. I feel I can say that her reasons for this opinion are not based in personal embarrassment either, because she has endured a great deal of criticism and reproach in her lifetime as a result of this very belief. Particularly in situations involving the Other Mother and Friends. When Donna came along, she ruined nearly every friendship my mother had with her nasty, lying, jealous gossip. And to most of those people, my mother did not defend herself. She thought it would be a bad testimony to fight openly with Donna.
Maybe she was right. I am not convinced of that. What I am convinced of, however, is her sincerity in believing it. More than anything else about her, I have always had great respect for my mom's commitment to her beliefs, no matter the consequences to herself.
As for my own beliefs, though, I looked back at her way of handling things when I married Mark, and immediately decided that her way had failed. I was rather surprised to find that she still does not feel this way. Maybe it's a difference in what we call "the testimony." My opinion has long been that if she had been willing to open up to someone outside the situation, she would have seen much sooner where it was headed, and saved our whole family a lot of grief. My perception is that June used that belief against her to great harm, and I am not going to fall in that trap.
I used to think that I had to write because I had no one to talk to. It's true that I have always preferred to talk face-to-face (I inherited my Dad's distaste for phone conversations). But after my last post, I see that I probably would have wanted to discuss these particular issues with strangers rather than friends anyway. And I much prefer to find others of similar backgrounds to discuss them with. Going to a therapist, or talking to pastors, wouldn't do much; because one would categorize me as an abused child simply based on my strict upbringing, and the other might very well take the opposite stand at the outset and refuse to believe I was really hurt by these doctrines. Either way both become a waste of my time.
Perhaps if it weren't for my severe social anxiety, I would have connected with similar people in real life. But I couldn't. Perhaps if June hadn't been around and mom still was the same, the same method of parenting would have affected me differently. But she was, and it didn't. Perhaps if I hadn't been molested early on, I would have been far less sensitive to criticism and what felt to me like abandonment. But I was. THIS WAS MY LIFE. "Take It Or Leave It." Why should I have to rewrite it so others won't know what I felt? And I don't mean to imply by that statement that I even care about showing them what I felt. I'm saying that I feel no obligation to shelter others from the knowledge of what their actions did at the price of being unable to move on. I did my best not to let this hurt my parents, but I slipped up, and it did. Why should that change anything? The truth is still the truth.
My mom's position is that the Testimony is more important than the Truth. I don't see the difference. I believe they are one and the same. I am not going to stop writing about my beliefs AND about the reasons I hold them. I will certainly be more careful with FB in the future. But this IS an important part of my testimony. If the doctrine is false, for the sake of the Testimony, we should fight it. I have yet to ever see ANYTHING resolved through silent endurance. That is for things that cannot be changed. If changes are possible, then silence is not only unneccesary in my opinion, but wrong.
I don't know if things would have been drastically different for me today, if one factor or another were removed from my childhood. They probably would have. But what I do know is that I would never have let go of the rage and disillusionment that overwhelmed my childhood, if I had not started blogging. And to me, that speaks for itself.
I still struggle with rage and disillusionment, but I have only to read last year's blog on my flash drive to see how much more I feel at peace today. The difference is tremendous. Even the difference from January to now is noticeable to me. That's what works for me. I tried Mom's way for years, and it didn't. You could argue that I had too much anger for prayer to be effective, but I don't really believe that. I had to identify the sources and come to terms with their effects before I could feel humble about them and begin to forgive. If Mom doesn't need to do that, good for her. I can't tell her how to handle her life. But I do.

For the record

2011-07-16T06:10:00.001-07:00

Well, as many of you know, I do not blog under my real name. Mostly because I need to be free to say what I think without having it come back on my family. Also for basic internet security. I do, however, maintain a FB page in this name for various reasons. And on that page I copied and pasted my posts on spanking. I tagged certain people I wanted to read it, and that apparently was a mistake. Once my sister commented, it allowed access by several people who could easily figure out who my parents are.
My parents read it, and were very hurt. My mom wanted to know why I didn't just come to her if I felt this way. To me, the answer was simple: I already have, it's been resolved, I moved on. These posts were about my view of the Fundamentalist method of discipline, not my view of my parents.
After reading the post again, though, I can see why that was not apparent. I also see that there are some basic underlying differences between the way I think while I'm writing, and the way others naturally read what I've written.
I don't often refer to June, my mom's religious mentor, these days. That's because I confronted HER with these issues, without result, and I have accepted that there will be no closure from her. Hers was the faulty recipe. My mother may have actually wielded the rod, but June was the driving force behind it. It's her face I see, and her voice I hear, when I write these posts. Not my mother's. I reached closure with her a while ago.
These posts were not an attempt to describe my childhood for sympathy. They are my effort to spread the word to my peers about the poison of the Fundamentalist doctrine. To do that, I must at times refer to my childhood.
For the record, my mom disagrees. Both that her discipline would have been drastically different without June, and that anything can be solved by talking to outsiders. I feel confident in saying she is incorrect on both counts. The second is self explanatory. Even if I actually had real life friends with whom I was comfortable discussing this, I wouldn't, because of their connection to my family. And contrary to her belief, I can say from harsh experience that nothing has ever gotten resolved by praying for strength. You don't pray for strength to go on living with injustice. You pray for strength to deal with it. And then, you go and deal with it. At this stage of my life, dealing with it means helping spread the word to other parents and future parents who might fall into the same trap.
In talking to my mom, I cited the child of a mutual aquaintance as one of the reasons I have come to this decision on spanking. She tried to help me understand their situation better. His parents did not discipline harshly until he was around 5 (funny, that's about the time his problems started). They were unaware of certain medical issues affecting his digestive system at the time, and he frequently soiled himself. Since they had no way of knowing that he wasn't being lazy and doing it on purpose, they had to start punishing him. It was the best they knew at the time.
EXCUSE ME?
Far from garnering my empathy, this only redoubles my urge to fight such a sick, evil doctrine with all my might. Only a parent raised in the upside down, backwards world of Fundamentalism's "evil childhood" doctrine would ever THINK of such a possibility as a 5-year-old child soiling himself on purpose! What insanity. And I'm supposed to understand the PARENTS' struggle? What about the little boy who was basically hurt, despised, and outcast BECAUSE HE WAS SICK? I want to knock those two parents' heads together for being so stupid. I have disagreed with nearly every parental act I've ever seen from them, but I still gave them credit for more common sense. Ugh.
As for the June situation, I'm going to reopen it for this post, because I think my parents need to see what my impression of my upbringing really is. They feel like they've heard me say one thing, and write another. So here's what I remember, for the record:
I remember June telling mom that under no circumstances, ever, should an adult apologize to a child. That such an unbiblical act would turn the world on its head, and society would soon collapse. To hear her talk, you would think a failure to spank immediately and painfully would result in a mob of 8-year-old parent-hating anarchists taking over the world and bringing Armageddon. I remember her quoting Proverbs endlessly, always with the implication that children were fools and must be beaten hard and often to have any hope of a decent future. I remember her pressuring mom to use harsher tools of punishment, like an actual rod instead of the switch, as we got bigger. What impression my mom took away from these lectures, I can only guess at. I imagine it mostly involved a feeling of still not being good enough, of failing as a parent, and of fear that we were becoming horrid little monsters who would destroy her life's work. I base that merely on how I would feel if someone said the same things to me as a parent.
What I took away from those lectures was naturally quite different. I was evil until I reached adulthood, June wanted us to be in constant pain and misery because that's what she thought children deserved, I could never be worthy of a compliment until I had proven myself as an adult copy of June herself, and my mom had to diligently burn away our dross and pound us into shape like a blacksmith if we were ever going to amount to anything. I doubt my mom even realized I felt this way; but the feeling was no less real for all that.
There were a few defining moments of my childhood as far as discipline goes One was the day I got into the tub and saw that my legs were purple and blue all up the back from the previous day's punishment. I got very upset, and the look in my mom's eyes was one of shock and regret. This kind of spanking was NOT the norm. But what she actually said wasn't the "I'm sorry" behind her eyes, but the Proverbs quote about "the blueness of the wound." And that hurt me more. Not because I now thought she didn't love me, or that she wanted me to suffer, or even that she believed I deserved it. What I saw in that moment was June vs. me, and June won. My take-home impression, if you will, was that June was more important to my mother, amd I couldn't compete. My mom would deny her instincts rather than the infallibility of the prophet.
There were other incidents, but they involved siblings, not me. So I will not cite them.
I was reminded of another example when I found my box of childhood papers last year. In it was a certificate with a date on it. I was 7. It certified that I could write my name. On it, in printing far better than what I do today, was my name. And my mom's signature, to make it official. There was a B at the top.
That brought back memories. I worked so hard on that. I was so proud of it, so sure I would get an A+. I couldn't believe I got a B after all that. Mom pointed out that the letters weren't all the same height across. They were close, but not enough. Once again, the lesson of faulty childhood. 7 years old simply wasn't old enough yet to do an A+ job. Perfect was perfect, whether I was 7 or 17. The best I could do wasn't good enough.
Whether Mom realizes it or not, I find it nearly impossible to believe that she ran her 2nd grade classroom by that standard. I feel like that was June's influence too. I got many A and even A+ grades from mom; this wasn't the norm either. But this grade wasn't for a correct answer. It was for perfect penmanship. And I simply wasn't old enough to reach that goal yet.
I have some good memories from my childhood too. It wasn't all a rat race. But the overriding force was June's doctrine of evil childhood, of "children should be seen and not heard," of believing that everything we did was wicked and selfish, or at the very best, needing improvement.
My dad's mother was the first person to ever tell me she was proud of me. Last year. Other than online friends, of course. I didn't ever think about it until then. That isn't right. My parents should have been proud of me. I worked very, very hard to please them. But, I was unfortunately just a child. And for that crime there was no redemption. June said so. Her whole life was based on it.
Once the Other Mother came along, I gave up. Now there were two people monopolizing my mother who both took priority over us. I have no good memories of my teens. The 8 years I lived at the house where my parents still reside was a long, unbroken expanse of confusion, loneliness, despair, and rage. I shut down, went into survival mode, and counted the years, then months, until I could flee with the only bright spot in my world (Mark) and never look back. I gave up on my mom, there was nothing I could do for my siblings, and I wasn't going down with the ship. I had no home; it had been given away to others who had no rights there. I was nothing but a rebellious servant. Donna and June had wrecked us, and all I cared about was escape. It consumed me night and day. Until I could physically escape, I mentally escaped With no one to talk to, I talked to myself, constantly. I still do.
Mom told me that Dad worried about our isolation and lack of peer companionship. He couldn't have been more right. She felt she did the right thing to prevent any outside influences at such a vulnerable time. That was June, too. I know it was, because June told me so. She told me to thank God for my isolation, because isolation and holiness are inseparable.
Actually, we all know that studies have proven isolation and insanity are inseparable. I could have been one of those studies.
Mark was the only reason I spoke to my parents again after leaving home. Amd I'm glad he made me. Without that, I would still hate my mom, I would never have seen how big a part June played, and I would never have observed how drastically my mom's parenting changed when she finally let go of June. Also, I would never have developed any relationship with my Dad. June kept him in the back seat.
I know this isn't making my childhood out to be better than the previous post. But the fact is, this was my reality. And this discussion was never about our childhoods, it was about how the discipline affects us AS ADULTS. I laid my childhood to rest already, by finding closure and reconciliation with my mom, by walking a mile in her shoes in many ways, and by accepting that with June and the Other Mother, there will be no closure. It's done. All I want is to tell other parents how this discipline really works, and hopefully save future children from this poisonous, evil doctrine.

Proverbs on Spanking

2011-07-15T13:17:00.000-07:00

This is my followup post on spanking. For the first three, go here, here, and here.

I was curious this morning about the verses I always heard quoted as a child during spankings, and how they really apply if you stop thinking of them as license to hit. It was a fascinating study.

How many ex-Fundamentalists remember these?

Proverbs 19:18 - "Judgements are prepared for scorners, and stripes for the back of fools."

Proverbs 20:30 - "The blueness of a wound cleanseth away evil; so do stripes the inward parts of the belly." (This was always the next day's quote, when we woke up with sore, bruised, welted legs and cried because it hurt to sit or walk.)

Proverbs 26:3 - "A whip for the horse, a bridle for the ass, and a rod for the fool's back."

Yes, these verses clearly refer to corporal punishments.

Who on earth decided they referred to CHILDREN?

In context, these verses have nothing to do with parental discipline. They are proverbs about society, in a time when adults were stoned for adultery or idol-worship, and whipped for stealing. They are completely irrelevant to the responsibilities of a parent!

So how about the verses that specifically deal with children?

Proverbs 19:18 - "Chasten thy son while there is hope, and let not thy soul spare for his crying." (Yeah, the boys certainly do cry and yell when I take away the DS or other toy, or send them to sit on the stairs, or ban ice cream and candy for the day. I guess I'm not supposed to give in, who would have thought?!)

Proverbs 22:15 - "Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child, but the rod of correction shall drive it far from him."

A rod was a shepherd's tool. How many of you think the shepherds routinely beat their wayward sheep? How did words like "rod," "reproof," "correction," and "chasten" come to be interpreted as blows?

A lot of people take offense at Michael Pearl's references to child-rearing being like training an animal. I understand that it doesn't sound good. But think about how you would expect someone to train a puppy, or a horse, or any other pet capable of some inter-species communication? We put people in jail for beating their dogs. Back when horses were a way of life, a man who beat and aggressively whipped his horse was looked upon as a bully, or an ignorant, violent person.

For some strange reason, this does not seem to have occurred to Mr. Pearl. But I do agree with his statement, taken at face value.

I asked my dad's mother what her method of child-rearing was. I was curious since my dad does not seem to be in any way hampered by a lack of discipline in his childhood, yet she didn't seem like the spanking type. Her reply was that she couldn't say she never gave them a good swat when they were really acting out, but that she did not feel the need to "spank" for offenses. She thought there were plenty of other ways to deal with misbehavior before resorting to a whack.

That's pretty much what I had pictured. And it's pretty much how I feel about discipline. I will never judge a mother who picks her tantrum-throwing toddler up off the grocery store floor, and smacks his butt before returning him to the cart. It may not be the most ideal response, but it is a normal one. I'd rather see that than the mother I saw recently, whose son accidentally knocked his sister off of her precarious position on the cart front; and as soon as the little girl let out a whine, she started berating the boy far too loudly and telling him what a bully he is and how there will be no candy today, etc. She clearly reacted out of her own embarrassement, and ignored his assurances that it was an accident. Which it was, truly, and more the mother's fault than his in fact. I saw what happened. Also the sister was being quite dramatic. Judging by the looks on both kids' faces, I doubt she normally bothers to intervene, and that upset me even more. Naturally, I didn't say a word; I'd have only made it worse. She probably gave them extra candy at home to make up for it, and expected them to forget all about the harsh words and public humiliation.

Anyway, that was a bit of a sidetrack. My point was that my Dad has certainly not displayed any lack of self-control or any anger issues as an adult, so obviously it didn't hurt him not to receive prompt whippings for every infraction. And he wasn't the angel child, either. They called him "Dennis the Menace" as a young boy. He pulled the girls' hair and made trouble in school, tormented his little sister to no end, and that's just the stuff he actually told us. So my Dad is living proof that spankings are not a vital part of child-rearing.

On the other hand, Proverbs has many references to "violence" and what a bad thing it is. So we need to decide, what constitutes "violence?"

Ephesians 6:4 - "Fathers, provoke not your children to wrath, but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord."

This leads to another point I missed the first time. About taking responsibility for what you tempt your children with. If you know that your child is more likely to be angry or react poorly over a particular thing, I believe it is the duty of the parent to do as much to avoid and minimize the situation as possible. For example, I know that Andy screams at Hunter every time he loses the game on DS. He has to learn that Hunter is not to blame. In the meantime, I don't allow him to play it in the same room where Hunter is playing. It's something I need to be prepared to deal with before I give him the DS. I know that Hunter does not wake up easily, and will be extremely grumpy and contrary if I don't give him at least 15 minutes of persistent reminders before I actually need him to be up. I see no reason why I should ignore that fact, refuse to deal with the inconvenience, and then just drag him out of bed and whack him if he fights. It's my job, as the parent, to deal with the known factors involved in a way that brings about the best outcome for everyone.

Michael Moore, in his documentary film "Bowling for Columbine," asks over and over why Americans are so violent compared to other leading countries. He almost had it a couple of times, but not quite. He still thinks having more guns has something to do with it. He thinks the culture of fear has something to do with it. Both are undoubtedly factors. Guns eliminate a lot of reaction time by the victim, and a lot of time to think by the perpetrator. Still, I think our society overall simply has a massive anger management problem, and without guns we would still lead the civilized world in murders.

I think it goes back to the Puritans.

I don't want to diss my forefathers, or say that they were bad people. But I really do think that they brought a culture of judgement, rigor, criticism, contempt for others, and a mentality of no forgiveness that has shaped this country from the beginning. I think it's that underlying concept that everyone MUST follow your creed, your God, your way of life, and anyone who doesn't must be a wicked heathen, that has bred this culture of violence. And it's the same reason the Fundamentalists still haven't bothered to figure out how to raise their children, instead of merely enslaving them. These are the men who burned and drowned witches, because the Old Testament said to. They didn't bother to clearly define what a "witch" was, even assuming that would have justified such acts. They simply applied the title to anyone who was "weird" or "strange." They established a way of life that said anyone who didn't fall in line was an outcast and less than human. And then, somehow, they reached the unspoken conclusion that Christ's instructions to His followers don't apply to their dealings with those people.

And we wonder why we have so much violence.

Friday Fragments

2011-07-15T09:11:00.000-07:00

Today is Joshua's birthday. We miss you, angel.

Friday Fragments is brought to you courtesy of Mrs. 4444. Check out her blog at http://halfpastkissintime.com/ for links to other Friday Fragments posts.

Someone told me the YMCA does discounts for low income families. I really need to use a gym for biking exercise; I think that would help tremendously with my lower pelvic problems, while eliminating the counterproductive impact caused by most exercise. It was helping a lot last year during the two weeks I got our bike working before someone stole it. Grrr. Plus, I really want the boys to learn to swim. So I'm applying, and hoping for the best, and getting what little income proof I have together.

Since the jackass social worker assigned to me keeps giving me grief every month over one thing or another, I figure to kill two birds with one stone and pre-empt him this month by turning in all the same information I have to give the Y before he can ask for it. Take that, Mr. Brown!! Mark keeps bugging me to apply for cash assistance too, but I refuse. I feel like that would be enabling him. It's true that the license situation prevents him getting any jobs with a comfortable income. But he still needs to shoulder some of the consequences if he's going to continue putting all his time into a failing enterprise. Feeding our family is not optional. Buying clothes and nice bath products and furniture sort of are. To a point. I don't need spending money badly enough to ask the county for it.

One of these days I'm going to do a post on Wants vs. Needs, just some of my thoughts about the subject. We do have some of what I feel I can reasonably call "needs" that aren't being met. That's a relative thing, of course, because since we DO live in the U.S. and not in Belise or Haiti, I can't legally get away with letting certain things slide that poverty stricken people in other countries might call luxuries. On the other hand, I don't feel like I can gripe too hard about not having beds when we have two perfectly good mattresses and a sofa. Albeit one that's becoming very uncomfortable as I enter the last trimester. Anyway, that's a post for later.

This little girl is a wiggler. Good grief! She squirms and kicks from the moment I wake up at least until I fall asleep. Lol. I guess she'll be a handful. :D

I'm noticing that forcing myself to deal with the boys more calmly is already having an effect on their behavior and my state of mind. It's encouraging. We still have a long ways to go, but even small steps look so good right now.

This week was VBS at our church. It's been lots of fun. They did adult classes too. The first one was on managing money and staying debt-free by a Christian fanancial advisor (haha not that I have any money to manage these days, but it will stand me in good stead when I do), and the second class was a DVD about the Galapagos Islands from a creation standpoint. I LOVE LOVE LOVE nature videos!

The shots didn't go too badly yesterday. And next year when they get the last DTaP, it will be the last of all the shots I'm getting. That's a relief. One of the two followups I thought they needed is eliminated by the fact that they are over 4 now. Another good reason for starting late.

It will be interesting to see how things go with the new baby, since WIC tells me I have to keep up with immunizations to stay on it. Not happening. I'm not getting anything until she's two years old.

Next weekend I turn 31. I'm hoping against all odds that I will actually have a little spending money by then to go out and buy some better fitting maternity clothes and some nice bath products. The cheap stuff sucks when you're pregnant. And I may have only gained 14 pounds, but it's all in my belly. My maternity wardrobe is barely sufficient as is, and will drop by half within a week or two. :( And my mom already paid for about 25% of it.

At VBS the financial advisor challenged everyone to pray for an extra hundred dollars this month for giving to a charity. I couldn't help thinking how much money we'd actually have to get before I could call a hundred dollars "extra." Even if I continue to only think of things like food, toilet paper, shampoo, bills, furniture, and clothing as necessities. I would gladly donate a hundred dollars to charity rather than spend it on perfume, nicer dishes, a decent looking table, brand new clothes or even baby clothes (there are plenty of consignment shops), or going out to dinner or a movie. (Neither of which I really enjoy, but it's all Mark is ever willing to do together.) I might even forgo taking the boys to a museum or other attraction if it would make a difference in someone else's life. But I'd feel bad, because they really get to do so very little outside the house.

However, just to get a comfortable bed to sleep on and sufficient clothing, not to mention getting ready for Baby Girl, would take several hundred dollars more than I can reasonably expect to have in the next month. And when one of the other members asked what the advisor considered "extra," and he said whatever is left over after bills, church giving, household expenses (define that please?), and SAVINGS, which he defined as 20% of income until it reaches a certain amount, I nearly laughed out loud.

Is it just that I have no faith? That I can't trust God to make a breakthrough? Or am I doing the right thing to keep my expectations realistic? I honestly don't know any more. I just know I'm a person who is influenced by patterns. And this is the pattern I see: always having just barely enough, with rare little bits of sunshine that allow me to do some of the things I feel are necessary or important (like taking the boys somewhere or buying nicer/bigger maternity clothes), and never any leftovers. That's okay, most of the time. I can live with it. My kids are not among the supposed 94% of kids worldwide who will wake up tomorrow morning with nothing for breakfast, and most days that's all I really need. (They may not like the only breakfast available, but at least they have the option, hehe.)

But this challenge is bugging me. I should let it go, but then I'd feel like I just can't trust God. On the other hand, I also feel like He is telling me I have to do without these things right now for a reason, and it could be a lot worse. Is it being presumptuous to ask for, and expect, another thousand-ish dollars above the norm to show up within four weeks? I have no idea.

More photos from last summer

2011-07-13T11:37:00.000-07:00

I never did finish my photo post from our OK trip. Here goes. To see the previous one, go here.

My sister's pastor's wife kindly bought us a membership to the Children's Museum out there. This was one of the photos from there. I am having trouble finding my other folder from my sister's camera. She had some good ones.

This was the octopus hat I crocheted for Hunter while we were there. He still likes it.

He LOVED the kiddie pool we went to the last weekend. He was convinced he could swim, lol. And made a pretty good effort. It wore him out though. After two hours he complained of his tummy hurting, went to the men's locker room with my brother-in-law, and covered the floor and toilet with diarrhea. AAGGGHHH! Not my favorite motherhood moment. I had C. stand watch while I sprayed him off under the shower, he went home in his cousin's spare clothes, and to top it off C. didn't tell anyone about the mess. Ugh. Someone was salty when they found that. I feel bad.

This was our second trip to the museum, and the boys' favorite attraction. It was a water study with locks and mill wheels and so forth. Very cool.

Hunter liked the whatever-you-call it as well. Hehe. It went up really high. Andy didn't like it though.

This was the last Sunday there, the kids singing with the pastor.

This was a view from the train on the way home.

The boys on the train.

I fell in love with the Appalachians.

The boys got a rousing welcome home. :D

Summertime

2011-07-13T06:11:00.000-07:00

Andy had his first playdate at home last week, with his best friend from class. They had a lot of fun. They are both named Andrew too, hehe; but the other boy goes by his initials.

I made an appointment tomorrow for getting their next round of vaccines, minus the Hep B. I decided that I want Andy to have the option of starting first grade in public school, and if major troubles arise, well, I can always pull him out. He is going to be furious about the shots since he decided he didn't want to try school based on having to get more shots. But it's a few days of discomfort to keep from being stuck in the house all winter with me and a new baby, while Hunter goes back to Pre-K every day. I think he will be a lot more upset in the long run if school starts and it sinks in that he's not going anywhere, all for a few shots.

It's genuine summer here right now. Not my kind of weather. But it's nowhere nearly as bad as the past few summers, so I'm grateful. The garden could really use some rain though.

Monday we were supposed to head down to the shore with the Other Mother. NOT my idea of a vacation. Since Mark is once again owed multiple weeks of pay, it didn't work out. Neither did plan B. I'm upset we don't have the money we're owed, but rather glad that the trip isn't happening. Both for financial reasons (it would have cost far more than we should be spending right now), and because I had a very hard time coming to terms with spending two nights with her. As if the heat, crowds, and being pregnant weren't obstacles enough to begin with. She rented a place for the week, and seemed to be quite confused and put out that simply having a place to stay didn't solve any problems we might encounter with the trip. So for once, I'm actually thinking this always-late pay thing worked out.

Mark and the boys are very upset, but we're trying to come up with something else. My sister is able to get discount tickets to a popular kids' attraction through her job, and that trip would cost far less and probably be as much fun for the boys as the shore trip. Of course, that's all assuming we actually get paid enough at any point to do more than buy groceries and pay overdue bills.

The midwives are supposed to get back to me today or tomorrow about my transfer. I'm trying to switch to the practice that delivered Andy. They opened a satellite office much closer, and they accept MedicAid. The midwives I'm with are demanding that I transfer due to Hunter's birth history. Weenies. I'll be 28 weeks on Saturday, and I've only gained 13 pounds. I had gained about 30 pounds with Hunter at this stage, and started out at about 15 pounds heavier anyway. I don't forsee any trouble with this baby's size. As for the prolapsing, I can't do much other than stay off my feet and avoid lifting anything as much as possible. Whatever happens at the birth will happen.

My People

2011-07-10T08:46:00.001-07:00

Someone gave my mom a box of books and she let me go through them to see if I wanted anything. There were a few books of poetry, and I have always loved poems. Although I am just as particular and selective with poetry as anything else; music, clothing, jewelry, etc.
This poem seemed to really express the way I have felt since I can remember.

"Who Are My People?"

My people? Who are they?
I went into the church where the congregation
Worshiped my God. Were they my people?
I felt no kinship to them as they knelt there.
My people! Where are they?
I went into the land where I was born,
Where men spoke my language....
I was a stranger there.
"My people," my soul cried. "Who are my people?"
Last night in the rain I met an old man
Who spoke a language I do not speak,
Which marked him as one who does not know my God.
With apologetic smile he offered me
The shelter of his patched umbrella.
I met his eyes... And then I knew....

- Rosa Zagnoni Marinoni

Why I've Stopped Spanking Part Three - Conclusions

2011-07-09T12:36:00.001-07:00

I may have to add a Part Four later to catch all the thoughts I couldn't collect today, lol. I am definitely feeling that 3rd trimester fatigue. I think it officially starts next weekend. And my mom's computer kept freezing up today, so I have to post by phone which always makes it harder to keep my train of thought.
But, I'll try.

So, I talked about my reasons for not wanting to pursue corporal discipline originally. And about some of the resources that strengthened my feelings into a belief. I won't lie, I have not been doing this long enough to say that A or B has worked well for us. My main purpose in writing these posts was to collect my wandering thoughts into something coherent so I can be clear on my decision. What I can say is that corporal discipline wasn't working. And during the brief period of time when I tried to put it into a structured pattern, it only seemed to increase the boys' frustration and sense of being somehow burdensome.

Those feelings, I strongly believe, did not originate either with the discipline or the lack thereof. I am certain they originated with the lack of structure, self-discipline, and peace in the overall home environment. There wasn't much I could do about that. There was nothing at all they could do, so the responsibility falls on me to make adjustments.

My parents no doubt attribute the boys' anger and lack of self control to my unwillingness to discipline effectively and consistently. I have been guilty of that. However, I am confident now that my efforts from this point on are better put into building mutual communication skills and respect than into establishing my superiority. I can learn with them, or I can pass along the same repression, fear, and social anxiety that I was raised with, perpetuating the cycle. Why not try something new? Why continue to pursue a course I already found to be flawed from first-hand experience? What's the worst that can happen, my kids grow up with as many questions as I did?

Yes, my boys have anger issues. That's to be expected under the circumstances. Until recently, I was looking for that magic method that would make them calm, collected, and happy. I realize now that there is none. Those things are just as much the product of their surroundings as they are of my discipline. I can choose to go for appearances, held in such high regard by my family and other Fundamentalists, and force them to conceal and repress their feelings and reactions for the convenience of all the adults in their life. Or, I can choose the path I never tried yet, and set out to teach them self-control and better ways to express their feelings, and a standard by which to weigh those feelings rather than deeming them all unworthy from the beginning. Of course Andy can't be permitted to kick his brother, throw toys, say bad words, or refuse to leave the store. Of course Hunter can't be permitted to hit me when I say no to Lucky Charms cereal, wallop Andy when he doesn't give up the DS, throw his food in the trash, or run outside and hide from me to keep from doing a task. I just don't think spanking is an effective answer.

The proof is in the pudding. I was raised with a faulty recipe. The least I can do is try another one. It may get me some dirty looks and disapproving stares from my family, or from the old maids at the grocery store. But I'm going to try anyway. I see too many parents react out of embarrassement rather than conviction. I remember how angry it made me as a child to know that my mom was reacting that way. I don't want my boys to feel that way, that I care more about some stranger's opinion than their well-being.

And it certainly won't hurt me to learn the lessons of patience, communication, and self-control that were withheld from me as a child. I have nothing to lose. And I love the idea of embarking on a whole new path. God knows I hated that old one. :)

Why I've Stopped Spanking Part Two - Research

2011-07-06T14:45:00.000-07:00

So. After a while I began wondering if it was really necessary to spank the kids. Sure, Andy was getting unruly, but I felt that was directly related to the family situation and the tremendous amount of stress he was under as the oldest child. I didn't feel right blaming him for that. I mentioned this to my mom once, and she looked at me like I had three heads for thinking that his stress should in any way excuse his behavior. Ummm, we adults always seem to get away with that. Why not even more so a child?

I had a conversation with someone from church who was horrified that I would consider not homeschooling, and offered to teach the boys herself for free, as a favor to me, if it would make the difference. I was rather taken aback, and I know she is a friend of my mom's, so I thanked her very much but told her I wasn't sure that would be what I wanted. She said "Oh, come on, there will be no problems! I'll raise them just like the W----'s children!"

I gasped in horror. Good thing it was a phone call. Visions of my active, precocious, fun-loving boys sitting straight up on a bench with somber Puritan faces, in button-down shirts and slacks, reciting poetry and soberly basking in their parents' pride at their academic accomplishments, rushed into my head. Before I could think of being tactful, I blurted out, "Oh I would never want that! I do NOT want Andy and Hunter to be like them!"

Probably not the wisest thing to say, since the family in question is close with the younger section of mine; but it did dampen the conversation considerably, and the lady has not offered her advice since.

I also observed my oldest nephew and the effect his parents' methods had. They follow the Pearls. Everything I saw led me to believe this was NOT a healthy way to discipline children, at least for this particular personality. I have very serious concerns about his future, and I won't see the same thing happen to Andy. So right before me was proof positive that a dominating relationship with my kids would only be destructive in the end.

Plus, it takes both parents to discipline effectively in any way, and I think perhaps more so with corporal discipline. The kids already have enough pain and confusion surrounding the issue without having one parent feel the other is too harsh or too mild. And Mark and I still don't agree on anything, really, other than not raising them like us. One more reason not to start a regimen of corporal punishment.

At some point I came across blogs from other parents raised in the Fundamentalist lifestyle. Originally I gravitated toward their questions regarding true Christianity, family rules, and homeschooling. Then I noticed some of them were discussing "Gentle Discipline." I decided to try it out, but without researching much due to limited internet access. It wasn't very successful. I wasn't changing my language, as it was so aptly put on a blog post I cannot now find to link. :(

I left a comment on one blog about how to keep my kids out of danger when they absolutely won't listen to me. Someone, I think it was Permission To Live but I'm not certain, directed me to some links about that very situation. I couldn't read them at the time. However, I have recently been able to research more, and here are some of the blogs I've found that are helpful.

Enigma

Permission To Live

Darcy's Heartstirrings

Quivering Daughters

Dulce de Leche

The last link in particular had an abundance of resources and further links that were very encouraging. And I realized that I did not need to keep worrying about what other people think. This is MY family. I can handle the discipline. They aren't perfect by any means, but you know what, I would be insane to expect that anyway.

In the last post, I will talk about my conclusions on how to apply this to my own kids. And then, moving forward, we will see how it goes!

True Love - A boy and his cat

2011-07-05T06:24:00.001-07:00

This is Andy with my 15-year-old cat. He wants a cat of his own so badly. He adores her, and she very patiently tolerates him like the experienced great-grandma she is lol. Since Mark is allergic, she lives at my parents' house still.
Sent from my Nokia phone

Why I've Stopped Spanking Part One -Origins

2011-07-02T15:13:00.001-07:00

I really never established a clear pattern of discipline with my kids. I wish I had, but I didn't think there was any such thing as discipline outside of spanking. It's how I was raised. Had I known then what I know now, things would be easier today; but better late than never.

The reason I didn't was the rule every decent parent who spanks believes in: Never spank in anger. And I was always angry. Between my own childhood baggage, which mostly manifested in deep social and emotional insecurity; and my husband's, which ran far deeper and manifested in addiction, severe depression, and numerous mental breakdowns; I never felt I had gained enough control over myself to "Spank With Love."

Naturally, as my boys grew older and began to act like normal self-centered children in front of adults, I took flak from my family and my in-laws for not cracking down. I made lame excuses, usually trying to make it look like I did better out of sight, and falling back on the "Spanking In Anger" thing, without really clarifying. That was something they empathized with, but it only went so far. I was given much advice and books to read and so forth, and I couldn't really explain my situation without revealing more of the truth about my marriage than I wanted to. How to tell people who have never dealt with addiction, that you can't enforce household rules and keep suicide watch at the same time? That when their father is having an emotional collapse it's more important to keep him from getting up and hurting himself than it is to keep the kids out of the cabinet, or make them pick up the toys. And as for TV time, forget limiting it; it's a lifesaver for distracting them from what's happening.

How to explain, without scaring people away, that you can't spank your kids without anger if you can't stop thinking about the stuff your spouse cried about in his delirious nightmares last night, and how it makes you really almost believe you could justify slitting the throats of the people who did this to him, or watched it happen and did nothing; and since you LIVE WITH THEM, there is no way to take your mind off it. Self-control is a nearly impossible battle, let alone controlling your toddlers.

Add to that the sleep deprivation and loss of appetite that comes with such deep emotional strain, and no one in their right mind can say that this person should be spanking a child.

So I rarely did.

In the next post, I will talk about researching the issue and some of the resources I've found. I can't link them from here though, because I'm posting from my phone.

The meaning of closure

2011-06-30T10:10:00.000-07:00

The past couple days I've felt very much at peace with the Other Mother situation. Not because anything has changed outwardly. It's just that reading the book I mentioned was exactly what I needed to know where I should go from here.

I've struggled to reconcile the idea that I shouldn't try to separate him from his family, with the knowledge that she at least is extrememly unhealthy for him and us. Every time the frustration builds to the point I absolutely can't take it any more, I feel like I have to tell Mark how I feel first and get his permission somehow to stand up to her. And knowing from experience that he will only try to bully and guilt-trip me into giving in to her, I can't do that. I've fought back against his line of "You can't keep her grandkids from her, they are all she has," knowing that he's hearing it from her and repeating it; but still there is that nagging voice in the back of my mind saying that it's true, she has never hurt them, how dare I drive a wedge between them. Yet I know that I can't wait until she does to take a stand, and it's inevitable she will at some point. And I know that being around her affects my mental state to the point of affecting my behavior as a parent. That hurts them, albeit indirectly.

I've felt guilty for being so angry with her and still not confronting her, even though I've watched many others try to with nothing but more trouble for their efforts. And the futility was made plain last Thanksgiving when I told her what I thought for once. But you know, there are those verses, "If your brother have aught against you....." "Forgive one another...." verses about reconciliation and acceptance and etc. So I have never been able to stop thinking "What if" every time I want to make a decision. It had gotten to the point where I really felt my options were (1) Leave Mark to get away from her, or (2) Suck it up and accept her as she is. Which I know I cannot do any more.

Reading this book, and seeing them confirm everything I have said and thought about the situation and about how she fits into it, was depressing at first. Because they made it clear you cannot expect the person to change. These people rarely change, or even acknowledge any need for changes, or admit that they have hurt anyone by their behavior. They said what I've already found out the hard way, that you can't expect empathy or support from other relatives or acquaintaces, because most likely those people have never met the person you know and will conclude YOU are the one with the problem. They honestly have no idea what on earth you are talking about and have never glimpsed the behavior that has scarred you so deeply. So it didn't offer much hope for a successful confrontation and/or reconciliation at any point.

What it DID do is break me out of the idea that my relationship with her needs to have the same boundaries and abide by the same rules that Mark's does. I now feel perfectly confident and justified in establishing the boundaries that work for me, and leaving him to establish his own when he's ready. I feel like I know what to say if and when he tries to confront me about it. And I will know that I have the right to stand where I do. I didn't know that to a certainty before.

And part of that comes from the realization that I have always had my own separate relationship with her, because I grew up with her constant presence throughout my adolescence. I don't have anywhere close to the same amount of emotional scarring that Mark does, but I do have some, directly related to her and the way she treated me and my siblings, independent of Mark. That made me feel very confident in paving my own way. I have tried to live as though I have no relationship with her except through Mark, which of course holds me to his boundaries and standards - none of which affect her or what she wants when it really comes down to it. No longer.

This gives me a much-needed sense of closure.

Things happen in threes.....

2011-06-28T13:38:00.000-07:00

Well, first the good news. Which is not one of the threes. The third nephew of 2011 was born on Saturday night! I'm thinking I may have the only girl this year, lol. Somehow I have a hunch Sarah is having a boy in August.

Now, on to the present issues. Young Mom kindly recommended some books to me, and I went looking for a few of them this weekend. Our local bookstore had a copy of "Toxic Parents," and I wanted it but was a bit concerned about the inflammatory title. I wanted Mark to potentially read it as well. I found instead a book called "Emotional Blackmail," which sounded just like what the Other Mother does to him. So I looked for that. They didn't have it. In the process I came across a book called "Surviving A Borderline Parent."

Some time ago, a family therapist I cleaned house for told me that she sounded like a Borderline personality. Not knowing what that meant, I scoffed, feeling that there is nothing with the word "borderline" that could possibly apply to such an extreme person. I opened the book and was shocked at how many parallels jumped out right away. So I bought it.

It was certainly an eye-opener. Not into her; I've seen enough of what lives inside of her to know all I need to. But it struck me how many of the same behaviors, insecurities, and paranoias the adult children of these people report, are the same patterns in him that I have always attributed to the sexual abuse. And of course, many of them ARE the same; what upset me was realizing how many factors contributed to creating them in the first place. As if the poor kid didn't have enough to deal with from just one source. I'm amazed all over again at his resilience.

In the midst of this, I made some comments on Facebook about how much she was pissing me off. One of her distant unrelated "relatives" made a few comments and ended up looking up the court case - some court case, at least. She said that Mark won the case, that his abuser was found guilty.

As you may imagine, I rather freaked. I kept asking her more questions, and she asked her mother who had been interviewed by investigators in the case, and her mother said the same thing. Since that certainly isn't the story we had always heard, and Mark has always believed, I decided to ask his step-dad. I didn't dare ask Donna in case she really had lied, but it made no sense.

His step-dad said that was absolutely not true and said I could find out at the law library. The girl wasn't getting back to me and what few things she said seemed to deliberately leave out any solid information. So I went and looked it up. Nothing, only appellate cases are published. They told me to call the courthouse where the case was tried.

I did. No records of the case at all. Even though it was from 1987 and their system goes back to '85. Donna always talked about the powerful connections he had covering his tracks everywhere, so I can only assume that's what happened here. He somehow got it removed from the system. If I ever find myself in that town, I will look for a hard copy; but the courthouse employees said that would be extremely difficult without having it in the computer system. And Mark's parents threw away their copy. I can understand why, but it's a shame. That may have been the only record left.

All they have are the records from the subsequent lawsuit, which The Thing won, and their appeal, which they lost. Since I am fairly certain there's no way he could sue for slander if he was found guilty, and since I really doubt this girl found something even the court couldn't find, I can only assume that he was indeed acquitted and she looked at the wrong case. In fact, the brief that was filed in the lawsuit states that he was acquitted.

Why this other woman says otherwise, I have no idea, and I'm not going to ask. The family has enough drama, and there is never any agreement between any two of them on any subject, however simple. But it really shook me up for a couple of days.

Thirdly, the infamous Tim called Mark yesterday. Since I blocked his number, he calls from all sorts of other numbers. We had heard he was arrested last week buying heroin, with paraphernalia and his 4-year-old daughter in the vehicle. He's out already. Why? He gave up all his connections in the area. And called Mark to tell him this, and added how much he trusts Mark not to tell anyone because Mark is the only person who knows where he lives.

WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?

As if that wasn't low-down and psychopathic enough, he went on to add that with the insurance check he just received for totaling his vehicle, he bought a log of heroin and did Mark know anyone who might want some. Piece of shit. So he basically traded his car for drugs, got arrested and rolled on all sorts of of people who certainly aren't my friends but are no worse than him, and now being the narcissist he is, he wants Mark to come and celebrate with him by getting high after two years of relative sobriety. Oh, he didn't have to say that part; it's obvious.

There simply aren't words in this language to describe the vileness of such a person. I hope something bad happens to him. It's probably the only chance his kids will have of a decent life.

I want to walk again!

2011-06-25T15:21:00.001-07:00

This isn't going to be some kind of deep, existential post lol. I mean it literally. I haven't walked comfortably since I was pregnant with Andy. I got pregnant with Hunter 9 months later, on purpose; Mark's doctor had given him 6 months to live without drastic lifestyle changes and I did not want to be a single mom of a single son. I felt Andy and I were both too clingy for that, and I could not fathom getting remarried.
Hunter was 10 lbs. 7 ozs. And suffered shoulder dystocia. I knew after his birth that my insides weren't right, but I had no insurance and no money, so I did the kegels and avoided being on my feet as much as possible. Only last year did I begin to feel safe running at all, and never for any distance. It seemed like my insides might fall out. That was a major factor in not wanting to get pregnant again, although I didn't tell anyone.
At 25 weeks, I'm beginning to really feel the weight of my growing baby. The midwife said I had a minor prolapse of my gall bladder when she examined me, which explains my need to pee constantly; but I think it's more. My whole birth canal feels like it just might turn inside out if the baby gets bigger, and I've got a ways to go yet. I hurt if I'm on my feet for more than an hour or two, and especially if I am walking a lot. I have to lie down whether I'm tired or not in the afternoon, because just sitting doesn't cut it any more.
Having this bad tooth out is amazing. I can focus better, I have far more stamina even though my energy is low, and it's making me realize just how much my mobility is hampered. I'm a bit concerned. Maybe I should accept the hospital transfer I've been fighting the midwives on after all. Not because I think I'll have another 10 lb. baby, but just in case they have to put all my organs back in place afterwards.

The Harlot

2011-06-23T14:54:00.001-07:00

It struck me recently when I was reading Proverbs how very different the woman described there as the evil, predatory harlot is from the image we were given as Fundamentalists. Odd that this coincided with reading a couple of posts by Enigma (link at the side of this page) regarding modesty and the victim-blame mentality.
The first thing that struck me was the lifestyle of the woman described by Solomon. She is about as far removed from the poor outcasts we are taught to regard with such disgust, as one can get. She is described as a wealthy woman, one who has access to rich apparel and finery and perfumes. She is also a married woman, or at least claiming to be, telling men that her "good man" is away and they will be safe from discovery. This doesn't sound like someone dressing scantily and giving a forward smile. It doesn't sound like the typical inner city prostitute, most of whom ended up there because they fled abusive homes where they already had to give it up on a regular basis for free, with no say at all. At least on the street they get paid and have some option in choosing a customer. And she certainly isn't a prisoner of addiction either. She chooses this lifestyle, willingly, and pursues it, for whatever reason.
Yet how many of us are taught as girls that if we smile too widely, or talk too loud, or swing our hips when we walk, or let our knees and shoulders show, we are "tempting" men and inviting their attention on a dangerous level. This mentality is just as damaging to the boys as it is the girls. They cannot help drawing the conclusion that any girl who does these things is looking for their attention, wanting them physically, and also unworthy of their respect. It breeds not only repressed and fearful women, but predatory and disrespectful men as well. The kind of men who are dumb enough to think that a streetwalker is desperate for sex and unworthy of common human decency, rather than severely damaged and trapped by the abuse they have suffered.
I do not believe that girls should dress provocatively. I think they should dress comfortably, and feel free to dress attractively. I also believe that when they cross the moral boundary, that is between them and God. It gives no one permission to violate their human rights by touching them without permission. It is each person's responsibility not to do wrong to another, and two wrongs do not make a right.
When someone is a liar, the smart thing to do is avoid and ignore them as much as possible. When someone is violent, it's smart to avoid them as well. And when someone is inappropriate and tempting in their dress and behavior, the same would follow there. What is this idea that we have to control what other people do? Teaching self-control would be far more effective and safe.

My Parents

2011-06-19T05:59:00.001-07:00

One of my biggest problems with all the Fundamentalist parenting literature out there, is that it is all written from the parents' viewpoint. Where are the books written by these experts' grown children to back up what Mom and Dad said? How are they raising their own children? They are the ones I want to hear from.
So on that note, I thought I'd point out some of the things my parents did that I DO wish to emulate.
My mom is certainly a good teacher. It's one of her gifts. I struggle with things like showing the boys how to tidy up their room, scrub themselves in the tub, get dressed, or help out with dinner. Part of it is certainly the cramped living space; it's difficult to move about with them in the room. But I could do more.
I'm glad that we grew up without TV. If it weren't for Mark's health problems, we probably wouldn't use ours much. He needs a way to distract himself from the back pain. I am eagerly awaiting the day when we have our own private bedroom and the TV can stay in there out of sight.
I appreciate all the local government meetings Mom dragged us to. I hated it then. But I have since come to realize that observing the political machine in motion during those early years gave us an insight that could hardly be learned as an adult. And I definitely plan to do the same for my kids. Watching the flow of BS while they are still young enough to see through it will give them better political intelligence than any book they can read.
The same with all the campaigning we did during elections. When there wasn't a candidate my parents supported, Mom would have us hand out copies of the Bill of Rights, or articles by the founding fathers, to remind people where their loyalties should lie. This was a valuable experience as kids. People would challenge our opinions and beliefs, making us think about why we held these positions, and looking back I have great respect for my parents' willingness to have their beliefs challenged through their children. I doubt many others would.
Plus, my mom taught us to sing, and she always cooked regular meals, and many of those everyday things that were once taken for granted but were already falling by the way even in her generation. My parents never argued in front of us, a luxury I envy now with never having any privacy from our kids. They always presented a united front to us, and I tried to do the same until it became clear I would have to give up every single value I held to do so.
My parents were old-fashioned, and they instilled old-fashioned values in us. I disagree with some of those, but others will never lose their importance. And they managed to give us pretty strong coping skills when it comes to the non-social aspects of life. Kids learn by example, not instruction. Even my parents don't really believe that, but it's true. And in most ways they set a very good example.
Love covers a multitude of sins. I have yet to meet anyone else whose childhood I would rather have had. Because I don't think any parents could love their kids more than mine do, no matter the mistakes. They still pray for every child - in-laws too - and every grandchild, every night, by name. That makes me feel protected in a way I can't explain. Working at the daycare, I had plenty of opportunity to observe parents. Most loved their kids, but not enough to really listen to them or observe them. A few obsessed over them, and read books and asked anyone with a degree for help instead of just learning from their kids. This worked out well for the manipulative director, of course. And then there were a few who didn't love their kids at all. Those parents might go a whole lifetime without hitting their child, but the damage will be enormous even so. Nothing can substitute for love, and kids know when you are faking. That's why I don't call normal spanking abuse. Even though I have come to disagree with it, I have seen parents give their child a look that I have no doubt will scar deeper than any corporal discipline. And my parents never looked at us that way. I don't think they would know how.

New post on my other blog

2011-06-17T12:16:00.001-07:00

http://becauseofoffenses.blogspot.com/2011/06/averys-story.html

Religion, marriage, and spirits: Part One

2011-06-11T08:15:00.000-07:00

This is a combination of two posts that have been taking shape in my head for a while. Since I tend to make anything very important to me scattered and hard to follow, I decided to steal Permission To Live's idea and make it a multiple part post.

This first part is to help explain why I am researching and reaching the conclusions I expect to bring out over the next few posts.

Religion: Ever since I can remember I was unsatisfied with the answers my Fundamentalist upbringing provided. Especially after meeting Mark, and much more especially after watching his mother and the way June (my mom's religious mentor) interacted with her. There were some enormous contradictions and gross hypocrisies evident in that whole situation that for many years dampened my faith as a whole. I began to question everything, including whether there was really even a God. Still, I always knew there was evil. And to believe in any spiritual world at all would necessitate belief in a Holy Spirit as powerful, if not more powerful, than any evil spirit. It has to be that way for balance. Plus, I had been what is commonly called "saved" at about 7 years old, and I could not deny the presence of a loving, pure, and protective influence in my life.

So once I accepted that yes, there is a God, a righteous God, and yes, He did have a hold on my life, I set out to discover who and what He really is, as opposed to what I had always been taught He was.

A few things influenced my search to arrive where I am today. During my "what if" days, I read a book called "Prospero's Children." I would not tell anyone to read it, and I no longer possess it and never intend to again. Still, I think it was an important stepping stone in my path to find the truth. It was a fantasy novel about a young woman who discovers she has supernatural powers, ones that are needed, and embarks on a path that leads her to great danger from the darker powers and their minions hiding in the woodwork. I think the main thing I have retained from that story above all, is the importance of keeping your talents for only what matters, never using them selfishly, and always remembering that with power comes equal responsibility.

April and Kori may remember the infamous Tim from back in my early blogging days. He talked about red-letter Christianity at one point; and while I do not subscribe to the idea that only the words of Christ are acceptable out of the entire Bible, still he was right that when you read only the words of Christ, you get a vastly different impression of what a Christian should be than the stereotype most of us find in the churches. This had a strong influence on my search as well and was the beginning of my questioning not just the Fundamentalist doctrines, but the overall Western theology as well. Back then, I still rejected the idea that non-protestant churches could be Christian, but merely concluded that the idea of organized religion in general went against the doctrines taught by Christ.

Then, there were the conversations I had with June and with the Other Mother, in which I realized that no amount of Biblical knowledge or quotation could make one a Christian. For all their verses, their doctrines do not follow the teachings of Christ. Simple as that. This really knocked the whole basis of my religious upbringing off the tracks.

Marriage: It is an inescapable fact that being with Mark has contributed heavily to my search. There is no way to reconcile the experiences he has had, both physically and spiritually, with the religious lifestyle I was taught. My mom has certainly tried, but unsuccessfully in my view. June lives in denial, insisting that things cannot really be that way, and falls back on her much-loved quote of "When I was young, I spake as a child," blah blah. Claiming that anything you experience as a child is by nature unreal and warped because you cannot see anything clearly until you reach adulthood. She also says that it is impossible for a child to tell the truth, they are by nature evil, selfish little liars who think only of what they can get out of any situation. This concept of course works out quite conveniently for her to deny the possibility that there are situations she cannot justify or preach to. The Other Mother simply refuses to hear about or acknowledge anything she can't top with a more dramatic story from her own experience. And most of what happened to Mark is beyond anything she can come up with. Also, she won't acknowledge any event or effect that she would have to admit she should have noticed. Like the polio thing, for example. Or anything that implies she handled a situation badly.

Spirits: I found out a lot about the abuse Mark endured in detail when he was in rehab. More specifically, in withdrawal. It was hard to hear and certainly affected my health at the time, and most of it I did not respond to but merely let him talk. He was not exactly in his right mind at the time - to put it mildly - and it has become evident since that much of what he told me he had never told anyone else, including the investigators in the case, and does not now remember telling me. So I have never pursued any of it with him. I think the anguish of withdrawal brought out some repressed memories that he was unable to keep silent about, but has since buried again; and I can see no good reason to dig them back out. But I will never forget.

One of the things he told me was that the Thing who abused him had told him if he ever told anyone else, he would be cursed. Apparently the Thing was pretty specific about the details of the curse, and when Stevie got hit and nearly died last year, he mentioned it again. He believed that something intended Stevie to die then, as a punishment to Mark, and expressed a desire to go find a psychic or someone who could tell him whether there was a curse following him around. I tried very hard - and for now, I think successfully - to discourage this. Not because I think he won't find any answers, but because he has told me about several demonic experiences he had as a child in which he was, from my perception, used as an unwilling portal by harmful and malicious entities. Again, this is one of those situations where I mostly keep my mouth shut during his stories and just file them away as valuable information. There isn't anything I can say and he isn't asking me for answers. But I am certain that any type of psychic activity on his part, no matter how benign in its intent, would open wide a door that is better left shut - or at least somewhat blocked - to spirits that can and will harm him and those close to him. Like me. And the kids.

I have felt those spirits many times. Much less since we moved back here. I think some of it has to do with the fact that this is MY space, MY place, and those entities have no foothold here outside of Mark's mind like they did in the house where he had lived with his family. I am going off on a topic I have avoided so far by saying these things, because there isn't any kind of solidarity to it or anything I can point to as evidence. It's just what I know in my guts. And I feel like explaining it now. I feel the NEED to explain it. And that is the main purpose of this multi-part post. In which my religious search, Mark, and whatever spirits hang around him are all tied together.

Polio, asthma and family secrets

2011-06-09T06:37:00.001-07:00

I had a talk with the pediatrician at the boys' last checkup. See, there are two medical statements on their record from Mark's side that I have come to doubt over the past couple years. One is asthma. Mark is prone to respiratory issues, and so is Hunter. Mark nearly died of pneumonia as a toddler, and was put on cough syrup with codeine for about 3-4 years. I've never been able to bring myself to point out that this probably contributed to his silence and ability to block out much of the sexual abuse he suffered throughout that time. I have noted that it undountedly helped set him up for the narcotics addiction he has struggled with. But asthma? I have questioned that since realizing what panic attacks are and learning more about his childhood. I don't think he ever had asthma. And I am removing it from the family history.

Then there was the polio vaccine. The one that Other Mother claims was responsible for him being unable to walk for 3 weeks. I have refused to get the boys vaccinated for fear the reaction would carry through. But last year I began to question that too. I became certain after hearing her explanation of certain instances I personally knew were different, that this was her cover story to hide her own gross neglect. Or possibly a severe beating she gave him. But the time line coincides too closely with the brutal rape he endured, and the pediatrician confirmed my suspicion that not only was the vaccine likely given around that age, but that all reported reactions were digestive issues related to the outdated oral vaccine, which has now been replaced by a synthetic shot. He said there was no reason to believe that the vaccine could have affected a child's mobility.

I haven't mentioned this to Mark, obviously. He has enough to deal with right now. If he ever starts to delve in again, I certainly will. But for now, I am taking that off the record as well, and chalking it up to one more ugly cover-up by the most neglectful and abusive parent I have ever known personally, or am likely to ever know.

Strawberries and lemonade!

2011-06-03T08:16:00.000-07:00

Andy had his first lemonade stand on Memorial Day. He was very enthusiastic about it. He is constantly griping about the toys and games we can't buy him, which garners just about zero sympathy from me and seems to really put a guilt trip on Mark. I told him he could start earning his allowance, because I know he won't ever be satisfied with what Mark gives him. So he sat down and went over the math with me, we learned about profit and cost, counted the change my Mom loaned us. He wrung out quite a few lemons before his arm got tired; I was impressed.

Maybe a holiday wasn't the best time. There was almost no traffic. After an hour of sitting in the sweltering heat, with nearly all our ice melted in the pitchers, I tried to cheer him up by taking a picture. Here's what he thought.

Poor little guy. Right after that the neighbor girl stopped by, which put some excitement back into him. Then my family came home from the parade and very kindly all bought lemonade. And a few more neighbors stopped. Only one customer came by who wasn't a relative or neighbor. She stopped because she said her son had done the same thing at Andy's age, a few miles further down, and NOBODY had stopped. :( He stood out all day with his sign and cried.

I though we had a good spot here, being at the head of the road and with a good drive-thru that connects our driveway and the neighbor's. Maybe lemonade stands just aren't "in" any more. We will try it once more on a non-holiday, but if that doesn't garner more business I think we will call it quits. I hate to do that to him, but I hate seeing him sit out there feeling miserable even more. He was happy with his take, THIS time. But it will take more than neighbors and family to make a summer of it, hehe.

Yesterday the weather cooled, and we went to pick strawberries. Mom said she would pay for them if we would pick. It was a great deal if we picked 20 lbs. or more, so we did. :) That's 13 lbs. in the photo.

Then we cleaned them all up and made jam. I froze some of the smallest berries for the boys' cereal, and made old-fashioned unsweetened jam with more. It turned out great! Tart, but delicious. Today I'm making jam for my mom with her berries.

I'm starting the switch to a diabetic diet. Hopefully keep this baby close to 8 lbs. My goal for now is to keep my sugar down to what I use in my coffee, and the occasional cookie or scoop of ice cream if we are out. And only one carb a day. THAT one is the tough one. All the cheapest foods are carbohydrates of some sort. And it's hard to find things I can eat jam with if I don't do carbs! I hadn't thought of that when I made my unsweetened jam lol. I don't think I need to do the strictest version of the diet, with no carbs and no sugar whatsoever. But if I do, I can start that during the last couple of months. The third trimester makes the biggest difference.

A baby sister!

2011-06-01T13:59:00.000-07:00

Well, we had the gender ultrasound yesterday, and it's a girl! Yayy I get to buy pink and ruffles lol. I am starting the switch to a diabetic diet to keep her smaller than the boys, since the midwives are beside themselves over Hunter's birth weight and the fact that he had shoulder dystocia. I don't think there's any way this baby will get that big, and I feel like telling them to stop being such weenies. But it can't hurt to cut out the carbs and sugar. It just costs a whole lot more in groceries. :(

Andy was thrilled, and so was Hunter, despite his declaration that we needed 3 boys first, hehe. And Mark actually said, "Wow, I guess that's kinda cool," which is the closest he will get to being happy about it. So that made me very happy. He needs a little girl; he used to be terrified of them and I think having a daughter will be good for him. Hopefully it will make him less crude too. Sometimes it really gets tough being the only female in the house!

Donna "blessed the Lord," which really pissed me off in light of the fact that she had told us all she "wanted a refund" if it was a boy. I just told her that it was a blessing either way. She has wanted a little girl forever, and I will have to take this situation as it comes. I am glad to have learned some of the lessons I did before we had a girl. It will help me - and the kids - down the road. It won't hurt Andy not to be so blatantly spoiled any more, but it will hurt him to feel ignored. Some things I just can't fix. All I can do is try to minimize the exposure.

I am very excited. And although I don't plan to do anything medically for prevention, I can say with certainty that this baby will be enough. I feel like our family is going to be complete. We have two amazing, beautiful, smart sons, and no doubt an equally amazing daughter on the way; and the Lord has richly blessed me in the ways that matter. I'd rather have wonderful kids than plenty of money.

School is out!

2011-05-27T09:29:00.000-07:00

Well, the picnics were a blast. No pictures, since my camera from Christmas has never been found; but I rectified that last night by upgrading my phone. the new one has an 8MP camera in it. So as long as I have my phone, I'll have my camera. Yay!

Hunter's picnic was at the school. We took his cousin X over with us and they had tons of fun. Pony rides and digging a toad out of the sandbox, lol; plus a whole bunch of goodies and snacks. Andy's picnic was at the side-by-side homes of two of his classmates. It was also a sort of birthday party for one of their sons, and they rented a waterslide that really took the cake, lol. And Hunter dug a whole toad family - mom, dad, and baby - out of their sandbox. I guess toads really like sand. Andy took a fall from the playset that freaked me out pretty bad, because by the time I realized one of the parents was calling for me and got over there, his lips were blue. They said he had hurt his back. Turns out what happened is he landed flat on his back really hard and it knocked all his breath out. He was alright after a while, but it took a good 20 minutes or more for his color to come back. In the end, though, it didn't dampen his day a bit.

Do I feel like talking about the job/money situation? Ugh. Probably not. But after the latest colossal failure of Mark's and Lance's plans, he offered Mark a paid-every-Friday job working by the day. It is a fairly generous amount considering the economy, and I am all for Mark taking it. He doesn't like the sound of the number he would make every week as opposed to the big numbers he keeps going for with these jobs. I am getting really frustrated that he can't understand he would be making more in the end. Because those big numbers NEVER come through. Never have, never will. How long does it take to figure that out? I'm not letting it go this time. I deserve some stability. And I decided months ago that a regular paycheck is one of the things I need in order to keep us together. I can't make bricks without straw any longer.

So, I get to figure out what to do with the boys out of school, and we need to get a wading pool next. It will cut down tremendously on the baths! And I'll keep the DS locked up for certain times, hehe. I think we are going to pick strawberries next week, if the weather is good.

Safari Day!

2011-05-23T13:26:00.000-07:00

The boys' school year wraps up this week. They always do an animal safari, and today I got to see it twice. Perks of having one child in each class, lol. I was really bummed that I forgot my phone and couldn't take photos, but that isn't the most important part anyway.

They brought several small exotic animals, like a chinchilla (I miss mine!), an albino skunk, a Patagonian Cavi (looks like a wallaby but is a rodent), a few small reptiles, an impressive large lizard, a baby alligator, a large tortoise, a few standard petting animals, and of course, the small python for the kids to put around their necks and have a photo taken if they wanted. Then they took out the big python. 11 feet long, actually. The secondary teacher does not like snakes, so I was asked to help hold him. :D I had no idea he would be so heavy. My wrists hurt for about half an hour afterwards and I had to ask her to adjust him once before I dropped his back end. He must have weighed close to 80 lbs. It was a very unique experience. Both boys loved the show. Andy didn't want the snake around his neck, though. Neither did I. I will touch and hold all sorts of animals, but that doesn't mean I'll cuddle them!

My little brother just came in and told me something so hilarious I have to share it. Andy was helping him and my Mom in the garden, and he has taken to calling the new baby "Caroline" (which I told him was the name I like for a girl) even though we aren't sure of the gender yet. So apparently he was making plans for his "new sister," and my brother asked how he could be so sure it was a girl. He said that Andy replied emphatically, "Because if my mom has ANOTHER boy, there is something very wrong with her tummy!!" Hahahahaha!

The situation with Mark's birthday is working out okay. I told him I was upset, and he said not to worry, he had invited her over to our house for dinner instead. ?! I said no, not that night. The end result is that his family is all invited over the following evening for dinner, and my mom is watching the boys on his birthday evening so we can have some time to ourselves. I guess all I have to do is communicate. One of these days I will learn how to do it without flipping out first.

For the rest of the day, we are making monster cookies for the school picnic. Yum!

Enjoying spring! And today is halfway :D

2011-05-21T09:14:00.000-07:00

Ahh, it's so good to have a springtime. Several years in a row now the temperature has gone from about 60 degrees in early April to about 85 degrees in late April. This year, the weather has been in the 70's for about a month now, and I am so happy!

Today marks 20 weeks of pregnancy. I am supposed to find out on the 31st if it's a boy or girl! I'm going to take my grandmother with me. Since I can't take the boys, it will be less stress on Mom, get my grandmom out for some sightseeing, and might be her only chance to see an ultrasound, which she would love. I'm looking forward to it. The baby has been very active, and hopefully won't decide to sleep all through it and not give us a good look.

I read a line in the book "Clara's Story" this morning that was really good. It is the story of a Jewish girl in hiding during the Nazi regime. She commented about saying goodbye to a friend she feared she'd never see again, and assuring the friend they would meet again; not because she really believed it, but because she refused to let the Nazis take their hope on top of everything else. It made me feel better about letting myself hope. I'm so afraid to believe that anything is ever changing for the better. Lance is back to the same old same old; our finances are still in the pits; I just don't see any reason to hope at all. I guess that doesn't mean I'm not allowed to, though.

We have visited another church a couple of times and plan to keep visiting. There's a lot I want to say about it but I still don't have everything squared away in my mind. So that will wait for another post. May take a while. I don't ever plan to leave the church I am in right now, because I think they are very good, sincere people. But I know that Mark isn't finding what he needs there; the boys don't have what they need because they are the only children in the church so there isn't a junior Sunday School; and with the arrival of a few well-meaning but irritating new members who are bent on making us more "friendly," I am growing increasingly uncomfortable. I realize that the problem is with me, and not with them; but it's a problem nevertheless. I do not like to be touched. And being the youngest family there by far, and now pregnant, and with this new "hug everybody" attitude that has repelled me from so many other churches, I just don't feel at home any more. All the elderly people want to pet me and hug me and rest their hands on my shoulder while they talk to us, and it annoys me to no end. I feel like I'm becoming the church mascot.

So for a period of time, I want to look for a place that will provide more for Mark and the boys, and see how things go. Being with people who don't know my family at all is helpful too. Since my mom is so politically and religiously active, and since most homeschoolers around know at least one or two of my siblings, I constantly find it a problem to overcome people's pre-conceived notions about me without getting their disapproval. Anyone who knows my family assumes I am someone very different from who I really am, and church people don't like finding out they were wrong. I also don't feel entirely free to discuss my own religious views because I know it will get back to my family, and my mom will embark on a mission to keep me on her religious path. It's not a discussion I want to have with her until I have my own transportation, because I don't want her to stop letting me use the car to go to church and simply offer a ride to the church she approves of instead.

Yesterday I had a whole rant in my mind about my MIL again, but I just don't feel like getting into it all now. The short version is that she has always monopolized Mark's birthday in the past, and since we always lived with her or with her ex, I didn't feel it was worth fighting about. This year, it's getting me angry. He's in his 30s. He has a wife and kids. She has some nerve to expect to take him out to dinner with her on his birthday. He won't celebrate it with us, or let us observe it; but he won't say no to her, so she always gets her way with the plans she makes. And I'm done with this. I don't know what I will say, but I'm not putting up with it this year. And I want HIM to be the one who says no. We shall see. Even if we don't celebrate anything that day, he needs to spend it with us. For OUR sakes. She can take him out another time.

Another nephew!

2011-05-09T12:12:00.000-07:00

Well, my SIL J. got a special Mother's Day present yesterday in the form of a little baby boy! Two down, three more to go, lol. The next one due is in mid-June. Talk about Year of the Grandkids hehe.
I had Andy's parent-teacher conference today. All the concerns were things I expected; his demand for constant attention, his penchant for interrupting, his controlling attitude when it's time to listen. But she surprised me by pointing out many of his skills as being well above his age group, which I didn't know; and said that his creativity is astounding and he is great at getting the other kids interested in things. Cool! I am very proud of him, if I do say so myself. :)

Blood test, Nintendo, and work

2011-05-08T06:43:00.000-07:00

The test came back negative for Lyme's. Interesting. Now the doc is pressuring me to see an ear specialist for my tinnitis, in case they find something the blood test missed. ???
We replaced Andy's Wii with a DS. I have been opposed to it on the basis if his rte problems, but when I asked his ophthalmologist, he said the close-up activity would actually be better. Also that he would never recommend video games for therapy, of course. They didn't give Andy glasses; they want me to do the drops in his good eye again over the summer. The way he hunches over the thing, he will need to see a chiropractor too!
Mark went back to work for Lance today, maybe officially. This paving guy is a psycho. He keeps asking me what to do and I told him to choose the one that is less stressful for him. The paving job is close and reliable, but also very hot and backbreaking, and his boss demands he be there from nearly sunup to sundown. Every day that it's not raining heavily. We shall see!

New post on my other blog

2011-05-04T12:27:00.000-07:00

I read an article in a parenting magazine that inspired a new post on my other blog.
http://becauseofoffenses.blogspot.com/2011/05/speaking-of-secrets.html

Bin Laden, doctor visits, and life in general

2011-05-02T13:12:00.000-07:00

I find the idea of celebrating anyone's death repulsive. So he's dead. That's undoubtedly a good thing. Just like in the unnecessarily crude execution of Saddam Hussein, I am once again embarrassed by the high-handed, insolent bullying that seems to define our nation's dealings with the Muslims. And we wonder why they hate us.

Just saying.

Anyway, I had the ultrasound last week to measure the fibroid. It seems to have shrink; yay! Assuming that what I felt before was actually the fibroid. I can't think of any other explanation though. The baby was all over the place, heehee. All squirmy and feisty and "Stop poking me doc!" Too early to tell the gender yet.

Today I had blood drawn to test for Lyme's Disease. They can't treat it while I'm pregnant, but the testing itself is costly and I figured at least get that out of the way while I have insurance. If I do have it, I will probably get the prescriptions during the 60-day grace period after the birth, and then wait until I stop nursing to take them. I might have to cut the breastfeeding shorter than I would prefer, but I think six months is long enough to give the baby's immune system a good head start.

If it's not Lyme's, well, I really can't think of anything I'd rather have it be; none of the other scenarios are good or really treatable. The damage already done to my joints and nervous system can't be reversed with Lyme's, but the progress can be halted. Anything else will continue to be degenerative even with treatment. And since my mom and two siblings had it, that is the most likely cause. There's no history of rheumatoid arthritis or multiple sclerosis or any of those scary things in my family. Besides, I don't know much about MS but I'm pretty sure after 6+ years of degenerating problems I should be in a lot worse shape with that one.

Andy has been banned from the Wii for some time because of his dreadful temper and bad language. Taking it away really didn't seem to help, but Mark's promise to give it back last weekend if he watched his mouth all week did. Unfortunately, some low-life dirtball stole it out of the storage shed. The locked storage shed. Great. To his credit, he took it quite well; but mostly because Mark promised to get him a new one ASAP. Just one more expense we can't afford.

Mark started a job. It's going well as far as plenty of work, and close by, but the boss is a jerk. He will get his first paycheck this weekend - hopefully. If the guy doesn't turn out to be like the last one who also hired Mark for a two-week "trial period" and then never paid him. I don't think he will though. I think he's just a hyperactive, controlling ass. He claims to love Mark's work. He just doesn't like the way he shuts the truck door, holds the spreader, etc. Seriously?! Meanwhile, The Turd started a big project that he keeps offering Mark more and more money to come and work on. It could be a good thing, and would be a lot less stressful for Mark; but it also might not pay for long if the company doesn't keep up their end. And it's a much longer drive. He promises to do what he can to provide rides, but I know from a practical standpoint that his ability to do that is limited. It is really out of his way and his hours would be very different from Mark's.

In the meantime, I'm concentrating on keeping the house clean, getting enough rest, and eradicating weeds! Hehehe. Dandelions, beware!

Various

2011-05-01T17:58:00.000-07:00

I took the boys to a small local fair yesterday. It was surprisingly good! Fairs around here rarely have any activities.to hold kids' attention, and this wasn't really an exception. But the singer.did "Old Man Take A Look At My Life", one of Andy's favorites; and there was a balloon maker there who did some really cool designs and held their attention for about 30 minutes. Then on the way out I saw a table with books about local haunted attractions. On impulse I decided to flip through and see if there was anything about a location where Mark had worked several years ago. He hated the place, and it is famous for spooky apparitions and disturbing events. I hit the jackpot and bought the book. I was surprised when I started reading it though.This author is the real deal, unlike some of the local folktales we have collected. She even takes the time to debunk some of the more ludicrous local tales, which I appreciate. I will have to get more of her books.

The meaning of dreams

2011-04-27T13:37:00.000-07:00

I had this dream in the early part of April that really disturbed me. I often have unpleasant or freaky dreams, that leave me unsettled and feeling tired all day. I take those for granted. Even the ones that seem to have some obvious meaning. This one was different. It was so very, very strange, for one thing; and it was one of only two dreams I can ever recall that continued to disturb me on a deep emotional and physical level for days afterwards. I decided to write it down and spent some time agonizing over the possible meaning. Of course only a few dreams ever have real meaning, most are random wanderings of the imagination. But I assume dreams like this one have actual significance. Especially since they are so rare for me and so disconnected to anything I would think of in my waking hours. I think I figured it out, but I will get into that at the end.

*I dreamed I was listening to a news story. It came on twice. The story was about the discovery of an elderly woman's body at a remote location in the mountains. She had been deceased for over a year, possibly two. In my dream, the news clip was very brief. But somehow, I knew more of the story. I knew the location; a small cabin on a mountainside with tall, tall trees surrounding it. A steep winding road went up the mountain not far away, and there was an old mill rather nearby as well. Th small village or town wasn't too far below. The old lady really wasn't as isolated as one would expect, given the length of time that lapsed before her death was discovered.

The news story mentioned that she had become entangled in her clotheslines and was unable to free herself. That it appeared an article of her clothing had blown away up into the tree, and in attempting to dislodge it she slipped and fell, getting caught in the lines and hanging there until she died. I knew that she did not die of strangulation. She hung there for days until she died of dehydration or exposure to the elements.

I knew that no one had discovered it for so long because she was a mean, bitter, nasty old lady who hated other people and whose neighbors studiously avoided her. I knew that her clotheslines were strung between two tall trees on either side of the deep gully below her house, with a pulley-style movement for accessibility similar to what the Amish use. So to a passer-by, or even a concerned neighbor, her position would not have been immediately apparent, suspended nearly 50 feet above the gully in the shade of the trees.

In my dream, I remembered passing by the cabin at least once on a drive up the mountain, and being aware of the angry, unsociable, bitter emotions that emanated from the area. And listening to the news clip, I seemed to feel the emotional agony the old woman had experienced during her horribly slow death. The hatred, the rage and fury, the disbelief, the grief and regret, the despair, the fury again, and eventually the total insanity, and her mind disconnected from her dying body and lost its capacity for rational thought. It terrified me to think how dreadfully haunted the already spooky cabin would be, now that the person who infused it with so much negative psychic energy had died such a tragic and lingering death in the vicinity.

At what point I progressed from fully asleep to that weird half-waking stage, I am not sure. But at some point I was standing outside the cabin, wanting to go in and see if she had left anything that might give clues; to her identity, her final wishes, or something that might perhaps be done to make her tortured spirit more restful. I didn't think that storage in a morgue, or a pauper's grave far away, would be a good idea. It seemed that since she owned the property, she ought to be buried there regardless of bureaucratic red tape. I felt intensely burdened to find something that would persuade the callous, business-oriented officials to give the old lady her home for good. After all, she wasn't going anywhere, no matter what they did with the remains.

But I couldn't go in. I was terrified of the violent emotions inside. Afraid that the sheer force of the insanity and rage behind that closed door would take my mind. So I stood outside, trying to think of a way to help, but feeling utterly too small and incompetent. When it came down to it, I had to choose survival.*

The dream left me feeling very rattled and incredibly sad and guilty for a few days. I wondered if maybe I was the old woman, so bitter and unable to socialize with other people that I will eventually drive everyone away. But I really can't see myself ever being that emotionally isolated. I am too bent on finding the answers to ever give uyp and shut myself in a box forever. I think. I even wondered if maybe I had dreamed about something that actually happened. But I doubt it, because I cannot invent a single scenario in my mind, realistically, in which an old woman could climb so high in a tree and become so entangled by simply falling. In real life, it would seem that at the very least she would have managed to free herself and then died from the fall into the gully.

No, I think the dream was about my relationship with Mark. I have watched him for the past nine years, ever since his mother left home, and he abandoned all his goals and dreams and went back to fill her shoes and be the pathetic loser she always told him he would be, dying that slow and agonizing death that no one can see. I've watched him occasionally try to open up, but finding it impossible to make anyone understand where he is coming from, he shuts down again and the hatred and bitterness deepen. Every small disappointment becomes a colossal failure; every jerk who screws him over becomes just another asshole in a long line of assholes who keep taking pieces of his soul, like the natives of Ceylon sacrificing little children by tying them to trees and then rushing at them with knives to see who could hack off the biggest chunk. They really did do that. And people still do it today. They just do it spiritually and emotionally. And I am really afraid that soon there won't be anything left; that he will die a terrible and unnecessary death, spiritually, because he is actually more afraid of learning how to live than he is of dying.

It's a terrible thought. And like the lady in my dream, I want so desperately to help him, to bring some peace to his life; but it seems no longer in my power. I have a scary feeling that the choices he is making now could end up being the final ones; and he still isn't ready to make the ones he must in order to survive. God help us all.

Note: This isn't because of anything in particular that Mark has done recently. It's just a feeling I am getting as time goes on and our paths seem to be divulging more and more. And the dream really shook me up. I've been needing to write it down ever since.

Enjoying the Easter treats

2011-04-24T06:26:00.000-07:00

This was the first year I did anything for Easter. The boys had a blast. And it wasn't expensive either. Except for the prize goose egg, which Andy was quite thrilled to find. Lots of fun.

Sigh....

2011-04-21T13:05:00.000-07:00

I don't know if I feel more upset or relieved today. I have long been uncomfortable leaving the boys with Mark, because he is starting to show the same behavior patterns I remember so well from his mother. He doesn't beat them, but he yells and harasses and throws stuff and gets very abusive with his language.

Last night when I got home, Hunter was in the backyard sulking. When he saw me he came over pouting and said, "Papa beat me up." I knew there had to be more to the story, besides he certainly didn't look beat up. So I asked him more questions, and he said that he was having a fight with Andy and threw a bottle of water at him, and Papa threw it back and "beat me up in the face." In other words, the bottle hit his face. He also said that Papa told him to leave the house. I tried not to show how exasperated I was and went inside. Mark was laying on the bed watching a movie on the little DVD player, and water was all over the mattress in front of him. I asked Hunter if that was the mess from the water. Before he could answer Mark looked up and said, "He threw a bottle of water at me!" for all the world like a bratty older brother tattling on the younger one. Ugh. Then he started calling Hunter childish bad names and telling him to get out of the house, acting as though he was kidding. Andy started shouting insults and bad language from upstairs at Mark, which Mark immediately responded to in kind. Great. Way to set an example for your sons. Andy called him the b-word, and just as I opened my mouth to tell him he is never allowed to call anyone that, Mark called him a poop.

I just wanted to rip out my hair. I can sit there and tell the boys to respect their father until my hair turns gray, but the simple fact is that if he refuses to act worthy of that respect, they are never going to. And it sure is hard to tell Andy he can't call people bad names when his dad calls him bad names right back.

This is why I can't work any more.

I was hoping Mark would have started a new job by now, and alleviate some of the problem. But it doesn't look like that will happen until Monday, and besides my Mom sprained her back two weeks ago and is having trouble getting around. Watching the boys all day is hard on her. (They are on spring break this week.) I tried to talk to her last night, but she was away. So today I asked her if she would be able abd willing to keep the boys even if Mark is home, and she said no. I figured she would, it's asking her to get involved in our family matters and I probably wouldn't want to in her shoes either. So I texted my supervisor and told her I can't come in tomorrow because of babysitting, and that's the end of that. I am picking up my things next week. I figured that would happen too, because it's putting a lot of pressure on her to have my schedule becoming so unreliable.

I will not have my kids raised like Mark and his brothers. Not even remotely. Even if I have to eat beans and rice.

I still don't know what he will say, but whatever happens will happen. It feels good to know that I am doing the right thing. The whole situation just sucks all around.

Hmmm

2011-04-20T12:39:00.000-07:00

I had my first prenatal appt yesterday. At the ultrasoun. the nurse mentioned that I had a large uterine fibroid. I shrugged it off since I have long suspected I had them. But as my belly grows, I am starting to get a strange and painful feeling.sometimes as if there is a very hard lump of knotted muscle there. And when it's not there, I can feel what I think is the fibroid, a lumpy solid mass about the size of my thumb. I mentioned it to the midwife, and she is sending me for another ultrasound to have it measured. She says if it is too large, it could interfere with labor and delivery. Bummer.
Mark's case from his arrest last year was closed this morning. So pathetic, basically a slap on the wrist all around and nominal fines just to prove that they really DID have a case. Although they lost half their paperwork and continued the hearing 4 times! But at least it's over, or will be once they take another $150 from us. Slow strangulation that never ends. Still, I feel relief.

Licensed again!

2011-04-16T06:12:00.000-07:00

Mark got his license restored yesterday. Whoohoo! It does seem rather anti-climactic since we don't have a car to drive, but first things first. It cost us another $122 at the last minute for more paperwork, of course. They couldn't let it be THAT easy. But it's done now! One charge was simply to prove that he didn't have a car and therefore didn't need insurance. Ugh.

This morning we are headed to a friend's mother's memorial service. She struggled with health problems her whole life until being diagnosed with Celiac's Disease a few years ago. Her health improved greatly for a short time, then slowly deteriorated again. Last year she was taken to the hospital where they found a large cancerous tumor in her stomach that had metasticized. It claimed her life last week. Some things you just can't prepare for.

Decisions, decisions

2011-04-14T10:50:00.000-07:00

Well, I have decided to stop working again. Andy really needs me at home. He is showing some pretty severe rage for a six-year-old, and Mark is not helping at all. Neither is my little brother, which makes me not want Andy at my mom's house. And my mom is overwhelmed. School is out at the end of May, and I was hoping that my sister would be coming home for the summer because she is really good with the boys. But she isn't; my mom made it clear she is to remain in WV until the end of the year.

So after hearing that, and observing Andy's interaction with Mark and with my brother while I was home sick for 3 days, I decided to ask my Dad whether he felt they needed the rent badly enough for me to keep working or whether I should stay home with the boys and help Mom out with my grandmother and the housework. He seemed relieved that I would consider leaving work and said to talk to my mom. She will never say that she can't watch the boys; but she did say she thought Andy's behaviour warranted my staying home even if we can't pay rent. They also said they have decided to sell the house this year because it is too big for them to keep up with now. And the expense of maintaining a historic property has become too burdensome.

That pretty much put the last nail in the coffin as far as work. Between this unexpected pregnancy, Andy's need for close attention and more stability and consistency at home, and the fact that we will need to move somewhere else and not just out of the cabin, I really have no reason to stick this out over the summer. I am disappointed, certainly. I had hoped this job would put me through college, provide Andy with an education suited to his special skills and particular needs, and relieve some of the pressure on Mark with finances. But life just isn't turning out that way, and there's no point in trying to fight it from here on out.

As for Mark, I have felt for some time now that all I accomplished by going back to work was to enable him. He says I am cutting his ankles out from under him just when he's getting back on his feet. I didn't answer that, just kept pointing out the behaviour that worries me and why I feel that I can't do enough to correct it in the limited time I have at home. He eventually stopped arguing, but I don't think he's really convinced yet. He said that Andy's life is a cakewalk compared to what he went through at six years old, and he will grow out of this. I don't believe he will grow out of it at all. If he was strong enough, he'd be punching holes in the walls and breaking windows. That is not a way of dealing with anger that I can let him continue growing with. Also, while Mark's statement about his life is correct, that is meaningless. We have to do better than just keeping our kids out of the tenth ring of hell to fulfill our responsibilities as parents. Mark's childhood is not a comparison to anything.

And to be honest, I feel that Mark cut my ankles out from under me when I first started here, by getting arrested before I even got my first paycheck. The first 6 weeks of my income went, not to pay the school like it was supposed to, but to pay his court costs and fines. And his behaviour since has continued to hack away at my ankles. But that's merely an observation, and doesn't really have any bearing on what is happening right now.

He keeps talking about all the opportunites Andy will be deprived of if we continue to struggle financially, and he's not completely full of it. I just disagree with his priorities. I don't think any amount of opportunity will do Andy any good if I can't help him find a better way to cope with his emotions right now. I think a large part of the problem is that he is so unusually perceptive for a child, and is able to absorb so much more mentally than he is capable of processing emotionally. I know Mark was that way, and while I won't say it to him, I feel I can see firsthand the devastating effects it has had on his adult life. And I think he would have been a lot better off today if his parents had taken the time to help him work through some of his problems, regardless of what opportunities were taken from him. And they did slam several doors in his face that no doubt would have made his life much easier. But what he doesn't see, and what I believe, is that those emotional problems would still have remained and would still be affecting his life just like they are today.

As if to confirm that I made the right choice, the same day I told my supervisor of my decision, Mark got two calls. One from a company he had applied with a few weeks back for apartment maintenance and had interviewed with. They asked him to come in and fill out the new hire paperwork and take the drug test. So it sounds like he has the job, and although it's not right along the beaten path for public transportation, it is accessible. It would also potentially give us another option when we eventually have to move. It's in a much nicer area and much closer than the other company he worked for last summer.

And then later that afternoon, he got a call from PennDOT saying that his license issues have all been resolved and he can get his new license any time at the photo center. Whoohoo!!!!

I hope that God is opening some doors here even others are closing. I am relieved to be staying home for now. It's what I need for my own peace of mind, and what I believe the boys need. When I went to work it was because I felt that it was important to get the boys and myself out of that horrid place we were living, and that has been accomplished. I am very glad. And now it appears the time has come to move on. We didn't have a home then. We do now.

Baby bunny

2011-04-11T12:40:00.000-07:00

We went up to see the new baby. He is so beautiful! And much to the boys' delight, there were baby bunnies to see as well. Hunter was so sweet with them.

Bring on the babies!

2011-04-05T10:49:00.000-07:00

My brother Daniel and his wife had a little baby boy this morning. :D One down, four to go! They wondered if they would break the family pattern of always having a boy first, but it looks like that honor will have to wait for one of my two youngest sisters. The other brother expecting his first next month already knows they are having a boy. And for the rest of us, it's not our first.

I can't wait to see him!

I'm glad we had some good news, because yesterday we got correspondence from the IRS. Not the EIC I was counting on, but a bill for a small amount of money they say Mark owes from 2003 plus a couple thousand in interest. SOBs. Of course he will have to call and demand proof, but if we ever see a check it won't be any time soon at this point. They already hit his bank account twice last year for between 1 and 2 thousand for other years they said they found some smidgen still owed on. We finally gave up on having a bank account at all. These rat bastards. Thanks so much for all your change, Obama! I can't tell you how impressed I am! All I see from down here is a growing heap of shit!

Plus, I have another self-righteous, narrow-minded hypocrite in my life on top of all the ones I've been trying so hard to distance myself from, in the form of a coworker. Who apparently gets to do whatever she wants around here. Not sure why. I guess she kissed the right asses at some point, but all I ever see anyone do is kiss her ass. She thinks being pregnant gives her freedom to abuse and bully everyone else as much as she wants. I wonder if I could get away with that? Oh wait - I don't want to. Never mind.

Anyway, I will just try to think about all the new babies coming this year and pretend that we aren't getting flushed down the toilet for as long as possible.

Friday Fragments

2011-04-01T11:28:00.000-07:00

Let's see if I can get this link thing right...... Mrs. 4444 kindly brings us Friday Fragments. I couldn't get her nifty little icon, hopefully she will forgive me. :)

First, the April Fool joke. Except this one wasn't mine. In fact, I found it hard to see the humor in it. I stood in a blizzard at the bus stop this morning. And not only were there enormous flakes of snow falling - the kind you only get when 37 degrees drops to 35 and the rain becomes snow - but it was actually sticking! In April! Blech. As my former boss used to say, "Boooooo! Hissssssss!"

My medical finally came through. So did some other assistance, and even though that will only be temporary, it is still lovely to breathe for a couple of months. I have my first appointment with the midwives in 3 weeks. Yayy! And the same afternoon, FINALLY, a long overdue eye appointment for Andy at a facility that takes the most recent version of state health insurance the boys have been given. Hopefully he will get glasses; he needs them.

I am not opposed to state- or federally-funded health insurance. Just to having them run it. Because the state and federal governments destroy everything they touch. And they will do the same to health care. It has already begun.

After my first prenatal appointment, I can finally go and have this rotten tooth pulled. Hopefully. I am so tired of eating garlic every day. It works, but does not endear me to other people, hehe. The oral surgeon said the root is in my sinus and she is afraid of leaving a hole in my sinus after the extraction. This would necessitate a round of antibiotics that she says are really not recommended during pregnancy. So she wants to wait for the second trimester.

Tomorrow is the last day of the first trimester! Whoohoo!

A friend of mine offered us a sofa bed. My brother is going to pick it up for us next week. Finally we will have a place to sit, and be able to let people in the house without them having to stand the entire time. Next in line? A smaller kitchen table, so there will actually be room to pull out the chairs around it. And sit in them!

My Dad's mother has come to live at my parents' house now. I hope she can adjust. No doubt it will have an impact on my mom's ability to watch the boys. We will have to take all that one day at a time.

I have changed my mind about getting a car with the EIC if it comes through, because even if someone gave me a car right now I couldn't afford it. I need too many other things with that money; maternity clothes, spring clothes for the boys, new glasses (my eyes are getting dreadful with this pregnancy), a better phone that doesn't shut down every fifth text and still has visible numbers, hehe; not to mention the bills that need to be caught up. I also want to get Andy a bike since he has very much outgrown the one he got 18 months ago. And I want to get a membership to some museum or place I can take the kids that is accessible through public transportation. Still researching that one. And I want to do something special for Hunter. His requests often fall by the way because his wants are simple and he doesn't ask for a lot, while Andy is very demanding. He has expressed a wish for a robot. So I want to find him something along those lines.

He is getting very reckless. Twice he has run across the road without looking or holding our hands. He can run faster than me, and I am seriously considering that backpack with the leash even though he should be too old for it. He doesn't listen at all.

I was able to raise our phone minutes without extending our contract. That was a relief. No more $200+ phone bills.

I finally told the boys about Mark's father while he was gone one day. Hunter doesn't really get it. Andy freaked out. He started yelling and throwing things and took a while to calm down. He asked how it happened, and when I told him it was because of too many drugs, he shouted, "Well that's not my fault! What is wrong with these people? I can't do anything about that!" My poor little man. It hurts his innocence to be so wise beyond his years.

We haven't heard anything about a memorial service yet, but I'm still hoping.

The boys get their school photos taken in a couple of weeks. I can hardly wait. The company they hire does a fantastic job. Finally we will have some current portraits worth putting up.

Andy can't wait for the Easter egg hunt. And he has informed me that he has all sorts of devious April Fool pranks planned for when I get home. Lovely. He has my brat of a little brother to help so no doubt they will cause some trouble. I told him as long as it doesn't leave me a mess to clean up, I won't be mad. I found a little amber and silver honeybee pin I'd forgotten I had and let Hunter take it for his show-and-tell. He was thrilled at the prospect of convincing all his friends there is a bee crawling on him. :D

I have decided on names for the baby. Of course, I do change my mind a lot; but I think I am set on Caroline for a girl. I like Frances for a middle name. And for a boy I like Brandon Lewis. I think it's a girl though. 7 more weeks until I can find out! Hopefully.

Well, have a good weekend.

PennDOT stinks

2011-03-28T13:37:00.000-07:00

So, Mark has been running our phone minutes up terribly the past month trying to find out what in bloody hell is going on with his driver's license. After all sorts of vague, non-helpful and conflicting information, finally the problem turns out to be that they issued him two different drivers licenses, due to the fact that he has two different birth certificates with different years (mistake by the orphanage where he was born) and different last names (state certificate was issued after his step-father adopted him). When he went in to renew his license the first time he took the other birth certificate and they issued a whole new license. So they have finally figured out their oversight, and combined the information, and sorted out which fines are paid and which still have to be paid (Oh Joy!!), and he needs to send in ANOTHER form identical to the one he sent in a few weeks ago and pay ANOTHER $46.00 fee for the second license, at which time they will issue him an entirely new drivers license with the number from his photo ID on it. Hopefully.

GAAAHHHH government agencies are SO PATHETIC!

Grief

2011-03-25T07:16:00.000-07:00

Mark's father passed away last night. They said it was just an inevitable result of the buildup of toxins in his system after many years of smoking angeldust. We weren't expecting it though. Mark is heartbroken. We still didn't get a chance to take the boys up there. And because he was in a halfway house there will be no funeral. They will cremate him and give the ashes and his personal effects to his best friend, the father of Mark's third cousin. We don't know yet whether there will be a memorial service or not.

Due Date!

2011-03-18T13:27:00.000-07:00

I had the ultrasound Tuesday night. It was so cool, I had no idea babies moved so much at that stage. Andy and Hunter got to see it too and were very excited. They are in hot disagreement over whether it should be a boy or a girl, and Hunter at least will not accept that I can't pick one, lol. Andy wants a sister. Hunter says it HAS to be a boy "because we need one, two, fwee boys!" Punctuated by counting on his fingers and then jabbing at my face to get the point across.

Instead of putting me farther along than I originally thought, which is what I had expected, the ultrasound says I am earlier than I thought. So the due date is October 8th, and even allowing for our 2-week overdue babies, that's still and October baby, which I'm very happy about. We have no other October birthdays in the family yet, even counting my siblings' spouses.

Andy got a very complimentary acceptance letter back from the Friends' school. Unfortunately their waiting list for 1st grade this year is very long and chances are just about nil that he will get in. I am going to apply for next year's 2nd grade and see if they will consider him for kindergarten this year. If not I guess we will be homeschooling for a while.

The TV broke yesterday. I am so happy. I hope it stays that way for a while. With the cold weather, small house, and Mark home all the time, they have done nothing but watch TV from lunchtime to bedtime on a regular basis. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that it is completely destroyed and we will have to wait until we can afford a new one. Like 3 months from now.

Andy visits Hawaii - from school!

2011-03-11T06:27:00.000-08:00

This is what I love about the Friends schools. Every year they choose a location for their getaway vacation, and the kids spend days decorating and cooking for it. You wouldn't believe the huge, creative, beautiful projects that filled the playroom. I love this place.

Something worth reading

2011-03-09T13:48:00.001-08:00

http://becauseofoffenses.blogspot.com/2011/03/rise-in-child-abuse-explained.html

Steps forward 2

2011-03-06T15:38:00.001-08:00

I didn't offer an opinion, but felt rather encouraged that he would consider asking questions about his Mom. This morning he seemed strangely hesitant and disturbed. I told him I could run him over to his Dad's any time. He gave me a funny look and said, "I have to find out where he's living first."
He went to see his father. For the first time since his early teens.
It may not solve our problems, at least right away, but it's a step he has needed to take for himself for a long, long time. So I hope all the best for him in it.

Steps forward

2011-03-06T15:22:00.001-08:00

Mark and I had some harsh conversation on Friday due to events I won't go into here. It ended pretty.much in a fit of angry whining on his part and a here's what I really think fury.on mine. He said he would go away for a few days and let things settle. I didn't respond except to tell him it was entirely his decision when he kept asking me what he should do. I felt like he just wanted me to make all the moves as usual, and I wasn't. On Saturday I took the boys shopping and left him a short note about his mother, and my belief that his refusal to hold her at fault prevents him having healthy relationships. I expected to find him gone when I got home. He wasn't. Instead he apologized, but seemed unclear on why. I wasn't exactly comforted. Mostly I was worried that he was just looking for a way to keep stringing me along.
Last night as we both lay awake insomniac, he said something about going to see his Dad. That he needed to ask him some questions about Donna. I assumed he meant Steve.

Teeth

2011-03-02T09:32:00.000-08:00

Ever since I had my wisdom teeth surgically removed in August of '09, I have had limited feeling in my left jaw from nerve damage. They broke my upper left molar in the back as well, not surprising since it had a bad cavity. So I had a root canal done, but the county took my MedicAid away before I could get it filled.

Since then I've been wondering about the complications from it, but I take olive leaf regularly which is a natural antibiotic, and it helps. If I forget for a couple days, however, I have a bad headache on that side and a generally sick feeling in my face. No real pain though. The tooth that bothers me is one on the bottom that I felt a bad twinge in one day and assumed it was cracked.

Since getting pregnant, my teeth have started to really bother me. Not surprising since my immune system is way low. So my mom sent me for x-rays to find out what was going on.

The good news? My lower tooth is fine. Not even a cavity. It won't need to be pulled, which is great because I would have missed that one. The bad news? My nerve damage goes further than I thought, well into my upper jaw as well as the lower one, and the upper back molar is structurally unsound and abscessed. I just can't feel it. The closest place I can feel the pain is in that lower tooth, which is why I thought it was the problem.

So I will be having it pulled soon, and hopefully that will help out with a lot of my physical and mental yuck feeling lately.

In two weeks I will be having an ultrasound to determine my due date. I am really excited about that. :D

I decided that if I actually get the EIC this year, which is not a guarantee, I am buying a car with it. Taking public transportation is a lot cheaper than driving, so I will probably continue doing so, but I need to be able to leave the house at will and not have to ask my mom for her car. I drastically limit where I go because she needs her car too, and my second youngest brother just got his license so he uses it now. I need to not be dependent on other people. I will get my own insurance this time, and Mark will not be using my car. He needs to get his own vehicle; he has destroyed too many of mine. I'm not going to mention it until it becomes an issue, but that's my decision.

He got the paperwork sent in for his camera card, and hopefully that will go through and his license and job will be forthcoming. When that happens, we are going to divide the bills. I think that is the best way to eliminate arguments over money for now. He will have to handle the rent and phone, and I will handle the groceries and electric. The groceries cost more than rent, but hopefully the food stamps will come through and help out temporarily. After that I will be on WIC for the pregnancy. The propane we will split; that's $350 a fillup and I don't know yet how often we will need fillups. And any expenses that come up for the kids we will talk about as they arise. Whatever money he has left after taking care of his portion, I don't want and I don't want to hear about. All he accomplished by putting me in charge of the finances was to make it impossible for me to ever fully trust him again. I won't take any more responsibility for his spending, and I won't hear the bullshit argument "Well none of your money is missing, so obviously I couldn't have been doing anything."

This is all assuming we even remain under the same roof.

I looked into legal separation, but PA doesn't recognize it. You're either married or divorced. Grrr. I don't want to be financially responsible for Mark any more, in any way. But I also don't want to negotiate custody. I'm not comfortable giving Mark any guaranteed unsupervised custody at this point, and I don't really want to explain why to a court. We'll see. He's getting absolutely ridiculous toward Andy these days, and it pisses me off so bad. That's one of the things I didn't appreciate from my Mom. She told me that she thinks Mark is better with the kids than I am. That doesn't even deserve a response. She's just so clueless about him, and still has unreasonable expectations of children.

Personally, I think it's because Andy is now the age Mark was when his oldest brother was born, at which point no doubt his mom redoubled her unreasonable expectations of him and began to really parentify him. The stuff he says to Andy seems so manipulative and whiny and selfish to me, and he thinks he is just trying to make him more responsible. He has no concept of what it means to TRAIN a child. And no interest in learning. Every time I say something, he immediately acts like it's all rooted in my dislike of his mom and therefore biased and ridiculous. As Andy put it, "Papa's so loud and scoldy these days!"

I may lose patience even sooner, but as of right now, I am determined that if Mark has not started and stuck with some very serious therapy by the time the new baby comes, I cannot let him live with us any more. I will not bring another child into this dysfunctional mess that keeps getting worse all the time. I would like to believe his new belligerent and overbearing attitude is a necessary step in progressing towards eventual healing, but I can't be sure. Until he's getting himself some help, it's obvious he's just living in denial. And the more clear the picture becomes, the more he tries to bully the rest of us into pretending it's not how it looks.

When he was telling me how crappy my social skills are, and complaining about how I make him look bad to other people by telling them the truth about our life, his response to me saying that I had made efforts to improve my skills was this:

"You have this idea that people get better through a process of talking out their problems and learning and practicing. That's not how it works. Things get better because you pretend they ARE better. That's how you fix it. Just fake it until one day it's not a problem any more."

Wow. Just wow. No wonder he's in this situation today.

New Shoes

2011-02-27T13:56:00.000-08:00

Hmm. Not sure where to begin. Maybe with some news. I have had it pointed out to me by others in my workplace that some - or depending on who is talking, all - of what I am going through these days is unacceptable for open conversation. Whatever. So I am going to talk about it here, because that's what blogging is for; and if anyone doesn't want to read about it, well, that's what your mouse is for. Now you know how I got the title for my blog.

News. Right. Well, there isn't any, actually. So now you know the rest of this will be all my personal crap and you can decide if you want to know about it or not.

I know I sound rather hostile. But actually, I feel better the past few days than I have in a long time. I'm not sure yet just how far along I am in my pregnancy; I will find out soon through ultrasound, and I suspect I am further than I at first believed. I have been very, very angry about this pregnancy. The emotional roller coaster that came with it has not helped, but in the end was probably a good thing because it made me really see how much my depression can impact those around me.

I was angry to be having another child with Mark. Not that there is anyone else I'd prefer to have one with. I just didn't want any more things connecting us. I didn't want to parent another child into the gene pool of my in-laws' family. What if the baby is like my MIL? What if I hate my child because he/she reminds me too much of people I hate? Most of all, how can I stop that from happening? Because one thing I know for sure, only I can stop it from happening. The new baby sure can't.

I was furious because Mark suggested I have an abortion. Since we haven't been talking much anyway, I didn't bother to tell him how much that hurt me. And how insulted I felt at the idea that I should give up a child to keep him, or even just to make him feel more secure, after all he has put me through.

After that, I began to think about how my Mom has stood in my way twice now when I tried to separate from him, and how she has taken his side in so many ridiculous things since we moved in, and how it's her fault I married him to start with, and that she is basically responsible for this whole mess because she laid the foundation 18 years ago.

Earlier this week Mark said he wanted me to give the baby up for adoption. Assuming it was one of his tasteless jokes by which he voices his true opinion and then gets upset when I take it seriously, I said, "That's not funny." He replied, rather venomously, "I'm not laughing."

That night I finally accepted (with my heart as well as my head) that I not only may end up raising my children alone, but that it's okay. That I have done all I can, and a whole lot more than I should have, and he is going to do what he's going to do regardless. Further efforts on my part would be not only futile, but wrong.

Rewind a bit:

Someone rather close to both of us recently asked me what I was going to do if Mark didn't change. I told her I couldn't accept that possibility. I feel like my faith is grounded in it. And she persisted in asking what was going to happen if he didn't change. I told her I would end up calling the hospital and having him committed, because I can't take the psychotic episodes any more. They have gotten more and more frequent. I don't feel physically threatened, but it's destroying my own mental health and the boys' home environment. Besides, I can't wait until I feel physically threatened. It might be too late then.

He still lies to me. Constantly. About stupid stuff. I've given up on analyzing why. It isn't my fault. That's all that matters. The last one I caught him in was the day after the conversation just mentioned. I decided to throw him out. I tried to figure out what to say to my Mom, because I know she will harass me 24-7 until I either take him back or stop talking to her. And since I can't pay rent on my own, and I have to use her car, I couldn't work it out in my mind. I still felt I owed the boys a father, and I finally hit upon a plan to let him redeem himself. I told him I wanted him to go back to rehab.

He freaked out. He refused to accept that there was any need for accountability in our relationship. After trying to argue over the phone all day (his way of being able to hold confrontations from a distance and come up with BS while I can't see his face), he told me when I got home that he was willing to start seeing a counselor. That was perfectly fine with me, because I don't honestly think he's on drugs. I just couldn't come up with another way to make him accountable.

I contacted WOAR and SOAR both. SOAR got back to me first. Also they seemed more tailored to his needs. I gave him the number to call and set up the appointments. He didn't.

All this time the conversation was sinking deeper and deeper, and I was making myself think about a future that might not involve Mark. What I need to do to gain independence financially. My income has been our only income for two months now, and he has paid the rent this month through odd jobs for my parents. We can't get the groceries we need. I finally broke down and applied for food stamps again, and added that to my long list of things I hate myself for. It's something my whole family is fiercely opposed to on a moral and ethical level. I just can't come up with any other options. We still won't get them for another 2-3 weeks anyway. Basically, right before his first paycheck from the job he's getting back this month along with his license. Better late than never, huh? Not so much. And I applied for EIC as well, something else I've been taught is dishonest and immoral. Who knows if that will go through. The last time, they applied it to Mark's unpaid taxes. This time, I filed separately.

When he said he wanted me to give the baby up for adoption, I think the last little piece of my "Can I justify cutting him loose?" died. All I said at the time was that we weren't going to discuss the baby any more. The next day I had another conversation with the same person. She gave me a book about codependency to read, and told me some of what she had gotten out of it. I took it, privately feeling that no amount of further information can help at this point. She told me that if she were in my shoes, she would be seeing this baby as another sign from God that Mark and I need to be together. I certainly have. And begun hating God, for the first time in my life. I no longer have the option of believing He isn't real. That's hurt more than anything else.

She said that maybe we are wrong. That this could be God forcing me to evaluate myself and my own responsibilities, independent of Mark, and decide how I am going to proceed for my children.

That was a new take. I decided not to make any decisions right away. Just stop talking and stop worrying about him, and wait and watch. Stop counting on him. Stop letting him talk to me about things I feel are counterproductive. Like his mother.

His brother called him that afternoon. The one who hates us and treats him like crap. Mark said he was bawling like a baby. He has had some catalystic occurrences in his own life, and made the wise decision to seek counseling. He always was a how-can-I-fix-this type, rather than a how-can-I-bury-this type, like Mark and their mother both are. He told Mark a lot of things that I have been saying for sooooo long. Things that have fallen on deaf ears. As Mark recounted them, I was thinking, "Thank God he's finally hearing it from someone else."

Quite the contrary. He lashed out at his brother, at least when talking to me, for holding their mother responsible for any of her actions. He went on a rant about why she is justified for all the wrongs she has ever done, and it finally went so far off course that it no longer made any sense at all. He defended her treatment of him because she was so young when he was born. (She was 20.) He defended her treatment of his brother because she was still pretty young then. (She would have been 30 when said brother was old enough to start remembering things.) He cast accusations at his brother and at me for thinking that at the fragile, ripe age of 53, she should have to start dealing with all this crap NOW!

I refrained from asking at what age he felt she should have been held responsible. Instead I asked him if it had ever struck him as odd that he thinks he is such a terrible person, and hates himself so much; and yet defends those who have done so much worse to others around them?

He replied angrily that he wasn't going to have some kind of breakthrough on the phone with me, and this was all BS. We ended the conversation.

That night he picked a fight with me about my social skills, of all things. He never picks fights with me. He typically refuses to even have face-to-face confrontations about anything at all. When I tried to defend myself by pointing out some of the efforts I had made to mend this problem, and how he had interfered, he said, "Oh that's just great. Now all your problems are mine too in addition to everyone else's. Whatever. Our relationship is f---ed anyway."

I asked him what he was going to do about that. He wouldn't discuss it.

I decided not to let myself get wrapped up in self-righteous resentment this time and just try to calmly observe. I admit to having a long, long list in my head of all the problems in my life that I can justifiably blame on others - mostly his mom, my mom, June, or him - and a perfectly accurate analysis of exactly how and why they are responsible for it. But it doesn't change anything. I realized at some point this past week, that the reason I feel the need to blame others is merely to justify not fixing the problem myself. And there are reasons why I have not previously believed I had a right to do what needed to be done, for which some of those people on my list are the cause. But all it really comes down to now is, will I let them continue to stand in the way? And the fact that I have already done so is on me.

So I stopped talking back and just let him vent. When he started to shut down again and apologize resentfully, and I told him to keep talking. That none of our problems will EVER go away if we can't at least say how we feel. And I know that I've been saying how I feel for a very long time. It bothers me that he never says how he feels. Now that he's started, I don't want to shut him down just because I think it's unfair. If our relationship is f--ed anyway - which it is, the one we've had in the past certainly is, and has been for a while - then we have nothing to lose and he has something to gain by letting it out.

I don't think we will make it through this pregnancy without separating. I still hope that we will be able to rebuild. But for the first time, it's okay with me if we can't. I will always love Mark. Lately that love has become more like the love I have for my siblings though. I want them to be happy, to find what they need in life, to do well. But it isn't my responsibility to make that happen. I have my children to care for. And that's what I'm going to do. Mark has to follow his own path, and end wherever it ends.

Addendum:

That's what's been happening this past month and more. I decided that I was going to let things lie until the end of March, and try my best not to have any deep conversations between now and then. I do know from a logical standpoint that much of his behaviour right now is due to the worry over his job and license. We should know what's happening with both by the end of the month and whether or not he is going to hang in there mentally. There is still the problem that he cannot rely on what's around him to keep him going if he is really going to heal; but I'm no one to throw stones in THAT department. This morning I wasn't going to ask him to go to church. He only started going to make me happy, which means it isn't truly helping him. So I was surprised when he got ready to go all on his own, even though it was - AAAAAGGGHHH! The Fellowship Luncheon Sunday! Then he squashed my good feeling by saying something about adoption again. Good thing I hadn't gotten my hopes up.

I wasn't going to say anything, but I did. It's hard for me to keep my mouth shut. I told him if he didn't want to take responsibility for this baby, that was fine, but I would. I'm not sure why that surprised him, since I've been feeling that way since I found out, but for some reason it seemed to really hit him like a brick. He said, "What are you saying? That I can just leave?" I said, "Yeah, pretty much. I know you didn't want kids, I know you might not be able to deal with this, and if you can't then that's on you. But I'm going to."

He came over and tried to hug me and was all like, "Oh come on, you know I won't leave you high and dry. I'll do my best." And I started crying but I needed him to know where I stand. So I told him that I don't want him to stay if he's going to resent the baby and me and be angry about the added responsibility. That I can take care of the kids myself at this point, as long as he doesn't get in the way.

He apologized for what he had said and promised not to make any more stupid comments. We'll see. I don't think he knows what he wants now, and neither do I, and I think it's going to take him a while to find out even if he starts actively looking right now. What will happen in the meantime I don't know and can't change, except as it affects me.

I started reading the book after we got home, and the first thing that hit me in the way she described codependents, is that my mom is severely codependent. I don't know why this makes me feel better, and freer, but it does. I understand why we can't get along now, and why she guilt-trips me so much, and I'm glad I realized it because I can see where I am about to destroy our relationship if I'm not careful. I think this is what my sister has come to understand when she tried to tell me recently that I needed to let Mom give me her advice just so that she feels better. My sister just didn't realize that I am also codependent and that's why Mom's constant advice drives me insane. She doesn't feel guilt-tripped by it, because she's NOT codependent and therefore it rolls off when there's no good place for it to stick. I feel resentful and put-upon because I allow myself to believe that I am actually wrong for not doing these things. Problem is, I already tried them all and then some. And it didn't work.

I have a little more to add, but Andy is sick and calling for me. I will finish the last paragraph tomorrow.

Falling Shoes

2011-02-11T13:27:00.000-08:00

This past month has been insane. I didn't mention it earlier just in case people might be reading my blog anonymously who shouldn't hear about it, but my parents were robbed in early January. While everyone was away. Of somewhere around $12,000 it sounds like. The thieves used gloves and had suspiciously little trouble locating everything they took. And I suppose since they made out so well the first time, they came back for more last weekend. This time they stole from my siblings who had savings and valuables hidden in their rooms.

It has really made me angry. And discouraged. And frustrated, because we need a target and don't have one. Only some theories, mostly involving people my loudmouthed braggart little brother has associated with. My parents found out some things about his recent activities that have shocked and hurt them deeply, and he has really shocked me with his blatant contempt and hatred of our parents since all of this happened. I am not going to go into that any further online though. I'm just heartbroken, for him and for my parents.

The police don't seem to take it seriously at all. They would have loved to pin it on Mark in the beginning, since he's the only one in the house with a record and they remember him; but since there was absolutely no evidence pointing his way they couldn't. And now they just seem to be waiting for us to tell them who did it.

I guess I thought the curse that follows Mark around would have been squashed by the love and happiness at my parent's house. But it looks like it bit them instead. It certainly hasn't been good for his mental health. And having no paying work since the first week of January hasn't either. Finally last weekend my parents told us we could go ahead and move into the cabin rather than waiting for my brother's family to vacate the apartment. They are trying to separate him and my little brother, just like I've been trying to do since we moved in, and I am all for it. I like the cabin much better anyway.

The same day of the second robbery, I decided it was time to stop living in denial and take a pregnancy test to confirm that my sore boobs and sudden abnormal morning appetite were really what I thought they were. Oops.

I hope if any family members read this, they will keep it under their hats - and especially off of Facebook - because Mark isn't ready to tell his family yet. Since some of his siblings are still socially connected to some of mine, and since I work with his cousin, that means keeping it quiet for now. Not that we need any more freaking drama in the family than there already is. As for my in-laws, I would just as soon they find out from the birth announcements; but whatever. I'm being mean, I know.

I was hoping not to get pregnant for another year at least. But since I am, it's hard to be too upset. I think maybe those mother hormones won't let you really be mad about it. But I'm very worried about money. And hoping for a girl. :) Andy had just said the day before that he thought he would like to have a sister. And when I told my friend about it she said her daughter, who is very weirdly in tune with things, asked "What's her name?" Lol. Plus, I had a feeling from the beginning. I just didn't want to believe it. I feel totally different with this one than I did with Andy and Hunter. Not only no morning nausea, but also a voracious morning appetite - which is very unusual for me at any time.

Hunter has gotten all clingy and needy all of a sudden; hehe. I guess it's that sixth sense little kids have. I told him this morning I think he might have a sister, and he was so excited. I'm hoping he isn't talkative enough yet to tell everyone. I'm only about 5 weeks along, so I've got a while before it really gets noticeable.

All of these things sort of brought about a catalyst for Mark and I, which I won't go into much here, except to say that he finally admitted he needs to seek counseling. I hope I can get that started next week. I've left messages, but still no calls back and now it's the weekend. I am a little annoyed. But whatever. We also agreed that it was time to pull the boys out of school, since we owe them so much already and can't afford to go another month. When I told the director, she reached out and got the board to scholarship the rest of the year!! I couldn't believe it. We just have to pay what we already owe by the middle of May. I'm so grateful I could cry.

He is supposed to go back to work for the HVAC company on March 1st, and I am praying and hoping all works out for that. In the meantime, I am really concerned since we need rent and groceries, and my income doesn't cover both. And his first paycheck won't be until mid-March. I just hope we get something between now and then. He wants to apply for a night job, but it may take a week to find and then we wait another 2 weeks for THAT check, and what to do in the meantime? I just have to hope that God has something in store for us.

I hope this pregnancy goes easier than the last couple. I will be watching my sugar intake carefully, so as not to end up with another 10lb 7oz baby like Hunter, lol. But our babies are big, and I have no waist. The last trimester is brutal on me. And any ideas I had about cutting my hours back over the summer are dashed by the fact that two of my coworkers are also pregnant, due in June and July. They will be out all summer, during the busiest months of the year in this business, and they are two of the anchor people. So everyone else is to take on MORE hours, not less. What to do with the boys over the summer, I'm not sure. My grandmother is coming to live with my parents, and she requires constant supervision because of her failing health and advanced Alzheimers, so I really hate to have my mom watching them. If I quit my job, it's going to make my bosses very unhappy.

I'm praying that the Lord not only has answers, as He always does, but that He is planning to share them with me before I freak out.

Moving!!!

2011-01-29T14:31:00.000-08:00

The renters from the cottage moved out this week, and we can start moving in. Although my Mom just told me that my brother and his family may be moving suddenly out of the upstairs apartment, and she would rather have us live there. That puts me in a tough position because I know we will be struggling to keep up with the rent for the cottage, and it's smaller than the apartment too; but I really don't want to live in my parents' house. On the other hand, my Mom really doesn't want strangers living in her house. There is plenty of visual privacy but not much sound privacy. They aren't going to like Mark's music, and strangers aren't going to like all the noise the kids make. And I am going to be uncomfortable - still - having sex when I know people can hear us. Sound carries in a big old house at night. I'd much prefer the cottage.

Still, my parents are cutting us a break on the rent and I don't think I should insist on keeping the more expensive place. I guess if my brother ends up moving that fast, I will take it as a sign that the apartment was meant for us. Either way, it's a huge improvement over what we had last month!!

My other blog

2011-01-26T12:43:00.000-08:00

Suffer The Children

Photo post of last summer Part 1

2011-01-23T09:53:00.000-08:00

I realized while cleaning out my blog that I never did post the promised photos of our Oklahoma trip. Actually, it took quite a while to collect them all. So here goes.

This was when we first arrived. It was pouring rain.

But it was over in a day or so.

There were plenty of these.

And these.

All together now...... "AWWWWWW" Lol.

Hunter was such a little gentleman.

This was in between the screams over whose turn it was on which swing hehe.

The water park trips were a necessity in that heat.

Hahahahaha! He waited and waited for that.

I think it may have been the ONLY place Andy had any fun.

Kissing cousins? Hehe. They were so cute.

But it did get a little crowded. No problem.

We all went to an awesome play park in the nearest big town an hour away.

We rode the carousel.

And played on the playground.

The rest will have to wait for Part 2.

Fresh

2011-01-22T11:52:00.000-08:00

I decided, rather than leave each year's struggles and advice out in cyberspace for everyone to read forever, I am going to save my blog to a flash drive at the end of every year and let it start fresh. Part of this is because I began a second blog that I want to publicize more widely without giving this one up. Part of it is because I don't want to leave all the negativity of last year out there. But it is helpful to go back and read, so I intend to make a habit of this. It will be the best journal I can come up with.