The New DT's; they are not pretty

DT’s are commonly known as “the shakes”. They happen when someone is withdrawing from alcohol as well as other drugs. Bad, bad things…I would never, EVER make fun of such a dilemma. The DT’s I’m speaking of would be those Deslxyic taggers. If you can not spell the word properly, don’t pick up spray paint to send a message.

It costs people money to clean up your mess. Have you not seen the budget crisis lately? Most of the taggers probably aren't concerned at this point about the financial impact of their actions.

Honestly, what’s the point. What is the purpose of vandalizing property? The
"rush"? Please, someone explain this to me. I'll be sure to disguise your voice, blue out your face, whatever it takes to get the answer to that Million Dollar question.

Take all that free time you have, and enroll in an English class…grammar IS important. Help us all!

It’s an eyesore. Unless you are a MC Eichler, Norman Rockwell, Thomas Kinkade, I can assure you there are NO art collectors waiting to "FIND" you and offer you an exhibit.

How can you possibly hope for respect, if you are the laughing-stock of the entire ommunity?

If you plan on pursuing a life of vandalizing public property with spray paint, the least you can do is pick up a dictionary to assure you are expressing yourself in the best grammatical fashion. Without that your "talent", message, whatever you choose to call it falls on deaf ears.

Beware of Shift

I was told recently that the dynamics in my home may shift a bit…I’d hardly notice it. Yeah, I didn’t feel Loma Prieta either, but then again I was in Illinois when that small shift occurred.

I now have a 75 year old toddler, who on most days assumes that I’m a nurse at the hospital, wonders when they created a policy of allowing employees to offer accommodations to patients. Followed by “when am I going to get out of this hell hole?” Occasionally there are pet names dolled out to me…”hey, what’s your name?” “What a Bitch” or the “Who died and left you in charge?”

Countless hours have been consumed looking into resources. I begin explaining what I’ve found available only to hear a new set of demands. Every day is a new crisis, unknown, drama.

Just two short months ago, I was a mild mannered, easy going individual. Because of this small shift in the dynamics, I no longer sleep, have a uncontrollable twitch, and the patience span as short as the short as my children’s attention spans. After weeks were spent visiting many senior assisted living sites, conferences held, insurance agents notified, I heard the statement “why is everyone implying that I am moving anywhere…don’t they know it’s IF I MOVE.”

At least with the “Big One” it only lasts a few minutes, you watch for aftershocks for a short time, then you rebuild. With this small shift, everytime you think it’s safe yet another aftershock jolts you back to reality.

Thursday's Child

Who wrote that poem about children and the days of the week? I want to know what he used as his reference…high priestess, devil? How dare you label a child at birth? That poem though seems more accurate than any horoscope I've ever read. I recently spent an evening introducing myself to a caregiver support network. As they posed questions, I responded quite honestly on any relevant life experience. Their response was a unanimous, Don’t you do anything in a simple manner? All I could say was, what do you expect, Thursday child.

I remember that poem as a child. My mom repeatedly told me I was from the school of hard knocks, then she’d recite that verse again to me “Thursday’s child has far to go”.

I know I’ve never been one trapped inside of the box, most days I have problems finding the box. Have I really been that bad in life? Have I really been so bizarre?

For many years I assumed my life’s struggles were due to addiction, but that hasn’t been an excuse in over 15 years. I definitely have some vivid experiences, but not all of my doing. Not all have been self-inflicted.

I was just taken back a bit when I heard their comments about my life after my introduction. I expect it from some sources, ie. PTA meetings, Parent Teacher Conferences. I just never expected a room of caregivers to ridicule me about the way I’ve lived my life.

I’ve grown accustomed to my unconventional methods, I enjoy life searching for the box that so many cannot reach outside of. I intend to live my life to the fullest. As Erma Bombeck wrote, when they take me out, I will have used up every last bit of gifts given to me in this life.

Would I be this way if I had been born on any other day of the week? Who knows. Thursday’s child may have far to go, but in the process may have more to offer others.

Just Wait Until Next Lifetime

First and foremost, I’d like to thank those who still came by to visit during my absence. It was completely unintended, however, I’ve just experienced what must be the longest two weeks of my entire existence on earth. Usually time flies right by for me, and oftentimes I pray for just a couple of extra hours in any given week. Mental note, it is true to be careful what you wish for. I had hopes of those extra hours coming during a vacation, weekend getaway, even an office holiday. Instead it came in the form of having an additional person moving into the already chaotic house.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my family dearly, they mean the world to me, but…My time has been filled with repeated conversations with my father in law, who bless his heart is reminding me of ten second Tom from Adam Sandler’s Fifty First Dates. Then when I think all is lost, he catches me sneaking his payment back for ice cream. He remembers that he meant to buy gas each and every time he gets in the car.

It’s been an interesting ride I must say. We haven’t always gotten along all that well. He’s not always been my advocate. I am the one who stole his son away from him, and he reminds me of it frequently. Well, not as frequently these days. Next lifetime, I’m coming back as a high strung, high maintenance blond bombshell. Watch out, a hang nail will be the end of my world, and EVERYONE will endure my pain.

I recently read a book by Sylvia Browne that says we create our charts before we enter a life. Mine must have been full of fine print, and I must have still had my ADHD on the other side and therefore did not fully comprehend all that I was signing up for. My astrology reports all mention my early childhood trauma, but with that I thought that would free up the years that I would be fully functional. They claim that I’m to be a teacher, writer, psychologist or a community leader, all very noble vocations.

Today I don’t feel like any of those things. Instead I feel I’ve been beat up, washed up, everything but hungry. Life has been moving at a high rate of speed yet time is standing still. Next time I’m opting for the kiddie coaster of life…the Merry go round is more my speed.

Mothers' Curse

The mother’s curse is the most powerful, potent spell that can be placed on anyone. I didn’t realize growing up just how mystical my mom was, and am still trying to figure out just what it was I did to her to cause her to place this ominous voodoo on me. I really wish I could have focused better as a kid.

Hindsight, yeah, it’s true, always 20/20. I’ve asked her if she had the same High Priest out for my brothers, but all I get is a nervous laugh. I’ve begged for answers. All she’ll tell me was I was a good kid, a quiet little girl. I’m wondering if her fingers are crossed behind her back when she says that over the phone. There is no sign of hysterics in her voice.

I know for a fact that my brothers caused so many more problems than I did. I got a late start compared to them. I couldn’t even begin to cause havoc until I was six, so she missed the terrible twos, diaper changes, sleepless nights that my brothers put her through. That alone should have counted for something.

I’m so confused, you could not find a more mild mannered individual than myself. Low maintenance, well balanced. Never am I Chicken Little, no sky is ever falling. I handle life’s lessons as they arise, with little fuss. So how is then, that I have four very high strung children, boys at that, that can make any daytime soap opera seem like a sitcom. “Oh My God” begins nine out of ten sentences. With them, I save money on the annual stress tests with a physician, but I’m sure the cost is much higher for their daily doses.

I’m going to make sure to read all the fine print before coming back for my next life, as I must have missed something this time around. My consolation, I can use the same motherly power to pass this curse since the dawn of time down to the next generation. When they are at wits end, I’ll be laughing hysterically, and will just have some excuse when they want me to babysit their spawn.

Let's All Play Make Believe

We’re back. Spent the week in far away places with so many imaginary friends, we could fill a coliseum. What do you do when the person you’re caring for is bothered by the infringement of his privacy because of his grown children crawling around his house as babies tinkering with the phone cords and television cables? If you’re me, you ask how long have they been doing this? Is everything working better now, and how do I go about hiring them for my own home repairs? Honestly, I could use all the help available, and hey, imaginary children can’t cost nearly as much as licensed professionals.

Then, we went to a ballgame with the Cosby clan. Apparently the Angels won the game. I wonder how many letters Bill Cosby gets thanking him for his kindness, and where he finds the time to hang out with all the people that remember him as Mr. Huxtable. I really could use some time management tips.

The great part in all of this. Somehow I intuitively did what the professionals get paid the big bucks to teach people. I guess all my years of constant daydreaming as a child have finally been found useful. Won’t my mom feel bad about all the times she told me I just needed to apply myself and STOP the daydreaming. I can tell her I was in training for the future.

I’m thinking today maybe to bring him and all of his imaginary friends over. I have a difficult time with clutter building up, and am trying to get the house in order for him to move back home with us. I can either single handedly tackle two bedrooms belonging to young boys that don’t understand that in the civilized world people expect to see a floor, not just blindly walk through a foot of whatever could happen to be in the path, or I can use the help of at least five imaginary children as well as a few adults. That should help me keep the youngsters focused on the task at hand.

I can’t seem to find a way to welcome him to our reality, so I might as well make the best of his. So far the hallucinations seem to frustrate him more than frighten him, so I might as well just kick back and enjoy his game of make believe for awhile. Luckily my inner child is hyperactive, and could use a bit of play time.

Another No Hit Wonder We'll Never Hear

The music industry is brutal. This week alone brought the break up of yet another new boy band before they had the opportunity to rise to success. Egos running amok destroyed these two upstarts much quicker than any video killed any radio star.

It should have been obvious once the host read the rules for practice. NO AMPS ALLOWED. How can one truly be a “rock star” without the ever cherished amplifier. That was followed by the limited practice times. Everyone knows being a rock star is a full-time job, with practice being a major component for success. Ok, so I know it can be done if you run around skimpily dressed dancing to your professionally choreographed songs. They are very serious, aiming for lasting success, plus, I’ve seen their dance moves, and no choreography could work if they lacked musical talent.

The arguments ensues while trying to name the band. All the cool names have been taken. Sure, they could try to combine names of the greats, but honestly the only one that would be suitable is “The Clash”. Hmmm, is that where their name came from? I’ll have to check on that. Possibly instead of the Temptations, they could try the Temper Tantrums. Nah, that name sounds like a group on Seasame Street, which they have completely outgrown. Besides that, I took one of the guys to see Elmo. When he realized Elmo was over five feet tall, he was traumatized.

They’ve decided to throw random names in a hat. Maybe they should try the best out of three, I just know one of them will throw in a word describing some bodily function. I don’t see the Fartheads as being a very marketable name.

Shhh, practice has begun. All the greats have inspired yet another generation, Clapton, Hendrix, Zeppelin, Walsh. One problem is it sounds much different when they play their songs over each other. Melting pots can be great, however, music is not one of those times.

Oops, the no amp rule has already been violated, leading to very heavy penalties. Practice is over and it only took 15 minutes to complete. The arguing continues while vying for leadership of the band. What, their first bar room brawl, and none of them are eligible to drink yet. The bass player just stormed off , the drummer threw his sticks down and one of the guitarist just called everyone a name that I don’t think would be suitable as a band name.

Another no hit wonder has bitten the dust. That’s it, I’m sticking with my air guitar. No fights, no noise, no one can say shut up, turn it down or worst. I wouldn’t last a day in the music industry with all of the pressure.

I'm Still A Hit

Alright, I’m still a hit, of course, I’ve had to lower my usual standards, it used to be the under 12 crowd, then the 10 and under, and lately even the ten year olds have outgrown me, so now it’s down to 2 and under, and I’ve noticed even that crowd occasionally gives me a look that implies I may be teetering on lame.

Interesting week. Trading in temporarily at least the corporate games for the Lil Tikes. Corporate games cause me problems. I was brought up to tell it like it is, not to indirectly, passively imply that someone has done something that they may or may not have done, based on me having a bad moment. You know what, the Fisher Price games are much less stressful, more real, and much more fun. OK, so stomping someone that is a waste of 3-D space may be fun to some, most times, the one stomped doesn’t have the intelligence to figure out what they did to get stomped, they cry to someone, and next thing you know it’s off to Human Resources to explain the importance of being politically correct.

More accurately, I’ve become my niece’s own personal toy. She’s much nicer to me than the kid in the Hollywood rendition. I still have it…for years I was a hit with the twelve and under, then with video games today, I can no longer compete. So, I moved to the ten and under. I pulled that off until they all discovered girls and the mall, so I have to take what I can get. I’ve giggled, danced, sang, made silly faces, and have suddenly recalled Cookie Monster’s voice to ad lib on their first story books.

Alanis has her list of recommendations, here’s one of mine. If given the opportunity, let loose, live a second childhood while still at a phase in your life where you can enjoy and remember it. I think I’ve experienced more this week, been more alert, awake to life than in many years. I’ve taken off a few years in my age, mind, soul.

Given the choice between corporate games and Fisher Price…Fisher Price wins hands down. Now just hopefully it isn’t true that your face freezes if you squish it up for too long, that will definitely impact my newfound fountain of youth.

My question was answered and it doesn't look good

Today was such a sad awakening. Everyone has been in awe of my sister in law, living in a prestigious neighborhood, beautiful home, lavish lifestyle. This week I've been spending my days visiting, assisting in taking care of my niece. What more could I ask for, right? Honestly, I don't believe her life is any happier than mine, and I found myself less than envious of her life.

Her neighbor's house was TP'd. Nothing different than what I've seen this summer in neighborhoods close to my home. Her neighbor, a retired NFL player, who I've had the chance to meet, chat with when I'm taking my niece for walks. Great guy, he and his wife seem focused on their family. The funny thing though, that's the only known celebrity in the area, yet his family is the only one I've come across on my adventures. Sure there are numerous playgrounds built around their community, but from all appearance it seems a ghost town. The only signs of life would be a TP'd house and graffiti laced sidewalks.

It would seem that these families live in their massive, controlled air environment, never having to step out into the world around them. It would appear that they hide in their own little world, letting no one in or out. I don't get it. No cars on the streets, no kids in the parks, only a few dogs, which I was surprised would be allowed in that environment.

So, I guess this answers my dilemma from a few days past, when I wondered how the dogs and children seemed so happy, yet the adults seemed so self-absorbed. The kids and dogs are so excited for their brief escape, to breath real air, instead of canned. The adults, are so used to being locked away in their own virtual world, safely locked inside their man made prison, that they have no clue how to interact with those in the real society. They've only chatted on-line, communicating with co-workers via remote offices using email and teleconferencing to accomplish any sense of teamwork.

Is this how we prepare for the next stage of human development. Maybe all of those science fiction flicks weren't so outlandish, as it would seem they are becoming more of a reality. So sad the state of human nature today, how we are cutting ourselves off from civilization.

My heart has been stolen, never to be returned. That's OK by me, because it was instead enlarged to encompass yet more souls in. The object of my desire isn't even aware how easily the key was found. All it took was a coo, bwmmmmm, moo. As simple as that, a connection made.

Oh, I don't believe it was all one sided. We shared a moment, a day. I'm sure to anyone around it was mumbled chit chat, but to us it was a cherished union. It was the most magnificent day I've ever had, besides with my immediate family...for them there is no replacement, merely an addition to.

Yep, this week I've been given the privilege of playing nanny for my niece. Definitely the best gig I've had. I was overwhelmed when the call came in. To me it's an opportunity to be a part of her life that unfortunately just doesn't happen often enough.

She's a precious little angel that blessed us one year ago. Gone are the days of sleeping the day away, not really knowing or realizing much in her surroundings. Now, today, we played peek a boo, sang songs, read books, took a stroll.

Last time I saw her, the time began on a difficult note, tired child, unknown person, and her mother. Easy choice for her to make. Today, all of that changed. She cooed, she gabbed up a storm, I'm sure she was filling me in on all the details of her life, and what she's seen so far. To top off the day completely, I had a helper. Natalie is eight years old, and lost her father to illness this summer. So, I got an earful today, and for once, I had the right answers...still fresh in the memory. I pictured my youngest, who was seven when his dad passed. I'm sure they were both watching over putting me in the right place at just the right moment. I couldn't have asked for a better opportunity. The mere thought of being there for someone else who really needs a friend...there's nothing better than that in the world.

I had so much fun, I can't wait to go to work tomorrow. I did have to make a disclaimer already to my sister in law. She was so proud of her daughter's precious poses, princess looks...the minute her back was turned I saw the true angel in all her scrunched up glow. My new friend walked away with a smile, a thank you, and a feeling of being heard and cared for. If we could do like the shampoo commercials, telling two people, just think what a wonderful effect that would have.

All Grown Up

Children grow up no matter what, no matter how much we want to hold on, they grow wings and soar. Granted, I've had a few extra years on this creation, however, some of those years were tarnished through his drug use, and my tough love. He's recently returned from the edge, having faced consequences for choices he's made.

For many years, he remained distant...his friends knew much more than I could ever hope. Those same people caused so many problems in his life. It was so difficult as a mother to close the door, wish him the best, pray for him often, but not allow his misery to inflict pain and suffering as well as the destruction of the remaining family unit.

He was our weakest link, not him, the child I knew and raised, but the addict. Many times showing up for a meal or a shower. Countless times, calling, begging me to loan him money, my time, my energy; me only willing to offer a prayer that he find his way back to the light of life.

That day FINALLY has arrived for him. He's now been sober for six months, and not only because incarceration forced sobriety on him, but by his own choice. He just bought a car, is employed and set to return to a local college this fall.

It's been one of the toughest journeys I've had to hike, but without the tough love, he'd most likely still be in jail or worst, dead. By the grace of God, I have my son back, and it's been such a rewarding process watching him open his wings and soar, as hard as it is to see him all grown up, becoming a mature, productive member of society. The "real" him is finally reaching the surface, and what a beautiful spirit he was hiding deep within, in the darkness.

It's funny, as parents, we really don't know what the final product will become. Our children go through so many different transformations before our very eyes. No matter what we do, we can only do the best with what we have to work with, add all of our love, try to nurture and guide. Sometimes they take a beaten path, but the true spirit will finally emerge, given time, sometimes tough life lessons. We can't beat ourselves up for the paths they choose, we are merely here to guide, love them unconditionally, sometimes that requires tough love to break through, and support them when they do come through the other side.

Today, I sigh with relief, that although I realize he's all grown up, he'll always remain my little boy.

Why Do The Good Die Young?

While doing my usual scans of other's blogs, I came across one so touching that I added it to my MUST READ list. His entry was about a storm, the force of mother nature and how it puts life in perspective. What I failed to see, was the entry was from a dying man. He so graciously visited my site after receiving my comment. We've exchanged a couple of emails and comments now.

Today, I was surprised to see an email from what feels a old friend. I had mentioned in a message about our experience when the boys' father passed away. He responded asking some personal questions about our experience.

I'm unsure what length of time he has remaining on this earth, but do hope he sticks around for awhile. I was honest in my responses that although I understood their father's choice, that he had endured all the pain he could stand and his quality of life was going to diminish so greatly that he hardly considered it a life.

With most of my posts, the last thing I expected was an email from someone asking me my thoughts as a loved one left behind how difficult it was on me. I always thought I'd fill a void of Erma Bombeck, not Oprah.

I do hope my newfound friend chooses to hang around with us for awhile still, but I did assure him that the selfishness in the human nature doesn't make that journey easy for either side.

Based upon my experiences lately with many people, I'm left wondering where did our quality of life really go? I didn't see any quality in the people I passed, and most of them didn't seem worthy of being missed...so why is it someone that inspires others is taken so soon, while others, fester, recreate, and cause general misery to those around them for many, many, many years.

Drowning in the Fishtank of Denial

Just how long can someone swim before they need to surface for air? How long before "enthusiast" reaches fanatical? Not sure, but know I'm drowning in the fishtank of denial. What is that point when a hobby goes over the top, and no matter how many euphemisms one can create, no longer adequately describe the situation?

Let's just say, I know a few fish "enthusiasts". Don't get me wrong, fish are wonderful, relaxing, calming creatures. However, what do you do when said person has not one, not even five, but an entire room designated for fish tanks, as well as those display tanks that decorate the rest of the house. Most times, I humor myself, reminding myself often that at the fish auctions, they declare themselves enthusiasts. I've seen lately though the look of concern from people when they stop by to visit. I can see the wheels spinning, and I don't believe enthusiast is the word that is coming to their mind.

In an effort to help me remain in my sea of denial, I've seen changes in the social network, that I can EASILY find as fanatical. It's just downright strange.

The scariest part to me, is I've now begun witnessing my children recite the savings per trip for more supplies and equipment. Never would I have thought fish could be so needy. (Clearly you can see I don't share the enthusiasm.) Did you know, they require water changes constantly, and not only demanding clean water, but requiring you to test it to assure its up to their standards. They can't even clean up after themselves.

Here I thought they merely needed a tank, water, and a ugly plastic treasure chest that bubbled occasionally. The fish in Finding Nemo were definitely less demanding than any I've seen in recent times. Fish are more time and energy than any newborn baby; the only advantage is not having to get up in the middle of the night for feedings.

I better stop before I can no longer justify the word enthusiast and have no choice by to face the fact that maybe I'm dealing with a few fanatics.

A Break from the Usual Postings

Hmmm, I'm beginning to see a trend here at Blogger, not a bad thing just something that came to my attention. I've noticed since I began consistently posting new entries the changes in the AdSense choices. When I vent about my neighbor "Eddie Haskell" or lately Malibu Most wannabe, the ads pop up for psychotherapy; when I post about my own kids, A.D.H.D. ads appear. My post earlier today about my morning adventure raised a bit of concern to me. Life Insurance popped up, hmmm, what are they trying to tell me?

I hope no one took my blog entry so literally as to call the authorities on me. I can assure you all the children survived this morning's entertaining escapades. I fought the urge of those thoughtless daydreams of being single with no children. Honestly, I'm in it for the long haul, just occasionally have to question my own sanity, which in itself, I remember hearing is a sign that sanity still exists. If you've heard of a different theory than that, please don't share. I'd much rather drown in my sea of denial.

When Mom's Go Wild!

If you heard of a small 3.2 earthquake in San Jose, have no fear, it was merely me, snapping as my last nerve had been stomped on, ripped out and torn to shreds. I'm usually a very mild mannered individual, kind and caring. That all changed at about 11:04 AM. After two non-stop hours of "stop touching me!" STOP!!! Stop it. Follow that with stalking their prey; meaning older brother chasing after his younger brother to torment him further. It amazes me, Pavlov's dogs learned at a much quicker rate than I witnessed this morning.

I grew up with two older brothers, so I can sympathize, to a point. I don't recall chasing my brothers after they tormented me endlessly. I also was able to read them well, knowing exactly at what point I could push an issue before they exploded in rage. It benefited me, survival skills I believe is what most would consider them.

Ironically this morning I saw a post about sibling rivalry, and just four simple steps to stop it. Please! Apparently, if the expert was a parent, she must have only one child. I can buy that sibling rivalry is "normal", but to what extent before it is completely over the top.

It would be considered insane by some, but I finally had to point out to a child that one of the benchmarks for my success as a parent was helping them survive to adulthood, and that I was going to need his help in reaching that milestone. He had pushed every possible button in each and every brother, and honestly, I didn't realize how many buttons they actually had until this point. I saw rage like never before in three people, I thought I actually did see the steam coming from the ears of one, another looked like he was having a fit much like seen in Roger Rabbit.

Finally I have calm, for a moment. I'm relishing the silence, as I know it's not long lasting. One thing that does concern me with the timing of the fits of rage; the phone company is tearing out our driveway to solve one of their on-going phone line issues, and I saw children with a measuring tape trying to scope out the size of the hole. I'll be really concerned if they also start measuring their brother's proportions to see if it's a fit. More concerned should be the child that caused the complete meltdown of all around him, but he's having too much fun, I'm sure plotting out his next attack, and sizing up possible victims himself.

So, if any of you figure out how Pavlov's whole system worked, let me know...I'm running out of creative solutions to the sibling rivalry that seems to be raising our roof.

Too Close for Comfort

Nothing like a near death experience to remind one of their blessings in life. I definitely have someone kind enough to be watching over me lately. In the words of my dad, I guess it wasn't my time to go yet.

Last week while frantically looking for information to assist us in caring for my father-in-law, I stumbled onto a possible ghost writing opportunity. Later I landed my first partnership with a local pet store, where they will link my virtual art gallery to their website as well as display brochures and samples in their store. The scoop, I've been willing to hand over my first born child for either of these opportunities.

Then Sunday night, for some unknown reason, at least at the time, everyone was still awake in the house, way past the normal hour. Just as I was beginning to doze off, the sound of my son frantically screaming "fire" brought me back from the edge. Apparently out of all places, a fire had been ignited under the kitchen sink. After struggling with fuses, we found the one to cut power to the garbage disposal, and finally regain control of the situation. Three sleepy children swearing never to sleep again, EVER, adults ready to fall over with exhaustion, struggling to maintain calm and sanity.

I was somewhat surprised, and very grateful when I awoke the next morning, house still intact, and the ability to find someone to assist with the problem. Maybe to some my ordeal was minimal, I am just grateful that this happened when it did, and not much later, as we would have all been deep asleep, and the damage could have been life altering, devastating. I know we all sleep very sound, and honestly I'm not sure we could have escaped. The situation grew almost uncontrollable quite quickly.

By Monday morning, I was back on track with the Gratitude List and definitely on my knees. I do know something was watching over us. In my mind there is no other plausible explanation, and whomever that presence was, I'm indebted forever to them, and wouldn't be surprised if they are one of the Five People Waiting for me when I get to the other side.

Good vs. Evil

In my attempt to teach my children to treat others the way they’d like to be treated, I feel maybe I’m doing them a disservice. I’ve battled for a few years now with Eddie Haskell. This kid is a heartless, game player, that messes with the minds of other kids just for the fun of it.

I’ve had plenty of “chats” with this child, to no avail. Sure, he’s scared of me, now overly polite when he sees me, but still as conniving as ever. Seems he has a difficult time with odd numbers, meaning, loves to find 2 people to pit against each other for his pleasure. Since there are one of him, three on my side, and a few other stragglers that have a break from him through joint custody agreements, more often than not, his victims come from my house.

We’ve seen him get a guitar, because they became popular in our house. Skateboards, he’s had a few, as you guessed it, we have avid skateboarders here. Usually one of my sons brings home friends, he sniffs out his prey, and attacks, takes credit whenever he can and latches on to people much like the dreaded leach.

I’ve had the opportunity to watch all the neighbor kids on skateboards, having been designated the honorary cameraman on many of their park adventures. Well, let’s just say this kid is more like Bucky Dent than Bucky Lasek on a skateboard. With a few of the kids it’s their passion, and they have no fear to try new tricks. Suddenly he’s put in a competition with my son, who has absolutely no fear and practices for an average of five hours any given day this summer. His latest victim is the judge, and miraculously he pulls off victory twice over my son, and declared the “BEST” skater on the team.

Why can’t kids just get along? Is it necessary to complicate everything in life, beginning so soon? The saddest part of this is I’ve seen what floats to the top in the corpporate world, and don’t think this kid will ever figure it out. Why? This behavior of his will benefit him through his whole life.

So, I’m stuck. Do I abandon trying to teach my kids good values and trade it all in game playing 101? Personally I cannot stand those who play those games, have absolutely NO RESPECT for them. Maybe another little “chat” will do the trick, or just buy me a few days of serenity. The problem with this whole parenting thing is you just don’t know how you’ve done until it’s too late to correct any mistakes you may have made.

The Rest of the Story...

Closure is so important to all of us, whether realized or not, and as I know inquiring minds are dying to find out the scoop, here you go.

Catfight was easily won. Well, not so much a competition as to actually getting a glimpse into a 30ish old GIRL who is desperately trying to cling on to the best thing she ever let slip away. Sure, she tried her best, but I blocked all of her punches. I loved her comment about if you knew me, you’d understand. The funny thing was, I knew her WAY BETTER than she thought. So, my thorn was easily removed, and if she should try to send any more cards to MY house, phone calls, IM’s; closing them with “Luv Ya” I will realize it is merely a desperate attempt by a pathetic individual. Little cutsie hearts over your “i” may be appropriate for the Paris Hilton crowd or immature girls roaming the halls in high school, however, there comes a time when they lose their appeal and are merely pathetic. So, I have closure knowing that her concept of BFF with my significant other is merely a one-sided friendship that is no threat to me, and now instead of cringing, I’ll say a little prayer that she find her way in life.

Secondly, after a conversation with a doctor yesterday it was determined that Manipulation is NOT a disorder, but Lewy Body Disorder is. So, in essense we are dealing with a disorder in a dysfunctional personality, therefore, it’s a very blurry, confused situation. I had to accept that it’s not personal, that it truly is a brain degenerating, getting old and wearing out. It is a TRUE disease. As one headlined screamed out to me “Scrooge Probably Suffered from LBD” Woo Hoo!!!!!!!!!

Imagine having to sit down with a 10 year old to tell him that it’s going to be like having a little brother in a 74 year old body. After the initial glaze left his eyes, I think he understood.

Have no fear, I found another forum for THE ventfests that will be involved on THIS roller coaster ride. I’m determined to keep my sanity and most importantly my warped sense of humor. Worst case scenario, I checked and my standing reservation at the Padded Inn is still available.

Disorder or Dysfunction?

When is something a disorder? What’s makes it so? In my mind, a disorder, especially those that occur later in life are totally random. Hurt feelings hit everyone in that person’s life. Manipulation is selective pain innvoked on others. How do you find treatment for both, when there is so much gray area to cover. How do you truly discover what can be treated through medicine versus psychologically?

Recent episodes have included mind boggling symptoms, that are ever changing. Confusion with clarity to call the one with emotional baggage er, ties. Feel my pain, don’t you feel bad, fix me, BUT…only on MY TERMS. To me that’s not a disorder but rather a dysfunction.

Above that, add a medical diagnosis that maybe it’s Lewy Body so it’s unpredictable. Even medical professionals are now saying that if it truly is Lewy Body it’s the slowest progressing case they’ve ever witnessed.

With over fifteen years dealing with recovery, and many more dealing with manipulation, my input comes across as a cold hearted, uncaring, biased outsider, who just hasn’t a clue as to the significant changes this person has gone through over the last few years.

Well, true, I’m an outsider…true, I’m warped in my opinion, but the fact is, the person has been the same cold hearted, self centered individual I’ve encountered for the last five years.

How do you possibly tell someone you love that their parent is a lying, self centered, self serving piece of something cows would say ewww about? There is no politically correct way of spinning that one. Hell, Karl Rove couldn’t spin that one and make it look good.

This man made my life a living hell for three of those five years, bitter, hell yeah. Forgiving, I can do that, forget, no way. My belief is this man has had people fishing for him for so many years that he never had to learn to fish for himself. He’s burned bridges to safety without a care, and now he’s feeling the consequences for all of those bad choices he’s made in his life, and searching for someone to fish some more. His antics have increased in drama due to the fact that he’s cried wolf so many times, most of the sheep are gone, and only one lifeline remains.

As he’s looking for pity from the one remaining ally, he’s giving credit to all the wrong people. In the process he’s pushing away the one remaining teammate he has, foresaking them while thanking those who have not been there, have not cared, think he’s full of it.

If it truly is a disorder, I would go to the ends of the earth to help, but I’m having a tough time diserning what is real and what is fabricated. We’re back again hearing the doctor’s mention Lewy Body, and back to feeling the guilt and pain, hoping that we do all that we can to help a man not seeming worthy of our love and assistance.

Thorn In My Side

It’s been quite an interesting few days in my life. My father-in-law was having every form of symptom known to man, that was healed, completely cured when I told him I was on my way to pick him up. With the symptoms I was hearing about, it surely wasn’t safe for him to be alone in his house.

Top that, with a job offer to be a nanny for my neice through the rest of this year, yanked out from under my feet. They found someone for less money, so they had to do what was best for them. Granted in most cases money is a motivating factor, but I’ve yawned through many a boast of $3,500 earrings, $10,000 living room sets, blah, blah, blah. Now she’s worried about saving money on her daughter’s care.

Follow that up with an ex-girlfriend that has been a thorn in my side for five years. She won’t climb back under her rock. While on the desktop in our room, I got an IM message from her…OK, so I know she wasn’t addressing me, but she still uses cute little nicknames and writes Luv ya. To say the least, this does NOT go over very well with me.

I’m drafting an email to get to the bottom of this one. The only time I’ve kept in touch with someone who I broke up with was when the court ordered it for the children’s sake, so needless to say, I don’t understand her mentality. She’s been asked nicely to stop, and instead just seems to find new approaches. Whatever the case, the motives don’t seem good to me.

Do I face it, as I now have an email address? Do I just accept that she is not going away? Somehow, someway, this thorn needs to be pulled out before it festers. Any advice, love to hear it. I'm quickly running out of ideas and patience here.