Another Monday, another bout of PMS. I dread this week of the month. It’s not the cramps or the bloating. It’s the dead dog tired, the exhaustion, the depression, the feeling of not being able to get out of bed or function, the mood swings, the feeling of being at the bottom of a deep, black pit. I hate all of that. One week out of the month I am without hope and beyond consolation. It’s miserable.

Recently I started taking thyroid supplements and I noticed them working within just a few days. I’m fairly certain that I have a thyroid problem, I just don’t have all this time falling out of my ass to go into an endocrinologist and get it confirmed. I’m only a couple of days into PMS mode but I’m hoping the thyroid supplement will help.

This weekend is a three day weekend and we’ve decided to put a kibosh on anything remotely related to entertaining guests in any way shape, or form. We’ve also decided that we can do without Scrawny for the weekend and plan to have Deirdre invite a friend over instead. I’m not comfortable that her life seems to revolve around school and then make out sessions with Scrawny on the weekend. Enough is enough.

Certainly, I’m not willing to undertake the drama that would ensue by forcing a break up. I don’t think that is necessary anyway, these things rarely ever last. But, I do think it’s necessary to force a bit of a cooling off by having Deirdre invite another friend over and get involved in other extracurricular activities, like signing up for decorating the Freshman class homecoming float. She wants to do that anyway and between that and her GATE classes she should be pretty damn busy!

The homeschooling thing with Rowan is off and running, even if school doesn’t officially start until Sept. 8 – I’m a little concerned because there are “Ice Cream Socials” with other families and a ridiculous trip to our local fair. We don’t go to the fair here because it’s in a less than nice part of town and there are a lot of gangbangers who like to hang around the fair. Needless to say, if I want Rowan to check out livestock and the like, I’ll take her to the farmer’s market that we usually visit a couple of times a month.

I’m also concerned because in this redneck hole I live in, parents typically home school their children for religious purposes and there is no way I plan on socializing with a bunch of close-minded, right-wing, religious zealots. Just not going to happen. Rowan can socialize with other kids at the park, library, etc. but I don’t plan on hooking up with other families who probably aren’t involved in home schooling for the same reason I am.

Gah. We’ll see. I suppose. I’m going to give it a shot and we’ll see. I might have to wrangle S.O. into some of this because he does better getting along with morons than I do.

Ahh, let’s see. Friday night was a so-so. S.O. was moody and not very social that led to some really great dinner conversation with my dad and stepmom. /sarcasm

Saturday S.O. acted like a ginormous dick, but to his credit he did come in and apologize for us “not getting along.” Insert gratuitous eye rolling here. Apparently, him acting like a dick = US not getting along. It’s so fucking cute it makes my teeth itch.

At some point after that I tripped downstairs to find Scrawny with his hands on Deirdre’s boobs. Insert murderous rage here. Spent the rest of the day nagging at Julien and Scarlet to keep their asses in the family room for “chaperoning” purposes.

It gets harder and harder to let things take their natural course when what I really want to do is send Deirdre to school with armed bodyguards and then lock her in her room the rest of the time.

In the midst of witnessing groping, getting Rowan out of numerous mischief induced scrapes, I was also cooking for family. I managed to splatter stuff on two different shirts, but at least I perfected my potato salad recipe.

Which brings us to Sunday morning where S.O. took advantage of my going to the bathroom to take charge of the remote control and switched the channel between Vh1, Bonanza reruns and some sick, twisted violent movie. But, he said if I would go downstairs and bring him a soda that he’d change the channel. That man is just so damned sweet and considerate I’m nearly diabetic. I told him to go take a flying fuck at a rolling doughnut.

Thank goodness that when Julien wanted to run to Target for PE clothes S.O. was kind enough to come down and chaperon Deirdre and the octopus known as Scrawny. And, to think I was actually starting to like that kid!

You probably know by now that I’m pretty gun shy and reticent to hope that things are turning around or going my way. Sure, I always have that little Pollyanna voice in my head, but ultimately, I don’t think you will find me whooping and hollering about how the bad times are over and it’s all ding dongs and raspberries from here on out. Does that make me negative? Realistic? Pessimistic?

I just don’t know.

What I do know is that I’m constantly cultivating a sense of gratitude for what I have now and the occasional good thing that happens.

The principal at Rowan’s school called S.O. today. Turns out, Rowan was going to be bussed to another school. The principal, Deirdre’s former teacher and Vice Principal, thought it was ridiculous given how close we are to the school and he was actually thrilled to hear we were homeschooling Rowan. He said that the state (specifically the program we have enrolled her in) has wonderful programs and he would be more than happy to give us more information on them all we have to do is give him a call. He said he was really looking forward to having Rowan at his school because he really liked Deirdre a lot.

Imagine that? A principal supporting a family’s decision to home school. He even agreed with S.O. on pulling Rowan out of kindergarten given how upset and uncomfortable she was. It’s one thing to have kids cry when their parents leave. It’s quite another to have one not really cry but come home silent and semi-traumatized by the whole experience.

This just sort of confirmed that we are on the right track. The principal told us to enroll her early in the spring to ensure that she had a place and wouldn’t need to worry about this bussing ridiculousness next year.

Now if I can just complete the enrollment process through our virtual academy we’ll be off and running. I’ve faxed everything to them it’s kind of in their laps to go back to the elementary school and request all the medical and health info that they have on file.

Tonight I’m going to take the night off. Rowan and I straightened up the house this morning and we’re going to go over some lessons and things that I’ve been working with her on until I get the new materials, but once Deirdre and Julien come home – I’m done.

S.O. and I are taking an evening to ourselves to go out for some margaritas and dinner. We might even give my dad and stepmom a call to hang out with us for a while. I just need to get out and have a good time!

Once again I find myself sitting in front of this keyboard wondering how the hell I got here, to this place, to this painful existence.

It’s sounds melodramatic and more than a little moody. I’m tired. I wish I had a dollar for every time I’ve said or thought that. Maybe I could buy myself a little peace.

Maybe a month ago S.O. and I had a bit of a blow up. It wasn’t yelling and screaming, it was… worse. That quiet sort of blow up that you know the wrong move is going to end up with the nuclear option coming right down on your head. I had done some things… wrong. Not intentionally and certainly not with any desire to cause him undue stress or harm. We ended up having to work late… people had dropped in unexpectedly and instead of telling them I really needed to get my work done, I had played hostess, not because I enjoyed it, but because I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.

S.O. blew up. He talked about not wanting to do this any more. Here we were nearing the end of the road, nearing loan modification, nearing finally filing bankruptcy, and he wanted to throw in the towel.

My ears buzzed, my chest tightened and for a brief moment I was convinced I was finally having a stroke or heart attack. My head hurt, I was so terrified I couldn’t even cry. I found myself, begging, apologizing, swearing I could do better, just please don’t yank this out from under our kids, our family… not after all we had been through. Please.

I spent the next few weeks working harder than I ever had. Anything to prove to him that we could do this. Constantly worrying, constantly going back to him and asking, is this okay? Did I do that alright? Do you need anything? Is there anything I can do for you?

And, he was nice about it. Told me what a good job I was doing, gave the dog begging for it’s owners approval the perfunctory pat on the head. And I lapped it up.

Last weekend he complained the house was a mess. He wanted to hire someone to come in and clean it. I know where our finances are, I know that if I hired someone to come in and clean that I would have to trade off school supplies or school clothes for the kids. The house was a mess not because I was lazy, but because I was focused solely on the business and taking pressure off of him. The kids, were being typical kids and were using my preoccupation to their advantage, shirking chores, spending time hanging out with friends, and enjoying the last of their summer break.

Still, S.O. wanted the house clean. I told the kids no company for two days, thankfully business had slowed down, and so we cleaned and cleaned. S.O. came home satisfied commenting that since we didn’t have to spend money on a house cleaner we could afford to go out to dinner instead.

He thinks that by working full time and still working for our business that he’s doing it all, all the work, all the effort, and is making the most sacrifices.

I love him. God knows I adore that man.

But, just once I’d like to see him hop at the thought of losing me.

I don’t recall the last time I received flowers, the last time I was just treated like a woman and not a business partner/ mother / housewife. I don’t recall the last time that foreplay was foreplay instead of a conversation about business/finances/etc. that ended with being groped.

Just once I’d like him to see that he’s nearly broken me, that all of this and holding it together because he didn’t care whether it held or not, has broken me.

That hopping, skipping, and leaping for his approval and seeing full well that he didn’t seek MY approval – is breaking me.

I remember a long time ago, I almost left. I was working, I had my own job, my own life, and I called my own shots. But, the longer time went on, the more dependent I became, the more entwined, the more emotionally tied.

I let this post lie dormant in my draft section for weeks. I’m revisiting it now and realizing that it’s all still there… maybe not as severe, not as upsetting, but it’s still there.

Yesterday was another one of those days. Listening to him, “I’m tired of feeling like this… life shouldn’t be this hard… I work to hard to be this damn broke…” and on and on.

I finally asked, “What do you want me to do?”

And the answer came… nothing.

He didn’t want me to do anything.

Last night, he blew up at me. Then told me how I was picking the fight.

I’d spent all day worrying over Rowan, researching home school options, pleading my case to him. I dealt with Julien’s frustration over his guidance counselor who is a shitty, snarky, nasty little woman that I sincerely hope something terrible eats her from the inside out. And, at the end of the day, I sat there in front of my computer working, watching the clock and my evening time with my children dwindling, teary eyed and aching because S.O. was so nasty to me.

Later he acted as if nothing had happened. Had me write an email to a client without so much as a thank you. Never bothered to apologize or even remotely smooth it over. We went to bed last night without so much as a kiss or a “good night.”

I know he’s stressed out too. I know he’s burned out. But, I also know that I feel like I’m the one holding it together, that I’m the one who worries over all the things that he just doesn’t have time to worry about.

This week I’ve received two emails from my mother. Then she texted Julien when she had to know he was in Spanish class with my brother.

There is never any reference to Deirdre, ever. Nor does she attempt to contact her in any way.

The thing is, if she were sincere about expressing her feelings for us or missing us or whatever, she wouldn’t make it so obvious that she has such a grudge where Deirdre is concerned. That right there destroys any chance of us believing her in any way.

Not that she’s ever offered an apology. As always when I hear of her discussing this with anyone it’s always how S.O. and I have done things to her, taken the children from her, etc. She never attempts to accept responsibility or admit to any wrongdoing in any way, in any conversation, with anyone.

Her last email:

[Stella],

You obviously know that I check in to read your blog periodically. I knew yesterday was going to be difficult, but it sounds like she made it through in true [Rowan] style. Give her a hug for me.

I am so sorry about [Julien], he has had more than enough health issues and deserves a huge break. You deserve a break too. You must have been so panic stricken. I’m sorry you had to go through another scare. I love you [Stella].

Always,
Mom

Obviously, the blog she mentions is not this one.

This week I have been pretty low, pretty stressed, and feeling rather beaten down. There are numerous other stresses that I haven’t gotten into. A guidance counselor at the high school has been one of the biggest pieces of garbage I have ever encountered, S.O. has been less than easy to deal with, and of course, Rowan.

This is on top of business stresses, financial stresses, waiting for our home loan modification to go through, attempting to determine if our bankruptcy will be a Ch. 13 or a Ch. 7 and the list goes on and on.

The thing that bothers me the most about her email is that I was at such a weak point that for a brief moment I almost considered responding. I have my dad, he is hugely supportive, but for a brief moment there I almost fell back into that mode where I wanted to believe her sincerity, I wanted to believe that she’d be supportive.

She couldn’t even be supportive when Julien had cancer. I know there is no way she would be anything more than a criticizing, negative, bitch in regards to my decision to home school Rowan, or any other decision I’ve ever made for that matter.

I know this. She’s done it for years and years.

Yet in that weak moment… I almost buckled.

In that weak moment, I was just a kid who needed her mom and almost fell into the trap all over again.

You see, even IF I had, it would have been a huge, huge mistake. My mother never lets anything go unpunished. She might act superficially okay for a while, but eventually the nasty comments would start, the tales of how wonderful life was while I was “gone.”

I’ve lived through that before. I know how it feels to spend years attempting to win my mother over and convince her that I could be “loyal” on her terms.

After all these months, I’ve just come too far to go back like that. No amount of pretty words will sway me. That just doesn’t mean it won’t punch me in the gut when I least expect it.

I’ve spent the morning with my stomach in nervous knots. The pressure of parenthood is excruciating at times and it seems that for the last year I’ve had more than my fair share. Gah, enough with the whining!!!

Rowan did not handle kindergarten well. I picked her up yesterday and there were no smiles, no fun stories, no happy at all. She looked like a shell shocked little zombie. The other kids ran to their parents excitedly, she came over to us and gripped our hands in a death grip and the asked repeatedly on the way home if she had to go back “today” meaning that very day!

We explained “tomorrow” and she looked relieved. We asked her about school, we talked to her, and she looked a little pale and said she didn’t want to talk about it. She slept in until 9am and when she got up and I started to help her get ready she lost it. She didn’t throw a tantrum, she didn’t freak out, she just sort of looked sick and began to shake. Then the tears rolled down her cheeks. She begged me not to take her, she said she didn’t like it.

I’m used to Deirdre and Julien, they have always enjoyed school. They were beyond excited to start kindergarten and couldn’t wait to go every day. The prospect of being a “big kid” thrilled them beyond belief.

Rowan looks sad and stressed. Like it was very overwhelming.

I called the school and asked them what they planned to do and how enrollments were looking. Turns out, they had MORE kids than they planned for, lots of last minute enrollments, including kindergarten! They won’t know what they are doing with these extra kids until Thursday afternoon.

Given that our proximity to the school is not a factor in where our child ends up… the options don’t look good.

I decided to research home schooling options. Don’t groan, I’ve always been anti-home schooling. I’ve even been less than nice about people who home school their children. But, now I’m sitting here with a kid who just doesn’t seem to fit into the mold the system wants her to fit into. Sure, this is only day 2 but, my “mother’s instincts” are off the scale and I have the worst feeling about forcing Rowan to go when she is so emotionally distressed.

Yes, we all have things we don’t like to do that we do anyway. But, we also have things that we can’t do because we simply cannot emotionally handle them and I firmly believe that Rowan is falling into the latter category.

I feel awful, I feel like a horrible parent, I feel like a terrible mother, and while guilt is just part of the whole parenting gig – today this is overwhelming me.

As it turns out, California Public School system has a home schooling option. There are charter academies and best yet, it’s free because it’s actually a part of the public school system and our county is a qualified participant. I’ve done some hefty research and have found that kids working within this curriculum actually excel and do better on state tests than children in public schools. Each family is matched with their own credentialed and licensed teacher who checks in with them regularly and proctors state testing. To me, that takes some of the anxiety off of “am I qualified to teach my own child?”

I have to try, I have to give her the opportunity to mature at her own pace and possibly be ready for public school next year, or there is always the possibility that this is just the best option for her. That maybe she isn’t perfectly mainstream and meant to be pigeon holed. All I know right now is that I have two, perfectly normal, well adjusted teenagers and one child who is dramatically different from either of them; my choice is to force her to be like them or let her be herself. For now, I’m going with the latter option.

AKA “The Day I Found Out My Son Was Not As Metrosexual As I Had Hoped.”

Julien is nothing short of witty and brilliant, I say this from the standpoint of a seriously, biased, and wholeheartedly adoring mother. Which is to say, of course, that I’m easily discredited. At the very least.

Now, Julien on pain killers of the prescription sort, falls very short of witty and brilliant. He’s more like the really “touched” guy that you can’t help but love anyway.

“Do you think some basil would go well with this?” I asked him over the top of my mini chopper that was holding several cloves of garlic.

“Sure. Do we have any?”

“Out in the back yard. There is a big plant in front of the trellis.”

Currently, we only have one trellis in the backyard.”

“Okay.”

A few minutes later… Julien returned from the backyard empty handed.

“We only have one plant right?”

“No, we have one that isn’t doing well and one that is in front of the trellis, you can’t miss it.”

Long pause…

“Mom? What’s a trellis?”

“It’s the iron piece with the iron bird on the top.”

“OHHHHHH. I thought it was a plant.”

After all my stress and trepidation over my baby going to school I’m now faced with the small possibility that it might not happen at all.

The school is overflowing (on paper) with kids registered for kindergarten. The limit is 24 per class (used to be only 20, that’s what our governor who is so pro-education has done for us) and right now Rowan’s teacher has 30 on her list.

According to the school the options are:

A) bus the overflow to another school.

B) open a new classroom.

How will they decide which kids go to another school?

It goes by what date/time they registered. Seriously. I live less than a block from the school. Rowan can see our house from her playground. We pay extra taxes just to live in this school district.

S.O. and I decided if it comes to a bus situation – we are pulling Rowan and home schooling her for kindergarten. I’ve never been a fan of home schooling but given the option between putting my 5 year old on a bus by herself or keeping her home for one more year, I think the choice is obvious. We don’t live in some little one-horse town. You can’t trust everyone and certainly trust isn’t automatic just because they work for a school.

Sure, I could drive her to the other school… and then we’d have to have a huge switch when she went back to the school she should be at for first grade. That just seems like insanity to me.

Deirdre’s 5th grade teacher is now the principal of Rowan’s school. Friday she got to meet her “teacher” (because after the first week, she might not even be with that teacher) and the principal who was an absolute doll to her.

So, as it sits right now, I’m not stressing over it anymore. She’s either going to kindergarten right near our house, or she’s home one more year.

I’m tired of worrying about what is going to happen. I’m just going to let it happen and deal with it then.

Another post about how exhausted I am. Feel free to click away now.

Yesterday was a mess.

Rowan still needs to be registered for kindergarten. Deirdre and I ran by the school office to drop off her registration packet only to find that the office was closed for a “district meeting.”

Then we were off to Target where I had to pick up some stomach medication for Julien, a heating pad, and gym clothes for Deirdre. We got back out to the car only to realize that I had set my keys down somewhere in the store. I didn’t recall setting them down, I usually put them in my purse or pocket.

I scoured the aisles retracing our steps while Deirdre checked our check stand and then ran to customer service where some decent person had actually dropped them off.

We got back to the car, unloaded our bags and decided to get some tea at Starbuck’s. Half way through the drive through I broke down in tears. I don’t know why… I was just completely overcome.

I texted S.O. and told him that I was having some difficulties. By coincidence he was already pulling into the parking lot. Not much of a coincidence because he had left his hat in my car, but it was awfully nice to have him so close by chance.

The three of us, Deirdre, S.O. and I, chatted in the parking lot for nearly an hour. By that time I was back under control and able to drive home.

Back at the house, Scarlet is nervously flitting around hovering over Julien and driving me bonkers with her directives and instructions. She’s worried, she’s been in tears a couple of times, she’s traumatized over seeing him in as much pain as she did.

S.O. is both irritated and concerned for both Scarlet and Julien. I seem to vacillate between the two. I feel for her, certainly, I worry for him, definitely.

I’d like a break from worry, concern, and irritation for a while.

We are all home, exhausted, reasonably well and settling in. Julien seems to be doing well, he’s tired, still on pain meds, but better.

His mood has improved tremendously and on the way down to pick him up I remembered how the pain meds affected him last December. I had completely forgotten that he tends to get really nasty, grumpy, and angry on them. Ridiculous the things you forget.

I feel like I haven’t slept in a week. There is still so much to do and I have concerns because for some strange reason Scarlet seems to be pushing Julien not to return to school full time. I’m sure she’s worried, but this is his senior year and he needs to be in school. The doctor requested no P.E. for a month, which means he has to curtail his running as well, I have no problem with that – but I prefer he attend all of his classes, every day. It’s just difficult to reinforce that when she is such a strong influence on his life.

I guess I’ll cross that bridge over the weekend, hopefully when Scarlet isn’t hovering like a nervous hen.