Thanksgiving, my ass!

http://www.fucklikeapirateday.com/
November 23!
ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

Mean Mommy.

Both our kids were in the principals office today. Jori was in there initially for the fallout from yesterday's bus scuffle, and he made an encore performance for "threatening" a classmate this afternoon.

Winter decided to cut her own hair in class (yes, I know WTF), when ratted out by a classmate she was sent to the principal due to her behavior...

Dave had class tonight (it's seriously a curse - on his school nights one or both of them ALWAYS pulls a doozy, without fucking fail...) and so I called him to see what punishment he wanted me to enforce. Immediate grounding for this evening.

Got home, let them know Dad says they are grounded. The boy accepts his punishment, but the girl melts down. "I want my OTHER mommy, my REAL mommy, not my MEAN stepmommy! You and daddy are so mean! I want to go live with my REAL mommy!"

Yeah kid, I'm the evil stepmommy. Evil stepmommys stay home with you when you are sick. They go to your school conferences, and skip work to do so. They take you to the doctor when you are sick, and they stay at home with you and watch you when your daddy is at school, trying to earn a better living to provide better for you. They buy you school clothes, bandage up your sores, teach you how to read, teach you how to brush your teeth, teach you how to dust, teach you how to tell time, make you laugh when you cry, and help you pull out teeth for the tooth fairy.

Evil stepmommys make zucchini bread with you, and color with you, and buy you christmas presents, and stick "I love you notes" in your lunch every once in s a while. They also throw you birthday parties at Chuck E Cheese, because that's a really mean thing to do. They teach you about babies, and about your body, and answer all your questions about things like "What are nipples" and about the origin of your belly button. They take you to get your hair cut and get a pedicure on occasion too. They fill their work cubical with art work you made them just to be mean.

Evil stepmommys also certainly give up having their own "REAL" children so they can stick around and be mean to you.

I AM SO MEAN. I didn't yell at her. I didn't spank her. I relayed a message from her father that she was in trouble, and I am the MEAN STEPMOMMY. Once again, I'm left trying to pick up the pieces of these children, who are so confused because of their fucking idiot egg donor bio mom, and I HATE being the one that they hate, for no reason at all.

It sucks when a 6 year old can emotionally torpedo you. I need to toughen up. On days like this I'd love nothing more for her fucking ass to get the phone call from the principal, and try to explain why her kid is acting out.

Sunday.

Sunday was kick ass - Dave and I had a date day - we went and saw "Control" aka the Joy Division movie. Loved it. Love the soundtrack (which I just bought). Anyway, while we were waiting for the movie to start we killed time in Nordstrom... which led to me buying an extremely adorable pair of Franco Sarto heels. I didn't buy any purses though, so THERE.
I did buy a purse yesterday though, but that's another story... lol

The best part of Sunday though was that I had one of those "perfect" moments. My mom watched the kids so we could go see "Closer" (one week only engagement). I was walking hand in hand in downtown with Dave, and the leaves smelled sweet with decay and swirled around us in little wind clouds of a warm breeze, and the sun was beginning to set and the buzz of the city was all around us, everything so urban and vibrant and...us. It was just one of those moments where all in the world is just right. I leaned over and kissed him as we waited at the crosswalk, and as we walked we had a conversation about how we are so completely city people that we may never buy a house while the kids are around. I think we're going to save for a city loft instead. Another one of those ways we are so fantastically compatible...fuck the white picket fence, we want a doorman!

Back to reality though, with various behavior problems with the children all week. Highlights include Winter locking my mom out of her house (on purpose), fit throwing, the front door being left wide open (I was home alone, this was on their way out the door) and I had to retrieve Coley from the front porch, and the crown jewel - Jori's schoolbus fistfight, which led to the complete demolishing of his glasses. Gotta admit though, am proud of the little scrapper... he takes after me in that regard - lol. Proof that just because you wear glasses you aren't a wussy.

Birthday.

So I'm old.

Not only did Dave let me fall asleep at 9pm on 09-21, he let me stay asleep until 9am. 12 hours of sleep = Sara in a very very good mood when she wakes up!! So I woke up and went into the bathroom to pee and there was a note on the bathroom mirror - a pirate map with a birthday sonnet and a clue... a birthday treasure hunt!

So I ran around the house and out to the car etc solving mini mysteries and getting clues and uncovered my presents - a mega rare Ted Bundy book that officially rounds out my collection (fuck yeah I'm weird) and the diamond earrings I've been drooling over and wanting for the wedding! YES! He is the awesomenest almost husband ever!!

Then we got ready and went to Gustav's for lunch and I got to be lazy all day long and do no chores. I got a yummy white chocolate cake from Larsen's bakery and it was kick ass!!

So that was my birthday. Being 30 is pretty cool so far.

Dad.

So I took my dad to the doctor today. We have a new neurologist, because the old one left to be a doctor for a real hospital and not the VA.

The new guy is pretty cool, and took an hour with us, answering my many questions. I just wish he had better news for us.

He had a CT scan that my dad had done recently, and there were some surprises there. He started off with the good news: "Well, it looks like he hasn't been having strokes like we thought were happening, and that looks really good."

The bad part is though, that the CT showed that my dad's 1 problem isn't just Parkinson's - its Alzheimer's. Stage 5-6. Yes, he has Parkinson's symptoms, but according to the new doc the major problem is Alzheimer's.

He ran a bunch of tests, which didn't go well at all. I expected that, as he's been more "loopy" than usual. He kept looking at me with this helpless look in his eyes.

"What year is it?" "Uh.... nine?"

"What branch of the military were you in?" "Uh.... I don't know..."etc etc.

He told me to expect my dad to go mute within the next year. Muteness happens in stage 7 - the last one. He's off the dementia drugs, because he's past the point of where they will help him. He's being weaned off of some of the other ones too, because they aren't going to help him this far in the game.

So I'm getting all of this unsuspected bad news, trying not to cry, trying not to freak out that my dad's mom died in a nursing home from the very same thing, and trying not to think that I take after that side of the family, etc etc and asking questions like "When will he need a memory facility?" "How will I know when I need to do XYZ". I'm being very careful to try not to use the word Alzheimer's, because my dad freaked out when Gramma got it - he put her in a home and bailed. He was too freaked out to deal with her, and so he didn't. (I can't help but think of Karma here, as much as it breaks my heart).

So I'm walking him out to the car in my sunglasses, so he can't see me starting to cry, and he says "So what did the doctor say, honey?"

After all of that, no fucking clue. What was I supposed to say? "Well dad, you'll be a vegetable within a year, probably. It shows over 50% of your cerebral matter is dead." Wouldn't that be a nice thing to tell him?

I answered, "Those pictures we looked at of your brain showed that you aren't having any strokes, and you get to take two less pills now."

"Well that's good." He answered, smiling.

I have about a year until I won't see my dad's smile again. That goes with the speech deficiency, he will have zero facial movement aside from drooling and the occasional grunt. I didn't expect this... I hope he dies so he doesn't have to slowly shut down piece by piece, for his sake.

I don't have to go back to the VA for 6 months. This is good, in one sense, but I can't help but think that it's because they know they can't do anything else for him. We've been going at 3 month intervals before.

I need to meet with an elder law attorney, and see the best way to maximize my dad's assets and get him ready for the best sort of skilled nursing place he can afford. It looks like we're going to be there sooner than later. I heard that when you put them in a home they take everything from them, you sign it over. I don't want that to happen - because if the place sucks, then I won't have his money to move him somewhere else.

The Mom and Dads.

So a guy I work with just bought a house from some friend of his, who was selling it because his dad (who lived there) died. So there was this house full of crap. The old dude never married, and I guess he packed away everything.
So Pat (the co-worker) comes up to me two days ago, and he says "Hey, you're the one that's always getting records in the mail, right?" Heh. Busted! I say "Yup..." He says "So I'm cleaning out Victor's house and getting stuff ready for Goodwill, and he's got about 200 record albums. Do you want them?"

DO I FUCKING WANT THEM? Hell yeah!
Now, before you all get too excited for me, over HALF are Lawrence Welk or Lawrence Welk related stuff. They are all in perfect condition, and Dave had the really good idea of donating all of them to an old folks home.

There are also a shit ton of POLKA records, some of them have little gnomes on them and shit and so therefore they are awesome.

There were a few gems in there - Tennessee Ernie Fords, Hank Snows, old Honky Tonk stuff that I dig on because I was raised on it... but then... there was a full collection of MY NEW FAVORITE BAND!!!

Yes! You truly haven't lived until you've heard THE MOM AND DADS. Only ONE Mom and THREE Dads. I bet she was a dirty slut.

The record itself, with a 1976 biography, explains all:

"The Mom and Dads story is truly one of silent success. In the razzle dazzle record business, they are somewhat out of place. Their music does not get played on Top 40 Radio Stations. In fact, it receives little airplay at all. Try and find a Mom and Dads record on the best seller charts..."

Hmm, now WHY would a polka band from Spokane, Washington NOT be on the best seller charts? That just seems WRONG.

However!!! "Their first album 'The Ranger's Waltz' has achieved deouble platinum success in Canada." CANADA! IF YOU POLKA YOU ARE ROCK STARS IN CANADA!!!

I love Canada, and I really love The Mom and Dads. I'm keeping one of their albums. If any of you want one, tell me, and I will mail one to you. HAHAHA But be warned, it's all polka, NO singing.

bwahahahaha!!!

Pebbles.

Why am I still awake? Because I'm a huge sucker and can't sleep without Dave around now. How bizarre is that?

And why isn't Dave around, you ask?

Well. Winter was complaining that her ears hurt tonight. After Dave sat her down and started to talk to her about why her ears hurt she admitted she put the little plastic pebbles from the school pseudo-sandbox (psuedo because its a giant box filled with plastic pebbles instead of sand to dig in) in her ears. Both of them. We tried flushing with warm water and were unsuccessful.
So Dave is currently at the Kaiser in Portland having the doctor dig the little things out of her ears.

While Dave was on the phone with Kaiser she howled loudly until I scooped her up in my lap and told her that her screaming was scaring the dog, and if she was quiet the dog would come see us. She quieted down, snuggled into me and the dog and passed out until Dave was ready to take her to the hospital.

Moments like that are really great... I get to be her mom when she needs it.

P.S. 13 days until my lasik. WOOOT! If anyone has GOOD stories to tell me, please do, as I'm done hearing horror stories of corneas mangled.

P.P.S. Today I got paid and I went on a HUGE record binge on ebay and an import site I found. Bad me. I know I'll be at 600 albums before year's end. HAHAH!!!

Growing Pains.

I remember the first time he stole my heart. We were walking around my old 'Hood in Portland, headed to his favorite restaurant - Nothing But Noodles.

In his 5-year old innocence, he looked up at me with his big blue eyes and said "Sara, will you be my next mom? I don't want Brandy to be my mom anymore."

If I had a dollar for every time he said "My Sara, you look so beautiful today," or "Sara, you're my favorite woman in the WHOLE world," or my personal favorite: "I love you more than 4 billion and three people" I'd never have to work again.

The boy who wants snuggle time, takes pride when we are out and someone says he looks just like me, isn't mine anymore... she took him back. Because she had him first.

All it took was two measly visits with her. Two visits to her slum, surrounded by strangers, the freedom to choose inappropriate movies and video games, and her willingness to be manipulated by his now 7 year old mind - he whined he NEVER gets to play outside at our house... never... despite my effort last Sunday when I was sick, and I took him and his sister outside, taught them how to throw a frisbee, planted some seedlings with them, watched them play and laugh and perform "tricks" to me in the yard, as their dad was busy inside doing homework... despite that I spent over three hours teaching the two of them how to play Old Maid, War, and endless hands of Go Fish...

Now SHE is back and I am nothing.

At dinner tonight I made a comment I have made hundreds of times before, "Well son, that's just the way it is."

"Why did you call me son?" he asked - and then the glare.

I said nothing. I didn't know what to say. Instead I was haunted by future visions of his 14 year old anger, screaming at me "You can't tell me what to do! You're not my mother!" and me yelling back "You know what? You're right! But you have to listen to me anyway!"

He will never know that I didn't take fertility treatments, that I didn't try for a baby of my own, which I want more than anything, because I knew he needed me more than the unborn child I didn't have did. That they both would need me more, because she will let them down again and again, and I will be there to help them up. He will never know that sacrifice. He will just hate me instead, because SHE will hate me. He will protect her broken and pathetic existence because He is Hers.

His sister isn't lost to me yet. She came in after daycare today and yelled, "Mommy Sara! I'm hooooome!" and rushed back to show me the penny she found today that she was so excited she gets to keep... she came out to dig in the plants with me, and she asked me if I would tuck her in.

She still wants me. For now.

Will I have to lose her too?

About five minutes before bed he asked me if I wanted to play "Operation" - a last minute ruse to avoid bed time.

"No Jori, there's not time." I said.

Raising another woman's children just might break my heart. Sometimes I really wonder if it's worth it and I just want to be called "Mom" again and feel it's true.

Updating.

I made reservations in Rockaway Beach and we took off for the weekend. It was a good time. :) We watched a lot of Viva La Bam while we had a few drinks, played cards, shopped, and walked on the beach.
The coolest thing is I applied for graduation for my AA (finally) - I have all the credits done, I just need 6 more "specified electives" to get the college to give me the degree (some stupid rule about last 45 credits need to be from there). I want the piece of paper before I transfer to Washington State. I'll have it in my hands and on my transcripts in December.

My uncle went back under the knife again - we are all worried sick about him. He's tough, and a fighter, but this is the last time they can remove tumors due to scar tissue. There's only drugs left after this if it comes back. I pray they got it all and he's good as new now. It was in the same area the big tumor was, so hopefully it was just leftover.

In idiot news, I dropped a full glass jar of dip on my foot last night (and it bounced, leaving two lovely purple half moons on the top of my foot). Initially I thought I broke my foot but now its just all bruised, swollen and screwed up (no range of motion etc). I'm sure I screwed up some ligaments or something. I can stand on it, even though it hurts, so I know its not broken. Dave took good care of me as I fought back tears sitting with it elevated and iced, and yelled at me to lie down when I was hobbling around doing laundry. He knows that if I'm crying over an injury its a nasty one. HAHAH! Shoes suck, but my Uggs don't make me wince in horrible pain, so I just wore those today. HAHAHA

Returned.

I have returned from Colorado - aka Redneck Republican Evangelical Twilight Zone. Ohh yes. There should have been a TV camera following me around - "Look at the city girl! Sleeping in a room with $500,000 worth of firearms and dead animals surrounding her! Look at her miraculously manage to keep her mouth shut as the Bible thumpers tell her that George Bush was sent from God to save the country and Newt Gengrich should be our next president! Look at her run in fear from the scorpions in the yard!" I survived. They are nice nice people. Just very... different. In a 180 degree different world than I am in. It was bizarre. I'm still glad I went though. It meant a lot to both of them, I know. Lots of sun and going to bed early.

Took Dad to the doctor today. Was a very good and a not so good day there. Was good because he was in a real good mood. I shared with him Dave and I are engaged and he was real positive about it - he said "I like Dave, he's a good kid" and patted me on the knee. Asked me a couple questions about the kids etc. I half expected him to flip me a bunch of crap about my divorce or something but he was 100% positive.

He took a memory/dementia test - its 20 questions - basics like "What city are we in?" "What year are we in?" to "Spell 'World' for me." In the past 2 years he's gotten scores of 14-16. January he got a 14. Today he got a 9. Not good. So she's put him on another dementia drug, because his memory is slipping at a pretty alarming rate. The antidepressants seem to work though. He's not feeling social at all still but he's not as crabby.

He's still having very vivid dreams about cops showing up, parties upstairs, people in his room playing guitar, bugs biting him etc. The doctor very logically walked him through what was happening at night and got him to realize these are very vivid dreams and not really happening because they just aren't possible, as he's been insisting to me they have been. None of his "But you don't live here!!" shit. So that was also positive.

The best thing is though that she ordered him a special walker - he's so tall that he despises the "regular" one - he has to hunch over to use it, which hurts his back, so he only uses that damn worthless cane. So he's pretty excited about the new walker, as it makes getting around SO much easier. I'm relieved because he's so wobbly all the time that this will really help prevent a fall. I will worry much less about him with it.

Sidenote: if there's anyone in the PDX area that knows where I might donate his old walker (I want it to go to someone that really NEEDS it and isn't just too cheap to buy one) please let me know. The VA isn't the place to donate - as he got his newest one free from the VA...
After the doc appointment I asked if I could take him out to dinner. I asked if he wanted steak, pasta, anything. He picked KFC. HAHAH!!

Then the best part of today - when I dropped him off I kissed his cheek and told him I loved him and he told me "Thank you for dinner and such a nice day today." I about fell over. It's moments like that I will treasure when he's gone.

Dadness.

To TRY to make a long story short: Wednesday when I was taking my math test, I turned the ringer off of my phone, and neglected to turn it back on when I was done. As a result I missed a call from Old Person Fuckwit Central - "Uh, Hi, your dad is out of Mirtziapine. Please being us more."

YES, this is the very same drug that I confirmed with the head nurse over there lsdt week that there was an ENTIRE NEW BOTTLE of it, just like I said, that they found.

Well apparently the Med Aid didn't find it because she's FUCKING DUMB and so yup - my dad didn't get his antidepressant on Wednesday night.

GAME OVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I gave his 30 day notice, and then wrote a big long letter to the corporate office hammering out how that place is disorganized and really let my dad down. I've said it before, and I will say it again - don't fuck with my family!

So I talked to dad Thursday night and broke the news that he was moving. He basically completely melted down and freaked out, just total chaos, blah blah. BUT I did get an appointment at the new old folks home (for those of you remembering/caring - the nicer one that doesn't have advanced care, but was nice and CLOSE) for today...

I called my dad's cousin for reinforcements, as he's really good at telling Dad to shut up and listen to me because I've got this tish under control. So today he was calm, and we went over, looked at some apartments, and I decided to let him choose which one he wanted, because then he can't bitch at me later that I chose wrong. He chose the smallest one because (ready??) he liked where the A/C unit was. He could have had like 100 more square feet for $90 more but didn't want it.

Whatever.

So on the way back from the Couv to PDX as I'm on SR500 he tells me "Uh oh, I have to pee."

"No problem, I'll get off on the next exit."

"God damn it. I just pissed myself."

So I pull off the highway, get him to the nearest bathroom to have him finish, clean up a bit, etc. Got him home, changed and cleaned up.

My entire passenger seat was just soaked. *sigh* Well I guess the new car is broken in.

So then I went to the carwash and used the upholstery shampooer and got it pretty much cleaned up - I will of course have to treat it with Nature's Miracle or something to completely get it wiped of any smell. It wasn't as bad as I thought.

Anyway, we are moving him in on Feb 24th. Next order of business is to find him a twin extra long adjustable bed and a recliner chair.

Cancer Sucks.

It seems like I am hearing about someone else getting it every week now.

Anyway. The latest victim is an old family friend. From my mom's email:

"Guess who called me tonight? Paulette W****. She and Jim put an ad in the Hibbing paper to try and find you and they called the Hibbing Tribune and found Gramma's phone no. and called her and she gave her my number and yours. They didn't call you cuz they thought you wouldn't remember them. It was really good to talk to her. She said Jim is 70 now and he is dying of cancer and he said he would like to find his "Sasoo" and just talk to her. He had colon cancer 5 yrs. ago and now it is in his lungs and bones. He has just started chemo and finished radiation this week. I know they still think the world of you and they have no kids together and always thought of you like their's. They put in the ad that Auntie Paulie and Uncle Jim were looking for Sasoo. I told her I would tell you about them and that I was sure you'd call them soon. They are dying to talk to you. I told them all about our life etc. f rom when your dad left and they said you sound like a wonderful girl and they always knew you would be. "

Sassoo is my old childhood nickname. I just bawled when I heard this. I mean, they put a freaking ad in the paper in my Grandma's hometown trying to find me. My dad had a falling out with Jim way back when my parent's were still married (they divorced when I was 11) and my mom lost touch as a result.

I traded an email with Paulette this morning, cried through the whole thing. Gave her my phone number and school/work schedule, hopefully they will call when he's up to it. He's in Chemo today.

This makes me feel honored and special in a way that I never have... that it's the wish of a dying man to find the little girl of his ex best friend that used to come and visit some 20 years ago. I used to stay the night over there on occasion and they used to send me presents from their travels all over the world. I hadn't even thought of them in probably 15 years.

I guess I never really imagined I'd ever made that big of an impression on anyone. Very emotional today. Weird feelings all around.

If he's well enough to get visitors I feel compelled to go to him, and I'm not entirely sure why... what do you say? "Thanks for loving me all these years, sorry you are dying?"

Cancer sucks. I need to go to Colorado.

Question.

How is it that I can be completely unafraid of death, and completely terrified of getting old?