It is SO Monday.

I have a trick for ya’…

Get ready to go to work in an office, while having no toilet, water, or shower/bath at home.

Go on, I dare ya.

Out here in blogland, we present what we wish to present. It’s our choice, whatever kind of blog it is, be it personal or professional.

With that, one can tend to NOT present everything. Perhaps it’s a secret. Perhaps there’s something you don’t want readers to know. Perhaps it’s a privacy issue, or you don’t want to hurt someone who reads. But the bottom line is, we are represented by what it is we actually write out.

Some of us don’t include the flaws. So. Here are my flaws for all the world to see. Not ALL of them, mind (hey, I’m not stupid), but a few.

I smoke. It’s terrible, I know. It’s bad for my health. It’s stinky and dirty. I know that and still I smoke. I was a meth head in the past, and smoking helped me get past it. But it’s harder to quit than meth. I’ve tried quitting at least 8 times. I’ve tried Wellbutrin, the patch, the gum, cold turkey, and hypnosis. And I’m going to try to quit again – I just haven’t figured out the new plan yet. I’ve smoked for 11 years now. So don’t bother with any judgmental comments, as it won’t help, and will only serve to make you look like the jackass since I just said don’t bother. I hate being judged by nonsmokers (and former now-nonsmokers). If you’ve never smoked, you don’t know how hard it is. And if you HAVE smoked, don’t pull the “If I can anyone can” trick with me. I put myself on a fucking antidepressant with side effects to try, so please don’t do that with me. Do I think it’s fabulous that you able to? Hell yes!! Just don’t act like I’m an imbecile for my failure.

What else…

I do NOT take as good of care of myself as I should, spiritually, or physically. My clothes don’t always fit right, and may have holes in them. I only wear makeup on special occasions, but I’ve been trying on a daily basis, but when you don’t have the proper clothing that fits right and makes you feel good, I just can’t. It feels incomplete. But, the fact is, I find myself very unattractive.

I’m a project non finisher. I hate that about myself.

I’m a very very impatient person.

I have a high pitched, annoying voice. To the point that my nickname at work is Mickey. As in Mouse.

Well, that’s enough for now. What can you fess up to?

When I am Queen of Everything (NOT to take the title from Amalah or Erin – they are the current reigning supremas), there will be one rule. Listen to Queen Sparks. That’s it. Not that I’m God, but DUUUUDE the world would run much smoother with me in charge.

In my personal current little kingdom, no one listens. They should. Vacation planning? Just listen to me and you’ll do fine. But no. You don’t. Big move coming up? I decree that you shall help by taking the kids for one week. During that week, these things will happen. Do not deviate from the set schedule, or this whole shindig will fall apart.

I said don’t deviate from the damn schedule.

See? I told you you should listen to me. But Noooooo, you just can’t.

There are varied opportunities for you to listen to me. You (this is the whole world You) just won’t!!! Oy!!! Yes, I have opinions. Of course, everyone does.

But when I am Queen and tell you what to do, you shall do it. And then there will be world peace. The end.

I’ve been very busy, which everyone is, I know. There’s lots on the horizon for us, which is, to say the least, scary. All potentially good, all change, all scary to me. As a result, my brain is scattered. This right here? Talking about the scattered? Hard for me to concentrate on. Because of the scattered.

Let’s see. Maybe a list form update on each area would suffice for today, hmmm?

Joseph: Doing really really really well with therapy. We have another IEP meeting this Friday for an update. He also keeps losing the teeth so fast I would swear he’s using it as income. His anger levels have come down to such that we can talk him down in almost every situation. I said almost, and I mean we’re in progress. Light years ahead of last year though.

Logan: I never know what to say about the little bugger. He’s a ray of sunshine with a dollup of thunder showers. Smart as a whip. And trust me, HE is the one we’re going to have to “watch” – not Joseph. He starts Kindergarten in September, and I’m not ready. I think he’s more than ready intellectually. But then there are glimpses… Where I know in a lot of ways he’s still a baby at heart. And I don’t want to lose that yet – He’s my last child. My last baby. I don’t want him to grow up yet – but he will. This’ll be the year. I could cry. But that’s my problem not his.

Poe: Turned permanent in a new job with a big raise and promotion from what his old job was. This is VERY VERY good for him. It’s very challenging for him, as he’s now an engineer, rather than a designer and all around technical guy. So he’s using math he’s not used since college. But he’s coming through with flying colors. This has the potential to be huge for our family.

Me: Work is work. Big things potentially on the horizon a couple of years from now there. Not writing as much as I would like. My brain is feeling to scattered (I may have mentioned that) to come up with organized thought for too long of periods.

Mom: Excited about the move (which I’ll mention below). Should be in a convalescent hospital for rehab, but won’t go – meaning my father is bearing the brunt of everything (running his house, and caring for all her needs). I’m more than a little pissed at her for that. Because she put her mom in a convalescent home for rehab after cancer treatment. Which was a good thing! But she did so she wouldn’t have to bear the brunt of everything necessary. I get that! Better care = faster recovery in my opinion. But let’s face it – that made things easier on her. However, she did not allow my father that reprieve, and now is making all kinds of demands before the move, that he cannot possibly undertake while taking care of her. Period. I love her. I know we almost lost her. But by God she drives me insane. And my dad to drink.

The Move: Note the capitals? Dun dun duuuuuuuuuunnnnnn. OK. Here’s the idea. My mother made my father promise that they would move and we would get their house so the kids could their own rooms – on her deathbed. He promised. Then she lived. Which she fully intended to do thankyouverymuch. He tried to back out. She laid the MOTHER of all guilt trips, as only a wife and mother can. “I was on my DEATH BED and you’re backing out of your PROMISE??” So yeah. We’re moving. Only moving away was just too much for my father to handle. There’s a little town not too far (maybe an hour) away that he would like to live, and get some acreage, but that’s just too big a step for him right now. So. Probably next month we’re moving… Ugh and the date is dependent on certain people I won’t mention because it just pisses me off… We’re trading houses. Which makes sense in a way. The boys get their own room. FinalllythankyouGod. And we’ll have the office separate from the living room. And we’ll have a table and chairs at which to eat. Which we haven’t had in 9 years of marriage. I mean my parents house is double the footage, with half the people. Plus the smaller house we’re in will probably be better for my mom’s getting around. All that being said and it still just feels STRANGE. I grew up in the house we’re moving into. And yet it’ll be so good! Bah. Mixed emotions. I think it’ll take a long time for me to get used to having sex in that house. Not that I won’t. But it’ll be weird. I’ve never done that before.

So needless to say with the doctors, and the packing, and the end of school activities, and the mother sick, and did I mention packing?

I’m scattered.