Sparks and Butterflies...

But aside from that, she's still completely normal

Why L.A. can #Suckit!

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I had to drive my parents to San Pedro today.  They’re cruisin’ and I had to drop them off.  Logan came with.

My father drives there – old man that he is.  I just pretend not to notice that he still thinks 55 is the speed limit (so he goes 50.  on the freeway.)

We get there.  All is well, my mother’s complaints not withstanding.

Back on the road…  Not 5 minutes in to the return trip the following occurs…

…

Logan: I have to go to the bathroom.

Me: Just hold it, I can’t get off the freeway here.

… 10 minutes later

Logan: I really have to go to the bathroom

Me: You see how I’m all the way over here, and the streets are all the way over there?  You see all those cars?  I can’t get over.  Hold it.

… 5 minutes later

Logan: I REALLY HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM

Me: You have a choice.  You can pee in a bottle, or you can hold it.

Logan: Hold it.  *sigh*

… 5 minutes later

Logan: I CAN’T HOLD IT!

Me: Ready for the bottle?

Logan: YES!!

… 30 seconds later

Logan:  I CAN’T GET MY PENIS OUT?!

…

And this is how I ended up in the worst part of L.A. in an abandoned gas station holding a bottle in one hand and my son’s penis in the other.

The end.

Tired of the Fight

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Cross-Posted at Special Needs Parent as well

Do you ever just get really really tired? Tired of it all? Tired of the drama… Tired of being the “responsible adult…” or the “responsible parent…” Tired of dealing with all the kids issues, and having to be on top of it all, and realizing at a certain point…

My God will it never end?

And it won’t.

And I’m feeling it today.

So, my youngest son, Logan (he would be the one with the heart issues) is going to be held back in Kindergarten next year. He’s just not keeping up.

Bad news – He’s being held back.

Good news – He’s being held back.

On the one hand – developmentally speaking – he’s very very young. That’s just because of his heart issues… Smart as a whip – but more like a 4 year old (physically and mentally) than a 5 year old. Smallest in his class. As his teacher put it, there are no learning issues, there are no psychological or behavioral issues. He, quite simply, needs the gift of time.

On the other hand – he’s made friends. And now the kids, in school, will be three years apart instead of two.

And this was the one that I thought we’d have no school problems with – at least until it was time for his surgery.

I’m just…

I don’t know. I’m sad. I’m sad that he’s got extra issues too.

I’m sad – and actually crying – this is endless. Day after day. One thing after another. Constant issues. If it’s not their emotional issues, it’s behavioral, or learning, or too slow, or too young, or too small, or “not accomplishing his potential.” I’m so so tired.

I’m just sick of it all. Please excuse the rant. It might be a sleep factor – Logan’s been getting into bed with us -favorite position: on my head. And the wind kicked up around here, which wakes me with slamming things outside, and I’m not getting good sleep. I usually don’t physically cry about this stuff – I just do what needs to be done. Period. That’s my function as their mother, to make sure they have the best care, for the best reasons, with the best results, for their best future, whatever that looks like individually for each of them. I usually don’t get emotional about it. So. Thank you for listening and letting me rant.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day

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Having absolutely nothing to do with St. Patty’s Day, this is the conversation from the car this morning, on the way to school:

Joseph: Logan, what do you want to be when you grow up.

Logan: Police.

Joseph: Well…  You could be a Sheriff too, you know.

Logan: What’s that?

Joseph: Same as police – they just wear a different hat.

On a lighter note…

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Last night:

I come home.  Poe is folding laundry.  When he does tasks like this, he likes to blast music.  The kids also like the blasting music.  Poe is trying to talk to me, and we look like idiots trying to yell through the music to talk to each other.  I turned the stereo down two volume notches.

Logan marches over to me and puts one hand on one hip and points to the stereo.

Logan:  Why did you do that?

Me: So I could talk to your father without yelling.

Logan:  That…  Just does not Rock!

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