Big Brother/Big Sisters-edited

I'm editing this post because I found errors LOL.

I stay home alot since well...I can't work in my chosen profession..so doctor  permanently disabled me. I have a significant other but he works and lately its been late. My daughter is on her own so I am here alone alot of the time. The walls of this apartment sometimes begin to close in and I need to get out.

So I started thinking what can I do that costs no or little moulah that can feed my nurturing craving. I sit here and think of the years I worked and how I loved the patients. I was a geriatric nurse. The elderly are so cute. I always said they were old bodies with young minds.

I searched online and in the newspaper with MyLove's blessing. I came up with Big Brother/Big Sisters program. I read alot on the site but was concerned about them accepting me as a volunteer due to my disability. So I wrote to them and the responder told me they took anyone who had a good heart and willing to commit. He listed orientation dates.

I asked my daughter before I went how she felt about me being a "BIG". She said she thought it was okay.

Although she moved with her daddy before she went on her own a couple of years ago, I've been having this nurturing need of late. I just miss her and the things we used to do.I definitely am not trying to replace her being a BIG. Those who know here knows no one can ever replace my baby girl.


Thursday night I went to orientation. A case worker just went over a packet which most of it was what I read online. It's a justifiable long process to become a "BIG". My next step is wait for them to call me for an interview. They do a criminal background check and absolutely check  references.

I am ready to make a difference in a little child's life. The case worker said most come from low income homes and abused. My goal is to be a friend to the child and make a difference in their life.

Let me explain the program is.

There are two ways to meet my Little. The Community Based and the Site Based.

The Site Based is a commitment for a school year. You meet your Little at the school during a non core subject and spend 45 min every week with your Little. We can talk, play games, read a book etc.

The Community Based is a commitment for one year with minimum of twice a month for at least an hour meeting your Little.

I think I may start at the Site Based and go from there. Site based can be converted to Community Based.

What's good is you can be a friend to a child in need. We are close contact with the case worker, child and parent.

The case worker also went through statistics of child abuse. I knew it was bad but it is scary.

It is estimated that 1 in 3 girls and 1 in six boys will be sexually assaulted before the age 18. That is so sad. I figured it this way. My child has two best friends, one out of those 3 girls could be sexually assaulted.

Abuse is done through manipulation, deception and bribery. It leaves the child feeling its her fault. How I know this so well especially manipulation and bribery.  I shiver thinking my child and I suffered through it but I think we are stronger for it.

85% of abuse cases, females are victims. that leaves 15% males. Regardless, its a disgrace!

Children rarely lie about being abused.

This is quite interesting: Abusers are not mentally ill. Only 10% of abusers suffer from serious mental illness or psychosis. I always said they were sick or a screw loose. Evidently most are not. Makes me wanna cry.

Approximately 84% of the child sexual abuse in the US is perpetrated by an individual familiar to the victim. Less than 20% of the abuses are strangers. That is scary to know someone near you could abuse your child, isn't it?

Children sexually abused between 8 and 11 are the largest percentage. Innocent children!

30% of sexual abuse involves alcohol abuse.  That is no real surprise.

And last but not least: The individuals who have experienced abuse seldom tell of the abuse. That's really sad and upsetting.  I sure hope if my child was, she would come tell me.

They told you signs of abuse and what to do. Quite interesting.

I'm looking forward to get a Little although I may have to wait until the school year begins again in September. But that's okay.

Ahh this is a much better post than the previous one.

Afternoon Outing

I picked up my daughter at her apartment and we made our way to see Andrew. I am his great aunt. He is two weeks old and adorable. He has dark eyes and a head of black hair. He reminds me of a compact doll or some reason. So tiny. He had just finished eating and was burping. I held him for a while than gave him to my daughter. She held him for about 1 minute and he started crying. He does not like to be handed from one to another.

He is adorable wouldn't you say?

My Baby GIrl

My Baby Girl Visited Today


I remember when she used to hate me calling her Baby Girl , Munchkin or all the cute names mothers call their children. From the time she was born until she was around 9 years old I would kiss her and hug her all I wanted and she loved it.

Then the pre-teens and teens came and she did not want me hugging, kissing or calling her cutsie names. I still did it but she would get mad and keep the hugs and kisses more to herself. She was so selfish then "SMILE". Imagine!. Her not wanting to give the one person who gave birth to her any kisses and hugs! It hurt my feelings. Everyone around us told me it was only a phase.

THANK GOD or WHOEVER, everyone was right!

She is now an 18 year old adult, college student. She just stands and lets me hug and kiss her all I want! And I do realize she is patient with me sometimes because when I get her in my arms I don't want to let go. I am grateful she gives me those moments. I need those moments more than she will ever know.

We sit on the floor like we used to and just talk or I spoil her more and rub her back. We actually have a conversation every time we see each other. Sometimes I just sit and listen to what she has to say. She is such an intuitive kind hearted soul.

When she leaves sometimes I'll sit and sigh. A happy sign. She will succeed in life. She will be happy. I love her with all my heart. She is still my Rock.

Suicide

I just finished reading a story by another blogger that was heartbreaking. She described her childhood friendship with her cousin to adulthood. It was somewhat a roller coaster as they were growing up. However as adults they were working things out and then a tragedy occurred. The cousin's boyfriend attempted suicide with the cousin there.

I can't imagine that feeling of having someone you love and cared for trying to or succeeding in killing themselves. Admittedly, at one time I considered suicide as an 'easy way out' and 'selfishness". Until I went near that deep unending abyss contemplating the same very thing.

I know a few friends whose spouses committed suicide, some peers' parents committed suicide and even a neighbor. I felt for the ones who were left behind. Anger because dammit I thought they were thinking of themselves. They are. They want to get out of that damn hell hole they are in whether it be financial, mental illness, relationships, self-hate, whatever.

One should never judge as I did and so many others. What goes through the mind of those who contemplate suicide is their own personal experience with the demon. It is a very dreary deep feeling you have. It is indescribable. I've known it once in my life and never wish it on anyone else nor want to ever go there again!

Let me remind you, I am no expert. These are just my thoughts and experience.

I remember that day I contemplated suicide. My self esteem and self confidence was nil. When I sought treatment later, the psychologist was both worried and awed because he said with all my past medical history, he was surprised I didn't get help sooner.

I thought how I would accomplish suicide

Ways:   Gun (I would have to find one). Stab (I couldn't do it), Hang (I was too short to reach the rope high. LOL)  I resolved my choice was overdose. I had the meds to do it.

When: I knew for sure that I didn't want to see my child or parents or sister see the aftermath. I really wanted to do it right before my now-ex came home and see what he helped me do. I wanted to SHOW him that I was done and it was his fault. He would have know because I would have written him a letter.

However, I had my daughter, who ultimately saved me from doing anything spontaneously.

I was climbing the walls one day, putter pattering all over. I couldn't keep still. I couldn't get on the computer. I couldn't do housework. I couldn't pray. I had to get out of the house. So I left. As I got into my car the very thought of speeding and going off the road occurred to me. After all, there were winding roads and bumpy roads to make me over correct at a fast speed and run off the road. But I made it to the church. 

I believe God steered me to it.

My heart was beating hard and fast. I sobbed uncontrollably. When I pulled onto the door to my Savior's home anticipating some kind of relief, it wouldn't budge. It was locked! I pulled numerous times screaming uncontrollable, "OPEN! DAMMIT" Yelling at God to open the damn door!  It didn't open and no one answered. I ran, yes literally ran to the priest home on the side, knocked on his many doors but again no one answered. I didn't even notice his car wasn't there until I was leaving.

God had failed me, I thought. Maybe he wanted me in his kingdom.

I remembering pressing my hands over my ears sobbing and screaming, falling onto a rocker by the door rocking for I don't know how long. I cried and cried asking myself what am I doing? I can't leave my baby. My baby can't think I didn't love her. But I couldn't take it anymore.

I couldn't take now-ex's abuse, his temper, the look of hate on his face when he looked at me anymore I was tired of feeling helpless and unloved by a man that I gave my all to just to be knocked down. I was tired of not knowing how he would be when he came home. I was tired of being treated like shit. I was tired of my mistakes being thrown at me. I was tired of being controlled on how much I had to spend on our daughter's needs. My needs didn't matter. 

Out of the clear blue sky, the thought that my Granny was buried somewheres in that cemetery. I love and her miss her so.  I walked into the cemetery and searched. I found her plot and sat on it. My body trembled as I cried talking to her aloud. I told her spirit all my problems and I wanted to see her again. I wanted to be off this earth NOW. I wanted to be in her arms. I didn't want to live anymore.  I have had enough!

Suddenly a huge wind came over me and a thought occurred to me. I can't leave my baby and certainly not with him. Then and there I knew I had to get help. Finally, all the weight I had on my shoulders lifted off. I drove safely home, called my now-ex's insurance and asked how I could get help. They worked remarkably fast after being told I was contemplating suicide. I was seen by a therapist a couple of days later. I still say to this day, my baby girl was my reason for trying to move on as well as Jesus and Granny sending messages through the wind.

So, I often wonder what brought the men and women who went through with the suicide to get to the point of doing it. They had families who cared for them and loved them as mine did. What was different? I don't know. I dare not say I was stronger because I wasn't. I was lowest of the low. None of my family knew this nor do they know now. Well after I post it some may read it and it'll spread like wildfire. So be it. That WAS my life. I didn't want them to know then.

I slowly found my way out of the unending abyss. I already had that one reason to live. My Daughter. I fought depression for years. I was on medication for a while.

But I left the situation after building myself up, found a new life and love and don't see going back to that deep hole ever again.

Good Things Must Come To An End

Today was my last day of Creative writing class. The last three weeks went by like a whirlwind. I learned and built my writing confidence a little tad higher. Here's my last assignment I wrote and my professor's comments. It is a true story with a little bit fiction thrown in. The comments are in parenthesis() for that particular part.

 On this humid Louisiana Sunday afternoon, I am riding my bike up and down the street. I love riding my bike. I get everywhere I want to go faster and I can actually keep up with the other kids. My cousin arrives and we glide down the hill and pump back up. We are racing on the street and ride through puddles in the salt mine parking lot. I practically live on my bike.

My cousin, Shane is my buddy although I am three years older. I love to be with him because he includes me in everything. We have a good time laughing and goofing off. I can count on him to defend me when a kid decides to be mean to me and he knows I do the same for him.

We are riding down the hill. When we reach the bottom we see the train and start to race it screaming and flailing our arms for the conductor's attention Finally, the conductor waves at us and motions with his hand for us to stop. We stop and he throws wrapped bubble gum, peanut butter bars and Sweet tarts. We rush and pick them all up and we wave at the man and yell, “Thanks.” He salutes and puts the train forward and moves on. We watch the train cars go by and count them after guessing how many they will be. Shane wins with 20 being closer to my 15. There are actually 23. We divide the candy evenly, put them in our pockets and get back on our bikes.                    (Great Detail)

We ride up the hill laughing and talking about nothing. As we get to the top of the hill, wiping our sweat onto our sleeves we hear my dad's whistle. His whistle is one of those shrilled types. It certainly grabs our attention. When we turn we see my mom at the end of our family's yard with a can of Dr. Pepper and 2 plastic cups. We press our brakes and slide as we get to my mom. She serves each of us a cup of Dr. Pepper. “Thanks Mom” I say. “Thanks Nanny,” Shane adds.

We ride off for at least the hundredth time today with the cups in our hands. After a short distance, Shane comments, “I can't drink and ride. Let's take a break.”

I sigh and think “Wuss.” But the thought occurs to me that it is easier for myself because I don't have to balance as I have training wheels.

So we jump off our bikes and sit in our neighbor's yard. We live on a 3 mile salt dome named Avery Island. It's a combination of tourist attraction with the Tabasco Factory, Jungle Gardens and the International Salt Mine as well as residential homes.. It is like a secluded village with our own post office, grocery store and elementary school. Every parent looks after each others kids. We are allowed to go in anyone's yard whether they are home or not. We are safe.     (Setting! The good old days!)

 

The families who live on the island and the nonresidents who are allowed on the island to work know there are kids riding bikes and playing in the road. I see them come up slowly looking out for us. I hurriedly get to the grass when I hear a car rumbling ascending the hill. Sometimes I do not pay attention and forget. However, when I forget I never get hit because they patiently wait until I am out of the way. . I in turn wait when I hear the whistle at the end of the day for the workers. I park my bike on the side of wherever I may be and watch and wave as the workers drive off to their own families. They all wave back smiling. Some even shout out the window, “Hello!.” or “Be Good!” I seemed to be the one they know the best because they seem to go a lot slower and yell, “Hey Little Kermit” or “Hey Little George” because they know who my father is. I suspect my father has warned them that I am this daughter on the bike with training wheels

There are also visitors driving through and we love to count how many countries and states they are from. We wave at them too. Sometimes we follow their cars around until they turn around and and go back down hill, We take note of what kind of car they have and where they are from by the license plate. Some even stop and talk to us. It is awesome to hear their different accents.

We are resting with our bikes on the side of us sipping our Dr. Peppers. Shane has a black souped up Motor cross bike. My bike is a hand-me-down blue Schwinn girls bike from my sister because my parents have recently graduated me from my big red tricycle. They think 13 years old is too old for a tricycle no matter how big it is. They have been told because of my Cerebral Palsy I don't have the balance to ride a bike without training wheels.

When our cups are empty, Shane runs and gets the can. As we refill our cups, we gossip, tell jokes and goof around. I pick through the clovers looking for the lucky four leaf clover.

Suddenly, Shane asks, “Why haven't you tried riding a bike with no training wheels?”

I laugh, “Because I will fall.”

He counters, “Why? You play football and baseball with us fall sometimes too but you get

up.

“Well, gee! Shane! Everyone make exceptions for me. You give new rules when I play.”

He knows I am right as he nods deep in thought. I wonder what is with him today.

Suddenly, he grabs my arm and he looks at me with conviction, “Let me help you ride a two-wheel bike!”

I jerk from his grasp and adamantly say, “No! I can't.!”

Shane challenges, “Your mom says can't is not in your vocabulary.”

I shrug.

He implores, “Come on!. Get on the bike. I'll hold the back of it and run while you pedal.”

I try to come up with another excuse but none come. I sigh deeply feeling defeated

We go back and forth with him trying to convince me. I flood him with questions and excuses, “Okay, but how do l get on without training wheels? I can't put my leg over the back like you do! I know I'll fall. When I stop I can't touch the ground so how am I going to hold myself up? You don't understand. How do I get coordination with my cerebral palsy?

He ponders for a second and pleads, “Trust me, Lisa.” I sigh and say “Shane! Don't get your hopes up. Okay? He nods feverishly, “I promise I won't. Just try.”

He helps me up to my feet. We each kick a training wheel up off the ground.

I am feeling anxious and apprehensive. I am scared. What if I fail? I will disappoint my best cousin who believes in me.

He is holding the bike. The bike looks like a big blue monster on two wheels. I walk to the right side of it. As instructed, I hold onto the handlebars. I lift my right spastic leg with my hand and lay it on the bars. Letting go I then slide my leg to the other side. I am standing up with the bars between my legs. I am feel Shane holding tightly to the back bar of the bike keeping it steady.

He coaxes with a near whisper, “Come on. You can do it,” like if he said it aloud he would jinx us.

I squeeze the handlebars, put my feet on the pedals and push my rear onto the seat.

With a sigh of relief Shane exclaims, “Yes! You can do this!”

After a few moments of silence he questions if I am ready. I am terrified but I nod my head. He starts slowly pushing me and I start pedaling. We go five feet., I feel him let go, the bike turns sharply to the right and I fall on the hot hard asphalt.

He runs to me concern and asks, “Are you okay?.” When we find no major injuries he excitedly announces that I was doing it. I am not convinced. I am not sure how long I will let this go on until I tell him it is no use. However, in order not to let him down I smile and grudgingly get up and get back on the bike. He instructs to keep the handlebars straight and don't worry. He reassures he will help me accomplish this.

Instead of him pushing, he suggest to start pedaling and he'll just hold me up. I think that is a better plan. So I push off clumsily with one foot and I am pedaling. I make sure the handlebars are straight. Shane is yelling, “There you go! Keep on! I am still holding you! Don't panic! I got you!” He is running along as I pedal, confidence is building and I start to laugh and have fun. He suddenly lets go and I keep going another 15 feet then I don't know what happens. The bike tumbles and I am tangled in the bike.

He comes running, shouting, and jumping excited, Helping me getting untangled, he is blabbing. “Yes! You are getting it! I told you! Come on! Let's do it again!”

I am getting excited. The impossible may be possible! I get on the bike like the last two times. We repeat. I start pedaling with him holding the back bar. I don't know when he lets go but before I know it I am half down the road and I realize, “I'm riding a bike! Heck yea!

I look back and Shane is running to catch up with me. His shouts of excitement echo as loud as the sound of the blasting salt below. .We are both laughing. I finally fall landing in my yard. but not due to lack of coordination or steering. I fall because I am so happy I can't contain myself. I get up as Shane reaches me and we hug jumping up and down. “We did it!”.

He grabs my hand and we run to my house.We stomp onto the porch of my old white two bedroom house like a herd of angry galloping horses. We are so excited we're babbling. I'm near crying of pure happiness.My mom and dad can't understand. They think one of us is hurt. But I'm flailing my hands in the air trying to calm down to tell them. Shane finally catches his breath and tells them that I know how to ride a bike. They congratulate us, laugh and smile. My dad comes outside and we watch him remove the training wheels. As I see the wheels being removed I feel a sense of freedom.

The minute my dad is finished, we hop onto our bikes and I don't feel different any more. I ride up hills and down hills. We ride from the mine to the Tango, even crossing the cattle guard without getting stuck.

We ride our bike until my dad blows his whistle when its been dark at least an hour. I go inside bubbly and can't stop talking during supper. My mom and dad praises me. I can see their joy and pride in their faces. At bed time my mom reminds me that I have my six month check up with Dr. Brown. I'm not so happy at first. Then my mom reminds me that I can tell Dr. Brown of my accomplishment and asks how did I think he would feel. I fall asleep early thinking of my day and excited that I get to tell Dr. Brown.

Chapter 2

I am up early without mom telling me to get up. I ask her if I can go ride my bike. She sighs and says, “Okay once to the mine and right back.” I run outside, jump onto my bike and ride. I just need that ride to show me it wasn't a dream. I come back in the house and eat breakfast.

We make our way to the Crippled Children Clinic. I play with the other kids as we endure the 2 hour delay. It is normal for him to be late. Dr. Brown is an extraordinary, kind, intelligent and dedicated orthopedist who flies from New Orleans every six months to see us with no payment expected. He is middle aged, wears bifocals and like us, walks with a limp. He sometimes uses a cane. He once told me that he had Polio as a child.

Finally the Pink Lady calls my name and my mom and I walk to the back. I tell all the regular workers hi as we walk down the hall. They direct us to a room that is like a miniature cubbyhole. I impatiently wait for Dr. Brown.

He finally walks in with a entourage of nurses and people I have no idea who they are. They just smile. My mom tells me every time that they are students and researchers when I whine how embarrassing it is to walk down the middle of a room with only panties.

He immediately boasts, “Hey Sunshine! How are you? I am giddy and can't speak. He continues with his routine of explaining my history to the slew of people as he maneuvers my lower limbs and checks my reflexes with the despicable reflex hammer. After he finishes the exam he gives me his hand helping me off the table. I am just bursting with excitement as I spastic ally walk to the entrance of the dreadful catwalk. Sensing I am about to burst out of my skin, my mom finally interrupts him politely and tells him I have something to tell him .

He looks at me interestingly and I blurt out, “I can ride a bike!”

He looks at me questioningly then eyes my mom for confirmation. My mom nods and says, “You heard her. She can ride a two-wheel bicycle.” He asks me to explain in detail how I learned. Throughout my story about my exciting day yesterday he is shaking his head in disbelief, and wonderment, smiling and I think I see a tear flow from his eyes. I wonder silently why is he crying.

After I finish telling him, all is quiet. I look around. Some are whispering to each other. Some are just smiling and winks at me. I turn to my mom and she is blowing her nose in a tissue . I think everyone must have a cold. He intensely studies me for a few moments. I am nervous all of a sudden. He then speaks with a clear voice of excitement, “That is so wonderful Sunshine! I am so happy and proud of you. I knew you were special.” I look at him astonishingly. He continues, “You have to understand, you are one in a million of CP kids who can ride a bike. You have such perseverance and I always knew you could master things others couldn't imagine. You have the drive to do anything you want. Remember that. Now come and give me a hug.” I walk towards him and he reaches for me as I stumble nervously. He pulls me to him and hugs me tightly. My arms are too small to wrap around his broad shoulders but I rub his back I realize that this is the first time we hug.

After a moment, he turns me around towards the observers and places his hands on my shoulders. He looks at the observers and commands, “Again, remember this! No matter how hopeless the child may seem everyone deserves a chance to meet their potential. We don't know of many kids with CP that accomplishes riding a two wheeler but there is always that one to show how they can rise above their limitations. There is always hope.” He pauses then squeezes my shoulders harder and says, “Sunshine is a prime example.” l stand naked shamelessly with only my panties with as much pride as a marathon runner crossing the finish line!

My professor's other comments were: 

Excellent usage of "local color.">Avery Island, salt mine, etc.

Well written!

Love the humor!

This piece takes me to my childhood experience of riding bikes---happy memories!

Your work shows that you work from the heart!

Keep up your writing skills. I can tell that you enjoy writing. You could continue writing to eventually pursue publication.

Good usage of dialogue. Love the childhood play!

Thanks for sharing your work! And for sharing your outstanding way to show learning experiences from personal experiences.

Incredible way to end your story.

I think she is one of the best Instructors I've had.

Thanks for reading and comment (I can take negative criticism well, promise!)

First Criticism of my Writing

In my Creative writing class last week we had to write a description from a photo. It was hard for me to do. It was amazing how many different interpretations my classmates and I had. It was very interesting.

The Instructor, Mrs. LR, comments positively on our works. She prefers to build up our confidence with positivity than discourage us with negativity.

The photo was a man in a seat in the middle of a large room. He had something in his hand. But here's what I wrote:

In the center of the auditorium Jim sits leaning forward in the hard folding chair with his phone held tightly. He stares down to the concrete floor deep in thought.

Just a few hours ago he was ecstatic. Mary Ann had agreed to meet him after several weeks of persuasion. He was so happy. His heart was singing.

Jim had hurriedly dressed into his jeans and flannel shirt. Simultaneously he slipped his sandals and grabbed his keys and phone.

When he arrived, Mary Ann had not shown up yet. Becoming nervous, Jim trembled and mumbled to himself. However, the little experience he had with women , he knew they tended to be fashionably late.

He wandered around deep in thought. After a while, he sat conspicuously on the chair that is at the dead center of the room. As the sun shines through he continues to wait. His mind begins to reel. Minutes have become hours. It is driving him insane.

The third hour approaches and the realization that she is not coming sets in. He fidgets and looks around. He stares at the phone wishing it to ring. It doesn't.

A slew of emotions being to overtake his mind and spirit. He starts questioning what went wrong. What was he blind to? What made her change her mind? What did he say? What did he do?

He had tried so hard. What could he have done differently?

As he sits feeling defeated, his spirit is broken. He is once again returning to the deep hole of despair. There is no where to go so he just stays sitting.

I know I have a lot of work to be better and I did say I didn't particular care for the assignment. Her comments were:

Good strong character development one that many can relate to.
Excellent usage of descriptive phrases.
Outstanding usage of adverbs and adjectives.
Good way to create setting
Good job with setting your tone!

Thanks for reading and commenting if you choose to do so :)

The unknown resides opposite the strict plant.

Write Instead of Type.....Homosexuality.

I despise writing titles for my posts. Anyone have this problem? Anyone can give me any of their most appreciated suggestions?

I don't know why I can't sleep. I can't bring myself to take a shower and go to bed. I think its somewhat depression. And I think my depression is because of my shingles. I won't go on and on about my shingles woes.

MyLove says I read in bed and when I go to bed, my body is saying read instead of sleep.

There is some truth in that. I was a nurse and worked for a sleep disorder physician. I know all the do's and don'ts of sleep behaviour. (Is that the right spelling of don'ts, sorry too depressed and lazy to look it up and have a feeling spellcheck won't catch it. oh well. Sorry)

Also there is another reason I read before I go to bed is because its the ONLY time that it is quiet to read. I don't (usually)  hear blaring TVs, inconsiderate people with their boom boxes in their car, and just every day noise. It's the only time I can actually HEAR myself read to myself.

There's something that's been bothering me and I hit it off MyLove for feedback. "SIGH"  He is somewhat supportive. He just does not know how having kids is. He hasn't a clue and not interested in trying. I totally understand and respect his view.

My daughter has claimed that she is gay since 9th grade. What can I say? I've accepted it. I cannot do anything about it. Her father cannot do anything about it. No one but her can do anything about it. So what gets other people off to tell me they are going to talk to her about how they feel. Her 'gayness” is yet another future post...maybe.

Do they really think she even cares what they feel? Why do they think if they tell her about what God put man and woman on earth for she'll change her mind or..again care?. I have taught her all I can. I brought her to church. She was even an altar server. She was very active in the church. So she knows what her religion says about homosexuality.

My point is why tell me they are going to talk to her about this? I couldn't stop them even if I tried. It frustrates me that people bounce crap off me that neither she nor I want to hear.

It is her Life. I am her mother and will support her. I will be there when she has a lesbian break-up. (There I said it..L-E-S-B-I-A-N). If I wasn't there for her at any confusing or unconventional time as well as the good times I wouldn't be a good Mother, would I?

I feel a little better venting now. I shall go take that shower, snuggle against my manly Love and off to dreamland I go.

Thanks for reading and commenting.

TYPICAL DREAM

My dream last night took place in a small dilapidated restaurant. It was my child, ex and I. Evidently, ex and I were still married.

As my child and I were waiting for her father (No idea where he was), she wrapped herself in a skein of purple yarn. After she looked like a mini purple mummy. There was a Hispanic man eating a sandwich at a table glancing at her. She proceeded to spin around. Instantaneously she had what appeared to be an unwrapped package containing something silver. So she twirls around and the package flies into the air and lands on the man's lap.

He stopped chewing for a minute. She stopped and looked at the man. The man chewed.

I got up and grabbed her. I commanded, “Go to the man and say you are sorry.”

Pouting, she yelled,“No!”

I said, “Yes!”

“No!” Standing with her hands sticking out the yarn folded.against her chest.

I put my face close to hers and quietly demanded, “Go to the man, look at him in the eyes and say you are sorry and mean it!

She stubbornly howled, “Nooo!" It seemed she was back in her terrible twos.

I grabbed her bending to her height and demanded to look at me. Her green eyes met my brown eyes

Hissing I said, “NOW.”

She pushed me away and stomped to the man and mumbled, “I am sorry”

He nodded.

Scene changed.
She was in a high chair and I was feeding her some kind of porridge. She was eating it and it seemed like I was not feeding her fast enough. She was about 2, with light short blonde hair and thick blue glasses.

Scene changes.

I entered a room which seemed to be an extension of the previous restaurant. My ex was sitting at a table with a white laced tablecloth submerged in a pile of papers. I stood at the entrance and watched him.

A few minutes passed then I walked to the table. He didn't look up or say anything.

I cleared my throat. He glanced up but went right back to his papers.

I prodded, “What are you doing?”

Without looking up, he drones, “Nothing.”

I continue to stand at the table and questioned where he had been. He ignored me and continued his work.

I woke up.

ANALYSIS: The theme is same with Layla being younger. Mummified in purple yarn probably means I wish she was younger (Not at 2 years of age though. She was always busy doing crazy things when she was younger. She continues to do so.

She was always stubborn. I thought she would never get through the “No” stage. I don't think she ever did. She just learned to manipulate the situation

 My ex ignoring me was a flashback. The tension in my dream was the same when we were married.

I am happy and relieved I woke up from that one

Diagnosis/Creative Writing Class

Well, for who are following me and those who I send my blog to, you know I've been having pain and itching.

Yesterday, I finally went to the best  medical doctor. I've gone to him for several years and he calls me a "medical challenge"  Surprisingly, I was easy to diagnose. I had suspicion with my own medical knowledge and with family and friends speaking of experience.

I have Shingles. It comes from the chicken pox virus in your nerves. It is no fun. I wish this on no one.

It was too late to give me meds as it had started a week ago. If I had gone within 24 hours my symptoms started, he could have given me an antiviral. It was the weekend and then Mardi Gras so that virus chose the most inconvenient time to wake up. Oh well, such as my life.

He promised me the rash should go away in a month. He reassured me that I was no longer contagious. He told me I could take MyLove's Lortabs, Ibuprofen and an over the counter itching cream. The itching comes in spurts. The pain has continue to lessened except when I move a certain way. I just feel tired and achy. It's like my energy was zapped from me. I've been cold. I know its not cold outside or in my apartment. I feel like I'm in a freezer. Doc assures me this is part of this "Yucky Mess".

I have to hang on and keep on going.

Tuesday, my creative class started again. New people. Same instructor. We had homework Tuesday to read aloud today. The homework was to tell a story from a picture. I can't find the picture online. Anyway, it's amazing how many different stories you get out of one picture.

None of us wanted to read what we wrote and she said we didn't have to. You know how those teachers can be manipulative. 'SMILE" "You don't have to share but we learn from others." We all read what we wrote except for one. She was a high schooler and was not going for it. After we read ours, the instructor gave us positive criticism.  If we wanted, we could hand it in, and she'll reread it and write what we can improve on. But we didn't have too. I did because although I dread reading my work aloud, I do want to learn how to improve. That's why I took the class. Right?

I really think I will learn alot from this class.  It's exciting. I am glad I decided to do this and had MyLove support me.

Today is MyLove's Birthday

Today is MyLove's Birthday. I have shared almost 4 years of it with him and its been an honor. I love him so!

He is another one of those people think his birthday is just another day. 'SIGH' I just can't win with my loved one being celebratory or romantic etc. But I love him all the same.

 However, birthdays are special. It is your day you came into this world. My family always celebrated birthdays. I guess that is why I am into them.

It's not a big thing. We usually have a cake and meal with family. No gifts involved although cards are allowed.

Being that we are living in sin, we haven't done the family thing for our birthdays. It's sorta separate.

We've gone eat lunch with his mom then he and I do something together. My family usually sends him a card.

This year, I kinda went all out. I ask him what he would like and he says I don't have to give him anything. "SIGH" So I thought about it.

I was trying to make a card but I've been feeling so bad that I couldn't get into it. He had mentioned cakes or cookies or cupcakes. Last year I bought him cupcakes and gave him a balloon and card.

I looked online at Cookies-n-Bloom but nothing caught my eye. Then I thought, he loves fruit and chocolate. So I went to Edible Arrangements online and browsed. There were some nice things. I ordered a box of  peanut butter chocolate covered bananas.

This morning I went to Winn Dixie for a few things and I picked a humorous card. As I was browsing the store, I noticed balloons in the air and set in different areas. So I bought him a colorful balloon.

It was funny with the balloon. I had to pull my buggy close to the shelf and put one foot on the buggy and one on the shelf, jumped and grabbed the ribbon of the balloon. I tied it to the basket handle. Well when I got to  the cashier she pulled it off the basket to scan, let go and it went up in the air.

Of course there were only shorties around so she called someone else. The guy was taller than us but still couldn't reach so he went get a broom. We were all thinking what good will a broom do? He tried twirling the ribbon around the broom but it didn't work. Another customer suggested he stand on the counter to get it but the cashier did. We finally got it after 2-3 minutes. I help onto it for dear life and of course the wind was blowing but I finally got it in the car and went on my way. I put gas in my car (3.33/gallon) and went pick up his candy.

I gave it to him at lunch and he was somewhat surprised hehe. We're ordering pizza from Pizza Village and plan to eat it while we watch the finale of Bachelor and then who knows from there :).

Away From Her-Review

I just finished watching Away from Her. It was a Canadian movie about a couple of 44 years dealing with the wife developing Alzheimer's. She decides to go into a nursing home. It was a rather slow moving movie but a nice love story nevertheless. It's nothing like "The Notebook," which is my favorite love story. I won't spoil the ending for you in case you decide to watch it.
It makes you wonder what you would do if your loved one had Alzheimer's. I worked with patients with Alzheimer's. At that time Alzheimer's was just being diagnoses. They were often diagnosed with dementia or something else before then . At that time there were no special wards or hospitals for them. The families took care of them or they were put into a nursing home.

I know I would take care of my loved ones whether they had Alzheimer's or anything to where they couldn't take care of themselves. Unless I couldn't absolutely take care of them I would.

Addendum To Earlier Post

Well, my pain has lessened but you know that you know something is just at the surface? That pinch is at the surface but much better. I just need to watch how I turn and bend. 

However, I developed a red patch on my back. MyLove said it looked like a rash. My Daughter said it was bumpy and welts. When I feel it, its all bumpy and it hurts and itches.

When I noticed the bump, it was after I returned from my six month check-up from my pulmonologist. I mentioned the pain and he threw out it could be degenerative bone disease. He is a wonderful pulmonologist but just diagnosising the pain without thorougly examining it just caused me to change the subject.  But he was able to give me good news. My pulmonary function had steadily decreased every year for the past year and we couldn't understand why. Well this check up, my function went up two points..Woooo!

He's worried about my weight as my primary doctor but we're at a standstill. Pulmonologist said, "I guess your body is just saying you are suppose to be small." I disagreed. Grant you I'm small, 5' and I like my ideal weight to be 95-100 but once I got sick about 2 years ago, and lost weight to 75 lbs I can't seem to get it back up.

Anyway back to my rash. I looked it up on Web MD and various websites and the diagnosis I came up with was shingles. .I emailed my aunt who I remembered having shingles at one time and the way she described it, it was half of my symptoms. So who in heck knows. If it doesn't clear I'll have to see doc.

It will suck if I have shingles because my cancelled writing class last year is starting Tuesday. I'm going to be royall pissed off if I have to cancel going.

For some reason I've been having lonesomeness from my daughter. She lives in the same city, goes to college, works and lives with roomies. She comes about every 1-2 weeks to do her laundry and spend time with me. Most of the times, she crashes out in MyLove's chair. And that's okay. It's just knowing she is here with me. She slept for 2 hours out of the 9 hours she was here. This was an unsually long stay for her. We talked, watched NCIS and did things we used to do when it was just her and I.

I still get that hurt in my heart feeling like I lost something when she decided to live with her dad a couple of years after we were divorced. She and I still saw each other but it was like she was taken away from me.She was by the infatuation of it being better there because of better living (pool, more family members in house, he gave her freedom I wouldn't give her because I was protecting her.) which is still up for grabs rather it was the best thing for her or not. However, she was of age to decide according to the courts.

When I think that awful period, it still hurts my heart like glass piercing. I pray to God to help me through and he has given her back in other ways. It's a different situation but I am feeling that closeness that we had lost for a while. When she says, "MOM, I love you and thank you for everything you do for me and believing in me."  My heart cries of gratitude and love to God for giving her to me and making her realize I do love her and believe in her. I hope to live to see her get that college diploma and become a success in helping others.

When I hand her my cash I have on me or write her a check she used to ask and cry. Once we had talked becase she kept asking me what it was for and we would just cry before I could answer. So I thought one day how I can relate to her that I don't need thanks or a reason to give her anything, its because I can now and want to.  I reminded her how her papa used to give her that bag of change  or her granny would slip me or/and  her a few dollars without knowing it actually either kept our electrcity on, or gave us money to feed us for a week. (Please, aunts and cousins who my blogs are sent to keep this to yourself and not mention to my parents.) I told her I knew her daddy was giving minimum if any when she was living with them and she and I both know how hard it is.I I know it is not easy out on your own and she is working, studying and trying to make ends meet.  I told her from then on, unless I write a memo on the check or tell her it is for something like her tuition etc, its hers to use as she sees fit. I told her since we both so damn emotional, she doesn't have to verbalize thank you, a hug will do. It has been a Godsend because although we don't say it, we are still remembering those bleak times when we were barely making it and that's why we cry.

I believe she is barely making it. I told her never to hesitate to ask me if she needed anything (But I know she won't, she is like her mom, too damn stubborn). I'm not rich. I am on a fixed income. MyLove  and I have our arrangments as we both agreed NEVER to combine our finances. We've had bad experiences with our exes. But after I pay my bills and put some in the bank and if nothing comes up I give her what I have left.

I believe that is what a parent should do. Help their child until they get their career and get started in their life. That's what my parents did with me when I got out of high school.

Oh wow its almost midnight. I better visit the sandman before I turn into a pumpkin.

Thanks for reading and commenting.

Letter to Office Depot-Self-Explanatory

I am writing regarding my experience ordering on your website on March 3, 2011. My goal was to order online and pick up at the store.

I went through the process of filling my NAZ but when I went to enter my credit card information, it gave me numerous errors stating my billing address was incorrect. I unsuccessfully tried several times.

I turned to your chat support and chatted with a gentleman named Adrian. He told me there must be a glitch with my bank and directed me to call my bank. I told him I had used my credit card elsewhere online and I had no problem. He was persistent for me to call the bank. Why is it always the bank's fault? We ended the chat.

I called my bank and the representative checked my account and he said there was no activity attempting to get to my account by office depot and there was nothing showing in my account that anything was wrong. I confirmed the billing address on my account.

Then I returned to chat support and chatted with Jeff. He told me he could take the order, give me an order number and then I could call customer service with the order number and place my order. They could not take my credit card information online. I understood about the credit card information. I still thought it was ambiguous but I proceeded as directed. I reiterated that I wanted to pick it up. He took all the information down and gave me an order number.

After I ended chat, I called customer service as instructed. I spoke to a female with an accent I could hardly understand. We went through a seemingly long tedious process. She said she would make a note that I would pay by credit card at the store. When she was confirming my order, she disconnected in midst of her confirmation.

By that time, it had been an hour trying to make an order.

I went back to my account and I saw there was an order. However, obviously Jeff entered the wrong store number because it was in another city and state!

Flustered by then, I cancelled the order.

I went back and made the order and indicated it would be paid by check. I received a confirmation via email. It stated that I would be getting another email when the order was ready in about 4 hours. It also stated if the order was not picked up within 48 hours, my order would be restocked. I never received the confirmation email that my order was ready.

The next morning, March 4, 2011, I went to the store with a copy of my email confirmation. The young man took my email, walked to what looked like a fax machine. He was talking through a mic pinned on his shirt very low. That in itself is very annoying!

He was walking away and I asked him where my order was. He said, "I'll be just a minute." I watched him. Obviously my order was not filled because he was filling it then. As he walked back with what I ordered, I inquired why my order wasn't ready in addition to giving him my opinion on this whole situation. I commented how useless the online service was for pick up. All he did was apologize. The apology was like a robot programmed. During the whole time, he kept talking through the annoying mic. How rude!

So he adds it up and says it is $22 something. I said, "No it is not!" It is suppose to be $19.42. He returns talking through his mic and then said to me, "Okay,we'll give you that price." I said, "Why is it different?" He responds, "Online prices and in store prices are different." I finally got my order and left.

Although I received my order, which wasn't technically an order from online because it was like I told him what I wanted and he went get it. I used the pick-up online ordering for convenience. I did not experience any convenience whatsoever.

I am still unable to get your site to recognize my card. However, it sure recognized it at the store.

Unless you can give me an explanation of such incompetence I will hesitate using your store or site ever again. I also will not refer your online order service for pick-up..

Sincerely yours,

I HATE WHEN I HURT MYSELF AND CAN"T REMEMBER HOW I DO IT!

No! I was not drunk! Although its Mardi Gras here. "ARGH".

Anyway, Saturday, all of a sudden and I mean ALL OF A SUDDEN I started feeling this pinching along my lower back. It was more of a nuisiance and a fleeing thought that it could be my pin in my leg acting up again.

For those of you who have no idea what I am talking about, I'll summarize. Any questions feel free to comment and I'll go more in depth accordingly.

I have cerebral palsy and when I was a child, like most other kids with CP, I had many surgeries.

The last two surgeries on my legs I had was considered major. Since my legs were turned in, they literally had to break my femur to rotate them and then put a pin in place to keep it together. When I saw the same surgery while I was in Nursing School, I freaked. It gives me the willies to this day!

Periodically, especially, when weather changes, those pins hurt. I do not know why. I asked doctors if there was a way they could be rusted or something. Afterall, they've been in my leg since the 1970's. I was reassured that it could not happen.

So anyway, the pain became worse. It is like a clothespin clamped on a nerve and won't let go.  It starts from my lower back and radiates down my leg.

I hardly slept  that night. I twisted and turned because there was no position to lessen it. I ended up getting up and sleeping in my chair because I didn't want to wake MyLove (although it would take a hurricane ripping the roof off our apartment to wake him up). I tried stretching and moving but the pain won't let up. I've taken enough Ibuprofen to overdose an elephant. (Okay a little exagerration but you get my meaning). I've put ice and heat on it.

Last night, I took an over the counter sleeping pill to knock my butt out. It worked somewhat. At least I slept in my bed.

This morning I went to CVS and asked the pharmacy for some cream that won't burn like Icy Hot or stink to high heaven because strong smells trigger my asthma. She suggested Asperecreme so I bought it.

I came home and rubbed it in. My skin is numb but the pain has not lessened. So when MyLove came home, he gave me his Darvocet, he never took after surgery almost a year ago. The Darvocet is helping me tolerate the pain more.

Of course, its Mardi Gras so doctors are closed. Even if mine was opened I'm contemplating if I want to go just for him to tell me what I suspect already? There is nothing to do about it except rest and what I am doing already.

And I'll have to pay my deductible plus meds. I'll get more pain meds though or anti-inflammatory drugs.

Another question: Do I really feel like driving 30 miles that usually takes 45 minutes one way and wait another 15 minutes to have him tell me what I already know and maybe give me a prescription?

I consider myself having high tolerance to pain but I was actually thinking today, if pot was legal would I go for it? I've never tried pot but heard it works well for pain. It would have to come in pill form though because I don't smoke.

Damn I hate when I do something hurting myself than not remembering what I do so I would try not to do it again.

Tis My Life!

Complaint Letter to Office Depot

I am writing regarding my experience ordering on your website on March 3, 2011. My goal was to order online and pick up at the store.

I went through the process of filling my NAZ but when I went to enter my credit card information, it gave me numerous errors stating my billing address was incorrect. I unsuccessfully tried several times.

I turned to your chat support and chatted with a gentleman named Adrian. He told me there must be a glitch with my bank and directed me to call my bank. I told him I had used my credit card elsewhere online and I had no problem. He was persistent for me to call the bank. Why is it always the bank's fault? We ended the chat.

I called my bank and the representative checked my account and he said there was no activity attempting to get to my account by office depot and there was nothing showing in my account that anything was wrong. I confirmed the billing address on my account.

Then I returned to chat support and chatted with Jeff. He told me he could take the order, give me an order number and then I could call customer service with the order number and place my order. They could not take my credit card information online. I understood about the credit card information. I still thought it was ambiguous but I proceeded as directed. I reiterated that I wanted to pick it up. He took all the information down and gave me an order number.

After I ended chat, I called customer service as instructed. I spoke to a female with an accent I could hardly understand. We went through a seemingly long tedious process. She said she would make a note that I would pay by credit card at the store. When she was confirming my order, she disconnected in midst of her confirmation.

By that time, it had been an hour trying to make an order.

I went back to my account and I saw there was an order. However, obviously Jeff entered the wrong store number because it was in another city and state!

Flustered by then, I canceled the order.

I went back and made the order and indicated it would be paid by check. I received a confirmation via email. It stated that I would be getting another email when the order was ready in about 4 hours. It also stated if the order was not picked up within 48 hours, my order would be restocked. I never received the confirmation email that my order was ready.

The next morning, March 4, 2011, I went to the store with a copy of my email confirmation. The young man took my email, walked to what looked like a fax machine. He was talking through a mic pinned on his shirt very low. That in itself is very annoying!

He was walking away and I asked him where my order was. He said, "I'll be just a minute." I watched him. Obviously my order was not filled because he was filling it then. As he walked back with what I ordered, I inquired why my order wasn't ready in addition to giving him my opinion on this whole situation. I commented how useless the online service was for pick up. All he did was apologize. The apology was like a robot programmed. During the whole time, he kept talking through the annoying mic. How rude!

So he adds it up and says it is $22 something. I said, "No it is not!" It is suppose to be $19.42. He returns talking through his mic and then said to me, "Okay,we'll give you that price." I said, "Why is it different?" He responds, "Online prices and in store prices are different." I finally got my order and left.

Although I received my order, which wasn't technically an order from online because it was like I told him what I wanted and he went get it. I used the pick-up online ordering for convenience. I did not experience any convenience whatsoever.

I am still unable to get your site to recognize my card. However, it sure recognized it at the store.

Unless you can give me an explanation of such incompetence I will hesitate using your store or site ever again. I also will not refer your online order service for pick-up..

Sincerely yours,

Some Things Men Say

Last night, my love and I were snuggling in his Papasan Chair. We had just finished watching Panic. It was an okay movie.

I was convincing myself out loud that I don't have to really shower because I had showered that morning but I had to change underwear at least.  MyLove encourages me, "Well baby, instead of changing your underwear, why don't you put your underwear inside out and wear them that way?" I had to let that statement absorb in my pea brain for a second and then I just burst out laughing. I couldn't believe that was his solution. He was joking for sure!

That sprung a memory of my ex. Our child was growing fast and I had told him that I had to buy her more pants because she was growing out of them, they were high water. He suggested that I take a pair of pants that were short, cut a piece of it off and sew it on the other pair of pants. He was very serious about it. He said that's what his mom did. I informed him we were living in the 90's not the 60's.

As I was falling asleep, I was thinking how different I reacted with the two men. Of course, MyLove was joking but my ex was not. As a matter of fact, my ex and I had a big fight about it. I actually couldn't believe my ex had expected me to do that.

But all in all I think all men think the same way on some things, whether they mean it or not. "SIGH"

Dream-Church--Unintentional Religion Rant

My dream night before last started with Randal and I arriving at St. Marcellus Church, the church I grew up going to as well as where my daughter was an altar server. First of all, the parking lanes were different positions where they were before. Then the church was surrounded by portable buildings that linked together.

We entered what we thought was the church but although it looked like a church on the outside, it looked like a gym inside. I was bewildered and then my nephew ran up to us from what seems nowhere. He was around 7 years of age with his curly hair dribbling a basketball. He asked us to go play basketball. I thought why in the heck is there basketball. He offered an handicap of a few points if we played with him. I told him no, that we were here for mass. He said, “You are NO fun.” Scene change..

We walk to one of the portables that were on the side and there was a line of people going in. We got to the entrance where the holder of the holy water is to do the sign of the cross as you enter church. Randal and I dipped our finger in the holy water, did the sign of the cross and it was known to wait in line until everyone entered and did the sign of the cross. After everyone had entered the line of people walked near a confession booth. An obese man was directing us commanding that we stay in the same line, there would be no cutting or talking and we had to wait until EVERYONE finished each duty. I don't know what my confession was.

My dream skipped to us walking into the gym/church where we had began. Half of the gym was an altar with a huge cross of Jesus, bigger that I have ever seen. There were two kneelers around 5 feet long right in front of the altar withe kneeling. There were many people kneeling and of course we had to wait for everyone to finish. We found a place on the floor as we finished and waited for the others. As we waited, I whispered to MyLove, that this waiting was ridiculous. He loudly SHH's me! I continued to mumble. It just seemed like it was a very long ordeal in my dream.

Finally, after everyone was finished a man came to the altar and started his sermon. Don't remember the sermon but after, he said, “Let's eat.” Evidently we didn't know to bring anything to eat or drink but most of everyone else had a ice chest.

A young teenage boy approaches and told us we could buy our lunch so I gave him a twenty for two sandwiches and 2 cokes. He returns with the food and was about to walk off. I reminded him that I had change coming. He said he'll be back. He returns with 2 cokes and candy bars. I inquired what those were for. He said, “That's your change.” I said, “No! I want my 10+.” He retorted that I got my change pointing at the coke and candy. I was totally frustrated...and then I woke up..

Analysis: Maybe God is telling me he wants me to go to church more. However, if the church hadn't pretty much excommunicated us, we would go to church. But after I found out by a priest since a) I was married in a catholic church in order to be in “GOOD FAITH IN THE CHURCH”S EYES I would have to get it annulled to remarry again in the church. I understand that, been there and done that. But being MyLove and I are “living in sin” and having intimacy, the priest cannot absolute me from my sins because what I am doing is a sin and I would just turn around and commit the sin again. I understand that too.

However, they want $$$ for the annulment and I went through it after my first doomed marriage from the start. They ask many questions that I found was not any of their business WHATSOEVER. They could annul it or then they can reject it with my money, no refund. MyLove was married but not in a Catholic church so he has no worries except living with me in sin.

So I guess we are doomed to hell if it is the priest's decision. That conversation with the priest just turned us off. We feel it's nonproductive to go to mass. We read our bibles and I pray every morning and every night. I have the confidence to know GOD will accept us in his kingdom. I have God in MY heart. I don't need a priest to be the mediator.

I believe the Catholic Church needs to conform where our world is at now. I'm not saying to do away with the commandments, I'm just saying it's quite disturbing that a “MAN OF GOD” will tell me I will never be right with God if I continue to live in sin. Even if MyLove and I marry, which would be with the Justice of the Peace, in the Catholic Church's view, we are still doomed because of not having that piece of paper from the Diocese stating my marriage was anulled.

I don't think God would have wanted me to get married again and then it wouldn't work out and cause the pain,suffering and financial strain I went through my previous marriages and divorces. And I thought my last marriage was a good one at first, if I am honest,. However, the last years of the marriage was complete disastrous. It was so dysfunctional I cried every night after I left because I realized how bad it really was and God took his time in showing me what to do.But he did come through.

They wonder why people are leaving the Catholic Church. I can tell you numerous reasons but this wasn't started as a religion rant. I DO believe there is a God and always will.

Dream-Daughter's Genitals

All of a sudden I have all these ideas to write about but  never get to transfer them to paper(Or website in this case).

First-My dream last night. (I started the post about my dream night before last but its so long I'll have to post it later. It was totally weird.

My daughter and I were in the bed with bright sunlight. I was talking to a former coworker. I was a transcription for a local doctor years back. She was asking me about a report that I had submitted 4 months before. I told her that I had sent it already. She was adamant that she needed the report tomorrow because they were going to court. Layla and I's laptops were on the bed and I was trying to get to the document but the computer was eratic. In the meantime, my daughter puts her hands in her pants and pulls out a penis! Yes, a penis! The head was like a crown but indented like  the inside of a tooth's cavity. That is the only way to describe it. So as I was talking to the coworker, I was slapping Layla to put the penis back in her pants while also thinking what the hell is she doing with a penis.

The coworker and I were going back and forth with her insisting that I hadn't given her the report and me adamantly telling her I certainly did. I finally told her that I had to get off the phone to find it and I would call her back.

I woke up..

Analysis: That was the weirdest dream I ever had LOL.

I called Layla this morning to tell her what I dreamed. She laughed her butt off. I think MyLove has confirmed I am absolutely crazy.

An Inspiration-Father of Special Needs Children

I've been following a father who has 11 children with 3 of them having special needs. Two have severe cerebral palsy. On Facebook, this man always writes moments of their lives, mostly with humor. He has a website http://www.fatherof11.com/ that everyone should check out. He has a video summarizing his life and the special needs kids. His facebook ID is Roy L Ellis.

I've watched the video many times and every time it never fails that my heart becomes heavy. It's such an inspiration.

At first I thought this could have been me. I was lucky to not have CP as severe as these girls, Emma and Hope. But then again, there is nothing to feel lucky about because these kids are so loving and smart, even with the severity of their disabilities. They are indeed special! They are a gift of God to these parents who took it and approached it with nothing but love and compassion. You can see in the words of this man how happy he is and proud of these kids accomplisments.

I can't seem to explain exactly how I feel. I admire this man. I see the kids and know God is watching over this family. I always comment that he is an angel and he is. He takes each day and finds humor and hope in every situation.

I hope he doesn't mind me writing and posting this but his post about the daughter-dance just inspired me to write although I have failed to express my true feelings.

Alot of people should see the video and follow Roy, It can make your perspective of things more positive.

How Do I TItle This--Dream...SIlent Meal, Overdue Book Not Overdue?

My dream last night started with Layla and I driving to Avery Island. We couldn't get passed the toll both so we parked in the parking lot and we started walking. We walked the whole island bantering. She would tell me I was walking too slow and I told her to stop walking too fast. I told her she wasn't going to get there any faster walking that fast (I know it does not make sense but its exactly what I said LOL).

As we were walking, Nanny whizzed by with Aunt Carol and Uncle Glenn. Nanny is my dad's stepmother, Uncle Glenn is my dad's half-brother and Aunt Carol is my Uncle Trac'y's wife, another half brother to my dad  I wondered to Layla why they didn't stop to pick us up.

We finally get to the resturant..It was near to where the salt mine is where i used to live. Nanny and them hadn't arrived. You could order just about anything. I had enchiladas and tacos and Layla had what looked like pig in the blankets. We sit down to eat and the other 3 finally get there.

It was weird because my Uncle Glenn came sit with us but said very little. Nanny and Aunt Carol sat at  a table 2 tables behind us. I wondered why they wouldn't come sit with us but we ate in..silence. Uncle Glenn seemed like he didn't want to be there.

All of a sudden,he gets up and goes to the cash register. He returns with a receipt of 183,00. I thanked him for buying our meals. He just shrugged. So I asked Layla how much money she had so we can leave a tip. She had $5 and I had $20. So I put the 20 on the table. Layla picked it up and said, "Don't leave anything, they didn't even wait on us." I took it out of her hand, slammed it on the talbe and told her to leave the money there.

We started walking back. Layla and I continued our banter..then...my dream changed.

We were at a library and the librarian said we had to hurry.  I only had enough time to pick one book.

When  I went to check it out the librarian asked if I had my library card. I told her it was down in my purse and didn't feel like digging for it.

She takes the book and says, "Fifty cents."

 I asked, "Fifty cents?"

 She responds, "Yes, it is overdue."

 I laughed and said, "I didn't even check it out yet."

She looks on the inside of the book and announces the book was due yesterday. I got flustered and said, "Let me get this straight! I don't have time to get more than one book because you say you are suppose to be closing when its not even closing time, I pick a book and you say its fifty cents and its overdue when I didn't even check out the book."

She looks at me with a sarcastic grin. I dig in my purse and hand  her my library card. 

She annoucnes again "Fifty cents."

Frustrated,  I turn to Layla and asked her if she had any money. She asked what I needed money for, holding an armful of books.

I told her what the librarian said. She looked confused and said, "Why pay 50 cents?"

I shrugged and we looked at the librarian who was not even paying attemtion to us. Then I woke up.

Analysis: Do I really want to even try? Well the money on the table might be from watching, "What Would You DO?". There was a segment about a guy stealing a waitress' tip off the table.

Nanny is deceased. I haven't seen my uncles and aunts on dad's side for years.

Layla and I bantering..well that's us sometimes.

I haven't been able to remember my dreams for several nights and this is one I remember. "SIGH"

Should Physical Education Be Mandatory? Why?

Yes, I think PE should be mandatory. Kids need excerise with most of them staying in the house being couch potatoes or playing video games. However, it should be not competitive. Also the coaches should look at each student individually and realize their strengths and weaknesses. THey should try to work on their weaknesses or modify the exercise to their ability.

When I was in elementary and high school, it was mandatory until the 11th grade I believe.

In elementary, I was expected to participate in PE but they graded me by my ability. Some teaches even modified it for me. Like when we played kickball, they knew it was hard for me to run and kick, so they allowed me to wait for the ball to come to me then kick. Some of the kids purposely allowed me to get to the bases sometimes. I had a blast.

When I got to Junior High, there was adaptive PE which 90% of the time we just clowned around, did homework or slept. Occasionally we played games that took little energy like Badminton or bowling with rubber balls and pens.

When I got to High school, 10 th grade, I had this coach who was a jerk. At first, especially during warm ups, he would pick on me and embarrass me every day without fail until parent teacher day.

Example for situps. He allowed the girls to bend their knees. So we were to put our hands behind our heads and pull up for our chest to hit out knees with our feet staying flat on the ground. It was impossible for me. If I placed my hands on the ground I could do it. Otherwise my feet came up for me to actually come up. He would yell, "Landry, feet on floor" and other snide remarks. I would do one sit up to the rest of the class 5 LOL.

For jumping jacks, when I would jump and move my arms, I would a) stumble and almost fall, b) as i stumbled I would almost bump into another student.  On a rare occasion, I would stumbe through 3 consecutive, I ended up in someone else's space. I couldn't stay in one place.

The coach's remarks made me hate PE that year. I dreaded that hour. Then Parent-Teacher conference came along. I had told mom a few things because I was afraid my grade would be affected. Well after the conference, mom told me to continue to do what I can do. Thereafter, the coach never made another embarrassing remark to me. I did my sit ups with my hands on the floor, I still did less than the class but I tried. For jumping jacks, I would jump without moving my arms.

Thinking back, I think the coach was not comfortable nor educated to deal with kids with disabilities. To me common sense should have told him I couldn't do like the others. I didn't expect to be excused of what I should have been doing. However, he could have worked with me to devise  a plan or just encourage me. He pretty much ignored me after and I felt very self conscious around him.

The semester I went to college, I had to take a form of PE. I took bowling. The instructor was a young teacher and he immediately saw my problem. I couldn't do the steps and throw the ball because I hit the gutter as I stumbled. He was afraid I would roll down the lane with the ball sometimes. I did too LOL. He worked with me for about a week strategizing. Then one day as class started, he announced to the class that due to my limitations I was allowed to skip the steps, stand by the line and throw the ball. If anyone had any problem to contact him. I guess no one did. It was sorta embarrasing to be center of attention that day but I understood what he was doing. He was avoiding people wondering or talking among each other I wasn't doing it right or cheating, although obviously it wouldn't have been the case.  I had fun. I didn't get all strikes but I was playing  and I had fun.

With obesity as well as other reasons mentioned earlier I don't think PE wouldn't hurt anyone. It's only an hour. It'll probably be the only hour the kid moves throughout the day. I don't think they should be monitored with state exercise test etc, like the Presidential test or whatever it was called. My child had to do the Presidential test and there was so much stress in trying to get what they were suppose to be at. Everyone is different. The instructor, coach or whoever should be required to closely monitor the ridicule some kids could get and squash it right away. The students should be graded according to their own ability and participation

Ready to Plunge Someone'from their Paradise

Background: When my daughter was a minor, I looked forward to the time that she would turn 18 because I THOUGHT I would be done with communicating with Ex. He and I divorced about 6 years ago. The courts ordered to alternate years to claim our child. I don't file taxes because I don't have earned income. I just get disability.

This year's taxes are the last time our daughter can be claimed, or so I think. She is trying to get financial aid to help her through college but she can't get it with HIS income so I decided to file so I can have a copy of my income that she can use.

Well, my ex evidently has been filing all the years,even the years that were my years.

I let him know  via email (Since I can't seem to talk to him because 1) He hangs up on me because he disagrees with what I have to say or 2) His wife (who has no business being in OUR daughter's business) always ends up talking to me.) that I was filing and claiming her this year. I thought I was going to be nice and gave him a heads up.

He responds abruptly as always with a url of a website stating that I don't have to file. Which technically does not resolve the situation.

 I pondered and investigated. I was someone confused with the IRS and legalities.

On Super Bowl night when I returned for a party I saw my daughter had called me 3 times so I called her back and she was near hysterical. She had mentioned to ex that I was claiming her and he told her that if SHE allowed me to claim her, he was going to make her pay for her health insurance and much more.

What kind of father would do that to their daughter? He is such an asshole.

I decided to call a lawyer. After a couple of days, the intern or assistant called me and said I could file a fraud complaint. But I got the idea that she did not really understand what I was saying.

So yesterday, I leave heer with an address in my hand for the local IRS office. I couldn't find the address. So I went park in a parking lot and called my mom thinking she could look for it in the phone book but she was having a hard time finding it. As I was rustling through papers I noticed a phone number on my SSA-1099. I hung up from my mom and called the IRS number. After pressing English, and various number keys as stated by the automation I had to go through 2 representatives with 20 lettered-names to get to who I needed to get to. I finally figured out that I had read the freaking address wrong. It was 4201-A when I was reading 420-1A. DUH ME.

After an hour of phone tag drove to the IRS place and waited another hour to see the IRS rep.

It was sorta comical in the waiting room. There was a lady there to see who claimed her child because when she went to do her income tax online, it spit her back out because someone else had claimed her. There was two guys and a woman having their family banters etc.

When I was finally called here's what I learned for all those of you who may need this information.
1) My matter is a civil matter as ex disobeyed a court order so he is contempt of court. She advised me to get a lawyer and put it through the courts.
2) I can file the fraud report and it could put a red flag on his tax form to check further in. He can owe money but its not a guarantee.

So I am in process of finding a lawyer. I will pursue this because he's been riding his high horse all these years like nothing can get him. He is downright cruel to our daughter.

MY LOVE keeps saying it is a darn shame that we need to go through court to have a court order enforced. He has a great point there.

I would love to be a fly on the wall when ex gets a phone call or mail from the IRS. Oh I know he will be royally ticked off but so be it. It won't be the first time he'll be royally ticked off at me.

I shall update what's going on as it occurs.

It's Been Awhile

It's been a while since I've blogged. Just been busy and not in the mood. It's like I have nothing to write about when I sit here but when I lay in bed at night, I run all kinds of ideas through my head, even stories. I have a pad at my bedside but I know if I start writing, I'll never stop and never sleep.

I'll probably write a few different entries today as I have been working on some.

This is a question I would love to hear the answer from anyone who reads, as odd as it is. Its been something I've thought about every night lately.

When you close your eyes at night, what do you see? Is it just dark as night? Faces? ETC.

Lets see if I can explain what I see and have seen. Lately the background is black as night but there are different colored shapes, mostly triangles moving around like a Microsoft Windows saver. And although its not actually seen, I can see the invisible vision of faces sometimes, food, etc. Last night the "vision" was my child, my ex and crawfish. I can understand those.

Do not confuse these with dreams. I'm talking about right when you close your eyes to fall asleep before you call asleep.

I remember when I was getting divorced several years ago, I hated closing my eyes because I would see my ex's face in various contorted expressions. It was downright scary.

Anyway, if you would like to share what you see when you close your eyes at night, I'd love to hear it.

Should Your State Be An Automatic Donor State

Should Your State Be an Automatic Donor State?

I am a registered donor. It's on my driver's license, MY Love knows it, my parents know it and my daughter (if she remembers) know it. It is MY choice. After I am gone, if any of my organs can help anyone or they can be studied and learn something to help another person that's grand. I figured why bury me with organs others can use. That's just me. Some people want to be buried with what they came onto this earth with and that's great. It is their choice.

Colorado is trying to make it an automatic donor state which means when you die, its not your preference what's going to happen to your body. They can take your organs when you die and put it in someone else. Like one person against it says I would be afraid they would let me die because they need my organs for someone who they want to save. Colorado already has 65.5% of their population who are donors. Their organ donation population is the highest of all states.

Why make it a law? It's utterly nonsense.. Here comes the government trying to control more of your life. It is YOUR BODY. You were born with it. You should have that choice of what happens after you die.

That's My Opinion and I'm Sticking to It!