This is me you're talking to....

So, it hits me today. I spend a lot of time talking to people. People who know me, people who don't know me. People who maybe think they know me. And I realize, I don't even think I know me. I don't even know if I like me some days. Today being Mother's Day I think about being a mom and I think eh, ya know I do my best. But I don't know if that is good enough. I try. I really do. I also think, I could do better. I could do better with my kids. I could do better with my house. I could do better in my relationship. I could do better at my job. You, sitting there reading this. Do YOU really know me? Are you sure I am that person you perceive me to be? Are you sure? Cause deep down, especially lately...me, I'm not so sure.

It started out Soooo goood!!!!

Stardate 4.23.2009 (ok not really a star date get off my back already I was in a zone! Geesh!) Today was looking up! I got to go out and let off a little steam last night, sing my brains out at kareoke, hang with a bunch of strangers, a few new friends, and a couple of folks I really actually know and like! Yay for me, and maybe even them! So, anyway, since I have the most awesomest boyfriend on the planet ever (like all the time not just today by the way) I got to sleep in while he got up and took care of kiddos! Yay for meeeee! So, then time came for me to get up and face the day, and my child (as thank God the oldest goes to school) and it was time for Dear Boyfriend to take care of other responsibilities he has away from here. (He might just need to get away from us, we are a lot to deal with thus mommy escaping to Kareoke last night!) So, we get to the shocking moment of my morning. I go to fix my morning bowl of cereal and since its so nice out I am thinking that oatmeal just isn't going to do it for me, no I want cold cereal! Alas the fridge reveals only whole milk. Now I was born allergic to milk, outgrew this in my 20's but never got used to the taste so the "strongest" milk I can stomach in my cereal is 2% and that is pushing it most days! So, thanks to my friend Becca from Chi town I have an alternative since I have a box of Kix cereal! Peanut butter and Kix! I melt my Peanut butter just a bit so it coats the Kix really well and Boom I am in business! Add a banana and I convince myself this is a healthy alternative to my Special K with fresh berries I had planned to eat. Then I open the jar of peanut butter. There is probably enough peanut butter left in this jar to cover half a piece of bread...if you spread it REALLY thin. Lucky for me I have a spare jar (off brand, meaning not the brand I like and normally buy I am picky about my peanut butter like ONE brand and creamy only kind of picky) in my bag I take to work with me. Thank God! I swear I would have had to have made Kevin come back here and take me to Wal-mart just so I could eat breakfast. Ok, so maybe that is more because I am stubborn than there was NOTHING to eat but really what is the point of eating Special K if you are eating it with Whole Milk anyway??? So, anyway, its gotta get better from here...right?

When did I get so Jealous???

I used to be so well adjusted. I used to be so happy with my life and everything in it. I mean I know I was never really in control of everything in it, there was a lot of negatives that came at me that I never let get me down. I really kept my chin up. And then like a dark cloud out of no where the ugly head of jealousy reared and I was almost taken by surprise, I knew it was there, in the background waiting for me. I mean there were days when I would look at yet another crappy apartment for rent when I would consider the crappy credit score that would not be any better any time soon no matter what I would do keeping me from looking seriously at looking at purchasing a home for myself and my kids. That is when I realized I am seething with jealousy. And what really am I jealous of?? Another payment I can't really afford? Another cost that we don't have the money for? Honestly we are most definitely scraping the bottom of the money barrel just making it month to month, paycheck to paycheck with what we are paying now. Sure it would be less "taxing" if I would see a little bit of child support from the people who provided a little bit of the DNA that combined with mine to make the wonderful little people that is my responsibility and joy, no really it is my JOY, to raise, love and enjoy! Why is it that all this money crap makes a person so jealous of stuff that other people have?? I know that everyone else is struggling in ways maybe we aren't. Perhaps not financially like we are but maybe spiritually, or in some other way. I am in a very stable family. Maybe not in my dream home. Maybe not with my dream kids as far as behaviour goes, but hey then they wouldn't be MY kids for sure! BUT, I really do wish I had my own house. I really do want a home. Please tell me I am not the only one who is jealous over others haves.

Seriously I should "Get Used to THIS"????

So, I got a little freaked out last night. Those of you who know me are probably thinking to yourselves, Ditzy? Freak out? Surely you are overstating!, but NO, Last night I FREAKED OUT. As we should all know from so eagerly reading every single one of my oh so interesting blog entries that I am the mother of two beautiful boys and have another added into the mix thanks to my wonderful boyfriend's addition of a son. My oldest has made it to 11 years old by only having made it to the ER on one single occasion. That occasion being a lazy Sunday afternoon during which there was no emergent care facility other than the Emergency Room option. He had a cough for oh weeks, that seemed just that, a cough then when I picked him up from a friends house who had watched him overnight while I worked they said, hmmm, maybe you should take him in this cough is NASTY. So, off to the ER we went. X-rays and a stern lecture on cough medicine from the ER doc later my little 5 year old had bi-lateral pneumonia, and yet I walked away not FREAKED because it was really not that freaky of a situation. Xander was just an easy, not sick ever kind of kid. Barrett is proving to be a totally different kind of child. Yesterday afternoon he felt a little warm. I gave him Motrin, a half hour later he felt not so warm. Eh, just teething. (Friday we went in for a follow up with the Dr as at his 1 yr appointment he had fluid in his ear but no ear infection, we got the all clear...yay!!) Saturday night, as we are getting ready for bed, Kev notices Bear is again warm, he says REALLY warm. I point out that is the SAME thing I had noticed EARLIER in the day and no one seemed to heed me, but I got the thermometer and he took his arm pit temp...102.4 unadjusted. So pull out the trusty Motrin again and dose him up and get him to sleep. He doesn't rest well, and at some point early on in the night I end up pulling him into bed with me. This is done with much trepidation as I was very determined to keep him in his own space since moving him there little over a week before when we weaned and moved him from the family bed. I wasn't sleeping long when my baby was really not making his normal happy sleepy sounds, started murmuring in his sleep and I touched his head. He was BURNING up. I unzipped his sleeper and his body was BURNING UP! I woke Kevin to check to see if maybe I was not correct in my assessment of this temperature change. I was not wrong. Due to bad lighting and panic induced, well panic, I couldn't read the temperature reading on the thermometer and the command decision was made that this was just TOO HOT and Barrett needed to go to the ER as soon as possible. Trying to keep it together and not freak out I threw a pair of pants and t-shirt on my baby who I had in the process of assessing his temperature had stripped down to his diaper (as I am sure any mother would have done) thanked God in a silent prayer that I wore my most publicly acceptable pajamas to bed that night WITH appropriately colored underwear (white if you must know) so they were not fully visible. So, sock less throwing a blanket around my baby, slipping on my croc like walmart special shoes checking to find at least two diapers in the diaper bag and grabbing my purse and a coat for the baby I head out the door with the keys to the car. I travel somewhat over the speed limit but come on 35 mph when there is NO ONE around...REALLY??? BUT I DO stop for all stop signs and lights a long the way to the hospital. All the while glancing back at my listless looking baby who's red little cheeks speak more to sickness than rosy glad hearted holiday glee. Looking back at this point I am very proud I did not become one of those people who suddenly panics, turn s on my flashers and runs 70 or nothing to the hospital with no regard to traffic signs or signals. Really you should be proud of me too. Read on there is plenty I hang my head in shame for, really! So we arrive, walk in, check in, sit down and wait. The triage nurse calls us into the first little room. Barrett has to sit on a scale, for which he screams a scream I find he can only make when he has a fever. She then runs the thermometer that scans their forehead across his well forehead, and it read 102.4 and she gives me the unmistakable "well hello first time mommy who panics when baby gets a little warm, glad we have a taker for the non emergency, emergency room visit, hope you have the $400 we are going to charge you at the door when you leave" look. OK maybe you have never seen this look but I have a sense for these things. So she does her assessment and then we move on to the "paperwork" phase of things, which is where I have to confess I have not located my insurance card, yes we are on the record with the ER and this hospital, they SHOULD have copies of the cards and I will contact my employer and get cards sometimes this millennium, I swear! Then a male nurse (I won't say blanket statement he was gay but my gay-dar was going OFF) who was very nice helped carry my bags back to a room while informing me that not only will everything be ok but being that Barrett is a boy "I should get used to this, boys see LOTS of Emergency Rooms" to which I responded, um not my 11 yo!! I am not sure why I felt the need to argue with possibly not gay male nurse but my gosh I should get used to this??? Then in the most SHOCKING turn of events I have to say in almost my entire 34 years of life they tell me the doctor will be in in a minute and she literally walks RIGHT IN! IN THE ER! She checks my son and informs me that he has an ear infection. I argue that no, he was just checked Friday AM for an ear infection, and she responds with, NO, he does and these things happen and often times spike with a fever like that. THEN she says By The WAY You are SEVERELY under dosing your child with Tylenol and Motrin according to his weight! (Hand me the Worst Mother of the Year Award, Thank You Let me get my acceptance speech out) I have been using Infants Tylenol and Motrin for my child, I guess, Unbeknownst to me I was supposed to have transitioned to Children's Tylenol and Motrin. Now, I have researched this since she drove the spike of a worst mother ever trophy through my heart and found that it NOT ONLY states 2 years and older on the Children's products but also says under 24 lbs at Dr's recommendations only. Now, my Pediatrician was the one at fault, not me. So at my next appointment with him I will pass this wonderful trophy on to him. Ahhhh I feel better now. Oh yes back to my story. So they give my son the "appropriate" dose of Tylenol and leave us. I assume for some medical reason only doctors and nurses will ever understand and I spend all that time noticing that my baby feels much warmer than 102.5 degrees and I am sure that he is getting warmer and I am just not believing he is getting better and the noises he is making are not good. I can't sit down cause my back hurts and I can't stay standing cause my back hurts and just as I make my 3000th pass by the door to the room looking at my baby's reflection in the window of the door he begins to vomit. All over me. Not over my shoulder. Between us. All over BOTH of us. Being the calm and together mother I am I start yelling "Help, someone Help me! My baby is puking all over me!!" I will stop describing this event here. Leaving it at

1. the smell is horrible, table food fed babies should not be allowed to regurgitate their food onto their mothers it should be illegal and I will not stand for it. I would like the chance to prosecute in the future if the opportunity should present itself!

2. My sweet baby will never be allowed to consume Mandarin oranges again, as I am sure that mommy will never consume them in this lifetime either.

So one sweet caring nurse came in and helped me strip my sick little boy down to his diaper and provided me with an awful yet puke free hospital gown to wear. Environmental services showed up very quickly to clean up our "chemical spill" and all was quickly righted as well as it could be. Then the nurses finally decided to take a rectal temperature. I have no idea what the exact temp was but I know it was over 104. The nurse started to wet down wash cloths and put them on my poor little boogs head and told me to swap them out as they got warm, which was very quickly. While doing this, I called my mommy and asked her to come help me with boog so I could go to my apartment and get me and Bear some clothes so that we had something to wear when we were released to go home. Grandma arrived to a very sad and solemn Bear wearing a washcloth on his head and prepared for his first temperature check since the initial finding of such a high temp (somewhere in the mix he was given Motrin but I couldn't tell you for sure when in the mix that was) and the reading was 103. At this point he was more than happy to lay on Gram ma's shoulder and momma ran home and put on clothes and grabbed garb for the Bear and some extra diapers and headed back to the Hospital. We were informed that 101 was the magic number that would get us released, but he had magic Gram ma Love working on him and the next temperature reading after she was there had his temp down to 100.4 degrees and we were cleared to go home. With a stop over at Walgreen's (props to Grandma for paying for the Prescription and Children's Tylenol and Motrin that we needed to stock at the house) then home we went. It was a very long night. It was 4am. I would like to say this is where this adventure ended but we fought the fever all night Sunday, with it breaking early AM Monday, then again having his temp jump back up on Monday night. But we are sure that the antibiotics are doing their work and given the 10 days to work on it, it will hopefully kick this infections butt!

All that and a fruit basket too!!

So, it's been a while. Not a lot has changed but then again it seems to have changed a lot. Barrett has been diagnosed with low iron and given supplements he refuses to take. No matter what I put it in, he went on a sippy cup strike. His suspicious nature leading his barely 1 year old mind to decide that I was putting the iron in every sippy offered, not just the juice. He was tipped off by my failed attempt to sneak it in with the oatmeal. I can't blame him I wouldn't want to drink and/or eat something that tasted like you soaked a bunch of coins in it for a couple of days and then removed the offending coins leaving you only the assy taste of metallic dirt residue behind. I wasn't really putting it in everything but he refused to even take the chance and being the wonderfully strong woman that I am I could not deny my child the breast or whatever he was willing to take for liquid sustenance since he was completely convinced that all food or drink was tainted with this offal like addition. So searching out alternatives I discovered that Barrett LOVES dried fruit. (Something I was assured to be a good source of iron) He not only loves it but will throw a horrid conniption fit to get it! I got a diced up mix of all sorts of fruit. Apples, peaches, two different colored raisins, cherries, and apricots. He literally will hold them in his mouth somewhat reconstituting them at times savoring the flavor I believe. The downfall of this love of dried fruit being that he does not have molars...ok he has ONE so far but that does not allow him to chew up these fruit goodies. Meaning the end result of a day of eating dried fruit is a poopie diaper that resembles a fruit basket of the worst sort. Not normally something I would consider for a very long time except there ALWAYS seems to be a stray raisin. And Bear seems to always find it on the floor mid diaper change. I have yet to miss his discovery before he gets it anywhere near his mouth but I am left pondering, is this like the Cheerios he stashes in the crevasses of his clothing, or top of his diaper, or is the a fruit that spilled forth from the cornucopia that is the full diaper I am in midst of changing? I know. I am sick. I know. It is disgusting. And yet...where did the raisin come from??? On a side note, I am having health issues that have driven me to seek the aid of a Doctor, who sent me to another doctor, who has figured out (we think) what is wrong, downside of this being I have to wean poor Boob Addicted Barrett from the breast. Harder on mom that baby I think. So....we are cold turkey quiting cause we all know mommy is not strong enough to wean him properly. So...that is my update...so far.

Scrapblog.......Just what I waste my time with

I am a Moody, Judgemental Wench!

I have spent a lot of time today trying to figure out what to title this rant I am about to spout. I considered finding some kitchy cute saying and just letting readers (I know there must be more than ONE of you out there) stumble head first into my black abysmal depths of bitterness, but then I realized rather than surprising you I would let you know right off exactly where my mind is. I am moody. I have never denied that it takes little more than the tremble of a leaf to change my happy go lucky smile into a could you possibly pee a little more in my post toasties frown. Heaven knows I have waded my way through many a full on tantrum from my adorable little demon child in the span of this ever so long day, so perhaps it is partially that lending to my complete lack of patience or understanding on many levels today. (Today actually being yesterday to you people who don't work all night and therefore only count it a new day AFTER I have slept, which I guess make sense when you think how in the world would YOU know when I have slept and therefore be able to consider it a new day??) I am judgemental. I jump to conclusions about people and things with very little information and or interaction. I am more than willing to let those opinions change but I stand by my first gut instinct/reaction in most cases. I like to think I am somewhat "in sync" with something not available to most people, I have my finger on a pulse one might say others don't have access to. I am empathetic to the "nth" degree but it lets me see the good and the bad. That being said, people are stupid. Me, You, Your sister, her kids, her kid's best friend's neighbor's cousin's acquaintance in Peru. At one time or another we could near drown in our stupidity. And there are vast amounts of time that I bask in this sea. I sit on my silent beach of judgment and can't quite comprehend the forehead slapping stupidity that happen in this world. I am a Wench, not a cute flouncy skirt, low cut blouse, beer stein carting Wench. Just the seedier side of that serving wench, the back hand coming from her free hand when a customer cops a feel kind of wench. I pause wondering does any of this make sense? Probably not. But onto my rant. People tend to put out into casual hearing many of their foibles and phobias. I can't judge this, you are reading my blog, no more needs to be said. And yet, I am going to judge, and then let it go. So lately, yup today, I have run into it seems like thousands of people, ok maybe like 3, who seem to have it better than me. Ok it doesn't take a lot to have it better than me in some sense of "better than me" but it does take a lot in other senses. What I mean is people seem to take it for granted that they have the means to make dreams a reality and have "wants" taken care of because they have excess after taking care of their "needs". Just because I am moody and judgemental and a Wench, I will say today I temporarily hate these people. I always wanted to be the mom who could provide for her kids. I always wanted to be the AMAZING wife who took care of the home, had a fabulous job, and was smashingly funny at dinner parties. In reality, I am an amazing girlfriend (ok so I failed at the wife thing but maybe someday this will become my last best effort at that goal), who provides nearly everything for her kids with the help of Food Stamps and a wonderful man who is biologically unrelated to either of my boys but is more of a father to them than their erstwhile sperm donors will ever be. I really can't take care of my home, which I had hoped to own by now but due to bad financial decisions in my past (i.e. buying a house with my husband just before we divorced thus leaving him the perfect opportunity to stop paying for it after saying he would NEVER allow it to go into default leaving me with the wonderful words FORECLOSURE on my credit report, I know I am STUPID, remember everyone is.) I will probably NEVER be able to secure a loan to buy a home, heck it is sometimes a challenge to get someone to rent me a place! I can take care of my home but I am of the mind that clutter is cool, and cleaning just sucks and for my kids to have a happy mommy she only cleans 2-3 times a week! I have a fabulous job, which I love, but not quite what I was looking for when I dreamed my dreams. It certainly doesn't have the paycheck I expected to have at this point in my life! So, my point, and I DID have one, is that too many people are out there taking for granted the things their money is bringing them. I don't think money would fix EVERYTHING in my life. Heck I don't know that there is much I WANT fixed, but a little extra money every month would be nice. Ok. Rant over. Maybe you just ignored the confusing rant and just enjoyed the cute pictures! Barrett is One Year Old!