Friday, May 28, 2010

Hmmm..

*scratching head*

I can not seem to make the links work.

Anybody got suggestions?

The instructions just say that you have to understand code in order to change them ... well - DUDE ... if I understood fucking code, I would make my own pretty blog template - right???

Right?!

Please Stand By

While I make a mess of my blog page ...

Toodles.

Saturday, May 15, 2010

Ghosts

This past week has stirred up a few ghosts for me.

Some that make sense due to the silliness that has occurred in another electronic medium that shall remain unnamed and some that are simply a product of stirring up the murk.

Last night, I had a dream about JJ. (Not the JJ that periodically comments on my blog) JJ was my first. I was 16 when we started "goin' steady". It was in the wake of what happened to Jax ... a wake that for me has never completely stilled.

I think it is safe to say that I was a train wreck already, but our relationship was volatile. We were like throwing a bucket of water on a grease fire, honestly. The results weren't much less devastating.

We were together for just over two years. During that time, I completely flipped my bicky and due to the severe case of Agoraphobia I had developed, was forced to quit school. Following that decision, I hardly left my house for about 8 months. I was afraid of EVERYTHING. Seriously, when I went to the doctor's office - they had to put me in a room alone ... away from the other patients or I would have massive panic attacks and usually pass out. There was even a period of time where I couldn't drive - I was so bad that even the other cars on the road would cause major attacks.

It was after an appointment with a new doctor that JJ had accompanied me to, that it happened. We had left the doc's office and went to a local Tim Horton's coffee shop. I had tea and he had a sour cream donut (they were new then). JJ had been having some allergy issues of late and it seemed like they might be food related, but we had no idea what he was allergic to. The attacks had been worsening. He started complaining that he didn't feel the best before he had even finished the donut ... and by the time we were getting back to the car, he was saying maybe we'd better go to emerg at the local hospital. That was the last thing I heard out of him, because the next time I looked, he wasn't breathing.

We were down town. It was a Wednesday, later in the evening like I'm thinking between 8 & 9pm. THANK GOD! The streets weren't congested like they would have been earlier in the day - or later in the week. I was  easily doing 140 kms/hr, hazard lights on ... beeping my horn like a maniac, just trying to attract some attention. 

I don't remember most of the drive, but I do recall bursting into the ambulance bay and flying out of the car where I immediately started screeching at the top of my lungs for help. I honestly do not know how many minutes passed between when he stopped breathing and when they jabbed him with epinephrine, and started CPR ... it's really a blur, most of it. I know I was forced away from JJ and made to go and move the car (yeah - bright move folks ... send me out to drive in the state I was in ... idiots). When I came back in, they had him in the ER. Because I wasn't considered immediate family, not only could I not see him - I wasn't given any update on his condition. I waited in agony for over two hours ... thinking he was dead. I was 17 years old.

The ER doc had called his parents ... but nobody thought to tell me. In my desperation and complete disregard for their stupid rules, I pushed past the triage desk and went running through the walkways between exam cubbies. I was caught by a couple of orderlies and when I told them why I had resorted to this, they assured me they would find JJ and let me know if he was alright. 

He was, and I was eventually taken to see him. He was released to my care (as per his parents' wishes) and I took him home with a list of appointments and an epi-pen in tow.

Within the month, he was back at that hospital (the main one for the province) as his local (smaller) hospital could not effectively treat him. There had been three other major attacks and it was so bad that there were scarcely seconds between ingesting the offending allergen (still unknown to us) and complete anaphylaxis. It had spiraled out of control and he had begun having seizures.

I was a near permanent fixture in his hospital room. I was there as early as they would let me in and as late as they would allow me to stay. I would have slept there if they had let me. I sat with him through his seizures ... they were pretty scary ... but I was his solid ground. He needed me to be that calm and nurturing force. I recall his group of friends making the 2 hour trip to the city to visit him. They wanted to take him outside for a walk. The nurses decided that it would be okay on three conditions: That I went, that he stayed in a wheel chair the entire time and that they kept it to a 15 minute jaunt.

We weren't outside 7 minutes when he started to seize. The whole bloody lot of them began crowding in around him and I had to physically pull them off in order to get in front of him and talk him down. They left  shortly there after ... and never came back.

Later that evening, a man spoke to me in the elevator. (I was getting a drink for JJ) He asked me how old I was and I told him. He then said that it was pretty impressive how I had handled myself in the face of such a frightening situation ... then he asked what was wrong with my brother. I told him he was my boyfriend and he just shook his head and said: Wow - I hope he's smart enough to marry you ... that's dedication.

We were there for roughly three weeks. I learned in that time that he was allergic to soy (which, incidentally is in nearly everything). There were a few other disturbing revelations during that time that knocked me on my ass. Apparently, JJ had developed quite an alcohol habit whenever I wasn't around. I truly had no idea. We never drank together. Heck - I rarely ever drank at all. It was so surreal to me. He was this whole other person that I didn't know.

In the months following his release from hospital, our relationship changed considerably. He became ... crazy possessive and very rough. On one evening, in particular, he had rented the movie Arachnophobia for us to watch ... now, for those who don't know already, I am quite frightened of spiders. I won't kill them, but I'm pretty scared of 'em. He knew this. When I got ticked off and said I didn't want to watch it, he informed me I was going to watch it. I got up to leave and he grabbed me, threw me down on the floor and proceeded to put his knee on my sternum. I struggled ... and finally started making enough noise that his parents gave a holler down for us to settle down. He finally released me and I flew out of there like a scalded cat. Turns out, our joint effort had cracked 3 of my ribs (though I didn't realize until MUCH later).

By the following May, he had changed so much I hardly knew him anymore. My attachment didn't seem to waiver much ... I loved him, I wanted to help him, but I was running on empty (emotionally speaking) anyway and really didn't have a great deal more to give. One day, the phone rang and it was JJ. He told me he didn't think we should be together anymore - completely out of the blue... 

You could have knocked me over with a breath. After all the accusations of me wanting out and me messing around on him - he just ended it. In hindsight, I see this as a classic transference of his own guilt, but at the time I couldn't see past the gaping hole in my chest. Within the week, it came out that Jax knew he had been cheating on my for quite a long time, and (I can only assume) didn't feel it worth upsetting me in order to preserve any of my own dignity.

Betrayed, by both of them ... I retreated into a deep depression. I remember my mom rocking me in her arms ... broken glass all around us on my bedroom floor from all the things I had smashed when I had entered. She had me facing out and just hugged me so tight and rocked and rocked ... talking into my hair ... all I kept saying was that she didn't understand, that I had nothing left to give anyone else (no drama there) ... because I had given him everything (of course I was referring to my virginity. Mom told me later that she was relieved. She was so worried after everything that came out after Jax's attack that I would never have a normal sex life.). She took me upstairs to the kitchen and made me a white russian. Gotta love my mum.

{As an aside ... it was less than three weeks later that Trigger and I started chuming, so that should offer some idea of the chances THAT relationship had from the start.}

***

A number of years later, I contacted JJ. He had married the girl with whom he cheated on me. They had three kids together last I heard. He told me he was sorry. He said he never could understand what happened to us after everything we had gone through.

At one point, he showed up at the bank where I was working at the time. I was single, it was before Mr Dragonfly. He wound up coming to my house. It was the week that Swiss Air had happened. He was a mucky muck with Emergency Services and was in town for debriefing the volunteers & such. It was bizarre to see him again.

When he left, he told me he always kept a little piece of his heart for me ... and then he tried to kiss me. I put my hand on his face (over his nose & mouth) and pushed him back. (I mean - COME ON, DUDE) He shook his head and said "you always were the best person I ever knew - glad to see that hasn't changed".

What is it with me and these people who have dumped me after sucking out my very marrow?

I joke about my man ... and I have said on plenty of occasions that he is my best friend - but I don't think I can even articulate just how much I mean that. He is a giver. He takes very little from me, yet fills me up at every opportunity. He doesn't try to own me, run me or otherwise control me. He is never mean or rough and always has me planted firmly at the top of his priorities.

If he is my reward for all the crap that happened in my past, I've been over compensated.

I love your guts, babe.

Me

Monday, May 10, 2010

A Day Late & A Dollar Short

I just realized I did not actually write a post for my Mom. I am a seriously bad daughter. I mean, I brought her some pretty posies and lovely cards and such ... and I fed her (which I do most days anyway, so not really that special) but I didn't give her the gift of my heart on paper. (In my defense, I was terribly busy scanning old pics into my FB account in a futile attempt to make me feel good about myself ... EPIC FAIL)

Bad daughter!

Thank you to Fabuleslie over at Give Me Paws for the post she wrote about her mother. It made me cry. Then, it kicked me in my ass, 'cause I realized I had printed a bunch of drivel that came from sappy email forwards and neglected the single most influential person in my life. 

Bad daughter!

So, in typical form - I give you my Mom: CC ... a day late and a dollar short.

Thank you, Mom ... for always knowing just what would make 'it' better... whatever 'it' was


(Oh - she told me yesterday that I once flipped arse over kettle in my walker down these very stairs ... )
'splains a few things, no?

Thank you for all those important talks!

Actually, my mom would NEVER have said "don't fuck" ... she would have said ~ wait, until he's worth it... and for GAWD's sake - do NOT come home knocked up!

Thank you for your gift of voice, especially the singing part.


Remember when we were going to go out on the road as "The Dudds"?

Thank you for my sense of humor ...


Like it or not, the twistiest parts came from you.

Thank you for teaching me the finer points of parenting.


...and for always signing my birthday cards "Love, Mommy Dearest"


Thank you, Mom - for always being there for me. Always. There. Even now. There.
snort ... a little 'adult daughter who shares house with teen-aged mother' humor.

This is my Mom. (Holding my baby cousin) Isn't she pretty? This was taken a few years ago (yeah - like 11) Still ... 

This is (from L-R) My cousin (Vinny), her mom (Aunti D), Mom and me...
why, yes ... we are all a little touched ~ why you ask?

Seriously though - for just a moment, if I had to sum my mom up into one word, it would be endurance ... and friend ... oh, oh and generous of spirit ... and fun ... and beautiful oh, yeah and there - did I mention there?  (Oh - you're surprised? Do I ever follow any directions, rules or otherwise do as I'm told?)

Mom ~ thank you for putting up with all the screwed up, frenetic, and crazy... and for teaching me to laugh.

I love you,

Daughter #1

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Sappy? Yes ... Untrue? No

MOTHERS

 Real Mothers don't eat quiche;
 They don't have time to make it.

 Real Mothers know that their kitchen utensils
 Are probably in the sandbox.

 Real Mothers often have sticky floors,
 Filthy ovens and happy kids.

 Real Mothers know that dried play dough
 Doesn't come out of carpets.

 Real Mothers don't want to know what
 The vacuum just sucked up.......

 Real Mothers sometimes ask 'Why me?'
 And get their answer when a little
 Voice says, 'Because I love you best.'

 Real Mothers know that a child's growth
 Is not measured by height or years or grade...
 It is marked by the progression of Mommy to Mom to Mother.....

 The Images of Mother

 4 YEARS OF AGE - My Mommy can do anything!

 8 YEARS OF AGE - My Mom knows a lot! A whole lot!

 12 YEARS OF AGE - My Mother doesn't know everything!

  
14 YEARS OF AGE - My Mother? She wouldn’t have a clue. .
 16 YEARS OF AGE - Mother? She's so five minutes ago.

 18 YEARS OF AGE - That old woman? She's way out of date!

 25 YEARS OF AGE - Well, she might know a little bit about it!

 35 YEARS OF AGE - Before we decide, let's get Mom's opinion.

 45 YEARS OF AGE - Wonder what Mom would think about it?

 65 YEARS OF AGE - Wish I could talk it over with Mom.

 The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure she carries, or the way she combs her hair

 The beauty of a woman must be seen from in her eyes,
Because that is the doorway to her heart, The place where love resides. The beauty of a woman is not in a facial mole, But true beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It is the caring that she lovingly gives, the passion that she
 Shows, and the beauty of a woman with passing years only grows!

 
 

Friday, May 7, 2010

In Honor of Mother's Day

Kittehs for lunch.



Happy Mother's Day all you muthas

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Now Accepting "Mother of the Year" Nominations

Yeah, so ... parenting: It isn't like the brochure, huh?

Let me say this: When I was a child, I always thought I'd have a big family ... I was the only child of divorced parents until I was nine and a half. As a teen, with two very young siblings, I developed a distaste for ankle biters in general. That overall feeling didn't change much when I hit my twenties, although I mastered a knack with pretending I enjoyed the little snot factories when I was a CSR for a large financial organization ... people don't warm to you, if you are not nice to their offspring. Then, Jay had kids. Jay and I had been friends for a few years and then drifted, but one day, she just came back into my life ... with two sons. I fell truly, madly, deeply in love with those two. Oh, how I adored those boys. For the first time in my life, I felt maternal. I can remember sitting with the youngest - who would have been around 16 - 18 months ... he was teething and Jay had an overnight shift at the hospital (she had separated from her hubs) so I was staying with the boys ... I sat and rocked him for several hours ... and I still can feel the way he finally relaxed in my arms, fully trusting me to make it okay, and fell back to sleep. It was divine. Honestly, it is a moment that I can remember so vividly, I can conjure it at any time.

Then I met my hubs. Until he and I were together, I never ever really thought about having babies. It seemed like a fairly daunting task, really. First they have to live INSIDE YOU (did you KNOW that??) for like 9 months ... and THEN (the horror) they have to come out somehow. *faints*

Unfortunately (or fortunately) I could not stay on the pill ... it made me all kinds of crazy ... and seriously, if I consider this any sort of sane - you gotta believe that me on the pill was not a pretty thing, indeed. Hubs and I were engaged to be married and we were utilizing the "rhythm method" of birth control ... okay - shuddup ... I know - NOW!
Yeah, so Stretch came along just 4 months after we got hitched. I can recall crying for the full 24 hour period  following my "EPT Moment", and then off and on for the next few weeks four months (between fits of nausea & vomiting). I can also remember the moment I realized my doctor wasn't going to cut this wriggly critter outta me, but  instead was gonna make me 'pass' it through an orifice ... one I had come to enjoy rather a lot, in fact. Mm, yeah ... good times, that realization. It sparked another month of hysterical worry and bawling... until I hit about 8 months along. I had a baby that was already 8 or so pounds bumping around in there. I really didn't care how they got it out - just that they hurried up about it already!!! And out, she came. All 9 pounds, 4 ounces of her ... and her 15 and 3/4 INCH CIRCUMFERENCE OF A HEAD!!!

Two years and two months after that, we welcomed Shorty to our brood. So obviously, I recovered.

Cue birdies chirping and 'lah-dee-dah' music:

Becoming a mom hit me like a speeding dump truck. It was unreal. The demands of it were many, but always outweighed by the beauty and joy of them; My gorgeous, brilliant, loving babies. Oh, the sight of them made my heart sing, the smell of them made me whole again, the feel of them in my arms was nirvana. I get a little misty at the slightest thought. My whole entire existence was in their eyes. I remember for much of my life wondering what it was all about ... you know, I went through many existential phases ... but after having Stretch it was like somewhere deep inside my soul I sensed this satisfying "oh, I get it". 

Then, they started growing up.
Cue loud record scratch ... and silence:

Stretch is now 7 - she is a trying child, fraught with annoying qualities that make me want to sell her to Super Nanny some most days ... but we'll save her for another day.

Shorty is now 5. She is the subject of my post for today (long winded as I have been about getting here). She is my baby, you know? Hubs just had his snippity snip and we won't be having anymore (don't think I didn't hear the sighs of relief out there). I want her to stay a baby as long as possible. Don't get me wrong, my girls have more than their fair share of say in the overall running of their own lives - trust me on this, but in my heart, I still cradle her there like an infant.

This made it all the more of a shock when I walked into the bathroom the other day to find her in the tub, with her legs apart, and her little baby girl parts exposed to the running water from the tap. On the one hand I am embarrassed, on the other hand I am fighting off the urge to yell and make her stop, on the other hand I have to applaud her ingenuity, cause let's face it ladies - she's on to something there ... oops, outta hands. ~thinking to self ... do not panic ... don't show any weakness ... and for the love of BOB, do not let on this is upsetting you in any way!!!~

Me: Whatcha doin'?
Shorty: Tickling my noona (Daddies word for vagina - and yes! I hope he is sorry for naming it that, now!!)
Me: Why? (DUH!!! 'cause it feels good!)
Shorty: 'Cause it feels good.
Me: Uh, honey ... I know it feels nice and it's natural for you to want to keep doing it, but (here's where the heavy duty parenting happens) it is something that you must only do in private - never when anyone else is around ... and never NEVER let anyone else tickle your noona - okay?
Shorty: Okay, mommy.
Me: Okay, honey.
Shorty: Mommy?
Me: Yes?
Shorty: Could you leave now?
Me: *sighs* Okay, honey ... but your sister is joining you in a few minutes ... just so you know. Remember what mommy said, okay?
Shorty: Okay.

So, I left. 

My heart is broken ... my baby is masturbating in the bath tub - AT FIVE and my oldest is getting shipped off to military school. 

Good job, Mom!!

So ... what would you have done? Any thoughts out there from more seasoned parents?

Monday, May 3, 2010

I'm Sick ... again.



I can not BELIEVE that I am sick again. See - this is what I get for contemplating calling in fake sick. *sighs*


I didn't go in at all on Friday ... oh ... and CPL called wanting me to dislodge the mortgage approval she told me to shove up my ass on Wednesday, and couldn't understand why nobody would give her my home phone number. Uhh - it's called fear ... of bodily harm ... of dismemberment ... of meeting another of Dani's voodoo dolls with one's own likeness. 

Imagine. 

Anyhoo - I am sick.... and I am takin' it like a man. What I mean to say is that I'm a whiny, sooky, hypochondriac mess. My chest feels like the corner of a building is sitting on it. Plus, I think I may have been passing a stone ... no, really. I did that once before and this is basically what it felt like. I think it suffice to say I'm pretty pathetic. 

I woke up Saturday morning and horked up something that I swear shook itself and skittered away - here's its likeness:


Not nice, that. Left a vile aftertaste as well.

Both of my children have come to my bedside, rubbed my hand in ernest concern and asked me if I'm dying. I shit you not. (thought I'd better get up after that)

I did go in this morning, but I didn't last long. Had to go and fetch some pharmacuticals. I also have a back up antibiotic if the phlegm creatures take over.

Stoopid flu.