Holy shit show, batman!!


Do you ever have those weeks  where you just say to yourself “what the fucking fuck is going on!?” Yep, welcome to week 1 of September 2017!!
BOOM! (that was the sound of all of the shit shows exploding all at once)

It started out as any week would…. with a Monday. This was no ordinary Monday, though, it was a holiday Monday that preceded the first day of school for my 3 kids. We went about our ordinary “back to school” business – laundry, backpacks, hair cuts, etc. And then the hour was upon us – DUN DUN DUN!!!

This year we have to drive our oldest to the high school. Fear not; the grade 9’s have their own wing… their own area with their own lockers, bathrooms, classrooms and eating area. It basically is its own self-sufficient little pond in amongst the big pond that is high school. We had explained this to our son many times, and even showed him previous to the school year starting at the “meet the teacher night” that we attended, like the good little nerds that we are. We showed him around, helped him with his locker, figured out where his classrooms were, discovered the gym and cafeteria (he was elated to see the food options now, unlike the school he had before, which only did a basic hot lunch program). He got excited about school council (it helped greatly, I’m sure, that the girl telling him about it was this tiny perky little adorable blonde girl). He was hugely excited for volleyball tryouts (again, the girls volleyball team was there to help hand out the kids schedules, and again, adorable little perky girls). Learned that his 3 best friends from junior high were all in his homeroom, and the rest of his friends were in the homeroom next door, and in a few of his options. All in all, he was happy.

So on the first day of school, he got out, I did the typical “mom thing” and took his picture in front of the school sign (I have every year since he started kindergarten) and didn’t do anything mommish or embarrassing, and sent him on his way into his new school. Then we rushed across town to drop the other two yahoo’s off.

Our middle kid, our little diabadass, our space cadet – he was fine. We had a meeting with the grade 7 staff a few days before school, as to teach them “how not to kill our son this year”. So he was fine to start, and excited to see his friends. He is low maintenance (diabetes aside) and has a “zero fucks given” mentality about most things. He’s easy (again, diabetes aside… but you can win them all).

And our little guy…. awww… my baby! He started grade 1. And he was FINE! He was excited that he got a locker this year, found his seat, sat down, and my husband and I became vapor. I still stuck around a bit, cuz fuck, he’s still a baby! I keep getting told that he isn’t (he is almost 6) but those people can fuck right off…. Regardless, he was fine. Least of my worries.

Kids came home, and everything was fine. Smiles at the dinner table, stories of the first day and reconnecting with their friends. Happy times. Mom win.

Wednesday morning hits…. I am in BLISSVILLE, as I am home alone. Kids are at school, hubby picked up a last minute overtime shift…. so I was going to get my Starbucks and go read in the peace and quiet of my house… clean the bathrooms and revel in how pissless they remain for the entire day. I had big plans, I tell ya. Then my phone dings at Starbucks, and it is my oldest —

“I don’t want to try out for volleyball this year”

BOOM. What the actual fuck. My son LOVES volleyball like fat kids love McDonalds. This is not right.

“excuse me?!” fumbling for my scalding hot coffee and trying to not spill it on myself.

“I want to spend the year getting myself acquainted with the new school”

“no” I pull no punches.. while trying to catch my breath, as it felt like I was punched in the gut.

“fine”

Holy shit. What did he just say to me?! “WHAT!? drop the attitude please, sir!”

By this point, I was in my truck, dialing my husband, and flying back in the direction of the high school. Little shit wants to text me this crap, he can say it to my damned face! The face that has spent countless hours driving him to and from practices, watching every game and tournament, spent hundreds upon hundreds in volleyball camps, shoes, kneepads, clothes, bla fucking bla.

So I am literally shrieking into my truck phone, which I am sure sounded like screaming squirrel to my husband, who is blissfully working away, but still forced to listen to the ramblings of my seriously unbalanced psyche. By the time I get to the school, I am fuming mad. “fuck this… I did NOT raise a pussy ass quitter!!!” And I go marching into the school, parked in the 15 minute drop off. I give zero fucks at this point… except the fact that my “extra hot” latte is sitting in there getting all cold and shit.

I walk in, trying my best to not look like a fucking lunatic, and thank shit that I did my makeup that morning, so as to not scare the fuck out of everyone around me.

“hi!” big smile as I talk to the secretary I’ve never met before, “my son left his lunch money in the truck”, I lie, knowing she wouldn’t’ pull him out of class had I said “little fucker is trying to be a punk ass quitter and I need to strangle him!”

So he comes down the hall of his wing, sees me, and breaks down. I wasn’t glaring, I just looked up at him. Holy fuck, like, monster meltdown. I drag him outside as to not make a scene, and ask him what the fucking fuck…..

Scared. Big school. Big kids (he is 6’1″ I should point out). New teachers. New people. I get it. I’ve done it (not the 6’1″ part, thank you, genetics)! So I try to calm him down and talk some reason into his erratic thoughts. Nope. So I drag him over to the counsellor, who does a 180 and marches us right back into her offie upon seeing his face. He was not ok. We chatted a bit and then she sent me away, as to avoid a parking ticket (holy fuck, that would have just been the shit icing that day!)

He texted me later, and he was fine. Met his volleyball coach, and she is this cute little lady, not threatening at all. He was fine. Took him back to the school for his 5:30 tryout, and only 8 other boys are there. Sweet. No cuts! He had a great time. All smiles when I picked him up.

Lets skip ahead to 1am that night. My little diabadass, my low maintenance “I give zero fucks” kid pulled the children of the corn shit on me, standing at my bedside at 1am, staring at me until I awoke, barely refraining from hitting the body standing beside me.

“I have a stomach ache” ……. BOOM.

“okay, get back to bed and I will come check your blood sugars” And sure enough, they were elevated. So I plug a correction into his pump and grab him some water.

“I feel overwhelmed by junior high”…. fuck.

“uh, it is the second day of school. What could possibly be overwhelming already”

“I am nervous about finals. There is so much to learn…”

FUCK! Breathe, Jennie… don’t smother your child…..

“Okay”, breathe in and out, “lets talk about that in the morning” and I walk away, grinding my teeth, wondering if I screamed into a pillow, if I would wake anyone. Then I lay awake in bed until almost 3, because the little assbag scared me so bad standing beside me, and my adrenaline is pumping because of the bullshit he just spewed…. no sleep for the wicked, indeed.

Thursday morning…. “oh children of mine. Perhaps in the future, if you all feel like melting down and having some little freakouts, would you be so kind as to do them at a MORE APPROPRIATE HOUR!?!?!?!? Like at dinner when you are straight up asked how school is going!? MY FRICKING GAWD!!!!!” and they stared at me with open mouths, like, how dare she, why is she losing her mind!?

*insert crazy ass laugh here*

I thought I was in the clear until 3:16 on Friday when my phone went ding. I was walking into my youngest kids school, again blissfully unaware that another boom was coming.

“I don’t want to go to volleyball today”

BOOM.

mother of fucking hell……

“and why pray-tell not?” breathe in and out, Jennie….

“she made us play this game last time, and it was hard. and it took like a half an hour”

okay, here comes another ‘holy fuck, my mom is losing it’ moment……

“you have GOT TO BE KIDDING ME. YOU WILL NOT BE A QUITTER! You like volleyball. So, go like it again. Stop being a whiner when things aren’t easy, or you have to actually try. GO! TRY! Enough is enough! I am done with this. Life is going to suck for you if you don’t ever try and you give up when you feel like it isn’t going to be easy!”

“fine”

fuck my life…. he said it again…. as though the first time wasn’t enough of a warning….

“you have got to be kidding me. Attitude. Say goodbye to it, or you can say goodbye to your iPad, phone, Apple TV, xbox, life as you know it…. you will live an amish existence if you can’t get your head out of your ass and behave as though you are the kid that I RAISED!”

“ok. see you at 5:30. Love you”

Yeah, you fucking better………

“love you, too. Have fun.”

5:30……

“hey buddy how was volleyball?”

“GREAT! I had so much fun. Coach said I am doing good. I just need to practice my setting, but my serves and hitting are really good!”

I was right. I am always right. Bow to my wonder.

“well we already knew your setting needed work, you have long frozen hot dogs for fingers” this made him laugh, so I had my opening, “what is wrong buddy. Why don’t you like yourself?”

“I don’t think I am anything special or worthwhile.”

BOOM.

“I don’t see what you see. You guys all tell me all the time how special I am, and how I should be happy with who I am and how I am, but I don’t see it. I am skinny and weak”

AH HA!!!! We have a crack in the armor!!!

“Yeah, you are skinny and weak! You grew like 4 or 6 inches in a very short period. You grew straight up SO fast!! But your growing will slow down now, and now you will fill out. It happens! Some people are built this way. And you are weak because you are lazy and only sit on your ass and play iPad. Volleyball and athletic development will help”

And he smiled. I think I have helped, but I still call for reinforcements. I call my mom, who spent her night texting him and telling him stories of me and my siblings. He has no idea about this, he just sees us now and never assumed any of us were bullied or picked or had a hard time. I called my best friend and she almost broke down and talked me down off of my “oh my god, I suck at parenting, I should have done better!” ledge. She took his phone number to text him, too. My husband spent the night and next day telling him stories of when he was small and was bullied, and how he changed it. We showed him pictures of when all of us were young and skinny and awkward as fucking hell.

My fucking god, lets hope this all helped. He has volleyball tomorrow night – cross your damned fingers that he goes in with a smile and comes out with a smile. Cuz I am not sure I can handle any more days where I feel like a gigantic failure of a parent, and wonder where I went wrong. And I don’t ever want him having any more moments where he feels like he is nothing special.

My diabadass is fine. Once we explained that finals occur AFTER you learn all of that stuff, he chilled and is back to his ‘zero fucks given’ existence. And my baby… well…. I still think he should stay home with me. But he is refusing, so whatever, I guess I am happy that he is enjoying grade 1, so far.

Holy fucking fuck… what a week. And now, once again, because of last week, my coffee is cold. Damnit.

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Yet another road block…

To say my life has been easy, or handed to me, would be a bold faced lie. I have had to fight, tooth and nail, for everything that I have. I am a little bitter that it has been so hard for me, when I watch everyone else just cruise and get what they want with little effort. That is not to say that everyone I know doesn’t work hard for what they have (most of them, some of them are just straight up lazy asses who let everything just get handed to them…) but when all you have are the normal obstacles, you never really will understand the larger ones in life.

That’s me – the wrangler of the large ass obstacles. I would like to say that I have done this all with grace and compassion, but that’s straight up shit. I have been angry, I have been mad, I have cried, I have cursed what brought me to this point, I have plotted the conducters demise (yep. I have. judge away.. I care not), I have flipped my shit and screamed at the unfairness of this entire situation. None of that has helped, but I do believe it has helped me maintain a shred of sanity – no one can leave that much hostility bottled up without going bat shit crazy. That being said, I have also kept a smile on my face, I have kept trying, I have kept my kids happy and healthy and well adjusted, I kept my sobriety (which I believe is a feat all on its own!), I have kept my life fairly balanced, and I still have all of my hair! hahaha….

I have fought back and won. I know very few people who could do what I have done… life is not easy when everything is taken from you all at once. Literally, everything. I had me and my kids, and everything else, I had to fight for and get on my own. NOTHING has been handed to me. NO ONE can say that I wouldn’t be where I am if it weren’t for them (except maybe the asshole who fucked things up for me in the first place). Everything I have and everything I am is because I refused to give up, I am tenacious, and I did everything in my power to get back on my own two feet. I mean, my husband helped, but that wasn’t so much a silver platter as it was a partner in crime. Everything I have, everything we have, has come from hard work, grit and determination. Imagine living your life with literally no credit. None. Not even a dollar. Could you do it? I fucking doubt it. But I did, and we did, and now look where we are.

And even with everything we have done, accomplished, fought for, striven for, rebuilt… I am still finding myself facing road blocks. Bull shit from my past that never should have affected me in the first place, but I was unfortunate enough to be tied to one of the most selfish pieces of shit on the planet. But I digress, that was then and this is now.

And while I sit back and watch people go about their lives, spending money like it is not an issue (and for some it isn’t, but for some, it damned well is…) I am sitting here, despairingly, and a bit heartbroken, because I have a plan for my life, something I desperately want to do, something for me, and I can’t. I just can’t.

My life is my own, but I am also living in the shadows of other peoples choices, and it affects my life every day. I have chosen to live my life happily, in spite of the constant shit I had to endure. And I am happy I did. But it would be nice to just live my life, the way I want to, without the constant reminder of the heinous bullshit people pulled on me.

I am happy. I love my life. I love my husband and my kids. I just wish that things were easier, sometimes. But I suppose it is what it is, and there’s nothing I can do to change the past.

Six months. In just six months I will get exactly what I want, once again, on my own. I guess in a way, it is amazing and awe inspiring that I have been able to do what I have done, on my own. Not many can say that. But I can. And that is something that no one can take away from me.

Badass Bandaids.. 

I have written about this before, a few times. I think bandaids are fucking amazing. The little cartoon ones are pretty badass, and the designs on them nowadays are beyond fun. What is the point of a bandaid? To cover a wound and help you heal by keeping the shit out. Pretty straightforward, right? 

But, I think that some people can be bandaids, too. I have a handful of them in my life. You know who my strongest bandaid is? My husband. He came in to my life when I was a fucking pile of rubble on the floor, and slowly, together, we have put me back together. I’m different now – I put myself back together how I always should have been. And he has been the glue, tape and bandaids that’s held all the pieces together and kept the shit out. He’s fucking amazing and I don’t know what I would do without him. 

I also have some friends who are my like my doc mcstuffins bandaids. Sure, they were there through the demise and rebirth of me, but they weren’t the architects behind the restructure – they were the ones who kept me smiling and made sure my head stayed above water and screwed on straight. Plus, they’re fucking cute.. just like doc mcstuffins haha. They held my hand, lent me their shoulders, gave me their ears for hours upon hours, heard more of the nitty gritty than anyone should be privy to, and they’re still there, holding certain pieces together. Serious angels on earth and I wild be lost without them. 

I was just listening to this song, and something clicked (another topic that I frequently write about).

“I will be right by your side. 

If I can’t find the cure, 

I’ll fix you with my love

No matter what you know, 

I’ll fix you with my love

And if you say you’re okay

I’m gonna heal you anyway

Promise I’ll always be there

Promise I’ll be the cure”

Sounds like a cheesy love song, and maybe it is (Lady Gaga, by the way) but to me, it’s more than that. At its core, it’s about being there for someone and sticking by them for the long haul. And that’s what my bandaids are. I may not need them as much as I used to, for the reasons I used to, anyway… but where are they? Still stuck right to me. None of them could fix me, but they stood by me while I put the pieces back together, they helped where they could, and now, no matter where I go, they’re there. They helped me rebuild, and they’re written in all of what I am now. 

I’m not all better. I don’t think I ever will be. Once rocked that hard, I think it’s always natural to be forever shaky. But I’m doing ok. 

I have some more healing to do, but I know that I have them all behind me. And I think I’m ok with how far I still have to go. They know me and they love me, regardless of the cracks and bandaids and disheveled imperfect perfection. 

How does it go? I’m stuck on bandaids cuz bandaids stuck on me. And I’ll take these crazy ass people with me everywhere I go, with a big fucking smile on my face and a shit-ton of peace in my heart. 

Because of them. My badass bandaids. 

I am back, bitches!

I have taken some time to chill, organize my life, and see how things feel. And what I can say right now is… things feel great! We are happy in our new house – it fits us very well and everyone is loving our new space.

Don’t get me wrong, the move itself was a slice of flaming hell. We had help. We arranged ahead of time for people to come help with the heavy cumbersome shit. I pack the house and clean after it is emptied, so the husband moves the shit. Seems fair. Except this time, help didn’t come. Bunch of hosers just didn’t show up. So who did the brunt of the heavy lifting? That would be us. At one point, my head was pinned between the wall and the couch, and I was not pleased. I know there are other people we could have called, but I have a very good reason for not doing so, which is why I am not bitching too heavily about moving our shit ourselves. Am I selfless? Did I want to give people their time with their families? Did I want to avoid being an inconvenience? NO! I don’t want those people calling us to move their shit. HAHA! Totally selfish, hence only being slightly annoyed.

Moving on…. We are settled and everyone is enjoying their respective spots in school.

Biggest little is thriving in grade 8 and just starting another year of volleyball. He is so good at that game, it is crazy. And it doesn’t hurt that he is very close to being 6 feet tall. Loser. I make him sit down when I give him shit, now. Nobody will take a 5’3″ person seriously when they hover 5-6 inches above them. He is a giant. He has a big heart. But at times I still question every choice I have ever made with him, due to the moron-adolescent big-ass attitude. Just have to remember it happens to the best of us and hope tomorrow is better. But as I remind myself all the time – it could be worse! He truly is a great kid and watching him become this beanpole with a vision for his life is kind of flooring me!

Middle-little (also known as the diabetic) is kicking ass this year. November 9th will be his 1 year diaversary, and he has got such a good grasp of it, our last appointment was mostly just sitting around and bullshitting with his nurses.. they didn’t even want to see his food log. He has grown (physically and emotionally) with this disease and we are blown away every day with how well he has adapted. He is in grade 6 and doing amazeballs with school and with his stupid busted ass pancreas. But he is so much more than just a diabetic kid. He is so funny and silly, and is going to earn a living with his amazing drawing and attention to detail. Just you wait and see….

Little-little!! Aww, here is where the changes are undeniable. My baby started kindergarten this year. Not only is it weird that he isn’t home two days a week, but he comes home and talks about this life that we aren’t a part of, and that has never happened before. It is tearing my heart apart a bit, but he is doing really well, so that helps. He attended his first bday party without us today, which is another change. Sigh… My baby. Seriously freaked out by this new development!

My husband!! Seriously… gush gush gush. I love the ever loving shit out of that man! Him appearing in my life was random, and a total miracle. My heart was obliterated before him, and now it is put back together in the most perfect way. He did a course at work this week, and walked away with a 98% which is amazing for someone who despises school, tests, speaking in front of people, has adhd, etc. And now this man, this amazing human that I get to share my life with, is a certified heavy equipment operator, and is certified to train people to not only run the equipment, but to also train other people to train people. In summation, he is a heavy equipment badass, and I am stupid proud of him! Plus, he is total sex on a stick, so there’s that, too.

Me…. I don’t really have a lot to report (at the moment) but shit is changing. My horizon is beginning to look a lot more pink, and the dark clouds are way behind me now. I have a few tricks up my sleeve… lets just say, what is coming next will be revolutionary in my life.

Like I said…. I’m back, bitches. But the me that is back isn’t the me you knew from before… I put myself back together differently this time.

*mic drop*

Right or wrong? Who fucking knows..

Decisions Decisions.. how do you know when you are making the right one? Do you get a feeling in the pit of your stomach? Do you get a tingle up your spine? Do you have a little crazy ass voice in your head leading you in certain directions (if you hear it all the time, I may suggest speaking to someone about that.. haha) How do you know when you are making the right choice? How do you know when you are on the right path? And don’t fork over any of that new-age mumbo-jumbo that spouts off that every path is the right path if you look hard enough. Bullshit. I know a lot of people (present company included) that have blindly stumbled down all sorts of incorrect paths, and where did that lead me? Right up shit-creek. And I am here to tell you, shit-creek is not a pleasant place to be, especially when you are a weak swimmer. Regardless.. how do you know? YOU DON’T!! You just close your eyes, hope you’re doing the right thing, and hold on for dear life.

Not every right decision feels right. And not every wrong decision feels wrong. Sometimes, they interchange. Sometimes, the bad decisions are the best feeling things in the whole world! I would imagine that is why being “bad” is deemed as fun, while being “good” is usually deemed as boring as fuck. It is because being good doesn’t usually feel good. That’s not to say that all good decisions feel bad, or aren’t fun. I have made a lot of good choices in my life that were the best things ever, the most fun, and felt amazeballs. That being said, lots of my bad decisions felt that way, too.

So, how do you know what to do? When you are faced with something that you feel is the right decision, but you KNOW that it is going to piss off a lot of people, and potentially hurt and destroy others. But you know deeeeeep in your gut that it is absolutely the path that you need to be on right now? I know I shouldn’t be concerning myself so much with the opinion of others, or worrying with how anyone else is going to feel about my choice. But at the end of the day, in spite of many opinions that would suggest otherwise, I am not a rampaging irrational unreasonable bitch on wheels. I am not. At my core, I am a good person, and very smart, and I have a very keen eye for people and am an amazing judge of character. Maybe that’s why I am perceived as a bitch to most? Because I can see through bullshit and people are afraid of me being able to see who they really are, before they are ready for that to be public knowledge? Maybe it is because I stand up for myself and (used t0) frequently speak my mind. For a long time, I stopped, because I was exhausted of always having to defend myself. And I just hung back and let shit happen. But now? I am kind of exhausted of that, so I have started putting my foot down, and the bitch-mask has been thrown on my face again. SO BE IT! Just call me Bitch-Girl and watch me rock my cape and mask. (of course, my “cape” will be in the shape of a hoodie, and my “mask” will be sunglasses, because while I may be considered a bitch, I am not bat-shit crazy)

I have made a few very big and life altering decisions in my life. Lots of them are ones that most people are never faced with. Lots of them would pale in comparison to some other peoples life altering decisions. But regardless of where I land on the “holy shit” meter, they were the ones I had to make, and they are part of my journey and have shaped who I am. Again, I don’t think I turned out that bad. It has been pointed out to me (directly and indirectly) that not everyone agrees with my appraisal of myself. But again, this isn’t about anybody else’s opinion right now. My life, my choice, my journey.. And here we are. At yet another crossroads. Some days I am baffled at how many of these fuckers I have encountered in my life. I am 35 years old, and I feel like I have had to make choices that could potentially alter my world permanently WAY too many times. But it is about perspective. Had I not made those choices, I would not be sitting here. I don’t think my choices have landed me in a horrible life, just sometimes a really HARD life. Then again, most of the time, it is easy and awesome and fun and enjoyable. Nobody loves every minute of their life, I suppose. And if they say they do, they’re crazy enough to be wearing a cape and mask.. hahaha.

I know that once this newest “WTF” issue comes to a head, there is going to be an awful lot of shit thrown at me, a LOT of protest and probably some tears. Which is why I am sitting on my couch, for the third hour in a row, with my headphones on full blast, with very loud and aggressive music on (read: very drum laden) It is how I have always dealt. Music. I turn it up as loud as my poor old-ass eardrums will allow, and my mind kind of goes blank. I think all day every day… a lot. So maybe when my mind goes blank, it opens up avenues for sense to me made of the shit that is swirling. I used to do this in my truck. I would make insane playlists on my ipod (or burned to cd’s cuz my cd player was able to turn up louder than my ipod transmitter thingy) and I would drive. The longer, the better. Most people hate driving long distances alone. I used to LOVE it! Grande Prairie to Calgary was my favorite. It was 9+ hours alone in my truck with nothing but my sunroof and music to keep me company. I turned my phone on silent, and just drove. It was always when my mind was the clearest. I also did Grande Prairie to Edmonton several (hundred) times (gotta love long distance relationships!) and while that was only 4 hours, it still usually did the trick. But, being older (and somewhat more responsible) I can’t really just jump in my truck and drive to see my best friend in Calgary like I used to. So, my pretty blue Beats and my Apple Music playlist are just going to have to do for the time being.

Is it making this decision making crap any easier? Not really. Because in my gut, while I know it is the right thing to do, it is still hurting me. I hate having a conscience. It is brutal. There is something to be said for the time that I was numb inside – didn’t matter what choice I made, I just didn’t give a fuck. Though, being numb probably wasn’t super healthy, either. Oddly though, that was when I was the most up-front and brutally honest, stood up for myself the most, and didn’t really give a shit what people thought, and nobody thought I was a heinous bitch! But now that I am more timid and care about other people’s feelings, I am Bitch Girl. HA! How ironically ridiculous.

Long story short (okay, not really short…) making decisions is not always easy. It is not always cut and dry. It is not always clear what you should do. It is not always going to make you happy. It is not always going to make everyone happy. It is not always going to make you feel good. It is not always going to hurt. It is not always going to be clear to other people why you did it. It is not always going to make you popular with everyone. It is not always going to make you feel good.

How do you know if you are doing the right thing? Like I said.. you don’t. You just close your eyes, hope you’re doing the right thing, and hold on for dear life.

Here we go… time to jump.

Sore, but not dead.. keep going!

So, on January 4th I went way out of my comfort zone. I weighed myself in front of someone else! Absurd, right? I frigging agree! But the local sporting goods store does this bad-ass contest every New Year… people go weigh in, their weight is marked down in the computer, and in 8 weeks, go weigh again! And for every pound you’ve lost, they issue you a $3 gift card for their store! For anyone without thyroid issues, this could pay big! Or men… pffft… it is just so unfair how quick dudes can dump weight! But as previously discussed, women get to sit to pee, so there has to be balance in the battle of the sexes somewhere. I sit to pee, and they can lose 5 pounds in one day without trying. Yup, totally fair. Anyway, I am getting off topic (slightly)

So I begrudgingly dragged my tubby butt into the store, and then proceeded to ramble the lady’s ear off as I was stepping on to the scale, explaining why I was as big as I was… like she cares, right? Yeah, probably not. But I still felt it necessary! Some days I want to wear a sandwich board explaining my weight situation, because the judging looks can get really hurtful and annoying. But anyway, I weighed myself, for the first time in many months, in front of a total stranger. And as a recap, the many months also included when my son was diagnosed with diabetes, the subsequent hospital stay, and my prolonged IDGAF attitude towards eating, snacking and gluten. Gluten, for anyone who isn’t aware, is a big no-no for people with my autoimmune disease, but at that point, I was focused on my sons newly diagnosed autoimmune disease (which gluten doesn’t affect, for anyone keeping track)

When I stepped on to that scale (it was on carpet, which I didn’t think was smart for weighing, but whatever…) I was pleasantly surprised. It was nowhere near where I thought it would be! It was much lower – still a grotesquely revolting number, but lower, nonetheless.

I re-started the 21 Day Fix on January 4th. I love that program. When it first came out in 2014, I did it religiously and lost 10 pounds in a month and a half. Then my doctor fucked around with my meds, and I gained upwards of 35 pounds, and haven’t lost it yet (thanks Doc!) But it is a great program. Most people don’t really realize how much their portions are just waaaaay wrong. It super helped. And I found the workouts to be really fun! I had to modify lots to begin with, but got better and stronger. Then I had to quit, at to the request of the aforementioned doctor. But I happily threw my dvds in and started all gung-ho. But I quickly became insanely bored (hello, doing this for almost 2 years.. it is bound to get boring as hell) So I popped in my 21 Day Fix Extreme and…. HOLY SHITBALLS! There is nothing easy about this program! The very first workout, I wanted to die. Plyo with weights? Screw you! Cardio with weights? Screw you more! Everything with weights? Kill me now. I am so sore. So so sore.

SO SORE! But you know what? I am not dead. And, I have lost almost 6 pounds now. Sure, in the span of a month, that is not super awesome. But, I am not eating super good (too little, if anything.. for real, I hate food) and I am still modifying a lot (I have the knees of a 70 year old man) But every morning, I get up, make my Amino Energy, pop in my dvd, pull out my weights, and sweat my balls off (I have sweat a lot, so I no longer have balls.. hahaha)

At the very least, I imagine I will get about $15.00 in gift cards. My husband weighed in, too. So I am sure he will let me use his gift cards, too. I am hoping to get enough to get a new sports bra. Ooooh, dreaming big!!

Like a well planned game of dominos..

Being sick sucks, you know? Illness, any form, is just a giant asshole third wheel that follows you around and haunts your daily routine, until one day it develops a huge case of jealousy and demands that it becomes your significant other. WELL! Let me tell you, it is not significant nor is it welcome! Then the illness is all “me me me! Focus on me!” and your life becomes focused around fevers and chills, monster headaches and sore muscles, and spending more time inspecting the interior of your toilet bowl than a cleaning lady ever has or will.

You get my point. Being sick sucks. I wouldn’t say I am necessarily sick right now, but I can feel the selfish asshole third wheel just following me around, waiting for a crack in my armor so it can sneak in and engulf my very existence. It is like a well planned game of dominoes. At the moment, I have my dominoes all nicely lined up, and falling in a very specific and beautiful manner. But my third wheel is hell-bent on knocking them down out of order and creating chaos in my world. Well, that is just rude! Do you have any idea how time consuming it is to line those bastard dominoes up!?

At the moment (well, the last few days worth of moments) I have felt “off”. You know the feeling, nothing is particularly wrong, but at the same time, you just feel like something is about to be wrong. I have been weak and a bit dizzy, my head hasn’t been hurting, but it doesn’t feel right, my eyes feel like they are moving a bit slower than normal, my reaction time is off, and I feel just completely worn out.

My son (the cream center in my children oreo, also known as the diabetic one) has been sick all week, and sickness creates all sorts of hell and havoc for diabetics. Their blood sugar is basically an acutely orchestrated dance on a high wire, and even the slightest breeze can knock that bitch over. Well, any type of sickness basically acts like a fucking monsoon, and it throws the whole dance off. Way off. Sugar is released by their liver to help the body to give itself energy to combat any sickness. And then they are more prone to dehydration, because their body is fighting, and there is an excess of sugar in them because of their overprotective liver (stupid douchebag liver screws everything up) And if they tip into dehydration, their kidneys secrete even more sugar. It is a frigging crapshoot, and it screws him all up.

He has been fighting this sinus thing for a week. Beauty part? He had no sinus symptoms at first, so we had no effing idea what the hell was wrong with his numbers. One day perfect, next day total shit! Glorious. And not the least bit frustrating! NO! I didn’t shed one single tear out of pure unadulterated frustration and exacerbation. Not one. (that is a lie, I had a meltdown. shut it…) But we got a handle on it, and I showed that sinus issue who is boss. Don’t mess with me! I have western medicine on my side! BWAHAHA! (I may be slightly off my rocker, due to the level of exhaustion I am currently rocking, and the fact that I don’t feel very good…) So while he was sick, the insulin floweth like a river. Needles, needles and more needles. Best part of diabetics getting sick? Other than the aforementioned hell on earth? Insulin resistance! WOOO! Turns out, when they are sick (or the wind blows a certain way, it seems…) their bodies develop a slight resistance to insulin, which makes it even more difficult to lower their already sky-high blood sugar. Oh the joys this disease has brought us all (for real though, we are doing amazingly well, considering how effing new this is to all of us) So while I was cranking my middle-little full of that foul smelling shit, I was then forced (gladly) into checking his level even more than normal, for fear that his resistance may have lowered it’s shield and may have driven him into a horrendous low. So, up almost every single hour during the night, testing his blood, listening to his breathing, making sure he was still breathing, nudging him to make sure he was okay.. sleepless nights are something that all mothers are familiar with, but when you have the added terror of your diabetic child sliding into a low in his sleep, then into a coma, and never waking up… yeah, your ass is out of bed like your sheets are on fire.

So while I was taking care of him, I may have slightly ignored myself. Not fully. I still remembered to exercise and shower, but I am seriously lacking sleep, and may have forgotten to eat every now and then (not may have, I absolutely did). All of this probably added up to enough to get my immune system lowered enough for that asshole third wheel to rock his asshole way in, and knock my dominoes over. Like an asshole. I may not be full-blown sick yet, but I can feel that one domino just weebling there, like a fucking weeble-wobble.. and it could go either way. My sweet and selfless husband has let me sleep until 9:00 all weekend, in an attempt to help me “sleep it off” which is helping a bit. But he is in the middle of 2 weeks worth of 13 hour night shifts, and has been sleeping all day, and gone all night, so even with the extra hour of sleep in the morning, I am still exhausted, because I am left alone to take care of all 3 boys. I don’t mind, they’re not horrible. But it is still tiring to do when you don’t feel good, and one of them requires so much extra attention, and one of them is four. The oldest is okay, but he is almost 13 and is swimming in a sea of extra testosterone and attitude, which is a whole new adventure for us.

Either way, being sick sucks. It sucks for me, it sucks for my oreo.. it just plain sucks. Just leave my dominoes alone, k? It has taken me a long time to line them up, and I am not too keen on anything making a mess of them. dominoes-game-graphic-3d-wallpaper-colorful

A bad example? Or a cautionary tale?

Have you ever sat back and thought “holy shit, my life has been insane!” No? Just me? LIAR! Everyone has at least something that they look back on and reminisce and wonder how the hell they made it out alive. It can’t just be me. I mean, I have had a bit of a whirlwind life thus far, but I know for a fact that I am not the only person who has ever made a mistake or had shit thrown at them and lived to tell the tale.

This was all brought to my mind today, while telling a friend the “cliffs-notes” version of my life. I mean, I didn’t go back very far (only 8 years or so.. as the brunt of my “are you effing kidding me?!” started happening around my 28th year of life.. there was a shitstorm of epic proportions prior to that, but that’s a story for another day) I was spewing forth some of the happenings in my life, and a familiar catch in my throat appeared. Hello old friend, I haven’t had to swallow you in a while. Then it hit me. That shit is all behind me. Very behind me. I survived. Like Eminem said “that’s what happens when a tornado meets a volcano..” that is exactly how I feel like my life was for the longest time. A tornado and a volcano. But, I have been on solid ground for a while, and am so thankful for the ability to say that!

While telling my friend about all of my highs and my many many devastating lows, I wondered something – am I more of a bad example? A “what not to do”? Or am I a cautionary tale? Leading others on a path that may not land them in the shit that I dug myself out of? Interesting.

To some, I may seem like the worst example. Divorce. Single mother. All the other shit that was swirling at that time. To some, what I did and what I went through is considered heinous and abhorrent. Well, I am here to tell you, it wasn’t that bad. I am not a bad person. I just do not believe that people are required to stay unhappy forever. And once someone has done everything in their power to fix a perpetually broken and shitty situation, and it just isn’t fixing, then it is time to pack it up and move the hell on. Which is what I did! Was it easy? Hell no. Was it scary? Fuck yes! But I did it, and I survived (as did my kids!)

How about considering myself a cautionary tale? A “this is what happened to me due to these choices, and should you want to avoid this, perhaps don’t make these choices!” kind of situation. I am not sure I really want to be portrayed that way, either. But maybe it’s not so horrible. I maybe didn’t make “horrible” choices, per say. I made the same choices that millions of other people have, I just made them with the wrong people and at the wrong time. So, look to me for answers about what not to do, fine. But also know that if you happen down the same path that I did, and find yourself in the same crap-stew that I festered in for a very long time, know that one day, you will fight your way out of it, and you will find yourself even stronger and more resilient than you were before.

Cuz if I can survive everything I have, and still have a smile on my face, hope in my soul and love in my heart, than anything is effing possible. Well, maybe not anything.. I mean, I am still not a millionaire. HAHAHA!!

 

Not all sunshine and rainbows..

The last few days have been trying. That’s not to say that the previous days were particularly easy, but we were handling it.

Slight catch up. My middle son got diabetes in November. And it has not been all sunshine and rainbows since then. I am beyond grateful that we caught it when we did, but a part of me will always grieve for the piece of my son that was lost on that day. He is such a beautiful boy, with an amazing heart and a promising future. He is so full of life and humor and love. And no matter what we do now, and how hard we try, there will always be a part of him that was taken away that day. I will fight until my dying breath to make sure that my baby is happy and taken care of, and always do my best to remind him of his inner light.

But like I said, the last few days have been hard on him. There is so much about this stupid asshole disease that is literally left up to trial and error. There is so much guessing and testing and trying. So much of it resides in the grey. It is not as cut and dry as most diseases, and that makes it SO FUCKING INFURIATING!

Why? Why are his normally stable numbers all of a sudden creeping up? From a steady 6-8 to an 11, then 14, then 15, and then from there, there was no going back. We battled. We rallied. We racked our brains as to how to fix it, why it was happening, what could have caused it… We threw out his insulin and gave him a new cartridge, we revamped our meal plan, I went through 2 months worth of numbers and food logs and checked for any patterns, we made him sleep more, drink more water, have more protein, increased the insulin to carb ratio, increased his lantus dose… I did everything that any professional would do in my position.. and then I hit my breaking point.

I caved and called the Health Link. In my province, it is a call center run by nurses who listen to symptoms and help you decide if you need the doctor or emerg or maybe some allergy pills. More often than not (I would say 98% of the time) they send you to the doctor anyway, but I still call. I will not be doing that again! While it is useful for some things, they are not allowed to do shit about kids with diabetes. I told her “I have everything sorted, I just have one question” and I asked it, and all she did was reprimand me on his numbers and told me to call his nurse. THANKS TIPS!! After completely exacerbating myself with that very nice, albeit completely useless, woman, my sons diabetic nurse finally called me back.

Our regular nurse is no longer at the health unit, so we have a new lady that I have yet to meet. She seemed very nice, but upon telling her my story, my frustration overfloweth, and I had a little breakdown while on the phone with her. We talked for an hour, she reassured me that I was doing everything right, and that I was a good mom and he was lucky to have me… but I can not begin to tell you how broken I felt. While she did make me feel a bit better, and we did hash a few things out and get some ideas going between the two of us, I still feel like I am failing my son because I can’t fix him!

Why is he high? These are the reasons we came up with….

  • he was left high all weekend and his body built up a resistance to insulin (yes, that bullshit is legit)
  • he is going through a growth spurt
  • he didn’t sleep enough and his body is feeling insulin resistant
  • he is fighting some sort of infection or illness
  • he is dehydrated
  • he is stressed out about something
  • he isn’t rotating his injection spots enough and his tummy is building up an insulin resistance
  • his insulin was somehow exposed to extreme temperatures and it’s garbage
  • his carb ratio needs to be adjusted
  • he needs more of his all-day-long insulin
  • his “honeymoon” phase is over
  • who. fucking. knows.

There are literally so many reasons why diabetics sugar levels go all psycho, but all I know, is that his did. I do know a few of those things are true, and I busted my ass for him to rectify that which was done wrong for him (no fault of my own).

I am his person. I fight for him, so he doesn’t have to. I fight and bust my ass and lose sleep and feel insane, so he can have a semblance of a childhood. But we still had to get to the root cause of his stupid high numbers.

He has had a runny nose, but hasn’t complained once. Not once! So after he texted me his lunchtime number today, I decided to pull the mommy card and yank him out of school, so I could have him home for a big chunk of time, and focus on him and getting him better. Being excited can raise blood sugar, and with him already higher than I would like, I figured being at school would just perpetuate it. So, he came home! And on the way home, he was really sniffly. It hit me! “is there any sort of pressure or pain in this part of your nose?” And he said yes. BAM. I had my answer (well, part of it.) It is now believed that after his numbers were left high for a whole weekend, his body was stressed enough to allow him to get sick again. I gave him a sudafed (pharmacist approved) and had him drink a liter and a half of water, gave him his correction insulin… and for the first time in 4 days, I got him below 10!! I almost cried. He almost cried. And I kept it down all day. It was one of those moments where you just feel totally relieved.. and yet, stressed at the same time.

This is his life now! This is what we have to look forward to forever. Any time he is sick, or stressed, or excited, or sleep deprived, going through puberty, doesn’t drink enough water, his body decides to be an asshole, etc etc… I feel so sorry for him.

This whole disease is a crock of shit. I am just hoping and praying that there are some amazing advances in the field in his lifetime, so he can maybe have a bit of an easier time.

But for now, know this. Diabetes sucks ass. It is a crock of shit. My heart shatters when I think of what my funny happy baby has to go through now. But I will be by his side, doing what I can, for as long as I can. And maybe even longer.. haha, I am pretty stubborn, I’m not sure I will ever allow anyone to tell me I am not needed. Oh yes, I believe I may be one of “those” mothers… bwahahaha!!

 

 

 

Almost a new year..

  

Well, it happened. Another year has come and gone. 2015 started out like a lamb and bombarded through us like a starving lion on the hunt for bloody carcass. It was pleasant in some points, but for the most part, it was trying in every way, shape and form. But I have this to announce: WE MADE IT! I am quite proud of my little family and everything we were able to accomplish this year! It wasn’t easy, but we all landed on our feet and I think we are better and stronger because of it.

A few curveballs were thrown at us. But like I always say, when life throws your curve balls, get a bigger bat. And if that doesn’t work, use it to hit the pitcher! And that’s exactly what we did. We beat the shit out of the pitcher, and we are all doing just fine with our new rolls as bat-swinging-bad-asses.

You know how they say that you never know how strong you are until that is the only option you have? I believe that to be true, to an extent. I always knew I was strong (I have lived through my fair share of shitstorms and difficulties, and came out on top every time.. bruised and battered maybe, but still on top) Well, this year, my family was tested, and hot-damn, are we ever a bunch of strong people! SO PROUD!

We had a very exciting, and sometimes stressful, 12 months. But we handled it like champs. The most challenging thing that we had thrown at us was our 10 year old was slammed with diabetes. It was not expected, came out of left field and took us all by surprise. BUT! My little unit has pulled together, became stronger, and are now a bunch of carb counting, needle giving, blood sugar measuring, snack organizing, 3am alarm setting, crazy people!!! And I am so proud of how we all pulled together, and so proud of how we are all supporting not just our middle-little, but eachother. I have watched my 3 boys get closer than ever this year, watched my husband become even more of an amazing father, and figured out how bad-ass and strong-as-hell I can be. It is humbling and awesome!

I am excited to see what we can do next year. I do know that whatever is thrown at us, we are gonna rock it!

Bring it on, 2016!!!!!!