Saturday, July 12, 2014

I Take Back What I Said About Mother's Day...or The Disappearing Summers

Recently I read and reviewed a book that may be made into a movie soon called Just 18 Summers. It was about a concept I'd been pondering a lot lately: that we have a limited amount of time with our kids to teach them, to make memories, to prepare them for life. That's been hitting home to me because my oldest will be 14 and entering her last year of middle school in the fall. My time with her is waning. And her sister is only a year behind her. I struggle with the constant battle of wanting to seize and savor every moment yet being tired from the constant pull of every day life in contrast to the bleak job of every parent: to make themselves obsolete so their kids can enter adult life independent and prepared.

I've always been big on summer fun. Since my oldest started kindergarten, I looked at summers as a way to spend time together and make memories she'd carry with her for a lifetime. And summers from school are a poignant reminder of the clock ticking. When they are preschoolers, each day rolls into the next day and before you know it, a year has passed, then two. But once they go off to school and summer comes, you know you have 3 months (or less) to have fun, make memories, take vacations, teach them things they can't learn in school and just enjoy them.

In recent days/years, I've been guilty of counting down til school starts back. I'm tired. My son has special needs and requires a huge amount of attention. And because I've been so diligent about trying to make all things equal between my kids, the girls expect equal attention and I get overloaded.

Last summer, I'd planned to get back to my usual summer fun and planned out some activities, made a calendar of events, etc.  But then I had surgery and recovery was harder than I expected. We did go camping in Branson and had fun but I wanted more.

The last post I published on this blog (I've written a couple of others, especially explaining our life right now, just haven't hit that "publish" button yet) was about wanting to boycott Mother's Day because I felt disrespected by my children and didn't want fake, expected tokens. I can assure you I was forced to eat my words later. I think the day after I wrote that blog, my son's therapist recommended long-term residential treatment. The guilt for what I'd written about Mother's Day was nearly as bad as the pain of the idea of sending my 9-year-old off to the care of strangers. To say I was inconsolable is an understatement. The series of events that have followed have left us broken. Financial difficulty, difficult decisions, two short-term hospitalizations for my son, my daughter struggling with inner demons as well as high blood pressure we can't get control of, custody court battle, and job chaos, just to name a few. The list doesn't do justice to the amount of turmoil it represents.

I had high hopes for this summer. My girls were in summer school to get ahead and prepare for advanced classes that would give them high school credit in middle school. They also went to camp. But, in the 6 remaining weeks of summer, I had plans, lists, calendars, and even a Pinterest board. Let the fun begin! Memories and life lessons!

But, I hurt my back. My son injured my back a couple of months ago but I somehow re-injured it so that it became excruciating. Top three on my pain repertoire. 8.0 on the Richter scale. So, my mobility was severely limited. The past couple of weeks, I've been going to doctor/chiropractor appointments, taking meds that knock me out, and laid up in bed. But, now that it's starting to get better, I've been chomping at the bit to get out and do some activities! My daughter even has a Pinterest board called her "summer bucket list."

Yesterday, though, my summer was sucked away in an instant. Without going into too much detail, what I thought would be a routine pre-trial court hearing that my lawyer said I didn't have to attend turned out to have massive effects. With the exception of our already scheduled vacation, the kids will spend the rest of the summer with their dad. I won't even go into how my lawyer didn't bother to tell me, I had to hear about it in a text from their dad the day before they are supposed to go or that she won't call me back to explain what happened or some of the other nonsense this included. Or that this was sprung on me last minute and I have to scramble to get them ready or that they have appointments scheduled that dad will likely skip. Or that the kids don't like this at all (but no one seemed to care or even ask) or that Billy will miss meet the teacher night at his new school or Arrena will miss volleyball meetings or Kimberly will miss another month of karate (after missing a month when she injured her foot).  Our summer just kicked the bucket. Except for our vacation window, one more summer down.

I bawled yesterday at this news for a lot of reasons I won't list here. I know all the pat answers and cliches, that God has a plan. But my heart still hurts. I'm mom and I should be able to fix things. But I'm powerless and impotent.  And even worse than that, even though I know God is in control, I need direction.  I need answers on what to do now.  What is the correct response?  How can I tell what the right decisions are?  And with my anxiety attacks, I need boldness and clarity and discernment.  I am notorious for wallowing and mourning at tough things, but after I have my cry and time to process, I pull up my big girl panties and strap on my boots and get busy and become the force to be reckoned with.  I research, I come armed with knowledge, I won't take no for an answer, I fight to the end for my kids.  I need to be that right now.
I'm trying to look on the bright side: that I could use some respite (from Billy's 24/7 demands and for my back) and that I'll be able to get some things done (writing the play for the drama team, working on my book, working on my Etsy shop and my blog), but they all fall short of seeing those faces every day.  And just when I think I have set myself to accept this, the response of one of the kids knocks my feet out from under me and makes me feel like dirt.  How can a mom not protect her children?  And how can a court ask that of me?

I am also trying to remember Romans 8, that God will use this experience for the kids to make them more like Christ, to mold them and shape them into who He has planned for them to be.  And that He is with them always and loves them more than I could ever imagine AND has the power to protect them that I don't possess.  There's the possibility that they could be witnesses to their dad or their step-mom.

I have been angry and confused and upset and asking God why, but in the end, I do trust Him.  Nothing can shake that.  Like Job said, "Though he slay me, yet will I trust in him."

While our summer vacation has been cut extremely short and what little time we do have is up in the air, depending on a lot of factors and variables, this reminds me that we are not promised a tomorrow.  We may count 18 summers, but we aren't promised that.  A court may order the kids to their dad's for the summer.  A friend lost her four-year-old to a brain tumor.  A woman at our church died of cancer, leaving behind her five-year-old son.  We are not promised any tomorrows.  All we have is now.  The plans, the calendars, the Pinterest boards--they are great, but today is the day to hug your kids and tell them you love them.  Teach them one life lesson.  Talk about God.  Tell them a family story.  Spend time with them.  Make a memory.  I know we are busy, but tomorrow may be too late.

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Why I Want to Boycott Mother's Day

I should not be blogging right now.  I have one thousand things to do today.  Seriously.  Only slightly exaggerating.  Don't believe me?  Here you go:  I woke up at 6:30 am, an ungodly hour for someone like me who is a night owl and stayed up until somewhere in the neighborhood of 2am, trying to get other things done.  I get up that early because my son needs his medication at that time of the morning, but that's a whole other story.  I say hello to my girls who are getting up and getting ready to go to the school bus, then I fall back into bed for a little while.  Somewhere before 8am, my phone rang and it was my middle child, telling me she had left her Greece project at home and would I bring it to her.  I groan because yesterday she forgot her lunch.  I told her I would bring it, then fell back to sleep for the little time that remained until the alarm went off.  Then I got up and realized I felt horrible.  My husband has been sick and I have been nursing some slight allergy symptoms, but my head feels like a balloon full of snot and my throat burns.  I was supposed to go have a med check at my psychiatrist's office this morning, but I called and cancelled, saying I'd call later and reschedule.  Then I got my son ready for school and drove him.  I'd already forgotten about Greece.  I came home and went to the basement to change the laundry and came up, preparing to get a quick bath and take some allergy meds.  Then I saw my daughter's paper on the desk.  I picked it up and looked at it and realized it isn't near as done as she claimed it was when I demanded she work on it last night since it was due today.  She said, "All I have to do is color it and I'll do that when I get off the computer."  I said, "No computer until homework is done."  Then I had to go pick up her brother.  This project had not a single bit of color on it and had several blank pages.  Guess I am going to have to ground someone from the computer, so I'll have to schedule in her tantrum later.  I got back in the car and drove to her school and dropped off her project, which is a little like going into a prison since you have to ring the bell, show your ID to a camera, then be buzzed in.  Then you have to go fill out a clipboard to leave the paper.  I came home and woke up my husband because in about an hour we have to meet with my son's therapist for a parent meeting for some recommendations and a list of questions we have compiled.  For info on what that's all about, click here.  After that, I have approximately three hours in which to read my Bible study chapters and do my journaling (I know, procrastination, but it's been one of those weeks!), finish reading a book and write a review, and do my grocery shopping.  I really need to write another review for a blog I contribute to, but it is going to have to wait until tomorrow.  And I am behind one day on my blog challenge on my other blog with no idea what I am going to write that starts with "X" (an A to Z challenge) much less today's "Y" topic!  And I need to email some things to my lawyer and dig up some papers, but I don't have time for that today.  After that, my middle daughter will get home and we can have a blown up argument about not doing her homework and computer privileges going bye-bye.  Then I will have to pick up my son and get him going with reading, etc.  I have to hurriedly make dinner so I have get to ladies' Bible study, which is why I have to finish reading today.  Even if I decided not to go, I still have to drive my girls over who are providing babysitting.  And as next week is the last week and I can't attend since I have no one to watch my son while my husband is at work, this is technically my last week and I don't want to miss.

Now, before you say that this is just one day out of many, let me tell you what my week has looked like.

Sunday, I had nursery duty at church.  I had to run to the store to get cold meds for my husband in the rain and hail.  I waited out the storm at home and then drove to Wichita to pick up my kids from their dad.  Had a major blowup argument with the same middle child who forgot her lunch and project, during which she told me to be a "real mom."  This "real" mom lost her temper and I am ashamed to say that I cursed in front of my own mother.  That kid will never ever know what I have been through for her.  And I know that someday they will get it and they say things in anger that they don't mean.  I get that from 2/3 of them most of the time, but there are days when this "real mom" has feelings that get hurt.  We ended up having a major discussion with both of us crying.  Then we ate, said goodbye to the grandmas and drove back to Kansas City, arriving at 1am.

Monday, I had to do the usual 6:30 meds, take my son to school.  I was so exhausted and my back has been in horrible pain since my son jumped on it about a month to six weeks ago.  So, I crawled in bed for an hour.  I got up and went to the chiropractor and then came home and my daughter called me to bring her lunch, which she hadn't finished making.  So, I finished it and took it to her.  Then I came home and ate lunch and started looking up coupons and sales and making both a menu and a grocery list.  Oh, and I started several loads of laundry.  I knew I was running out of time to be going to the store, so I opted for leftovers for dinner.  Only everyone wanted to eat at different times.  I fed my son after picking him up, then I gathered my daughters up and we ran by the store to pick up a snack (it was middle daughter's turn to bring a snack and we hadn't had time to make anything from scratch), then picked up two of their friends before we went to church for the girls' discipleship group at our church called GLOW (Girls Lighting Our World), which I help out with.  After GLOW, I drive the girls home and get attitude from my oldest because I interjected into her conversation about when she will be at her dad's that she is mistaken because she will be with me Mothers' Day weekend instead of with him.  Dead silence in the car.  Then my middle daughter tells me that she and her friends were making fun of me at school today.  Oh yay.  What did I do now?  I pressed and she finally told me and it made no sense because it wasn't even true.  She took a real situation and embellished my innocent passing comment about surprise into a tirade of anger.  I told her that was not what happened.  She shrugged and said she had thought I was mad.  What?  I mean, wha...?  I spent the rest of the evening doing laundry and replying to people who had responded to some Craigslist ads I had posted and reading this book that I found out I had to review by tomorrow!  My husband wanted to watch our DVR'd two favorite shows, one of which I write a review about.

Tomorrow is a light day.  I have a chiropractor appointment and my son has a psychiatrist appointment.  My girls get home early from school.  It is unclear if they have youth group tomorrow night.  Maybe I can get blogs caught up and housework caught up.

Thursday starts the onslaught.  I have a meeting with my son's school to go over what his therapist recommends today.  Then my son has karate and my oldest is in a play at school.  Friday, we go to court over some custody things, which has been a year in the making.  Then my middle one has karate and then we all beat it over to the church because the GLOW girls have an overnighter planned that will go non-stop all night long.  I can't stay all night as my husband has to work before the event ends and I have to be home with my son.  And, if I could be there all night, staying up all night and then spending a day with my son on no sleep is not a good idea.  Saturday, I have someone coming to pick up a dishwasher I put on Craigslist, so I hope I won't be murdered, lol.  Then we are going to try to go to my daughters' friends play, despite the fact that we will have to bring their brother, who doesn't sit still very well.

In the middle of all of this, I am trying to build my photography and Etsy businesses and keep house, which is failing miserably.  I really need to bring in some income, but I can't go back to work because my son gets suspended too much and I don't know of a babysitter that can deal with his special needs and works for cheap...or free, like my last one.  I look around my house and feel defeated because it is a mess but I don't have time to clean!  I barely have time to sleep!  So, why am I blogging instead of doing something constructive?  Because if I don't express my frustration here, I may blow somewhere else.  Not healthy or beneficial.

Most of the time, my oldest makes me feel like I am not a complete failure as a mother.  The other two...well, I can't seem to teach them anything.  I keep trying to show them the right way and they do whatever they want.  And I am always the bad guy.  But, when my oldest gives me attitude and criticizes, that's when I really feel betrayed.  And that's why I want to boycott Mother's Day.  Not for my own mother...I love her and my mother-in-law and my grandma and they deserve everything I can't afford.  But, I do not want homemade cards that they were pressured by teachers or society or my well-meaning husband to make to honor mom for one day when 364 days, I get no respect.  I get attitude and abuse and smirks and laughed at and ignored.  I don't want a fake appreciation for one day.  That's hypocritical and I don't want that.  I'd rather just treat it like any other day.  Maybe I sound whiny and sleep-deprived.  Probably.  But, I just can't look at these little tokens they present and fake a smile this year when I know that in an hour I am going to see rolled eyes or called a name or be argued.  I can't do it this year.  Maybe that disqualifies me from mother of the year but so be it--none of my kids would vote for me anyway.  Does anyone else feel this way?  Like they are complete failures as parents?  What happened to the days when mommy was everything?  I get that it's a stage, but I wonder what I am teaching them at this stage since they aren't listening.

Saturday, April 5, 2014

Ultimate Blog Party!


While I am not really seeking to get this blog noticed, which seems to fly in the face of the goal of a blog party, I wanted to join in the community of Christian life bloggers.  I have a business blog which I have been plugging away at for the last two or three months.  Even though I love crocheting and photography and writing, this blog still has my heart because it is personal.  It's about my life.  Some of these entries were heart-wrenching.  There are some still in draft form because I couldn't bring myself to make them public because they were so personal.  Sometimes all that I could manage was song lyrics.  This blog is a little bit of everything.  It's funny stories about my kids, it's rants about things that bug me, it's my journey with a special needs' child, it's accounts of experiences that I have gone through that may help someone else who is also going through it, it's my soapbox for things that I am passionate about, it's where I can express my opinion safely and without fearing judgment or argument.  I can be me here.  That may mean that you don't like what I write.  That's ok.  I don't demand that everyone agree with me.

Who am I?  You can read my profile to the right if you want the stats.  I am a mess.  I am not perfect.  I have had a bumpy ride.  But, I have a Savior that has held me through it all.  I went through a messy divorce which still presents problems regularly.  I am remarried to my high school sweetheart.  I have three children: two girls, one boy.  My daughters are in middle school and my son is still in elementary school.  My oldest is responsible and well-rounded and dependable and following Christ.  My middle daughter struggles with depression and self-injurious behavior and vacillates between being mommy's girl and a sullen angry preteen.  My son is somewhere between bipolar and autism.  I suffer from clinical depression, anxiety, and PTSD.  I am also funny and weird.  I am on a weight loss journey, having lost 50 pounds of my 100-pound goal.  I am a photographer, a writer, and a crafter.  I was raised a Baptist, but now attend a non-denominational Christian church.  I work in the nursery and help with the teen girls' discipleship group.  I am starting a crochet club at church to make items for charity and my husband and I are starting up a drama team.  I went to Bible College for three semesters and would love to finish someday.  I have self-published one Christian novel on Amazon so far and am writing a mother-daughter devotional currently.  I have two cats and a dog.  That's the short version of me.  For the long version, you'd have to read through the last six years of blog posts.  I sometimes neglect this blog because I am trying to build my businesses or am just too busy, but when I do, I miss it.

I hope that by joining this Blog Party and listing this blog among other Christian bloggers that I might meet up with other moms like me.  If we have something in common, give me a shout out in the comments!

Thursday, February 27, 2014

Should Businesses Have the Right to Refuse Service to Anyone?

I want to share a link to a blog that I think hits the nail on the head!  I keep seeing even Christians going on about the bills regarding refusing service to someone based on a conflict with our religious beliefs and how we are discriminating and Jesus is love, etc., but this article nails it--it isn't at all about discrimination.  We don't judge the person but we should have the right to refuse to participate in a practice that we disagree with.  I love his examples of the lawsuits where the people had no problem with the people themselves and had served them previously, but just declined to take part in the events they disagreed with.  And he gives examples of how you would never expect others to be forced to do something against their beliefs.  He is so on-target with this being absolutely nothing like the discrimination humanity has witnessed and perpetrated against blacks or Jews, etc.--how dare anyone compare an inconvenience to being beaten and tortured and killed.

And before you tell me that it's not a choice, it's how you were born, let me say that I disagree.  God wouldn't say in His Word that it is sin if you couldn't help it.  I think people can be born with certain temptation toward certain sin, such as alcoholism.  But, you can overcome it--I personally know one woman who has and you can read about another here: http://wadeoradio.com/former-lesbian-jackie-hill-responds-to-macklemores-same-love/

As a photographer, I completely understand the concerns.  While I don't do weddings at all, what happens if I refuse to take engagement photos?  When I was working for the national company that does newborn photos in the hospital, I once had a lesbian couple that I had to photograph.  It was uncomfortable for me, but they weren't forcing their lifestyle on me and I didn't try to force my beliefs on them.  It put me in the position when I had to consider, in my own business, what would I do in this situation?  As I was merely an employee in a large company, I didn't even entertain the idea of refusing to do it.  And I think in my own photography business, I would still do newborn pictures for a gay couple.  However, I wouldn't do engagement photos or family pictures, I don't think.  Because when I take pictures, I am putting my name on them and that connotes acceptance and condoning.  So, am I discriminating against the gay person?  No, I am not against THEM personally, I disagree with their lifestyle and I shouldn't be forced to participate when I believe it is wrong.

Do not mistake me.  I have friends and (ex-) family members who are gay.  I do not hate them, I love them.  I do not beat them over the head with judgment.  Their conduct is between them and God.  Yes, I believe the Bible says that is wrong, just as any sin identified by God is wrong.  Lying is a sin, adultery is a sin, stealing is a sin and I won't condone any of those.  I'm not perfect and I sin, but I am constantly striving towards being Christ-like and have requested and continue to request forgiveness from God.  The first step for any sinner, regardless of their sin (because God is no respecter of persons and he doesn't categorize sin like we try to sometimes, that one is worse than another), is faith.  Deciding to follow Christ and have a relationship with him.  Conviction for your sin and changing your life is a job between the person and the Holy Spirit.  Now, once someone becomes a Christian, their brothers and sisters in Christ have an obligation to exhort them to deal with any sin and lovingly encourage them in their pursuit of holiness.  But, until someone is a Christ-follower, you cannot expect them to live under the same convictions that we do.  Likewise, non-Christians should not expect us to live under their beliefs.  It's amazing how shocking it is when Christians behave according to their Christian beliefs!  But, the thing that I find shocking is how many people who say they are Christians are saying that Jesus is love and we shouldn't discriminate, etc.  Yes, Jesus is love and yes, we don't judge, but sin is still sin--God's Word has not changed and His expectation hasn't changed.  What part does light have with darkness?  We are called to be holy, which means set apart.  We should be different than the world.  We are supposed to be.  No, we're not the cool kids' club that sits around pointing fingers at everyone.  Here's the long and short of it: we are followers of Christ that walk in agreement to the beliefs that we have according to the Word of God.  We desire everyone, regardless of their sin, to come to Christ and join our family.  We have open arms to everyone, and like God, are not willing that any would go to hell.  But, if you decline that invitation, while we will still love you and won't beat you over the head with it and won't shun you, don't expect us to lower our standards or participate in the life you have chosen.  We will continue to live as we are told and continue to invite you to join us.

As for my photography business, the kicker is that I have declined doing pictures because the client wants a style that doesn't line up with what I do.  So, I decline even people that I don't disagree with their lifestyle.  But, if I were to decline a gay couple, could I be forced to compromise my beliefs and forced to conform my art and style against my will?  Would I be forced to put my name on something I disagree with?  If I got a call from one of those families on TLC who believe in plural marriage, I would refuse to photograph their family.  If a married man wanted me to take pictures of him and his girlfriend, I would refuse.  If a drug dealer wanted me to take pictures of his thugs, I would refuse.  I would refuse anything that I find morally wrong, whether it's homosexuality or any other of a myriad of things I disagree with.  If I did do weddings, I probably wouldn't photograph a Hindu wedding, or a Mormon wedding, or a Buddhist wedding.  And that should be my right to run my PRIVATE business the way I want.  Matt Walsh has a great blog about that too: http://themattwalshblog.com/2014/02/26/problem-solved-let-private-businesses-refuse-service-to-anyone-anytime-for-any-reason/

My question is, where will it end?  My daughter recently had a friend who confided that she is bisexual.  She had a birthday slumber party that she requested my daughter come to.  I said no.  I have nothing against that little girl.  In fact, my heart breaks for her because she has had a horrible life and has so many emotional problems.  But, I am not going to put my daughter in a position of compromise.  In 5th grade, she had a few friends who had a slumber party that descended in them "experimenting" with each other.  I am not going to expose her to a lifestyle I disagree with.  When my daughter was 4, a lesbian couple that we knew invited her over and I politely declined.  I will not send my child over to any home unsupervised when she she might be exposed to anything I disagree with, whether it's an inappropriate family member, a cheating dad, a drug dealer, an alcoholic parent, or a gay couple.  How long before someone forces me to send my daughter to someone's house because refusing to is discrimination?  How long before a lawsuit on a church because they refuse to perform a gay marriage?  Oh, wait, I heard that's already happening.  What if the reverse were true?  What if a church forced someone to go to their church?  What happened to freedom of speech, freedom of religion?

I guess it's all a moot point since the bill in Arizona was vetoed, but it shouldn't matter.  The bill of rights covers this.  There's still the Kansas bill, which is apparently very different, as I read here.  I guess my response is that if there's a chance I will be forced to photograph something that I find morally wrong, I will close it down and stop being a photographer altogether.  It'll go back to being my hobby not my business.

And here's the blog I wanted to share with you:
http://themattwalshblog.com/2014/02/25/yes-of-course-a-business-owner-should-have-the-right-to-refuse-service-to-gay-people/

Monday, October 28, 2013

Waiting

(written 10/28/13)

Need. To. Rant.

Waiting.  I'm tired of waiting.  If it was just for me, that'd be one thing, but this is my son, who has special needs who doesn't understand waiting, nor does he have the ability to wait.

Waiting.  Since he was an infant, I have been struggling with his tantrums, his oddities, his differences.  Now he's 8.  Eight years of waiting and trying to mold him into a good young man, a contributing member to society.

Waiting.  For almost four years now, we have been waiting for doctors and counselors to help us with him.  To head off major problems like suspensions, expulsions, injuring others, and self-injurious behavior.  Four years and all of those major things have happened anyway.

Waiting.  Tired of waiting for doctors and counselors to stop acting self-important and start helping my son, we started seeking evaluations and were put on months-long waiting lists.

Waiting.  Waiting for the school to recognize the problem that we had seen all along.  Day after day of destructive and violent behavior and time spent in the recovery room with the behavior interventionist or being sent home because they can't handle him, yet refusing to assess him for special education, even with a doctor's recommendation, and calling his behavior "average" when they are forced to assess him.

Waiting.  Waiting for evaluation reports to be sent and for assessment testing to be completed.  Waiting for the verdict of what they are going to do with him.

Waiting.  Answers to simple questions that no one wants to respond to.  Listening to people back-pedal and explain and skirt around the issue and refuse to acknowledge me.

Waiting.  The state's finding that the school was not in compliance with state law after a two-month investigation, which brought out lies and covering up.  Findings that will not likely help anything since what's done is done and there's not much they can make up for.

Waiting.  Two months before appointments were available with a new psychiatrist and a new therapist, who will hopefully be able to help more than the others did.

And meanwhile, in the midst of all of this by people who decided at some point in their life that they wanted to help children yet have lost the focus somewhere along the way, there's a little boy who is lost.  A little boy who doesn't understand why he is the way he is.  A little boy that feels unliked by his peers and different from the other kids, made abundantly clear by isolation inflicted by the school.  A little boy that is so anxious about making mistakes that he won't even try.  A little boy who is so frustrated with it all that he has asked numerous times to be checked into a hospital so someone can fix him.  A little boy who is so depressed that he often remarks that he wishes he was dead or that he wants to kill himself and a couple of times has been prevented from grabbing knives to do harm to himself.  A little boy that thinks he is all alone and no one else understands or has struggled like he does.  A little boy who has to try five times as hard as the next kid to pay attention and learn and comes home exhausted from the effort.  A little boy who learns differently and processes slower but is expected to keep up with the status quo.  A little boy who can't even enjoy birthday parties or theme parks or entertainment centers because it's too overwhelming for him.  A little boy with a hyperactivity problem that is expected to sit still all day and had his recess taken away long-term last year.

Bureaucracy and covering your own rear end.  That's what it's all about.  Not about this little boy that has been on crisis mode.  When did the school become this way?  And it's not just him.  I hear stories from other parents who have been fighting the same battle.  There exists a parent advocacy group just because this happens so often.  And even aside from special education, the stories I hear from my daughters about what goes on at school, the lack of teaching, the kids in crisis that no one seems to care about.  Little girls who are not little girls anymore, but exposed to sexuality and violence and drugs as young as the fourth grade.  Having to explain to your daughter what a vibrator is because her 9-10 year old classmate said she was using one and being afraid to allow what used to be an innocent slumber party because fifth grade classmates decided to experiment with homosexuality after their parents went to sleep.  Girls that are so confused that they are cutting themselves and contemplating suicide and experimenting sexually and getting pregnant as early as age 13.  In schools where rapes can occur during school hours.  Teachers yell at them to "shut the f*** up!" or laugh along with other students at special needs' kids and don't defend students against peer bullying, despite all the attention called to the bullying problem in this country.  I know there are good teachers out there (one example) and we have known some excellent ones, but they are outnumbered and fighting an uphill battle.  And in most cases, the problem is lack of parenting.  It just makes me sick.  I know we can't shut ourselves off to the world, even if it feels like we should.  But, how long, Lord?  How far will it go before you return?  I wonder if we are better or worse than it was in the days of Noah when God was sorry He made man and destroyed all but one righteous family.

We are waiting, Lord, for your return.  Anxiously.

Friday, September 27, 2013

The Most Thankless Job

As life is wont to do, this post is in direct contrast to a previous recent post.

I always knew motherhood was a thankless job, and that was ok. The hugs, smiles, kisses were enough. And even when Billy hurls obscenities at me and says he hates me, I've learned to overlook it and know that it's coming from the disabilities that plague him and that his actions show otherwise.

But, lately my kids have been throwing new barbs at my heart. The kind that stick and make you look at them differently and wonder why you bother doing all the vast and taxing things you do for them. I'm sure I'm not the only one to feel this way.

The divorce from their dad was the catalyst. When they were young, the hurt came from their gushing about dad's girlfriend, the very one he left me for. Arrena was the only one that could see through my carefully neutral façade and refused to mention her in my presence, at the tender age of eight.

I take with a grain of salt the angry, "I'll just go live at dad's!" Because I know they're only trying to get a reaction, that it's the difference between the loving discipline designed to grow them into godly young people here and the "Disneyland" at dad's, and even if they were serious, the court prevents it at this time.

There's the little jabs when they gush about how much fun they had at dad's, conveniently forgetting that he went months without picking them up or that he forgot to call on their birthday or that he's gone six months without paying child support and we've been struggling just to put food on their plates.

There's the cruel twist of my heart when they speak glowingly of their step-mom, who was also instrumental in the break-up of the marriage. The fury of knowing they confided rule-breaking to her and she kept her mouth shut so that I'm the last to know.

And, yes, I admit that there's the jealousy of my kids having this whole other step-family that they love and talk about that I don't even know.

Kimberly talks about how she and her step-mom have this plan to move to Florida and open a wildlife park. I know it will probably never happen but the idea that she'd prefer to spend her life with her step-mom over me (she can't wait to go to college out of state and live far away) breaks my heart in two.

The cruelest torture was this week when their dad told me all the things they complain about to him, things that have just enough grain of truth in them to make me believe he didn't make it up, but enough falsehood to make me sound like the wicked witch. How did I turn into the evil step-mother in the fairy tale?

That same night, I listened to both girls talking about how they'd name their first sons after their dad. A dad who tried to kill their mother in front of them, the dad who doesn't show up or call, the dad who didn't participate in parenting even before we were divorced, the dad who followed through on his threat to purposefully get fired so he wouldn't have to pay high child support, the dad who called and left a suicidal message telling them goodbye, the dad who not only threatened to run away with them but actually took me to court to try to take custody and lied in court, and all the other award-winning dad material that makes him worthy of being made a grandchild namesake.  The guy you wouldn't even remotely think was a good man, let alone a good father. Yet, I get nothing. Things they see me do for them, the things they take for granted that I'll always be there, and the things they never saw--things they'll probably never know because I won't tell them. The things they blame me for without knowing the whole story or the motivation behind it. I don't even necessarily want any grandchildren named after me. It just hurts when he seems to win parent of the year over me over and over again.

No, I'm not like many parents that would sit there and point out all of these things to them, in an effort to make myself look better and him look worse.  In fact, sometimes I find myself trying to explain why he is the way he is, almost (almost) defending him, not for his sake, but for theirs.  I've even said that they are smart enough to one day figure it out on their own.

And, yes, I'm sure "one day" they'll see things clearly and that I did the best for them that I possibly could and that he didn't. One day, especially when they have children of their own, I might hear a "thank you, mom" or an "I'm sorry, mom." But in the meanwhile, while I'm embroiled in a fight against the school and the bus company on their behalf, I wonder why am I wearing myself thin, stressing myself out, exhausting myself when dad's the hero. And then I remember that regardless of whether they recognize the sacrifice, I love them and will still do anything for them no matter their reaction. And I bet God feels the same way when His children forget Him. He just keeps on loving us anyway.

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Feeling Sorry for Myself Parenting Rant

(written 9/17/13)

I was contemplating how hard parenthood is today and trying to remember a time when it was easier.  The further I reached back into my memory, the more I realized that it has never been easy.  Then I began to wonder what am I doing wrong?  I read stories on Facebook or blogs or news outlets about moms with the perfect husband, the perfect children who always behave, the perfect house that is always immaculate, the perfect job (or if she is a stay-at-home-mom, more than enough income to make it happen), the perfect school/or the perfect temperament to homeschool, the perfect body, the perfect wardrobe, the perfect friends, the perfect family, etc.  So, why am I divorced, constantly struggling with my children whether it be a behavior issue or a dire problem that we had no control over, my house is always a mess despite the fact that all the kids are in school and I am home all day due to the fact that I had to quit my perfect job and my self-employment isn't paying the bills, my finances are always critical, I don't have the desire to homeschool yet I can't get the public school system to give my children the education they deserve without being exposed to filth and violence and can't afford private school tuition, finally on the losing weight side of the teeter totter I've been riding for 14 years, and had to suffer hellish in-laws before I was blessed with the ones I have now while being cursed with cousins who hate me for who knows what.

Thursday, September 12, 2013

Being a Mom is Tough, but the Benefits are Amazing

One day when this is all behind us, I'll write the story of this debacle of my girls being assaulted on the school bus. But, tonight I'm tired. Tired from stress, from adrenaline, from talking to people all day, from documenting everything, from being the mama bear. But I had to share this one thing so I won't forget why being a mom and having to fight the fight is worth it.

We have a family routine. At dinner time, we take turns asking the blessing on the meal. Whoever's turn it is, we all have to say something we like about that person. Tonight was my turn. Arrena said she likes mom because "she stands up for us." Kimberly said, "I like mom because she takes us seriously." This mama bear sure does love her cubs.

Thursday, September 5, 2013

A Broken-Hearted, Weary Mama

I'm staring at this blank screen with all these thoughts and feelings and yet I am thinking of a word that is seldom used to describe me...speechless.  I am usually capable of spilling my feelings via the written word much more aptly than by saying them out loud.  And yet, here I sit, not knowing where to start.

My son is on my mind.  He's been on my mind constantly for...well...I can't remember when he WASN'T on my mind.  I've written previous posts about him here and there and everywhere and even more.  We're right in the middle of evaluations at this point.  I quit his psychiatrist because he was condescending, offered no practical help, and the things he said didn't hold up when I researched them.  I had planned to stay with him until we had another recommendation, but when they tried to charge me $50 to write a prescription, I had had enough.  Our primary care doctor is a wonderful Christian man and is covering Billy's meds until we find a new psychiatrist.

We finished K.U. Med's testing and they concluded that he did not meet the criteria for autism (though in my heart, I really believe he does) and suggested he may have something called intermittent explosive disorder.  Again, people are only addressing the behavior, but if the behavior were the only problem, we'd have figured out something that would have worked over the course of the past several years.  WHY is he acting out?  There has to be a reason, a cause.  They recommended cognitive therapy, told us that blood work should have been done every year with the meds that he has been on (which we were never told), and advised us to monitor Billy's spacing out because it could be seizures.  We have been to two evaluation appointments at Children's Mercy Hospital and go back next week for a parent-only meeting to go over their results.  I am praying that this evaluation will yield more help and answers than K.U.'s did, but in case it doesn't, I've already been in contact with M.U. and we'll drive to Columbia for more testing if we have to.

In addition, I filed a complaint with the state about the school not complying with my request for an IEP and that is pending.  Since Billy's behavior has continued into the school year and I am not backing down, they are beginning evaluations for an IEP now.

I am thankful for meeting a couple of wonderful ladies who have autistic sons and have been encouraging me and giving me pointers and direction.  I also contacted MPACT, which is a parent advocacy group.  I have communicated with them via email and will be speaking to a representative on the phone tomorrow.  She has already given me great suggestions and gotten me spurred into action and organization.

I began compiling folder after folder of paperwork: Billy's daily school behavior sheets, his 504 plan, communication between me and the school, evaluations and diagnoses records, schoolwork that I did with him over the summer that showed his deficiencies academically, etc.  She also got me to request further records from the school.  My records are now about six inches thick.

In my research and compiling records, I was looking for behavior sheets we had filled out for Billy's former counselor to prove that this has been a long-term problem.  I couldn't locate those sheets--I am afraid they may have been lost when our basement flooded.  So, I had the idea to look through some old emails to friends and family to see if I could find any record of Billy's behaviors there.  What I found surprised me.

You see, I had deluded myself into thinking that around the age of two Billy had started acting out and by age four, he was totally out of control.  Apparently I was living in a fool's paradise.  In my memory, he had been a sweet baby.  I already knew I had a faulty memory, but I really missed the mark on that one.  I also recalled that he had been "slightly" behind his sisters developmentally, but that it was negligible and chalked up to being a boy.  As he was the third child and a difficult one and my job at the time sucked the life out of me, I didn't keep a baby book or a record of his milestones.  I found that he wasn't crawling at nine months (I didn't figure out when he actually did start crawling) and that he was barely stringing together simple phrases that were unintelligible at two and a half.  Following are some excerpts from these emails:

January 2006:
he is such an unhappy little baby and we don't know why.  he is so hard to get along with and really wears us thin.  he cries so much and about the only way to keep him happy is to carry him around all day long, which makes it hard to get anything done.  even then, that doesn't always work--he still fusses.

he has come upon his milestones a lot slower than his sisters, remaining my "baby" longer than they did. 

a few months ago, i had tried to do the "cry it out" things with him because he always had to be "put" to sleep.  you had to rock him, bounce him, feed him to sleep before you put him down.  and usually it was in the bassinet in our room or in our bed.  but, it didn't work.  he would scream for hours!  so i gave up for a while.  about a month or so ago, we tried it again.  at first he cried for a long time, but he finally gave up and fell asleep.  the next night, he cried a little less and the next night, a little less.  there are still some nights when he might cry for 45 minutes to an hour, but more often than not, he will only cry for a few minutes or not at all.  however, this only works at night.  during the day, he'll scream forever.  a couple of weeks  i was so frustrated that i was sitting in the floor crying.  i had had my fill of Billy and it didn't matter if i held him or not, he was still throwing fits.  i had reached my breaking point with him, so the safest thing to do was to put him in his crib and walk away.  at first i did it just so i could walk away and get a breather, but then i became determined to break him.  the more he screamed though, the more it frustrated me and i couldn't even bring myself to go in there.  i was sure that he would eventually wear himself out and go to sleep.  and he goes to bed on his own at night--what's the difference?  no, he screamed for 2 or 3 hours.

about the only way i get ANYTHING done is i have "stations" around the house.  i'll put him in his crib or in the floor in his room to play and i will stay in sight of him and clean in that room, folding laundry or whatever.  when he gets tired of that and gets frustrated, then we move on.  he has his exersaucer and playpen in the living room, a portable high chair in my office area, his full-size high chair in the kitchen, and my bed and his swing in my bedroom.  in all of these places, there is a stash of Billy's toys, so i don't have to carry toys with me around the house.  but everything is on his schedule.  when he's done, it doesn't matter if i am done cleaning the kitchen or writing an email or folding laundry, it's time to move on.  and sometimes he is just done playing and i have to rock him to sleep.  sometimes i can get a few minutes free by putting him in the playpen with his bottle.  i am hoping that once he gets crawling and walking, he will become independent.  

November 2006:
Billy will be 19 months old on the 15th.  he is a handful.  he is into everything, screams pretty much all day, he's a tough guy that likes to beat up on anybody and everybody (the girls, me, the cat...), yet still a mama's boy that won't allow me to leave the room without him or he descends into another screaming fit.  he tries my patience.

Billy is being a monster.  he is screaming incessantly most of the day.  he drives me absolutely insane.  he follows me around the house all day and if i don't do exactly what he wants or sometimes i think he doesn't even know what he wants, he lets out these blood-curdling screams.

April 2007:
Billy is not getting along with the twins and is bullying the baby too [his cousins that were staying with us at the time], so it is CONSTANT fighting and screaming, hitting, biting, scratching, pushing down the stairs, etc.

September 2007:
he enjoys having mama all to himself all day [with both sisters at school], but he is a pain because he wants all my attention and he follows me everywhere.  well, that's not entirely accurate--he wants me to carry him everywhere.  he apparently can't walk from one room to the next.  if i don't pick him up and carry him, he has a major meltdown.  he is talking more.  there are words that anyone can understand, but then there are words and phrases that only mama can translate.

October 2008:
Billy was acting out horribly!  Billy was downright demonic!  he was out of control.  he screamed and kicked and said he hated me.  he threw a can of pop at mom's wall, dumped perfume on her bed, knocked her earrings all over the floor, ran out in the street, etc.  i couldn't handle him.  and i was losing my temper big time.  i was stressed enough and i already felt like a burden to mom then i have this wretched child destroying her house, making it worse.  i couldn't control him.

November 2008:
Billy started calling me names.  i'd try to tell Billy to do something and he would ignore me and do his own thing.  he was acting up and when i would correct him, he'd throw a fit.  he's like a preschool terrorist.

I can't believe that I forgot all this and had this picture in my mind of a content, happy baby.  Reading these broke my heart, thinking that my son has been unhappy his entire life.  Both I and the school counselor have recently asked him what makes him happy and I am devastated to hear him say that he doesn't know or "nothing."  What is wrong and how do we fix it?

Last night, I was invited to come to our church's prayer group so they could pray for me.  I shared about Billy and was touched to listen to them call out our names at the throne of God.  One thing that really struck me was when someone said something to the extent of "God doesn't make mistakes."  Billy is not a mistake.  God made him who he is for a reason and a purpose.  In all these years of dealing with this, I have rarely let myself think of Billy's future.  For one, it's all we can do to manage here and now.  For two, I'm scared to think of Billy continuing with the same problems into adolescence and adulthood.  What kind of life will he have?  What kind of trouble will he get into?  What kind of harm could he inflict on himself or others?  I can't allow myself to go there.  But, thinking about God having a purpose for Billy made me realize that Billy does have a future.  Jeremiah 29:11 "For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."  I'm not going to worry about his future, but I know that God has a plan for it.

The prayer team also took time to listen to one of my "theme songs" as of late: Lord, I Need You.  One phrase stuck out at me--a different one than what I usually hear loud and clear: "And where You are, Lord, I am free."  Billy is anything but free right now, but I know who can set him free.

Friday, August 30, 2013

Camping Adventures

In previous posts, over the years, I have blogged about various camping trips that I have taken with my family.  My parents used to camp when I was a toddler (which I don't remember, I've just seen pictures), using a camper on the back of dad's truck, but other than that, I didn't camp until about five years ago or so.  In those five years, I think our camping trips have numbered about six or seven.  And if you have read my previous blogs, you will know that I am not the outdoorsy type.  I do not like the heat, I don't like bugs, I don't like being dirty all. the. time.  But, I made a valiant attempt to camp for my family's sake.  The funny thing was that I ended up being the more gung-ho of the bunch.  The first time or two we went, everyone else was complaining about being hot, bored, etc.  They all wanted a camper so they could have air conditioning and TV and beds.  To me, that's not camping, that's parking.  My apologies to anyone who enjoys parking.  I don't mind camping at all when the weather is mild in the spring and fall and I started to kind of enjoy sleeping under the stars and hearing the locusts/cicadas at night.  That said, I rarely sleep well while camping.  I never sleep well in strange places and air mattresses or sleeping bags are not what I would call extreme comfort.  Once in the early days of camping, I actually got run over while I was sleeping.  Seriously.  A stray dog was loose in the camp and apparently had come careening around our tent and stepped on the corner, where my legs were.  A very rude awakening, I must say.  I had no idea what had gotten me!  My ex-husband was such a baby about being uncomfortable that he bought a small window unit air conditioner and rigged it up in our tent.  Again, seriously.  He SAID it was for Billy (who is susceptible to eczema outbreaks in the heat) and for me, but I didn't buy it.

My husband, Scott, has been talking about a camper a lot in recent months.  I kept scoffing, saying that was the cheater's way to camp.  Again, my apologies if you are a cheater.  But, after this camping trip, he may have swayed me to his way of thinking and I may soon join the ranks of cheaters and parkers.  That is, if we hit the lottery jackpot and can afford a camper.

We were camping on Table Rock Lake near Branson.  This is the second time we have used the campgrounds at Baxter because they are the most well-maintained campground we have run across.  Compared to Heyburn Lake in Oklahoma, where my family reunion is held (also run by the Army Corps of Engineers), this place is like the Ritz.  It takes about five hours or so for us to drive there, so we tried to think of an interesting pastime for the kids on the way there, so we came up with some travel bingo and entertained ourselves searching for Pepsi trucks, Arkansas license plates, and helicopters.

While the weather for our camping trip was mild (amazing feat for August in the midwest), the disappointing part was that we had planned on lots of swimming and going to the water park.  When it's only in the 70s though, that may not be the best plan.  The first couple of days of the trip, the humidity was really high, so it was muggy and even if it was only in the upper 70s to low 80s, it felt much worse than that.  I felt sticky all the time.  And it rained for the first several days, so sticky and wet and dirty and stuck doing indoor (or in-tent) things.  Lovely.

I was still recovering from my surgery and was a little leery about this trip.  I tried to be positive for my family since we had been planning this trip for months, but I hadn't planned on feeling so yucky after surgery.  I was starting to feel better, so I was hoping this wouldn't be too much for me.  I sat back and let the girls and Scott put up the tents when we got there on Saturday afternoon.  After we got the necessities put up, we drove into Kimberling City and went to a pizza place that we were told has the best pizza.  They had a live band and game rooms.  While the pizza was okay, it definitely wasn't worth the bill of $70.  We took leftovers back to camp, but between having to store in an ice chest and having little way to reheat, we ended up tossing it.

We had fogged the campsite before we set anything up, we used Off lanterns, and we sprayed Off on our bodies frequently, but I was still getting bites all over my legs, which were keeping me awake at night because they were so itchy.  Scott and the kids had bites too, but I'm not sure they had as many or were as itchy because they didn't complain so much.  I was trying everything: hydrocortizone cream, antibacterial gel, and then one night I searched the internet on my phone and found a suggestion that you heat them up with a hair drier, so I tried that too.  The initial heat made them itch more, but if I persisted, the itch went away for a couple of hours.  The article I read said that it should only take two to three times of this before the itch would be gone permanently.  That didn't happen.  I itched until a few days after we got back home!

Between being tired, still not feeling 100% from after my surgery, being itchy and sticky-hot, I felt like I was a real grouch the first few days.  I was thinking about how it might have been more cost effective to have stayed in a hotel after you figure in the new camping supplies we had to buy, the food we were buying to cook at camp, and the price of the campsite.  I was lamenting the fact that I wasn't in a cool, clean, dry, comfy hotel room.

Sunday, we had planned to drive to the next town over, Lampe, where my husband's aunt and uncle have a cabin on the lake, and go to the little Baptist church there.  But, when we woke up, Kimberly (my middle daughter who is now eleven) was vomiting.  She has done this on two or three of our camping trips and I wonder why.  What is it about camping that makes her sick?  She thought she felt better and ate, but everything kept coming back up.

We finished putting up the rest of the campsite and realized that the canopy we usually bring wasn't in our stuff.  Our camping is a little elaborate.  We have a large tent for us, which includes an air mattress BED so that we aren't sleeping on the ground.  While this is nice since this campground is quite rocky and when it rains, your bed doesn't get wet, the air mattress was leaking and we had to patch it twice.  Air mattresses are not my cup of tea because they creak so loud every time you move, which, for me, is a lot and if your sleeping partner gets up or moves much, you either sink into the mattress or get launched across the tent.  But, I digress.  The kids have our old tent, which is still pretty large.  They had a queen air mattress for the girls and a twin for Billy (my eight year old).  Both were flat by morning, despite the fact that we had checked them for leaks before we left and found none.  It was a good thing we had made them bring their sleeping bags as well.  But, when it started pouring in the middle of the night, they got a little wet.  We'd all had our windows open since it had been so hot, so when it started pouring, we woke up and scrambled to close them all.  Even then, we found we had some leaks.  The kids tent was leaking at the seams and ours was somehow leaking at the ceiling even with the rain fly.  So, the rest of the night, I felt drips on my face and head.  We also have a screen tent that we put over the picnic table so when we eat, we are shielded from the sun and can zip it up and keep the flies away because they were MISERABLE.  We usually also have a "kitchen area" with a canopy over it.  My husband has a camping kitchen set up with a propane stove.  We also set up tables in that area for food prep and have Rubbermaid tubs with our cooking utensils and non-perishable food in them.  We also got a "shoe tree" to hang up to organize utensils and spices, etc.  Add in chairs and swim stuff, coolers and toys for the kids, luggage and bedding and and air compressor and the kids bikes and you realize why we have two deck boxes, multiple Rubbermaid tubs and have to carry it all on a trailer.  Oh, you laugh, but we've been known to rent a U-Haul trailer before we bought this open one.  Personally, I like the enclosed trailer better because strapping everything down can be such a royal pain and we frequently have to check the load and readjust.  Anyways, we figured out that the canopy had not be packed.  This is a problem because with all the rain in the forecast, it's hard to cook in the rain without some sort of covering.  We also needed to go shopping for the perishable food items and ice and try to find something to help Kimberly feel better.  So, we loaded up and went to West Branson to the Wal-Mart.

We always end up getting way more than we need.  Of course, the canopies aren't cheap and we figured out we hadn't packed a big pot, so had to buy one of those and some towels for drying out the inside of the tents and some Scotchgard to waterproof the tents, etc., etc., etc.  Again, I am thinking that a hotel would have been a better idea.  On the way, we had stopped at a gas station and gotten Kimberly a Gatorade and a travel dosage of Dramamine.  She took them, but threw up in the car (in a bag, we thankfully thought to bring) a couple of times.  At Wal-Mart we got her some Pedialyte and Nauzene because we couldn't find any Dramamine!

Then we went back to camp and decided to go swim in the lake to cool off.  Ouch!  The last time we were there was in April of last year, so we hadn't ever gone swimming.  The beach is completely made up of rock.  Apparently along the entire shoreline of 100 miles of Table Rock Lake, there is only one sand beach!  I have pretty tough feet because I like to go barefoot as much as possible, but these rocks were killing me.  I stayed on my flotation device the whole time and hopped up the beach to my flip flops when we were done.  They have had so much rain in the area recently that one of the campsites close to the shore was completely under water.  You could see the picnic table just above the water.  I had bought a waterproof disposable camera to use while we were swimming.  I didn't even know if they still made them, but I found one and used it.  I haven't had it developed yet--I haven't had film cameras in years!  We made dinner and had s'mores for dessert.  Well, I had a chocolate bar and graham crackers since I hate marshmallows.  Part of our days were also spent playing poker.  Yes, Scott taught the girls to play poker, using chess pawns and checkers for the "pot."  The kids also rode their bicycles a lot.  Our campsite is in the perfect spot--same one we had the last time we were there.  Our driveway was off a parking lot, so the kids could ride around there when it was crowded on the weekends, and not worry about anyone running them over.  We are also a few steps from the bathroom/showers and on the other side of us is a little playground and that's where you could find Billy most of the time.

Monday, Scott and Arrena (my twelve-year-old) and Billy went somewhere-- I can't remember where.  I started cooking brunch while they were gone (we have decided that when camping, three meals is a little too much for us, so we generally limit it to two and just have things on hand like granola bars and such if the kids are hungry besides) and Kimberly and I sat in the shade of the trees and relaxed.  I looked off in the distance and saw very dark skies and thought, "uh-oh" but I couldn't tell which way it was heading or how soon it would be to us and I didn't think to check the radar on my phone or else we would have started stowing things sooner.  When it started to rain, I screamed for Kimberly, who had to run around dragging chairs under the canopy and closing tent windows and pulling down our towels and swimsuits that were hanging up to dry.  I couldn't leave the stove or the food would have burned for sure.  I was so thankful that she hadn't gone with them.  It poured for a while and left lots of puddles, but thankfully Scotchgarding the tents helped and the water just beaded up and rolled off!  The rain was so heavy and the wind so bad that we were getting wet even under the canopy and the pancakes and bacon were getting wet too!

After they returned and we ate our somewhat soggy breakfast, we decided that if it was going to rain most of the day, we'd go into town and do some indoor things.  It's a good 45 minute drive into Branson proper.  When we got there, Scott confessed he was still hungry and we ended up going to Fuddruckers, one of my favorite burger places.  We used to have one nearby but they closed, so any time we are near one, we try to go.  The kids and I weren't that hungry, but who can pass up Fudd's?  So, we split some burgers and fries.
Then we took the kids to a surprise destination.

We had found a place called Wild World online that looked interesting.  It's sort of like an aquarium, but Scott's interest was piqued when he saw that they have a wolf exhibit, which is his favorite animal.  When I moved in four years ago, his entire house was decorated with wolves.  I've managed to contain it to mostly one room now.  Wild World also had mini golf under black lights and an arcade that was included in admission price.  Kimberly was thoroughly excited about this place!  She and Billy got to feed bull sharks and hold snakes.  She even kissed the snakes!(mom comment: ew yuck!)  We saw all kinds of marine life, alligators, even macaws and rabbits and a hedgehog.  Scott watched the wolves for a long time because they were about to feed them.  Apparently they feed them a whole frozen chicken every other day.  I had to use that opportunity to visit the bathroom...because I ate.  This is the primary reason I don't eat much anymore and especially if I know I am going to be out.  Between my IBS and the increased intestinal woe following my surgery, I have little control over when or where my bowels will start to grumble.  And when I say grumble, I mean wail like a cross between an earthquake and a thunderstorm.  The kids have been sitting with me when this grumbling starts and look up in startled shock and surprise and said, "Was that your STOMACH?!?"  And let me assure you of one thing: not only do I hate public bathrooms in general, but I REALLY hate them when the diarrhea monster hits.  Maybe guys enjoy grossing out other guys when they walk into a public bathroom, but most ladies that I know do not.  We want our private business to remain no one else's business.  Hard to do when you feel like your intestines are exploding.  Anyways, I eventually left the ladies room and returned to the wolf area in time to see the feeding and subsequent sibling rivalry of wolves trying to steal each others' chickens.  Kimberly was incredibly tickled by the petting pools.  They had little shallow pools of water with different creatures that could be touched or picked up, such as hermit crabs, starfish, stingray, and Kimberly's favorite, little sharks.  She said she could mark that off her bucket list.  Who puts petting sharks on their bucket list???  Note to self: seek counseling for Kimberly.  She also got to hold a gecko.  Scott made the comment that she was going to save us 15% or more on our car insurance.  The other day, a full two weeks or so after this, Arrena suddenly says, "OH!  I get it!  I thought he meant literally!  I thought they were having a promotion that if you hold the gecko you could save on your car insurance!"  Note to self: check Arrena for blond roots.


They played arcade games for a while, but quite a few of them were out of order.  There was an inflatable there too, so Billy and Kimberly jumped in that for a little bit.  If I had been feeling better, I would have gotten in to jump because it was empty.  Then we went over to the black light mini golf.  By that time, I think everyone was getting a little tired, so it probably wasn't as much fun as it should have been.  I'm easily amused and impressed by shiny things, so I was entertained by the glowing pictures on the wall.  We went to Wal-Mart again to get some aqua socks and some flip flops for Billy since he'd already broken his.  When we came out of Wild World, the sun was shining brightly like it hadn't rained at all.  We had been out so long, we stopped and got some dinner on the way home, rather than trying to cook at camp since it would likely be dark once we got back.  Kimberly's tummy was feeling bad again and she didn't eat much and threw up later in the night.

On the way back to the camp, Arrena started giggling.  We asked what was so funny and after she was finally able to compose herself, she said it was dumb, but she was wondering what if there was a bear in our camp when we got back.  So, we all chipped in to the story, making it even more ridiculous, such as that he was wearing my underwear and one of the bike helmets and had Kimberly's Kindle and was floating on one of our floaties in the lake.  There was more to the story that I can't reveal, though, because the conversation shifted to body hair or lack thereof of someone that we know--a very alarming turn in the conversation, and one I don't think should be shared on the internet!  Arrena then misspeaks when she says, "Great, now I am going to go to sleep on xxxxxx's nipple hair!"  We all stared at her for a second and then burst out laughing as she spluttered, "That's. not. what. I. meant!  I MEANT, I will go to sleep THINKING about that since you all were talking about it!!!"  We were nearly in tears, laughing, by the time we pulled into the campsite.  We looked for a bear wearing our clothes, but all we found was a skunk walking through our campsite.  The kids said that the bear sent him as a scout.  He took off when we arrived, but his aroma lingered for a few minutes.  The kids went to bed and we retired to our tent where Scott played games on his laptop and I struggled to get a connection on my phone to play Bingo.  I heard a thump nearby that sounded like someone getting into the kitchen tubs and I wondered who was up and digging around so I looked out the tent window and saw the skunk a few feet away, walking through our kitchen area.  Scott hit the lock on the truck key fob which makes the headlights come on and it chirps, thinking that would startle him away, but he actually went TOWARD the truck.  Scott hit the panic button, which set off the alarm on the truck and the skunk ran back toward the playground.  We figured if the bear could wear our clothes and use our floaties on the lake, the skunk could play on the playground.

Tuesday morning when we woke up, Arrena told us that a squirrel had chewed a hole in the lid of our dry goods tub.  We looked and sure enough, there were teeth marks and shreds of plastic and a good size hole where they were able to nibble on some crackers.  I had thought those tubs were pretty secure and the smell of food would not be detectable through a plastic bin.  They worked HARD to get in there.  We weren't sure that the squirrel hadn't had assistance from the skunk, but Arrena said she saw the squirrel sitting on the box, so she was convinced he had been working alone.

Pretty much all of the weekend campers had left and we were the only people in the campgrounds for most of the week.  I think there was one other camper at the other end and then towards the end of the week, people started trickling in for the weekend.  We started to wonder If Kimberly had had a tummy bug because now Arrena was throwing up.  She and her sister are vastly different when they are sick.  Kimberly will go throw up quietly and then come tell you about it.  She's very low maintenance.  Arrena, however, is the exact opposite.  She will stand there, moaning, "mommy!" instead of running to the bathroom and most of the time ends up vomiting on herself or the floor or the bed or wherever the happens to be at. She also wants you to be with her while she is getting sick.  It does not matter that you cannot do anything to help her or that you might get sick too, watching her getting sick, if you have a weak stomach (not saying that I DO, by the way....), she hangs on to you and begs like you could suddenly pull out a magic wand and make it all better.  Wow, boy, do I wish such a wand existed!  She is very high maintenance when she is sick, so she demands all your time and attention.  We had been planning to go to White Water, the water park, that day, but with her puking, we couldn't.  It rained a bit and Scott ended up going into town to an Ace Hardware to get a bug zapper since the flies were driving us batty!  I aired up the wading pool we had and filled it up and Kimberly and Billy played in it.  They wanted to go swimming in the lake, but we weren't sure what the weather was going to do and it was kind of chilly.  The wading pool was a decent compromise.  Kimberly's stomach bug must have traveled to her head because she was acting like a lunatic in the wading pool (see video at the end of this paragraph for exhibit A).  We ended up going down to the lake to swim even though it was sprinkling.  Arrena took her puke bag and laid on the picnic table by the shore and took a nap, got up and threw up, and then conversed with the groundskeeper.  Even though I know better (one of the worst sunburns I ever got was on an overcast day), I forgot to put sunscreen on any of us and we all got small sunburns.  The problem with my sunburn is that it made this mark on my forehead more pronounced.  In the last couple of months, Scott and I had noticed a brown patch on my skin between my eyebrows above the bridge of my nose.  I thought it was just an age spot, but it's very irregular in shape and quite large.  The kids started making fun of me, saying it looked like it was shaped like a cat.  I got a little self-conscious and started putting makeup on it (who wears makeup while camping?), but even that didn't mask it very well.  The sky cleared a bit and I took some sunset pictures at the beach.  Even just trekking back and forth from the beach to our campsite and vice versa, even though it wasn't that far, was wearing me out.  I was really wondering how I would do when we went to Silver Dollar City.

Mornings around the campsite are usually lazy.  I sleep so badly at night, I usually sleep in until they wake me (either intentionally or just being too loud) or when the sun starts to heat up the tent (which was not the case this trip).  We had our brunch and then moseyed into Branson to goof off.  First stop was at Dixie Stampede.  The kids love to see the horses.  One of these days I'd like to see the actual show, but since it's expensive for the five of us, we just stop at the stables and look at the horse.  There's one named Billy, which my Billy loves.  Then there's one named Janie, which is my aunt's name.  Last time we were there, mom and/or Janie were commenting on my picture about how she was a blond and how she had her rear to the camera.  Well, this time, as we approached her, she lifted her tail and peed.  I grabbed the camera, but by the time I took the picture, it was just a tiny stream.  Ha, ha!  I'm sure my mother will love that!  Then we went to Dick's Five and Dime.  It's a really cool store that has all kind of things--from collectibles to cleaning supplies and toothpaste.  It's cram-packed--tight aisles with tons of stuff--even stuff on the ceilings!  The kids enjoyed it, but Billy started in with, "I want that!" and "Ooh, can I get that?"  We went a couple of doors down to a restaurant that I can't remember the name of.  Scott had seen that they advertised apple dumplings and he wanted one.  The kids had root beer floats and I wasn't hungry, so I ordered a lemonade.  I tried a Coke that one time and my stomach really got upset.  Scott wasn't convinced that it was the Coke that upset my stomach so he wanted me to try it again, but I didn't want to until I was at home, near a bathroom.  I missed drinking Coke, but I knew it was better for me that I was drinking lots of water.  However, most restaurants don't have a variety of non-pop beverages, so I was generally drinking water and was about tired of not having anything with any flavor.  For between meals I didn't mind, but with my meals, for whatever reason, I prefer something with some flavor.  Fudd's had a fruit punch/lemonade that was really good.  This lemonade they brought me was the worst lemonade I have ever had.  It tasted like lemon flavored water--BARELY lemon flavored!  I put seven or nine packets of sugar in it and it STILL didn't taste good.  Yuck!

We had bought tickets to Silver Dollar City for that day, but since they have the policy that if you come in after three, you can come back the next day for free, we decided to do it that way.  Give me a short day first and then we would come back Friday (they were closed Thursday) and spend the whole day.  We hadn't told the kids that we were going.  As we turned down the road that leads to Silver Dollar City, it started to dawn on the girls and they were grinning.  Billy took a little longer.  He looked out the window and did a double-take and said, "What-?"  Then  he said, "What?" again.  He looked dumbfounded and said, "Are we?--  YES!!!  I always wanted to go there!"  His reaction was priceless!  I had never been to SDC before, so I was a little excited too.

We parked and rode the tram in.  As we walked through the shop, we considered the cave tour, which I think the girls and I would have enjoyed.  But we overheard them telling someone else that it was a strenuous walk with lots of stairs, so I knew I couldn't do it and neither could Scott, so we went on.  In my excitement to surprise them (and also to avoid tantrums if it didn't work out for us to go), I hadn't even thought about preparing Billy for the park ahead of time like his occupational therapist had recommended for new and overwhelming places.  It was overwhelming and Billy became grouchy very quickly.  He was thinking rides and not shows and demonstrations, so he became frustrated every time we stopped to watch a blacksmith or a candy maker.  We had to get onto him several times for his attitude and yelling at us.  There was a street performance, a skit between the Hatfields and the McCoys that everybody thought was funny.  We rode the Flooded Mine, which Billy loved because you get to "shoot" at targets along the way, like a video game.  Then we rode the train around the park so we could see everything.  Quite a line and a bit of a wait, but it was worth it.  Billy was mad at first because he didn't want to ride the train.  But, he ended up liking it because they stopped and put on a skit about a train robbery that was pretty funny, especially when the random lady from the crowd didn't answer as they'd planned and they had to ad-lib.  When we got off, we went to Half-Dollar Holler, which was nearby and a place for little kids.  Billy ran around the treehouse and rode the carousel, but he was getting really grumpy and was yelling at me, so we decided it was time to go.  It was getting close to closing time anyway, which is 6pm.  We ate dinner and went back to camp and there was the skunk, a little too close for comfort.  We'd forgotten to throw away the trash before we left and he was busily eating breakfast burritos.  I was thinking, "Too bad we don't live in Kentucky--we need Turtleman from Animal Planet to come get this thing!"  I went for the water hose because if he came near me, I was going to squirt him first!  Kimberly ran off screaming the other direction, waving her arms in the air like an idiot.  He went off toward the playground again and I went to the bathroom to change and use the facilities.  When I came back, I was face to face with him in the kitchen area--with him between me and the hose.  We'd thrown away the trash, but apparently we'd missed a chunk of burrito, so he'd come back for it.  We managed to scare him off and sent Kimberly to throw away the rest of the food.  When she came back, she saw my clothes in my arm and said she thought it was the skunk because I missed my kitties.  I guess she was thinking about the eyeglasses commercial where the lady is calling her cat to come in and a skunk follows her in.

Thursday, I would have liked to have gone to the water park, but Scott said it was too cold.  I wanted to go to the sand beach, but he said we could do that Saturday.  I grilled hamburgers for brunch and put some white chili in the crockpot, then we drove in to Branson, hoping the skunk couldn't unlock the lid of the crockpot and that if he did, he would burn his stanky self!  Scott had decided to take the kids to "Ride the Ducks."  If you have never been to Branson, you probably have no idea what this means.  A "duck" is an amphibious truck.  It started in the military in WWII.  It was called a "DUKW"  Here's why (from Wikipedia):

The designation of DUKW is not a military acronym; rather, the name comes from the model naming terminology used by GMC:
  • "D" indicated a vehicle designed in 1942,
  • "U" meant "utility",
  • "K" indicated driven front wheels,
  • "W" indicated two powered rear axles.

So, Branson has these "duck" vehicles that they drive around, giving you a tour of the area and relating some history and then they take the "duck" onto the lake and drive around for a little bit.  The kids thought this was amazing.  They give everyone a "quacker"--which is an annoying little whistle-type thing that, when blown, sounds like a duck quacking.  They tell you certain times to quack it, like at another "duck" or if we believe the captain is pulling our leg, etc.  Billy was quite annoying with his quacker and gave me a headache, but he had fun.  Each of the children on the tour was given the opportunity to come up and "drive" the "duck" on the lake and have their parent take their picture.

Friday, we were going back to Silver Dollar City.  Billy and I had a talk about how now that he knows what it's like, he should be able to handle it better.  We know it's going to be loud, crowded, and overwhelming.  He understood that he had to behave or we would have to leave.  I also brought his "fidgit kit" that his occupational terapist recommended (the one I carry has gum and paper clips in it--the one he has at school also has pipe cleaners, mints instead of gum, and a squeezy ball).  He did much better Friday.


Scott had been insisting since Wednesday that we both should get motorized vehicles.  My pastor's wife had suggested that to me too when I expressed concern that I wouldn't be able to keep up.  SDC is very hilly.  But, I didn't want to use an "old lady" vehicle.  I vehemently refused.  I wanted to do it myself.  I wanted to walk and build up some endurance.  Scott protested that while that was good, the fact that I haven't been taking in enough protein to keep my energy up and that I only recently have started to be able to take in more fluids, reducing my dehydration risk, I should take it easy and not overdo it.  He ignored my protests and proclaimed that he was renting it for me anyway.  But, he didn't.  He rented one for him and I walked.  I was very proud of myself.  We were there for about seven hours.  The last hour or two, I was completely wiped and had no energy left and I took frequent rest breaks, but I was happy that I'd been able to hang in there and walk the whole park.

First we went to the farm animal petting area.  Then we rode American Plunge, which is a log ride and we got soaked.  Scott was not too happy that we were wet the first thing (remember the temperature was still not very high), but we were making our way around the park, starting at one side.  It's hard to save all the water rides for last since they are scattered around the park.  Both of us had worn denim which takes forever to dry.  The girls then decided they wanted to ride the roller coaster Wildfire, which they did TWICE.  There was an observation deck and I was able to take some pictures.  One of the other coasters was closed, so the girls were disappointed.  We all rode Fire in the Hole which was an indoor coaster.  Billy was a little scared and hung on to me tightly, but when we were done, he said, "can we do that again?"  The line was too long to do it again though.  The kids did Riverblast and then we decided to get something to eat and some souvenir drink cups that are refillable for a low price.  

I wanted a pretzel and the kids wanted nachos and across the way was pizza that Scott wanted.  I got a little cocky with my progress with digesting food and didn't take into account that the yummy pretzel was too doughy and I should eat small bites and chew slowly.  I had gotten about three bites in when I realized it wasn't going down.  I should have gotten up then, but I thought it would eventually go down since I hadn't had any regurgitation in a while.  I drank some water, hoping that would help it go down, but I think that made it worse, pouring something else on top of the traffic jam.  By the time I realized it was coming back up, it was too late.  We were sitting in the middle of a long table and had people on both sides of us.  The rows were very close together and hard to get through.  I grabbed a wad of napkins as I stood quickly and "barfed" into them.  I felt sorry for the people around us who were trying to eat their lunch as I am stumbling past, puking.  I managed to get out of there and to a nearby trashcan where I got some more of it up.  I stood there for a minute, wiping my eyes and trying to calm down.  Kimberly brought me some more napkins and my water and asked if I was all right.  I asked a nearby janitor where the closest bathroom was because I realized it wasn't over AND I also needed to use the potty.  As I sat down on the toilet, I was relieved to find a trashcan with a sack in it next to the toilet, meant for feminine products, but which I used to evacuate the rest of the pretzel.  The whole thing took about ten minutes.  My stomach muscles were sore and my eyes felt like they were bulging from the socket and I had tears streaming down my face.  I cleaned myself up and went to find my family.  If it hadn't been for the cost of the tickets and the fact that this was our last chance in the park, I would have left then because I felt awful.  I was shaking all over and couldn't bring myself to eat any more.

We went to a Cajun music show, which was nice for me to be able to sit down.  I gave Billy some gum and a paperclip to help him remain calm while we sat and did something "boring" to him.  He did fine through most of it.  The girl on stage tried to get him to come up and dance with her, but he refused.  When it was almost over, he complained that it was too loud and hurt his ears, so we left.  We went over to the Wilson's Farm area and the girls got in line to ride the barn swing.  Billy did a little frog race game and then was "milking" a fake cow.  He was almost done and he gave one last tug and I don't know if he meant to or not, but his left leg shook a little (kind of like when you rub a dog's tummy and their leg starts kicking).  The people behind me just cracked up.  Billy looked around like he couldn't figure out what was so funny.  

The barn swing was quite amusing.  The girls' faces were hysterical and with my zoom lens I was able to capture those looks of pure terror!  The girls would have loved to have ridden the new roller coaster, Outlaw, but there was a 45 minute wait, so they decided not to.  The kids and I rode the Lost River of the Ozarks.  Scott had just dried out and didn't want to get wet again, so he took pictures.  When we came around the bend, we saw him and started waving.  At just that moment, the raft dipped on my side and I got drenched by a wave.  Perfect timing!  We went over to Geyser Gulch, which is pretty much just a kid playground.  There's water guns and fountains to play in, but they have a huge "ball pit"--the kind where you shoot foam balls at each other--and climbing areas.  Scott and I sat and instructed the girls to follow Billy around.  

When we left there, we went to the Grand Exposition area.  We ate a little bit, nachos, french fries, and such.  The kids were begging off my frozen lemonade (which was much better than the other lemonade).  By that point, I had hit a wall and didn't want to do any more.  I walked ride to ride and sat.  The rides were mostly for kids: swings, baby coaster, teacups, etc.  Billy did some and the girls did some.  Scott and Billy played a basketball game and won a basketball.  At that point we were back to where we had left off on Wednesday, and I was pretty done and it was getting closer to time for the park to close, so we started heading back to the front.  The girls had missed a coaster, Thunderation, the first day, so they rode that and then we all went to Grandpa's Mansion, which was like a fun house.  When we came out, there were stairs to go back to where we were.  I couldn't do it.  I walked around a few buildings to avoid the stairs and we left.

We had planned our meals around our activities, so that if we knew we were going to be out or tired, we would eat out, but otherwise eat at the camp.  We went to Mel's Hard Luck Diner, which has singing waiters and waitresses.  The last time we were there, we saw one of the waiters that had been a contestant on American Idol, Matt Kester.  Our waitress this time was Dana Lynn Bell.  We bought one of her CD's (hard decision which one) and one of the trio that we had heard the last time, that includes Matt Kester.  Then we walked around the Grand Village Shops to the BIG CHAIR so I could take pictures of the kids.  We came across my arch-nemesis...a squirrel!  Kimberly chased it and it ran right up the wall, two stories and onto the roof!

About a mile down the road from our campgrounds is a place called Black Oak Amphitheater.  That night they were having a concert featuring Journey and Starship!  If the kids hadn't been with us, Scott and I would have been there!  We both love Journey and Starship was the first modern rock band I ever heard.  My parents listened to oldies and country and gospel, but one time I went to a friend's house when I was in maybe fourth grade and she turned on the radio and the first song I heard was "We Built This City."  When we drove back to camp, we slowed down as we passed the amphitheater, hoping to hear some good music, but we heard nothing!!!  What gives!?  We had hoped we could fall asleep to the sounds of the concert since we were so close, but with the hills, even just a mile was too far!  Bummer!

When I woke up in the morning, Scott had a proposition.  We had planned to stay until Sunday, but the girls were whiny and wanted to go home and Scott thought it would be a good idea to let them have a day to recover before school started on Monday.  I had really wanted to visit the sand beach, but knew it would be crowded on a Saturday.  And the campgrounds were crowded--we'd had some noisy neighbors that night and some kid kept running around our campsite.  Crowded campgrounds mean that the bathrooms are harder to get access to and between my intestinal woe and the girls having been sick all week, we needed immediate access to bathrooms.  Plus, I had been tired since day one.  I hated to go home early, but I was tired, dirty, itchy, and ready, so I agreed.  We broke camp and I went to the Corner Drive In to pick up some lunch and we headed home.

While I was a die hard tent camper before, I am starting to cave to my husband's desire for a camper between bugs, heat, air mattresses, length of time it takes to set up and take down camp, rain, etc.  I'm actually voting for hotels next vacation!