So today was just another day at Wal-mart...

I didn't go to bed until almost two.  Dunno why but whatever...  When my alarm rang at eight am, I started the dryer to iron my Sunday clothes (yes I do that... Stop giving me that look...) and I promptly hopped my ass back in the bed for another hour.

Not that it did any good cause at nine am I still didn't wanna get up... but I did.

Went to church where T very nearly stole my shoes.  It's cool.  I'm used to it now.  I swear though, I am going to kidnap her and take her to the Avenue one day...

After church I wanted some McDonald's for lunch but my bank account had Wal-Mart in mind... So off we go.  By we I mean me cause I was alone.  Mommy didn't go to church today.

So outside of Wal-Mart there's a guy and he's selling pit bull puppies.  O. M. G. They were the absolute cutest puppies on earth.  I wanted one.  What I did not want to hear was a couple of old women telling the man that those beautiful puppies were mongrels that needed to be drowned because pit bulls are evil dogs.  I had to channel my inner Cindy cause I was about to tell them some things I may or may not have made up in order to shut her up but apparently my channeling powers are slow cause some other woman channeled my Cindy and cusesed those women roundly, squarely, and any other shape you wanna say.

My bad mood was made better once inside however.  I have to say right now that damn it, I looked hot today.  I did the hair, I had on the heels, I was looking like a ten plus twenty and I knew it but I digress... The best feeling is when a man in Walmart gets slapped by his woman because he's looking at you.

So in true Walmart style I was not allowed out of the store without being appalled and forays tale from the ghetto came from a Mexican child who was yelling at the woman holding his hand in the parking lot.  Now the kid could not have been more than ten if he was that.  He was telling the girl/woman to let go of him because she was a dirty cunt.  Oh yes, he said that.  It was at this point that I decided it was time to leave Walmart.

So got to mommy's and sat here and made her dinner... Chopped grilled pork chops smothered in grilled onions, yellow bell peppers and mushrooms.

Now I'm watching the end of The Blind Side.  Love that movie.  Makes me cry everytime.  Pretty soon I'm gonna go on home.

It's been a day.

I need the day to end. 

End the effing week already please...

I'm done.  Not even anti anxiety meds can help right now.

Let's recap shall we...?

Sunday morning I went to my fathers church.  Not only did he not RECOGNIZE me, when he introduced me to everyone after the service, NO ONE knew he even had a daughter.  I cannot begin to elaborate on my feelings with that.  If you know me, then you can imagine my feelings.  I have held it up well but that was the FIRST TIME I wanted to sit in a corner and cry this week.

Monday we drive into the city.  Let's say that my first act in the city was to flip off and honk at an NYPD officer... The rest of the day was awesome.  I even got to go to Coney Island and ride the legend- wait for it- ary Cyclone roller coaster.

Tuesday... Eh that was fine.  Long drive, road rage, tired as hell, hot as hell... Absolutely nothing to complain about except that we were so deep in the country that Google couldn't even find me for foursquare...
Wednesday... Six something in the morning... I hear a muffled thump and a scream.  I was wearing wax earplugs because I was sharing a room with mom and she snores.  Flew out of the bed to find my mother in the floor at the bottom of a flight of stairs.

My heart stopped.  Not quite sure its beating regularly yet.

I am about to fall apart.  I swear I am.  I just want to sit in a corner... Hell anywhere... And sob.  Between my dad not knowing me and people he ministers to not even knowing about me to watching my mother in severe pain for the last thirty six hours I need a huge hug.  Not a brief one either.  More like someone to lay down in the bed with me and hold me.  I don't want sex.  I just want to be held.

I have a feeling that since I'm more than likely not going to get held that this week is going to end with alcohol.  I don't want to drink bit I want the warm comfort.

Sigh, I... I... I have nothing.  I will find strength for my mom, but at the moment I have no damn idea where I'm going to get it from....

Starting new Meds...

Okay so update:  I went to the Psychiatrist today.  After a two hour session, She said that she doesn't think I am bi polar although they have to do more tests.  She thinks I am at the not so bad end of manic Depressive and I have a new med.  Lamictal.  Haven't looked it up but I will start it tonight.  I told her about the television in my head and how I just want it to shut off.  I don't want my story ideas to stop I just want the noise that I can't decipher to stop.  Anyway.  like I said I start tonight.  25mg for the next two weeks, then 50 for two weeks and then 100 for a week and I go back to her.  We will see.  I don't think I have ever taken this one before.  If you all notice anything online let me know because chances are I won't see it as I will be in it.  I have friends who can see me IRL and tell me if there's a change.  Sigh... that's all I got... sigh...

Hmmm..

I want to go on a cruise or go visit another country.  I feel like men from another country might just be a little more appreciative of what I have to offer than American men seem not to be.

I'm trying not to complain about it. I've made vows not to complain about it, but I can't help but do so.  American men are just so... so callous when it comes to women.  They seem to think that its okay for them to ignore someone for months on end and then pick up where they left off and its all good. 

From what I can tell, men from other countries don't have this brain deficit.  They understand that if they fuck up and miss a few steps they have to go back more steps than they missed.  That or they just really appreciate women.

What am I saying?  Hmm I don't know.  I'm still just really lonely.  And I'm tired of being lonely.  I don't want to be the one night stand.  I don't want to be the casual fling.  I want a relationship.

Sigh.  Maybe I am destined to be single and blogging forever. 

On a side note a part if me really wants to try out for the bachelor.  Lol.  They've never have a black in or one that had older kids or so many kids.  I think I would be awesome.  I seriously doubt is get a rose at all but I think it'd be awesome.

Que serà.

Okay, I'm outtie...

Today is...

One of those days where I want to sit in bed and just text people.  I don't know why.

But then, I don't know why I do a lot of things or why a log of days feel like they do.

Sigh.  Short blog.  Bleh.

Yawn...

This morning I am speaking in "yawn".  That is to say every single thing I say sounds like one big whiney yawn.  That my kids are really good at translating this is actually a huge surprise!

They have three weeks left and they seem to want to fill it with fighting.  I realize that we do this dance every year.  We get down to the final weeks before the great swap and things either go really good or really bad.  Considering that these are the boys final days with me I am not making big deals out of a lot of stuff.  He is also not trying so hard for me to kill him.  It's all working out kinda well.

Soon this will be a house full of girls.  Lord help us all.  That's all I'm going to say about that.

I really need to blog more.  I mean I have the app on my phone so I have no excuse.  I'm just lazy as help.  See? I came ul with one!  You love me.

I am super duper tired and I'm not overly sure why.  I was up and down all night long and I don't have a reason.  Eh, its Friday.  It's grey out, I'm going back to sleep.  Not that the two are mutually exclusive.

So blog.  Time for medicine.  Ttyl8r!

I think...

I should start keeping a diary of my last days with my son living in my house.  It might better help me to understand why we have the relationship I think we may end up having one day if I can go back and see all the ways that he slowly and methodically hacked away at the trust between he and I.

For awhile now he's been complaining about his lega hurting him and from the very start I asked him was he sleeping on the couch in his room.  He swore to me no, he wasn't.  Even though I could see the pillow and the blanket on the couch.  I told him whatever and told him his let's hurt because he was sleeping on the couch.  He needed to sleep on his bed.  So now weeks have gone by and his legs still hurt. I was starting to get worried because as I could see he was actually sleeping in his bed.

Or so I thought.  I went up this morning because we are still battling the not showering thing and there he was asleep on the couch.

I am nearing the end of my rope with him.  Randy keeps saying that we'll see how this year goes and maybe he'll come back but honestly, I don't want him back.  I don't want my own son back in my house once I am rid of him.  I have this feeling that once he's out things are going to run soo much smoother that I may be able to find a mental foothold and make the tv in my head stop. 

So now he's in the shower and the girls are doing recon in his room and pulling stuff out.  At the moment they have county thirty if the missing cups in there some with juice.  Potato chip bags and soda cans and bowls.

They also found ten dollars.  I asked him where this came from he said people at school pay him for things like going to get stuff for them like pencils from another room.  Either he's someone's bitch or there's more to this story.  I'm betting its the latter.  One more month...

This is the saddest part if all this has become my new mantra.  One more freaking month.

Ugh!

Today is one of those days where I pretend that it's a good day but in reality I just wanna walk out in the middle of the street and scream FUCK at the top of my lungs for as long and as loud as they will let me.

And here's the kick in the face:  There are way too many effing reasons to pinpoint why!

I mean, there's the usual.  I'm so lonely I could and usually do cry.  I mean on the nightly.  Can't relax myself with a small drink anymore because a small drink relaxes my brain into thinking that it has the right to think about the fact that not one damn person on this godforsaken planet wants me.  And I can have friends who will do the obligatory "You are pretty... No you  are!  Don't feel that way... the right guy will come along and he'll be worth the wait..." bull and it might draw a smile from me for the moment but you know what.  screw the wait.  Would it kill for just one guy to want me now?  Would it be so much to ask the cosmos to send someone, anyone, that finds me attractive enough to want to be with me?? I mean what the hell did I do that was so effed up that I have to be punished for this many years??

And then there's my issues with Kayla.  There is something off there.  I don't want to say something wrong.  It's not wrong, it's off.  I know it is.  And I'm tired of doctors blowing me off.  They have been blowing me off since she was one years old and I'm tired of it.  I get called over concerned.  I get told I'm just trying to medicate my children.  I have even been told that I have munchousin Syndrome.  I mean really?!?  All of this so that they won't simply check her.  Well no more.  They will check her.  They are going to get my baby right.

I finally have a departure date for my kids.  They will be going back with Randy the day after the Graduation at Kayla and Livy's school.  He's flying out for it and he's taking the kids back with him.  So I need to have Jovaughn packed up and ready t leave my house for good by then.  The girls just need to be packed up and ready to be gone for the summer.  Last Summer it wasn't as bad but this summer is going to be bad.  Very bad.  Last Summer I hadn't had male companionship in a long time so not having it then was no big deal to me.  All I wanted was to hang out with my friends and chill.  Then I met him and I had it for the first time in a long time and dammit I don't know if it was the fact that for the first time ever my eyes rolled back in my head on their own own or maybe because of the mere fact that it was it but I miss it.  It's like a kid who grows up not having a lot to eat all their life.  Then they go a few months and they have all they want.  Then they're forced to go back to basically nothing.  That kid is going to do it because they know deep down they can but before they remember that they can survive on barely anything they go damn near crazy first.  That's where I am.  Damn near crazy.

Dealing with my roller coaster moods is driving me crazy.  I mean honestly crazy.  My days of being able to cope with being able to call the shots on whether or not I act on getting up out of bed some days is becoming a real challenge.  The temptation to take one of my bottles of vodka and just numb myself and do whatever floats across my brain some days is way to tempting.  Listening to the voices in my head has become too much of a hassle just like shutting them up has become too much of a hassle.  Blogging to let at least one of them have a voice every now and them is too much.  It's like a effing television that some has turned the volume up to max and hidden the remote.  All the channels are playing loudly and I can't stop it.  I have stories that need to be written shouting their words at me.  I have alternate realities playing out in there to the point where sometimes, I don't know what's real and what fake.  I sometimes wake up and I'm so confused that Im in the bed I'm in because I felt so real and so safe in the dream..  Almost like this was the dream.  All of my doubts are screaming at me from another section.  While the little dwindling part of me that still trying hard to hold on to reality is screaming alternate pleas for help and shouts of something I can't make out.  Then there's my mothers voice.  The one that booms over it all telling me what to do, why I need to do it, when to do it, how to do it, where to do it, what the outcome will be, and the consequences of not doing it will be.  Liquor makes the dull, I find but isn't that the point?  The make them shut up for even a little while?  Of course when they quiet for even a little while, I'm lonely which leads back to the top of my problems.

It's getting to be too much.  And I... I don't know if I can do it much longer. 

And the sad thing is... I think the only place I can admit that out loud, is my blog.

I can honestly say

That for the first time I think I KNOW for a fact that a manic period is about to make an appearance.  If it doesn't, I will be highly surprised.

How can I say that?  Well aside from morning sickness with my pregnancies, today was the first time that being a mother made me physically sick.

Have you ever had a premonition of foreboding?  Something that says to you, do not get up?  I had that this morning.  I knew I should get up at eight, I always get up at eight on Sunday mornings.  Except for the rare Sunday mornings that I'm not going to be going to church I am always up at eight.  This morning when my alarm went off I hit the snooze.  And I kept hitting the snooze until eight thirty.  Something said.  Don't get out of bed.  I really should have listened and told the kids forget it, I will take Omi to church and to forget it.  It probably would a good idea to not go today.  I don't know why but I just had that feeling and from the moment my feet hit the floor this morning, things went from bad to catastrophic.

First off, this kids had been up since six am.  They had to take showers. This is actually nothing new for them.  I could tell that only wash ups had been taken.  Very vigorous wash-ups, but wash ups none the less.  Second.  I got up at eight thirty.  Between seven and then no cleaning of the living room, kitchen, or dining room had been done and no eating of breakfast had been done suggesting that they had not actually gotten up at six like they were supposed to.  Olivia's excuse was that after her shower, she went back to sleep.  Translation.  She just got up.  Period.  They had also not gotten their clothes for church ready.  At ten, eleven, and twelve nearly thirteen years old, by now they already now this is to be done before breakfast, yet they looked at me with blank looks.

With an hour and  half left in the morning before we left, I commenced to getting clothes and doing Olivia's hair.  her hair I had actually planned on doing this morning so there was no hitch.  The clothes took time away from what I wanted to do to her hair so instead of curls she ended up with a stank ponytail.  Straightened, but still a stank little ponytail.

Kayla then informed me that after much banging around in her room she could not find anything to wear with the pink shirt i laid out for her.  I told her to look again.  She said okay and ten minutes later when I found her in the kitchen drinking milk and watching tv I assumed she had found her skirt and put it in the dryer with the other clothes. (I am the mom who uses her dryer as an iron... sue me) I learned long ago not to actually assume anything with my kids fr too long however and actually asked her if she found something and she casually told me no... with a smile!!!!!  A freaking smile!  I kinda cracked a little then.  Told her to get upstairs and keep  looking.  Threatened with the belt.  The boy was sitting on the couch watching cartoons while the living room looked in shambles.  Told him to clean.  HE told me it was clean.  Another crack.  This one I think was the first to reach my brain because all I saw was his sketch book.

Let me explain about the boys sketchbook.  It is full of trains.  Not trains in general.  The number 6 train in New York City.  In perspective.  It's coming.  It's going.  Here it comes.  There it goes.  There it was.  Off in the distance, here it comes.  Always the same train.  Always in perspective.  Drives me insane.  different stops along the line but always the same damn train.  He wants to live with his grandmother.  So not going to happen.  His father is not a bad guy.  Randy is actually a very good guy but only because the good guy that Randy has become is because Randy made himself.  The person that his mother raised... yeah... not very many people like that guy.  That guy is a bit of an ass and a momma's boy.  I'm sorry but he is.  The Randy that exists today, I like him.  Not enough to love him, no but I like him enough to be very good friend with him.  If my boy ever lived with his gram in NYC he would be someone I disliked because she does that to people.  She's is someone I dislike.  My sister in law, I love.  She is awesome.  How she turned out so different I have no idea but... hmmm

Anyway, I saw the sketchbook and threatened to take each page and put it in the garbage disposal.  I'm so tired of the same train in perspective.  I am also tired of their things being left downstairs.  It's bad enough their rooms look like crap, must they leave my downstairs looking the same?  I barely live outside of my room because I can't stand they way they leave my outer rooms looking.  On his way up to his room I asked him if he had everything he needed for church, he said yes.  He clearly said yes. 

So ten to ten rolls around and I say get dressed. Olivia gets dressed.  Kayla gets dressed.  I get dressed.  And we're all waiting.  The boy comes to be at 10:25 with no sock and no shoes and says he can't find his other Sunday shoe.  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!  I told him he has five minutes and I quietly sit on the coffee table while he walks around the house looking for the shoe.

Now about a year ago, I built a three shelf bookcase for them to put their shoes in.  Every day/night I say to put their shoes away.  He wears his Sunday shoes one day a week.  you would think, they would would be the easiest to find but no.  Because he wears them to take out the trash, he wears them to go play, he wears them to clean out the garage.  He wears the backs down, he wears them untied, he walks on the sides of them.  He treats them like his tennis shoes.

Ad as I sat on the coffee table, all this mornings little cracks finally came together and shattered the fragile shell that I was just piecing back together after my last manic period with thankfully ended last Thursday.  And I unloaded.  I couldn't stop it. 

I remember what I said, it's not important but bloggers the worst part was I meant every word.  I'm tired of living for them.  I'm tired of being mom.  People tell me every blessed day that being a mother is a gift but at the moment I'm looking for my receipt.  I want to return them and walk out of the store with a brand new vacuum. Living for them, is killing me.  I am so busy buying snacks for them that I have nothing that I like to eat.  So busy buying food for them that I have nothing really tht I like to eat.  If I cook it, they tell me Mmmm it's so good but I open the pantry door and there it is sitting on top of the trash.  They beg me to buy stuff like Oreos and then at the first opportunity they get, they steal them instead of ask for them.  If I tell them they've had enough chicken wings and to save some for tomorrow, I look in the fridge after they've gone to bed and there's significantly more because they're nicked some and taken them up to bed.  They constantly run out of juices because on nights when they are to be having water, they are sneaking into the garage and taking lunch juices instead.  IF I say get a half a cup of water before bed, they fill it up and give me a stupid smile and say oops.  If I say clean your room, they bump and bang and pretend to clean for about thirty minutes and then swear it's clean and go outside.  Or fart around in there all day playing swearing they are cleaning.  They hang no clothes, they fold no clothes.  They lay them on the floor until they have ben walked on and trampled a sufficent amount of time for me to think that they've been worn again and wash them again.  They take my hangers into the great abyss known as th bedroom and then i never see them agsin but god forbid I go buy yet another pack of hangers and they ask for them and i say no.  Then they give me the hang dog look like I am denying the a kidney and walk away.

I can't do this anymore.  I really don't think  can.  Mother hood has no rewards that I can see.  Nothing can be worth the pain that I am going through.  Nothing...

So I've been a reasonable person...

At least in my eyes, I have...

So awhile ago I made the rough, and believe me deep down it was rough, choice to let the kids correspond with Randy's girlfriends mother (I know it sounds like I'm going all hatfield and Mccoy on you, but try to keep up) and you know what, it's going okay.  She may get a big smile on her face when they write but to tell you the truth my kids get excited because they have mail but the smile fades when they find out its from her.  Why?  Because she spends most of the letter telling them what to do and preaching at them.  I mean more than me, my mother, my father the minister and the entire church family combines. in one letter.  When they write her back they dash out like three to six lines and they're happy that they got that much.  Tonight I actually had to make them sit and start writing and they can finish in the morning but they need to make it long.  They don't want to write her and I'm kinda getting sick of the preaching.  It's getting to me now.

Also my best friend/sister's sister is on her perpetual rag again.  Out of respect for Lise, I won't put details here but let's just say that this time her man decided to include me in the body count.  I simply deleted her.  I mean it's facebook for cripes sake.  I don't have to take it so I won't.

Things with the boy are going okay for the moment.  not that I'm looking for the other shoe to go fling across the room.  I'm always on the lookout for that.  For the moment he's watching his p's and q's and realizing that when I said he was gone at the end of the year, he was really gone.  In fact I made him take the glow in the dark stars off his wall.  HE has to do a total clean out of of that room before he leaves and little by little Livy is making him understand that pretty soon it will be HER room.

So that's my life.

Nothing to report on men because one there aren't any and two I made a promise about a week ago that I won't be blogging, facebooking, or tweeting about men because it's a waste of time.

So there ya go!  Ciao Chickadees!!

Love ya!