Children are parrots...

So be careful what you say.  I know for a fact that I am guilty of not so clean language.  Okay, that's a lie.  I am guilty of some truly bad language and have been known to prove that there are dirtier mouths than drunken sailors when I'm mad.  And honestly, I never thought it was that bad.

Until I had children.

For the first few years of my kids lives... I can say that because I literally had my kids back to back to back.  '99, '00, and '01... I wasn't the mom that I should have been.  I drank, I swore, I drove like a bat out of hell (I still kinda do but they're older so the impression has been made, I'm just keeping up with the standard I set.)  I was definitely NOT Donna Reed at all.  More like... well a foul mouth teen with kids.   Come to think of it, my husband was in the navy and never there.  When he was there he fed them sugar and had an endless string of friends in and out of the house matched only by the endless string of video games.  I would have been a shoe in for Teen Mom back in the day... Too bad MTV was still actually showing music back then....

Anyway, I was not a prime example of a mom and this became abundantly clear when my children began to talk.

While driving up and down hwy 64 in Newport News Virginia I was the one that could always be counted on to be cussing out the slower drivers and trying hard to get around them.  You might remember my 'R' blog on Road rage... One day I was trapped behind the slowest of drivers.  I could not believe that this person was going just that slow.  So of course I was mad and apparently little Jojo must have sensed this because out of nowhere, he yells "Move oudda my damb way mudder fudder!" I almost stopped clean in the middle of the highway.  Needless to say I made the decision right then and there to watch my mouth around my children.

Yeah...

Next up was my big girl Kay.  We had no road rage incidents around her. (I got in a really bad car accident while pregnant with her and that really mellowed me out for a LONG time.)  So there were no sudden outbursts in the car.  No Kay chose her venue very well for her first swear.  Both Hubs and I were home and had a very religious couple over just hanging out, right?  Kay is toddling around and stubs her toes on the table.  It was a pure accident.  What does my baby do?  She looks down at her toes and then throws her head back and screams, "FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCK!"  The couple was shocked, I was shocked, R was shocked.  The problem was IDK what the couple was thinking but R kept saying that she couldn't say that and we had to discipline her but my recurring statement was that she used it right.  You can't punish a child for saying that when she had the context spot on can you?  I mean can you?  To this day I still don't know the answer to that one.  Rest assured one day I will figure out the answer and punish Kay accordingly but 13 years later, I still don't know.  The very religious couple?  Yeah they NEVER came over again.  I decided that night that even if I hurt myself, I would curb my language around my children.

Uh huh...

And just to round out the pot of bad words my kids say, we have Liv.  Again hers was in the right context so can you really punish her??  This was just after we'd gotten to SoCal and we living in Serra Mesa.  R had already gone off to Miss. to help build his ship and I was alone with all three kids so it was before the summer when I had to send the boy away so he could breathe.  I remember vividly because it was one of those moments that stays very clearly in your mind.  Livy was not too steady on her legs having only taken her first steps a couple of months before and Kay was a bit of a meanie.  Kay pushed Liv down (It was intentional, she used both hands)  Liv to her credit got right back and didn't cry but then turned around and told Kay "Fuh Doo!"

I didn't bother to make a life decision about my language then.  It just wasn't worth it.  Now as the years have passed, I don't swear as much. as I used to.  When I have a headache I don't monitor myself but mostly my Fucks have become Frick or Frack, My shits have become ish, my Damns have become dang or darn and the compound words are really funny as they pretty much come out as any matching syllable on my tongue at the moment.

So the point here is seriously watch what you say around your kids.  They are parrots and you never know when they are going to say what they've heard.  If you're lucky, it's around you and you can tell them no or stand there like an idiot a la me. but if you are unlucky, others could be the audience for what they say.  As for me, my world is doomed.  Have I already scared my kids?  Yes probably for life.  Have I scarred any other people's kids?  Not sure but probably.  Will this cycle of language continue into my years of being a grandma and scar my grand children?  Probably yes.  But like I said, I'm just keeping up with the standard I;ve already set...

Don't be a victim like me... End the swearing cycle now!

LOL.  It was almost 80 here today.  I had to roll the windows down.  Now I'm drinking ice cold Kool-aid.  Stay frosty Peeps!!

I think I'm going insane.

I'm up, I'm down, I pull myself up and I sink back down.  I walk around my house and all I do is sigh.

Just once, I would love for my emotions to be on a stable ground without having to take drastic measures.  When I say something to my doctor, she recommends counseling.  Now that would be fine if every single therapist I speak to about my moods says that my massive moods swings are because I basically live in a fantasy world.

Okay so yeah I do, I will admit that one free and clear.  I have lived in my own private fantasy world for years now.  In that world, I am loved by not only my friends; all of them all of the time.  No one takes advantage of me, no one pays attention to me ONLY when they need to vent on me or lay their problems at my feet.  No one expects me to be the stalwart little soldier who stands tall and doesn't cry that I'm expected to be in reality.  I'm not saying that I am the center of attention in that world because I'm not.  Really I never see myself as that; I never want to be that.  I've never wanted people catering to my every desire or making sure that above anything else, I had what I wanted.  That's not my style but in the happy bright world, I do have what I want and need at no expense to others.  And they have what they need at no expense to me.

Here in the real world, I'm loved, I know I am.  But it's a fractured kind of love.  My kids love me but honestly, sometimes I think if I were to drop dead tomorrow, they'd miss me but they'd be okay.  And that's crazy because isn't that what every parent wants for their child?? To know that if something happened to them that second, their kids would be able to survive?  I want that but I don't.  It's very confusing.  My mom loves me, I know she does.  I'm her only child and I have had her undivided attention for years upon years.  That's where we have a fissure though.  I'm the only.  Whereas other parents have a couple of kids and refuse to let the younger grow up, My mom has had no one to let go of therefore, no matter what I do, a piece of me is still a sixteen year old kid who doesn't know how to survive without being told what to to do, how to do it, and when or why.  I get around it.  It's reality.  I have friends who love me but that's where we have another fissure.  I have friends that love me for me.  They don't care if I'm up or down, if I'm down or out.  If I'm up, they roll for the ride and when I'm down they try like hell to make waves to get me up again.  But I also have friends who really honestly couldn't give a rats ass about me unless they need something from me.  Most notably the ones that call me to tell me about ALL the crap they are going through but when the point in the conversation is reached where they ask me if I'm okay comes up... they have to go.  Everytime.  I can't tell any of my other friends about these friends because then they tell me to drop said friends and said friends were there for me when other people weren't so really, isn't it my turn to take one for the team and listen?

Here in reality, no one loves me the way a man should love a woman.  Here in reality, I get up every day and see my kids and listen to my girls jabber about people at school and when they think I'm not in hearing range, jabber about the boys they like.  I would give my eye teeth to go back to a time as easy as elementary school.  To pass a note in class that says Do you like me? Check yes or no.

In my dream world, that guy always checks yes and no matter what we walk off into the sunset.  I don't know if we stay happy in the sunset or we date for a bit then break up and stay good friends but dammit at least he walked into the sunset with me.  At least he kissed me.  At least he gave me a chance.

My book is finally being published.  I can't tell you how over the moon I am about that.  It has literally been a lifelong dream to be published. and now it;s coming true but you know what?  As happy as I should be about that, I find that I'm worried about how it will be received.  Will people look at it in the bookstore, maybe read the back and then put it back?  Or will they read the back and think "Oh wow, this sounds awesome" and buy it, and read it, and convince others to buy it, and read it and so on and so forth?

The stress of all of that is enough to crack the shiny surface alone.  Add the other stuff and really?  Is it a wonder I prefer to live in the world where I'm a best selling author with the guy who walked into the sunset with me?

So back to the therapist/ counselor/ psychiatrist.  They insist that I live in this world but I need to come out of that world and stay here in reality and you know what? They can help with that with fruity tasting behavioral pills that make the voices go away.   They make me see this reality as the only reality

And that depresses me even more.  So they up the meds and I'm basically a puppet who laughs if the mood seems to be jovial, who is caring if that's what needed but basically silent and waiting for the cue card to tell her what the say/do/feel all the rest of times.  I don't write, I don't edit I don't even read when I do the meds and zombie out.

Does anyone else struggle with their psyche the way I do mine.  I feel like I'm in a never ending battle to stay sane and not climb a clocktower.

And if I see this damn shadow dart past me again I swear I'm going to lose my mind.  I have been seeing it for days now!

What the hell is wrong with me??

So Ancestry...

Ancestry is a funny thing.  There are people walking this Earth today that can trace their families back to roots so deep they can come up with vikings or maybe even apostles... (That would be supremely cool.  Can you imagine if someone could trace their line back and come up with an ancestor that was Jesus's younger brother??  I mean that's going on the basis that Mary and Joseph had more children.  I don't know, I never really paid attention in bible school.)  But on the same flip of the coin, there are some unfortunate people out there that might be able to go back as far as a grandmother or maybe even a great gram but not much farther than that.

I am one of those people that fall somewhere in the middle.  Now on my mother's side, we know that her fathers (Both the one that raised her and the one that is her biological; they were brothers.  Don't even try to understand) were from a family with 8 living children  Dunno how many didn't survive or were stillborn.  Aside from my biological Maternal Grandfather's children (Poppa was a rolling stone where) we know where all of their families  are more or less.  We know where My great Grandmother and Great Grandfather are from.  I think their parents (my great greats) were slaves so that's pretty much where that buck stops.  My mother's biological mother was from South Carolina.  She had brothers and sisters and they are all deceased I think.  The only other part of my knowledge about My Grandmother Grace is that she had two brother named Murray and Bubba.  I remember thinking that this was extremely funny when I was a child.  The grandmother that raised my mother (Seriously, I warned you not to try... just listen to the pretty banjos duel) I know very little about other than her mother was full blooded Native American.  I'm not worried about finding out about that side of my family however because almost literally 15+ members of that side of Facebook popped up on Facebook within a week or more of each other so if I ever need to know, I can ask any one of them.  We're tight like that.

Where I run into problems is with my fathers side of the family.  Quite literally it is nothing but a series of dead ends.

First off, no one has any idea whatsoever who my father's father is.  They said that my grandmother was a big wig around town (And a little loose) so she could not be unmarried with a baby.  From everything I was told, she went over her best friends house, had the baby, and walked away.  But not before naming him.  Again from everything I was told, she had a friend who was in the Navy who was named Kerry Wilson and he told her to give the baby his name.  Now I'm pretty sure that if this is true, the man meant just the last name.  I'm pretty sure that if the baby wasn't his (Which we don't actually know that it wasn't) he didn't mean for my grandmother to name the baby Kerry Wilson Jr.  If he was sane, I'm pretty definite that he did not mean to pull out of Lake Charles and leave a child named directly after him behind.  And maybe he did.  As far as I know, we may never know.

So there's a brick wall.  Pretty sure that brick wall may be there after even my kids grow old and die.  The other side of this very tall, very claustrophobic brick room I find myself in is that any and every single trace there ever was about my grandmother has completely disappeared.  This year will make 22 years since she passed away, I think.  They say that I went to her funeral when I was 3.  That means 22 years since I turn 35 this year.  From what we know (meaning what my father knows) she was a principal in Lake Charles, Louisiana.  Someone once told me that there was a statue of her there.

But here's the thing, The two schools that we have down that she was a principal; one no longer exists and the other said they have never had a Pharrie Mae as a principal.  I even called the Lake Charles Parish School board.  No one ever got back to me but I doubt they have her on their rolls either.  The church she supposedly went to: building is there, no one ever picks up the phone.  Not sure if they are in existence anymore.  No clue where she is burried, no clue where her house was, There are more leads in the first three seconds of a game of CLUE than there are to finding my Paternal Grandparents.

It's mind boggling.  I look like my father so the genes are definitely strong.  I have pictures of Pharrie Mae so I know that whoever the man is, my father has GOT to be a dead ringer for the man.  He does not in any way look like his mother.

This is Pharrie Mae holding me when I was a baby:

And this is my father when he was younger...:

Okay, maybe he has her cheeks but that ALL I see...

Do you have any idea how frustrating is it not to know where half of you comes from?  To think daily that somewhere out there, there may be a whole slew of people that look like you, talk like you, act like you...?  No matter what I do if they are out there, they seem to always be behind that fuzzy fuzzy screen of grey smoke and I can't reach through it to find them.

And before anyone suggests Ancestry.com, been there.  Tried that.  Total bomb.  And a complete waste of the two hundred I spent.  The first hundred being for the first month and the second hundred because I forgot to cancel the damn thing on time...

I may try again one day.  Well, no, there's no may.  I have all but decided that if I have to take a trip down to Lake Charles, Louisiana myself and search I'm going to find her.  I will search out every school, I will peruse every graveyard, and I will look at every statue.  Pharrie Mae Washington has had to have left SOME traces behind.  She cannot just wash away that cleanly.

I've had my rant for the day I guess.  I'm going to step down from my soapbox...

It's very easy to say Stay Frosty here cause it's friggen cold today so I'm going to leave you with I hope you are warm and toasty wherever you are.  Hugs!

Car care and the Noob... Among other things...

So I'm a noob at some things, I admit that free and clear but I know that most things simply require a little common sense.  If it leaks, make it stop leaking.  If it steams or smells like it;s burning, cool it down.

My grandfather had this saying that I'm pretty sure a million old people say all the time. "If it moves and shouldn't; use duct tape.  If it should move and doesn't; Wd-40."  You have no idea how much those words have helped me in the last few years of my life.  I mean I'm pretty sure that he didn't mean duct tape something so that you couldn't tell what you were fixing nor do I think he meant drown it in a can of lubricant and let it marinate but then sometime you have to go a little apeshit on stuff like that.  Or at least I do.  I'm like that.

My window washer fluid drips.  No, not drips... drains.  In the past week I have been through two huge bottles of washer fluid and I finally figured out where the leak is coming from.  Yay me!  I just have to wait for the little bit I put in to find the leak to drain so I can plug that hole and go about my business.

And while I was at it, I got tired of eyeing the clear/orangeish bottle that had the thermometer picture on it.  For days now, I have been looking at it and wondering why it looked empty.  I mentioned it to someone but they said, no it was full.  It was orange slash red.  I wasn't convinced so today, I opened that bad boy up and stuck my finger in.  Dry as a bone.  No wonder my baby smelled like she was burning up everytime I drove!!  She was.  She was gasping for a bit of coolness and I was denying her!  I mean I noticed that she went from cold to middle of the gauge rather quickly for an old car, but I stupidly (For a week) figured that if it didn't go past that little boat, I was good.  So this morning, I hit the internet (God bless whoever created the internet) and found out what anitfreeze/coolant I could put in.  Thankfully that was an easy fix.  Hopefully the burning smell will go away as my baby isn't thirsty.  I got her a gas treatment as a lollipop.  Maybe she'll forgive me.  I hope she will.  I only wish I had the lifts to drive her up on so I could see under her.

I don't want to be that girl that doesn't know anything about cars.  That got me in trouble the first time.  I saw the check engine light and I said something but no one took me seriously.  I convinced myself that I didn't know what the hell I was thinking I knew and I let it go.  The result was me stranded on the side of the highway watching as my stationwagon turned into a hatchback Yugo.  That was not fun and I told myself, never EVER again.  And I'm going to hold myself to that.  If I have to bug every mechanic I can find, I will know about my baby.  All her knocks and purrs will be a language that I will understand.

More importantly, I am going to start urging my children to learn about cars.  Someone asked me about my engine the other day and I said Shiny.  I don't want to pass that to my kids.

I'll admit, having a car is like having another child.  It's a lot of work and if you don't treat it right it will have a temper tantrum and leave you looking stupid.

But enough about my car.

Did I ever mention that I love my friends?  I really do.  Just when I've worked myself up into a dizzying frenzy over what most possibly is nothing, they come in and they prove to me that it was just that... Nothing.

Lately, and for no reason that I can ascertain, I have been having very... weird dreams.  Well not weird.  Sexual.  I guess they would be the female version of a man's wet dream?  I don't know.  I know that they have been increasingly alarming me because in them, I am doing/getting my favorite sexual act-- Cunnungulis. (I don't much like the act of sex.  It really seems like a lot of grunting, groaning and putting square pegs in round holes and such.  I probably should talk to someone medical about it, but I'm pretty sure that it stems from my rape in college.  It wasn't my first sexual experience but it was the first where I was fully cognizant of what was going on. It's just since then, I find that if I can everything... over with by the time it reaches that point, I'm much happier. Several friends tell me that just because I haven't had the right experience but not even I know how to define the right experience so...) Anyway... in the dreams, I am being--- for lack of a better word--- eaten out and everything is good until  I look down in my dream and *SHOCK* it's my ex husband.

Really truly freaking out with no hope of coming back down to Earth now right?  How can I tell someone this and they not think I still have feelings for him??  I don't have feelings for him.  Yes he was my husband but he was really more like a roommate with benefits.  It sounds cold but there was never love between us, just good sex. (Or what I think was good sex. I don't really have much to compare him to...)

So I mentioned it to my best friend and she very calmly and concisely brought me back to the ground where I need to be.  She explained that I'm in a drought so to speak and seeing my ex in my dreams is my body remembering a time when at least the physical part of me was happy.  Case closed.  It didn't mean that subconsciously I was showing feelings for my ex despite what more than a couple of people around me have said.  So I'm not freaked out now.  It's all good.  I love my friends.  If I'm a mylar balloon that floating way up high and dangerously close to popping in thin air, they are the counterweights that pull me back down to a safe flying height every time.

In other news, I was wrong when I assumed that the audiobook contract that I was sent was a mistake in whole and not meant to be sent to me.  They mean for me to be in audiobook as well as print the name of the cook was just wrong on the contract, but seeing as how it's in MS Word format, that was just a backspace and retype move I could do.  NOw I just have to sign then, get them notarized and we're all good.  I hope we are able to get started soon.  I'm really excited.  I hope people want to buy my book.

Okay, so I need to get up and get out of here.  Things to do, people to see.  I want to go to the movies.  There's a couple out there that I'd like to see.  I also need to work on that whole going to the movies alone phobia.  I always think people are looking at me thinking that I couldn't get a date or a friend to come along with me.  Stupid I know but that's me. Even when I look like I don't care what people might think about me, I do and I exaggerate... a lot.  I always do. LOL.  It's fun being me.

But not really.  Not all the time.

But when I bounce back it's awesome being me!

God I am so bipolar sometimes!

Ciao bloggies!! Stay frosty!!

This is my year...

So I'm kinda thinking that this is my year...

For years I've been sitting and minimally complaining about how I never catch a break; how I take one step forward and get pushed three steps back.  I blogged about it but on Facebook and to my friends, I rarely said how much it was bothering me that nothing was happening for me.

I realized that part of it was my fault because I wasn't doing things I could have been doing to help myself, and because it simply wasn't my turn.

It wasn't my turn to catch the so called break that I thought was long deserved and long denied.

I apologize to God for all of the whiny girl prayers I sent up.  I would have deserved it if he had smote me down.  But he didn't because he's a kind and loving father and he had a plan for me.

So, last Monday I bought a car.  I researched and researched and even watched four cars on Ebay motors for like five days before I finally threw everything I'd found out of the window and begged my mom to take me down to Rock Hill Public Auto Auction in South Carolina.  What I walked away with, or rather drove away with, was a green 2001 Volkswagen Passat Wagon...

Isn't she cute?  She has issues, but then every used car does.  But she gets me from point A to point B.  And she's all mine.

And on the heels of that, I was driving home on Tuesday and decided to check my email at a red light.  Imagine my complete surprise when I found an email offering me a new author contract!!!

I have always considered myself a writer, but now I can SAY I am.  I am going to (hopefully) be paid to write!!  And the best part is that they've only bought part one of the story.  If Part one sells well, Part two is all but written and ready to go.  I'm doing some final tweaks and then I'm going to move on to another story altogether and then back track to the daughter of the first story's story.

Honestly, right now the only thing that could possibly bring me any higher than I already am is if the guy I've been crushing on to ask me out finally.  Seriously, that's the ONLY thing that could take me all the way up.  I don't even care if it's the absolute worst date of my life, the fact that he asked me out would be the cherry on the top of my cake.

I am seriously loving life right now!!  This is my year.  I can feel it!

Words...

Words are my chosen profession;

Words are what I wield like a sword.

Words both create and destroy in my world

But words fail me when I try to speak to you.

I want to say notice me.

I want to say talk to me.

I want you to know that I think you are my knight in shining armor

But when I have the chance words run away and stupid giggles fill their place.

Why do words work that way?

Why do they run away?

And why do giggles replace them?

So here where you won't see

Here where you won't go,

Here where they'll never reach your eyes,

I can say it:

I like you.

Like you as if we were in high school.

Like you the way the band geek likes the quarterback.

Like you like that girl in the back of the room

   Who only took that seat so she could stare at you.

Please give me a chance.

Please don't pass me by.

Please ask me to the dance.

Please don't take a pass.

Words are my chosen profession.

Words create and destroy in my world.

So maybe one day my words will inspire you.

Maybe one day you'll see me trying

   And you can fill in the words that always run away...

Do not stand between a mother and her child's welfare.

...It is quite possibly the deadliest place to be...

So I haven't blogged in a while because two things have been all consuming on my mind and neither of which are things I WANT on my mind.  To that end I have been knitting and watching Downton Abbey incessantly.

But I think, perhaps, now I must blog about at least one of the things that has worn me down to a shell of my former conscious.

LAst Monday, 2/10/14, my daughter, Kayla was suspended from school for fighting.  To say I was upset is probably the understatement of the year but what will come at a shock was that I was upset at the school and not my daughter.

For four years, I have been going through this.  When my son was in Ranson, bullies picked on him and he told teachers, and I wrote letters and made calls and nothing was ever done.  My son never snapped  because he made friends with a thug that afforded him a measure of protection.  Did I like it, no?  Was I happy my son wasn't picked on anymore? Yes.  But it started again when Kayla started school.  She comes home, she talks to me, she goes to school and talks to teachers, I made calls and got sent to answering machines, I send notes that got sent to the place where notes they don't want to read go to die.  They haven't done a damn thing ever, but suddenly they want to do something the one moment that one of my children has finally had enough and snaps?

On top of this, The kids have been out of school since Tuesday afternoon.  According to the Zone Coordinator, the school day has to be in session for the suspension day to count.  With the last three days being called out, her suspension hasn't counted.  Tuesday counted as the first day but no other day has as yet counted.  If they go back to having school on Monday, which not saying anything against my fair city may not happen because they refuse to waste snow plows on the side streets that 40% of the children live on, Kayla can't go back to school until Wednesday.  IF they don't go back until Tuesday, she can't go back until Thursday.

My child is NOT going to get her 180 days and I will be damned if they try to make her go to summer school because of this.  I fired off a letter to the CMS school facebook as I don't know who runs the page but I have a feeling that they will see that it gets to the proper people.

I got a reply back from the web administrator who gave me the principal at Ransons Email. and I sent a letter off to her.  CMS is about to learn that the most dangerous place to be is between a mother and anything that concerns her child.  I may go down.  But I'm going down swinging...

The letter I sent to the principal:

I have a question and I hope that if you can't answer it, you can point me towards someone that can or forward it to whom it needs to be addressed.

My daughter was suspended last Monday from Ranson IB Middle for fighting a boy who called her, for lack of a better phrase and not to be crass, an "obese dog" if you get my meaning. Tuesday was the first day of said suspension but then there was no school Wednesday, Thursday or Today. I understand the "Rules" say that she can't now go back until next Wednesday because the school day has to be in session in order for the suspension day to count but I disagree.

For the first, as it stands, she will not get her 180 days of school. For the second, the child whom my daughter fought was given no recourse other than being taken off the bus that day for his slanderous remark towards my child. I know this for a fact because one, he lives across the street from me, I witnessed him getting on the bus in the morning, and several of the neighborhood children made it a point to come to me and tell me that he was on the bus telling everyone that the "obese dog" (again, I am trying to be tactful but please note that he was STILL calling my daughter out of her name) Got suspended for hitting him but he got nothing because he didn't fight back.

For the second, the exact same situation happened to my next door neighbors child during the first snow days we had. The days days the children missed then were the final two days of her suspension and when she went back on the very next school day, no one batted an eye.

Now I know that you cannot discuss the punishments of children not my own but I don't think that My child should have to face the possibility of summer school because she wasn't able to get her 180 days. I have spoken to the zone coordinator for Ranson and I do not think that my daughter should miss any more days. The fact is, that her problems with bullies at Ranson has gone on since 2012 and the school has done absolutely nothing about it. Whether this is by choice I don't know but I do know that my daughter has been trying to tell adults at Ranson as have I for over a year now and it is only now, when my daughter got tired of being bullied and ignored that they are choosing to do something. As I explained to Ms. Green, Since 2012 Kayla has been telling teachers to no avail, I have written notes that go wherever notes that no one wants to read in Ranson go to die. I have been put on hold when I call or given my name and number for someone to call me back and no one ever does. I understand that CMS has rules but CMS has to understand that as a mother I must look out for my child and when the place that I trust with her safety, welfare, and education for seven hours a day isn't caring whether or not she is one of the "unfortunate children who sometimes slip through the cracks" then maybe I should find a school district that will. I have the bullying and intimidation form from the handbook and have saved it for Kayla and myself to fill out, so there's no need to send it.

Also, and please understand, I am not meaning to be rude when I say this, but when you contact me, I don't need to hear CMS speak or what THEY want you to say. I want to speak to you not the rulebook. IF you aren't allowed to speak to me without quoting the student handbook, then I really don't think I can listen as I have grown up behind the scenes of a school district and know the CMS as well as other schools handbook by heart.

What I need to know is, Will my child be allowed back in school on the next school day and if she is not, who else do I bring this up with because my first inclination is to find the superintendent's office and sit there until he will see me personally. I don't like having to go straight to the top but I am fighting for my childs safety, welfare, and education none more important than the other.

If needs be Someone may call me on my home or cell phone both numbers I am putting at the bottom of this letter.

Claudette Wilson

I hope this works....

I've been Laying low for awhile...

I'm honestly stumped on a topic that starts with U besides umbrellas to do for the U blog so I'm at a stand still for the alphabet blog and then very little is going on in real life.  Last Tuesday I had four teeth removed and Wednesday, I didn't even bother to turn on my computer.  What little Facebooking I did, I did from my phone all of Wednesday.  Thursday I turned the computer on but I didn't post about my mouth.  I found about ten short of a million other things to post about.

Today I got to use my reason for plodding through the week, I got to go to Patty's!!  Yay!  I literally live for Fridays now because I get to go over there and just chill.  I don't have to be anyone else but me and me doesn't have to say a word because she knows me.  If I get over there, plop in the lounge chair and close my eyes, she doesn't want to talk about why I'm so tired, she just goes ahead and plays a game until I open my eyes.  It's awesome!  I don't have a lot of people in my real life that I can be the me that I am when I'm not trying to be someone.  And if you kept up with that you get a gold star! Good job.

I'm tired of pretending to be a million different people.  I have some friends that when I'm with them or on the phone with them I have to be the listening ear or the counselor and I have to be honest, a lot of times I want to ask whoever is telling me all of their problems did it ever occur to them that I have massive problems of my own and dumping theirs on me is just not the thing I need right now.  Most of the time I insert the 'uh huh's" and "mmm's" in when I think I'm supposed to and those particular friends don't even notice that I'm barely there.

And then there are the friends that I have to always be happy for.  I have to always have a smile on my face or a ready joke on my lips.  If I'm having a bad day, they ignore me because that's not right.  They don't have downer friends.  I think those friends are the hardest relationships that I have.

There's the face that I have to present to my ex in laws.  The one that says I'm not one of you anymore.  All but one of you made it abundantly clear when I was one of you that you didn't want me so why have you pulled me back in.  The side of me that was raised to respect my elders even when they are walking all over me with steel toed cleats on.  I have to hide the side of me that wants to tell them to stop trying to tell me how to live my life.  I made it to 35 with very little input from them and I'm pretty sure I will make to age 80 with the same amount of input.

I even have a side of me that I have to show to my ex husband.  And that is a hard side to maintain.  I was married to him for ten years.  He knows what's behind all of my faces.  He may choose not to see, but he knows.  He knows that when I'm frustrated, I cry.  He knows that when I'm sad, I intentionally make myself angry so that I have something to fight.  And he knows at what level of quiet there's something wrong and what level of quiet it's safe to ask what's wrong.

He either can't see or chooses not to see that a part of me is jealous as hell of him.  He threw me to the wayside and immediately had another woman.  When that one turned out to be batshit crazy, he had another one.  This one, in my eyes, is not only clingy needy and a general mess, she's immature and I wouldn't be surprised if she makes it to the summer, but the point is in the span of our years apart, he has never had a lack of women by his side and me... I can't find one that wants to give me the time of day.

I've liked two men since I've lived here in Charlotte.  One I slept with and later the addiction just vanished and the other I want in other ways that carnal, but I've been seriously friendzoned.  Like there doesn't seem to be a door leading out of that hellish arena AT ALL.  Can't show him the side of me that really wants him to see me as more than a friend because that side of me has a spastic condition that comes off as giggly and stuttery.

So you can see why I love going over to Patty's?  I can be me.  Not brave, not constantly funny, not even interesting.  Just Me.

Tomorrow I have to make a shit ton of confections that I will not be able to eat.  So my day will be spent screaming at my stove.  I have all my children so maybe I'll sneak in a family rock band session.

Church on Sunday and then chilling.  I might blog.  I might not.

So there you have it.  Tonight's random  thought.  Blog you later!  Stay Frosty!

I may sound offensive and insensitive... (So if you think I may offend you or I may sound like an insensitive ass, don't read)

But I have absolutely NO RESPECT for anyone that takes their own life.  In my eyes, you are a horrible coward, not very bright, and maybe the world is a better off place without you if you take your own life leaving others to mourn you and tell people that you will be remembered for all the good you've done.

No.  They can remember you for all the good you've done, I'm going to remember you as the dumbass that left people behind to cry and despair that you aren't here anymore.

And I can say that and come by those feelings honestly because once upon a time, I was the one contemplating suicide.  Once upon a time I didn't give a rats ass about who I'd be hurting if I ended it all.  And then I woke up and I realized that if I took myself away from this earth, I would be hurting three innocent children, condemning my mother to have to live without her child, and leave a whole host of other family and friends to try and remember how I had been and forget how I left.

I had an uncle that killed himself over a woman.  To be fair, that side of my family didn't have a terribly tenuous hold to their branches on the family tree (They were a little bit nuts) but still he left two children behind to mourn his loss and who were taken in by his wifes family and separated from their father's family.  To this day I have never met them nor do I know their names. Not that I definitely would have known them had their father lived because again, that side of my father's family is... well... ah... yeah... BUT there might have been an off chance.

And I HATE HATE HATE when news articles describe an actor as accidentally overdosing.  They live in the world.  They know that cocaine, heroin, and alcohol can kill them.  They know that mixing them together is a prescription for death.  No, they choose to mix/take them therefore there was no accident.  That, my dear Watson, is suicide.   Unless someone held them down, tied them up, and forcibly shot drugs into their body, they did it to themselves.  Feeling down?  Feeling like you don't matter to anyone at all?  Why go talk to someone that can maybe help you not feel that way when you can tie a rope to the ceiling and swing by the neck until you can't feel the pain anymore?  Totally a much better solution. Autoerotic asphyxiation... hmmm... let me deny my brain life giving oxygen just so that my twenty seconds of pleasure can become forty.  Never mind that I'm probably by myself and there's no one to take the belt off my throat, that forty seconds of mind blowing please is totally worth it!

Hang on, let me get a napkin, I spilled some sarcasm there.

Like I said, I've been in that dark place.  I've felt like there wasn't a damn thing or person that could make seeing the light seem possible.  I admit it, I was one of the lucky ones who had people willing to reach into the deep dark hole and pull me out but only because I was willing to let them try.

I just clicked a link to see 25 stars who were gone too soon (And of course out of disgust i closed the page and cannot find it again) but of those 25, 10 were drug overdoses, self inflicted gunshot wounds, and hangings.  The rest were truly accidents or medical.  On that list was Paul Walker.

Some might argue that he was a stunt driver he knew that by getting in that car he knew he could crash and die but seriously.  They weren't racing, they were just trying out a car so no.

And arguably, the one that pissed me off the most was Corey Monteith.  He died in a hotel room from a combination of heroin and alcohol.  He stuck the needle in his arm, he put the bottle to his lips.  The very same combination has killed so many actors it's almost an overdone way of dying. (So yesterday! As if!)  So why in God's name are people still mourning this dumbass?  Why is everyone remembering what an awesome actor he was (I have seen several of his episodes of Glee I am going to hold any comment I have about that) and what a great person he was.  Hello!!! He made the choice to take himself away from all of you! He is the reason you are sad!

Crap, let me wipe up my disdain.

If I had taken my own life all those years ago, do you think my mom would spend her life crying about what a good person I had been?  She might have for the first couple of years, but knowing my mom, she would have been angry as hell that I was selfish enough to do whatever I would have done to end my life (It was pills by the way).

I'm pretty sure normal, sane people aren't as cold and insensitive as I am when it comes to stuff like this.  I'm sure that someone somewhere is calling me a grinch and waiting for my heart to grow two sizes too big right now, but to me this is common sense.  I'm not going to sit and cry myself dry and wear mourning colors over someone that was selfish enough to take themselves away and not care about anyone else's pain.

I just don't see it.  I just don't.

SNOWMAGGEDON!!!!

For the life of me, I will never understand why people like snow.  Sure, it's pretty to look at but here's the thing, after you're finished looking at it, you have to live in it.  And by live in it, I mean you are either forced to go out in it or it is forcing you to stay in your house.

Let me show you something:  This was Feb. 16, 2013 here in Charlotte... 

 and when it finished maybe three hours later all we had was this: 

 and people look at me funny when I scoff because THIS:

was Feb. 2010 in New Jersey and that was about three days after the plows came through.  JUst to show you that Charlotte snow means absolutely bupkiss to me, watch this:  

I'll give you a minute to stop laughing.  In all seriousness that is what I am used to dealing with in the wintertime and that particular day, I left my house as normal to go to work and three quarters of the way to the bus stop, my boss called and said that they had closed the store.  When I called her an hour earlier BEFORE I went out in that mess, she said the store was still open (we later got in a fight as to why I left my house with the weather the way it was.  She denied ever telling me that I should start out and if I didn't get to work my job would be in jeopardy from the beginning, she swears to this day up and down that she told me to stay home and wait and that if they kept the store open and I was late it would be fine...)

And one would think that I dislike snow based on the fact that if on the the off chance we get enough of it, I am trapped inside with my kids but it has nothing to do with that.  I have no problem being in the house with my kids, they ignore me anyways.

I've always equated cold snowy days with sitting in front of a fireplace (Or a tv with a fire on it) snuggling with someone and my kids have passed the "let's snuggle on the couch and watch the snow" phase, they're more into the "Yes! School is closed so I'm going to play xbox all night" phase.  And my love of sitting with a hot cup of cocoa and watching it fall died too I guess.  I wish I still felt the same excitement I felt as a kids for snow but sadly, I don't.