Friday, September 28, 2007


In about two weeks, I'll be sunning myself on the deck of a ship in Bajas. Ah lovely!! Can't wait. I have been going out and getting things I need for the trip. Well not "need" but like. A few new bathing suits, cover ups... can't find a wide brimmed hat because I waited too long and now everything is made of wool. I refuse to wear a fedora. I'm not Britney Spears, and will not be getting out of my car with my hat and without underwear in the elementary school parking lot. Call it tact if you like. So I'm feeling pretty good that I have everything I need for my trip.

But then I realized I have a LOT to do before I go. My mom was gracious to come to take care of the kids for me. But this also means getting a lot of stuff organized before she gets here. That requires making a zillion lists of things she needs to know about. Doctors, school info, routines... My mom will have to drive the twins to and from school; and she has no clue where that is. She'll have to deal with the therapists that will be here in the mornings. Any play dates will have to be re-scheduled and I have to call to cancel the ballet class. I'm not going to subject my mom to watching little girls running around like cannibals in pink tutus.

Did I mention I'm glad to get away from all of it?

My trip also involves cleaning my house like I have OCD. Because my mom won't tell me something isn't clean, she'll just clean it and tell me about it later. "I cleaned the drain in your shower... did you realize how much hair was in there?" Thanks mom. I was actually saving that to make Jarrett's uncle a hair piece. Honestly my shower hair would look much better than what he has now. "I cleaned your freezer, did you realize you have three racks of freezer-burnt ribs in there?" Thanks mom. I was saving those for the next time my inlaws were out. I actually am more anal about a clean house around my mother than his. Maybe because she tells me my sister's house is a disaster zone. She was at my sister's taking care of her kids while they went on their honeymoon. I can only imagine how her house looked when she got back. Immaculate, shiny and notably commented on. I could only imagine the comments in reverse.

So last night Jarrett asked me if I started on the prep work for mom's visit. I told him not yet, I'm too lazy. He smiles and asked me what I was planning on doing about my bedside drawer. I looked at him confused and said, "What do you mean?" He laughed and said, "Maybe you should open it". Low and behold I realize what he's getting at. I have a sort of *ahem" collection of items we have for getting down and funky in the bedroom. Not the sort of thing you want you mother to happen to come across in her cleaning snoopiness. Could you imagine? "I cleaned out your bedside table and organized all your sex toys. Oh and your lube is getting close to it's expiration date." Thanks mom. I think I could possibly die. I mean there are things that shouldn't be known between mom and daughter. I'm thinking this is one of them. I looked at my husband lovingly and said, "Why darling, I'll just put it in YOUR bedside table". He laughed, stopped and asked me if I was serious. We then discussed where to harbor all the evidence that I do indeed have sex. (I don't know why this should matter. I'm 31, married and pay my own mortgage). We figured the big box in the basement should do it. OH that sounded bad. We don't actually require a big box, it wouldn't be full believe me. I just don't have very small boxes laying around. LOL yah that's it.

Then again... if I leave things as they are this may be the answer I'm looking for. It may just stop the incessant digging around my drawers wouldn't it? My mother ribbed me for the underwear I have. I guess she expected full bottomed Fruit of the Loom or something. Instead she found the spectrum rainbow of thongs. By the way, it's a little creepy when you come home from picking up some groceries and your mom is folding your thongs on the kitchen table. "Just saw that you had some laundry in the dryer to be folded. How can these be comfortable". Thanks mom. Seriously though, I have to re-locate the stuff. I can't have mom going into cardiac arrest with my children in the house.

So do any of you have a funny story of the time you didn't think of what you had lingering in your bedside table and it was accidentally happened upon? C'mon admit it for those that have. After all, we are all adults here ;)

Thursday, September 27, 2007


How do I start this post today? Some of you may think I'm about to eat some serious crow. That's cool - I'll try to not get feathers on you. Some of you may laugh at my hypocritical nature. That's cool too. The world loves to prove a hypocrite wrong. My mom is about to get the phone call of her life, and feel extremely victorious. You gotta give your mom the upper hand sometimes. That perhaps is worse than writing this post. However, I will fill you in on why today's posting is the exact polar opposite of yesterday (in a sense).

As you all know, I bought the Jenny McCarthy book "Louder Than Words: A Mother's Journey in Healing Autism". Mostly because my mom was harassing me about it after she watched Jenny on The View yesterday. I think that my latter post was more about my feeling attacked by my mom (in a non-confrontational way). In essence, I felt like she was telling me I wasn't doing enough for Kierra. It's hard to have people telling you, "You could do so much more". It makes a parent feel negligent - basically not a very good parent. I don't believe this is true about me. I think I've fought hard to get her to the point she's at today. But I think deep down inside I have lost a little of my drive. I am not the same woman I used to be by any means. Anyone that knows me will tell you that since Kierra was diagnosed, the spirit that was all about me has faded out a lot. People don't really recognize the humbled out me. The me that is not quite as quirky or silly. The me that sits there more often serious and not smiling. Maybe that's why my mom saw something I haven't, or have refused to see for myself. That I gave up even though I didn't realize I had. More accurately, I've given up in finding the a miracle. This doesn't mean I have found it. But I think I have found my hope again. Isn't that just as important?

After reading the book in it's entirely yesterday (yeah that's right), I put it down on my coffee table and stared at the wall for probably a good 10 minutes. I realized my eyes were burning, because I spent the entire day off and on crying my eyes out reading the words on the pages. It was like ripping open old wounds I thought had long healed. Maybe that's what I needed again. Not to re-hash coping and accepting Kierra's autism, but to find the enthusiasm I had to do whatever I had to do to help my child. Jenny McCarthy didn't sell me on any idea in particular. She didn't make me think there is a cure for autism. But she did show me that there are two kinds of parents of autism: those that wallowed in their "woo is me, my life will never be the same" and the parents who would move Heaven and earth to do whatever it took to help their kid. Even if it meant going down more than one avenue that turned up absolutely nothing. Better to venture into the dead end and learn something, than to never take the journey in the first place. I know I've become the parent that lost her way.

Two years ago, before I moved here, my family pediatrician wasn't much help. I had to fight for Kierra's evaluation. I had to fight to get a referral for a second opinion. I was spending countless hours on the internet looking for ANYTHING that might help Kierra. I bought book after book, searching for something. Something I have long ago stopped doing. It was then I had found this diagnostic lab that would test your child for toxicities, allergies and do a metabolic series on them. It was specific to the autistic child. Unfortunately my doctor had never heard of it, and it required going to an independent lab and sending blood work to this place over the internet. I wasn't sure about it because I thought it could just be a hoax to extort money from parents desperate for answers. I asked Kierra's neurologist about it, and he also didn't recommend it. He had never heard of this being part of treating autism.

While reading the book, I re-discovered this process. It's called DAN or Defeat Autism Now. I realized last year that I spoke to another mom in the park about this technique. She had claimed she took her son to this doctor and that he had done these tests, made some life-style changes, and how he was functioning better. At first, I didn't buy her whole story. If there was a cure-all out there, why wouldn't all parents of autism know about it? She had told me the doctor's name, and ran to her car to write his name on a piece of paper. I put it in the pocket of my jacket and left it there. Then last month, I had talked to Kierra's psychologist and she was saying I should really find a doctor here that specializes in autism. I agreed and she told me about this doctor that a lot of her clients have been going to. Low and behold, same doctor as the one written on the piece of paper in my jacket pocket. I decided to google him, and read the information on his website.

I read about the naturalistic approach he took to treating autism. He wasn't about putting children on anti-psychotics or anti-depressants. He did a series of blood tests to look for toxicities in the body, allergies that could be causing issues, and looking at the body for mineral and vitamin deficiencies. The same approach I had found on the internet two years ago. For some reason I didn't want to dismiss this. I wanted to look more into it because I had Jenny's words ringing in my head "your child is worth trying for". So I sat down and sent an email to him, explaining my situation. I already knew he had a long waiting list, but I figured at least I could get more information about it, not fully expecting anything.

Last night Dr. K called us himself. He spent ten minutes on the phone with Jarrett asking questions about Kierra. He asked if we could come in this Saturday morning, as he had a last minute cancellation. We were stunned. I couldn't believe in the course of a day, I could go from being the hugest pessimist to all of a sudden talking to a doctor about looking into testing for Kierra. I saw a grin on Jarrett's face I haven't seen in such a long time. It was hope. Hope he long abandoned also. Last night in bed, we started to talk about it, and he told me, "You know, it may not be the answer we are looking for. It may never turn up anything that will help Kierra. But how can you blame us for wanting to at least try?" And he was absolutely right. My baby is worth all the disappointments I may face barking up the wrong tree. But more, my baby is worth trying and possibly finding something that helps her make strides in this world.

Nothing has ever been gained from giving up. I realized that doing this is like giving up on Kierra. I would never want to do this; intentional or not. True I have been an advocate in having her therapies in place, making sure she got what she needed. I thought this was the most I could ever really do. As long as she had her services, then I was doing a good job. And who do I have to thank for reminding me? Jenny McCarthy. She made me realize that sometimes it hard to stay strong, and even if we loose our way sometimes, it is never too late to fight for what's important to us. Our children.

Wednesday, September 26, 2007


So apparently all of life’s answers are obtainable in the course of watching one program on television. Am I being sarcastic? Well duh But in some minds, it’s entirely conceivable to think that listening to one person’s experiences with their autistic child is easily transferred into my life.

My mom called me frantically yesterday morning to tell me that Jenny McCarthy was going to be on The View, and talking about how she overcame her son’s autism. I am familiar with Jenny’s story, and had caught the last ten minutes of her and Holly Robinson-Peete talking about their autistic children on Oprah last week. Actually, that segment interested me a lot, but unfortunately I was on the tarmac and they turned the satellite system off so we could get our plane in the air. By the time they turned it back on, it was Dr. Phil talking about plane etiquette (how ironic).

Later in the afternoon, my mom called me to see if I watched The View. I told her no, actually I had been busy all afternoon, and it slipped my mind (Actually, I can’t stand The View. They never shut up long enough to let anyone actually talk. I mean why bother having a guest on the show if you’re going to cut them off every 1/8 of a second?) So of course mom gave me the verbal play-by-play of the show. How Jenny first realized her son had something wrong with him (... just like Kierra you know... the way she arched her back and tip-toe walked), and how no one would believe her (... just like when you pushed your pediatrician to evaluate her even though he didn’t want to). Typical mom-daughter-television show transference. I mean my mom means well - don’t get me wrong. She’s only trying to help. I just listened to what she had to say. Then mom tells me Kierra should go for blood tests, and that I need to get her on a special diet because Jenny McCarthy’s kid was cured once she put him on these special anti-fungal medications and took all the gluten out of his diet.

Enter exasperated daughter’s sigh. Do people really think I’ve never read about any of these theories pertaining to autism? That if I thought there was a cure-all out there for autism, I wouldn’t have done it by now? How do you explain to someone who just wants to help that it’s all fine and dandy but my kid isn’t Jenny McCarthy’s kid? I told her gently that there is no “cure” for autism. You can manage the symptoms of it, but it never “goes away”. Mom insisted I go out and buy her book though, because if I read it, then I could decide for myself. Granted - I am always interested in people’s takes on autism, and what they have learned from their own journeys. But I’m far past the idea that reading a book is going to fix my kid. Come to my house and see my collection of books on the subject. I once too thought I could find the answers if I just looked hard enough. They I came to the conclusion that if highly-educated scientists can’t figure it out, what chance in hell do I have? I’ve come to terms with it a long time ago. This doesn’t imply I’m above not learning more. I don’t have all the answers, but then again, neither does Jenny McCarthy. She knows her son. She doesn’t know my daughter. She IS a strong advocate for her child. All things aside, this is the most important role she’ll ever play in her child’s life.

Still... I went out last night and bought the damn book. It’s not so much I’m hoping to find the magic answer in there. I think it’s more looking for a connection to another mom out there sharing her story with the world. Maybe to know that it doesn’t matter how famous you are, how much money you make - this is something that can affect anyone out there. I’m a firm believer that it’s only fact if it’s proven. I think I lost the optimistic me three years ago - once I immersed myself in the reality of what I needed to do to help my daughter now. Or maybe there really is still a part of me left in there that is holding out that impossible hope? How else do you explain this book sitting on my bedside table?

I honestly commend Jenny McCarthy, or anyone else for that matter, that openly speaks about how autism affects their life. I think awareness can only accomplish positive things. And for those out there that find that spark of hope out there in another person’s words - hang onto it. For really, in the impossibilities of every dream - at some point it was recognized as a reality.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007


You know what I don't get? Childless people that get offended when you talk about children. Procreation is a fact of life people, whether you like it or not. You know what I also don't get? People that think of their dogs AS children. Before I get some pet advocates jumping down my throat let me elaborate my point. I TOTALLY get that pets are loved and cherished. They are always loyal and always there for you. But I've had pets and children - and I'm sorry to say it: my dog never held a candle to the love I felt for my babies. Not saying this means I didn't love my dog. Of course I did!!! He was most probably the best companion we could have ever asked for. But before I had kids (and just had the dog), I certainly never tried to compare my bond with the dog, as the same bond someone had with their newborn baby. And I certainly didn't get bent out of shape when people discussed their children in front of me.

Wonder where I am going with this. Wellllllll, you know it's coming!

I went to a birthday party for a friend of ours. She is currently pregnant with her third child, due next month. There were other acquaintances at this party, some we are also friends with, and some not so much. One person in particular, is a non-mutual friend, and would be the childless person in question. So of course, the hostess being pregnant and all, we were discussing birth and things she was starting to think about in terms of having the baby. Very logical topic I would say. Well every time we'd talk, all of a sudden this childless woman would interject with something about her dog. At first I just thought, ok, maybe she's feeling left out of the conversation. So we turned the topic to dog shows, breeds of dogs... and I might add she's also a vet. Anyways, we discussed dogs for a LONG time - long enough that I think that it's safe to return to the original baby discussion. You can tell she's getting annoyed by it. Rolling eyes, closing of eyes like she's being tortured with a potato peeler - seriously I was about to ask her if she was having a seizure.

So onto the dessert - I'm sitting there eating and the hostess's husband asks me about my epidurals I've had, since his wife has never had one. We're discussing it, and all of a sudden, I swear to God, childless woman shouts out, "I had to cut a cancerous toe off of a dog today. It was so gross!" I think every person in the room stopped their forks mid-mouth and just gaped at her. She's smiling away, because she has our attention (albeit by the grossest means necessary). I instantly get it - she's a major attention whore. Delighted in the fact she has everyone's undivided attention, she then goes on to tell us how she just snapped it off, lickity split. OK, well I don't really want to eat my dessert now. I'm totally disturbed by this mental image of some poor dogs diseased digits. I'm also wondering how she could think this was a good topic to discuss? I mean seriously, people are eating and you start to talk about rotten old dog toes. And for the rest of the night, this was how conversations went. Topic of interest - interjection about her dog - we talk about her dog. Any time I even brought up the kids, her eyes started to roll around her head like Cookie Monster. I'm assuming she'd prefer a dog biscuit though over an Oreo.

At the end of the night, we all gathered at the door, and politely said happy birthday, gave hugs, and looked outside at the pouring rain wondering if it would momentarily stop long enough to dash out. Jarrett said it was time to get home, because we had a babysitter. Childless woman states, "I'm so glad I never have to deal with that! I have my dogs!" OMG seriously!! You have your dogs! Does she realize that she sounds as ludicrous as some deranged cat-lady? Is she going to start wearing her housecoat every day? We get it - you don't want kids... you like to only have dogs! At this point, I'd rather be hit by lightening than sit in the foyer with this crazy person a moment longer!

Now my psychological theory will be presented shortly. Because let's face it, there is a reason for everything a person does. Things are never as simple as saying "I just like dogs". I'm pretty sure she's a little jealous over the fact that A) she's not in a relationship, B) she's not that young anymore, and C) all her friends are married with children now. It wouldn't be a stretch to assume that she wishes she was involved in A, B and C. However, she could just really hate kids and love being a dog owner.

My conclusion is this: not everyone wants the same things in life. Not everyone achieves the same goals in life. It has never been in my nature to sit there and condemn other people who have different interests than myself. I get that not everyone is maternal. Hell, not everyone is an animal lover. In these cases, it's probably best to not bring children into this world or own a chinchilla. But I will tell you this - you will never find me inappropriately talking about gross things about my children to sway the conversation in my favor. As for cancer dog toe lady, one thing can be said. She really likes her dog.

Monday, September 24, 2007



It's amazing how life can be time-consuming huh? By the time I have time to sit down and write something, my mind is drawing a complete blank as to what I should write about. So I'll backtrack a bit - because I tend to do this when I haven't written in a bit.

To back up, my sister's wedding was interesting. As I mentioned before, it was a dry wedding so NO booze. It was Christian music only, so it's not like I was dancing my sober ass off to Sexyback. But, to be fair, it closed down really early. How could you expect it not to? I still wasn't a part of anything, other than the wife of the MC and the sister of the bride. But to be fair, the day wasn't about me.

The ceremony itself was nice. My sister looked awesome, and I'm very happy for them. Actually cried when she walked down the isle. His family is a bunch of cracker jacks - simply put. They acted like our side of the family was a bunch of heathens. Not sure why. His sisters are control freaks from hell, operating under the "holier than thou" premise. They were like gangsters controlling the ceremony programs. A lovely pair those two. His parents weren't much better. Funny story, I went through the receiving line and when I got to his dad, he asks me, "so who are you here for?" I kind of looked at him confused by his tone of voice, and said, "R is my sister." He LITERALLY looked at my chest, and dragged my hand away to get me out of the line!! I couldn't believe it!! I was only wearing a spaghetti strap style dress that came at my knee level. Nothing slutty about it. However, I guess if you compare it to everyone else's dresses... Just because I didn't have my collar buttoned to my eyebrows? I immediately felt embarrassed and pissed off - and wanted to go home. My brother, his fiancee, my best friend, my husband - all assured me I didn't look like a hooker. But for fun, for the rest of the night, everyone referred to me as the family tart. We still all managed to be the crude people we are. We figured if we are all going to hell, might as well go there being happy!

After dinner, a bunch of us went to the hotel bar and bought our "own" drinks. We couldn't handle it anymore - the sanctimonious attitude. I mean Jesus turned water into wine. At church, we drink the blood of Christ (a.k.a. wine). I'm thinking it's probably ok by Jesus to enjoy a sip or two. As such, we sat down and the guys watched the football game. We ended up missing the first dance actually (that's fine), and the bouquet toss (I can't catch it anyways, I'm married remember?) and the garter toss (I don't have a penis so I'm not eligible for this event either). At some point in the night, the wedding in the next banquet hall had turmoil. One of their bridesmaids collapsed and was being intubated in the hotel lobby. Pretty serious situation. While paramedics were there and all, I left them be in spite of my wound. I danced with my brother who seriously hurt my shoulder spinning me around, and he cut my foot up stepping on it. Cut to the point of blood. I'm serious - cut it up. Does he have razor blades in the soles of his shoes? I have a huge gouge in the top of my foot. I wasn't the only one. Both my nieces had bleeding blisters from the shoes their mom made them wear. All kids left the hotel without shoes and crying.

Once the wedding let out, around 11:30pm - we all went back to mom and dads. The true high-light of the night was when my grandma came downstairs and someone said, "Here's grandma" and she went to do this fancy bow - and let us this huge, greasy fart! At first no one said anything, until my lovely nephew started to crack up. We all couldn't help it - we started to laugh too. I shared my traumatizing "tit stare" story again with the family because let's face it - it was rude. And while this is the important point, I still have a few interesting facts that I have learned:

A) Just because you are religious, doesn't mean you can treat people like crap because (be honest old man), you are a man, and you were checking out my rack and got caught. Don't act like an asshole because you felt guilty looking at the Jezebel relative of your daughter-in-law.

B) My family still has their issues, especially uncles who can't let things go from when I was 17 years old (please get over it sir). I told you that you were stupid over 15 years ago. I was a teenager - we say this stuff!! Could you stop bringing it up at every family function? It's getting old.

C) Never buy Kierra a dress with hand-stitched beading, unless you don't care that she spends the evening plucking them off. She doesn't acknowledge you spent a ton on it, or that her mother can't fix it because she's totally incapable of even sewing a button on.

D) Don't dance with my brother - unless you have good insurance. Cut it up - I'm serious!

E) Don't stand behind Grandma unless you have a sinus infection, or are doing a Jackass-like skit. Old people fart a lot and usually don't care too much. They figure they've been alive this long; it's their God-given right to fart whenever they feel like it (although I think sometimes they don't even know they are going to, or have done it).

Have a great day!

Wednesday, September 12, 2007


I'm off to my sister's wedding. Well not right now actually. Later tonight. We are flying out at 8:00 pm tonight. Which reminds me... smack husband who doesn't know better than to book flights 1/2 hour after their kids bedtime, and that arrives in destination around 11:00 pm. HMMMMMMM doesn't this sound like a recipe for disaster people?

Yesterday, in preparation for the event, I went and bought the girls purple fru-fru dresses. They are totally cute. My husband, who is MC'ing the event STILL hasn't written the speech. However, in his defense, the man makes presentations almost every day to executives. I think he can handle a wedding. Call me crazy.

I am still SICK!!! The past two days were miserable. I thought you know, in three days time I'd feel MUCH better. I'm even taking that enchanacia stuff that is supposed to cut your cold down substantially. Either it doesn't work, or if I hadn't taken it, I'd be dead by now. This morning I woke up totally unable to breathe through my nose, my ears are all plugged up and now it seems to be settled into my chest. NICE!! Flying with headcold? GREAT! My eardrums should implode somewhere on landing. If you hear a shrill scream from a country away, that'd be me. We are going to the doctor this morning. Only because this was the earliest we could get in. Sigh - I highly doubt any medication he gives me will be helpful for this evening.

Anyways, I still have packing to do so I should get a move on. For those of you noticing I haven't been a really good blogger lately - yeah I know. I suck. You can say it. Things have just been nuts lately so it's hard to sit down and just type out a few words. I will try to be better.

See you next week!

Sunday, September 09, 2007


OK so maybe not worlds... but situations that don't mix well. When those collide, you darn well know you are in for a day of hurting. I hurt... I hurt!

Yesterday, our friend Alana had a birthday and to celebrate, we had a Tiki party. Which meant dressing up all crazy, and drinking a lot of tropical drinks. This was fine. I showed up in the most "island" shirt I could find - which wasn't the greatest but eh - good enough. I did my hair up with a bunch of red flowers in the back - I figured this counteracted the awful shirt I was wearing. Throughout the course the evening, I had 5 margaritas (whoops lost count there) and something else that was pink and fruity. I wasn't drunk by any means, just feeling happy - and went home around 12:30. I should say I had a fabulous time, even though several of my friends were quite inebriated. One friend's husband asked to sniff the fake flowers in my hair - he was so pissed he wasn't sure if they were real or not. Another guy basically ousted his sex life as being dull with his wife. Ooopsy there fella - you sure aren't getting any for sure now! There are a lot more interesting quips I won't bother to share. Mostly because you never know who might be reading this, and what they may or may not remember from the night before.

This morning, I wake up feeling slightly hanging, but nothing major but also with a headcold. Now you put a minor hanger and a cold together, you know you are going to feel like complete and utter crap. Being on Dayquil - it doesn't make the hangover feel better. All I could think today is I can't wait for night so I can sleep. I think life would be a whole lot better if I could breathe out of my left nostril right about now. Plus Kierra is being a major PITA today - you'd think she'd been the one drinking last night. I'd hate to see her the day she turns legal.

So here's a lesson to all: Unless you are taking multi-vitamins religiously, are in wonderful health, and can hold your liquor better than me - I wouldn't attempt what I did in the last 48 hours!

Saturday, September 08, 2007


I absent-mindedly remembered (or forgot to remember) that I started to tell you about my run-in with the twins school earlier this week. BAD ME!!! I suppose for those of you left wondering, I should fill you in.

Tuesday, the twins had their staggered entry day. This seemed to go fine. Kierra had a few minor meltdowns but the teacher assured me it was fine and to be expected. Later that day, I get a call from the principal telling me that they might have to move the twins to the morning kindy class. Apparently there are 3 high needs kids in this class, and they didn't fully realize that one of the children were more high needs than they actually were. I tell her no we can't move to the morning, because Kierra has specialized services (in-home therapy) in the mornings. This can't be moved, and we had discussed this in April when I registered them for Kindy. She says ok that's right, and that's the end of it.

Or so I thought....

The next day (the day before school officially starts) I get a phone call in the morning from the principal again. She tells me she's sorry, but the twins will HAVE to move to the morning class. I tell her no, they can't. She says she realizes the problem it poses but there is nothing they can do about it! I'm furious!! How do they expect me to respond to this? I ask them why another child can't be moved, and she replies "there are reasons". Oh how stupid of me! REASONS!! Do any of them surmount to their children being forced out of therapy? Most likely not!!! I tell her it's not in the best interests for Kierra to loose therapy services. Her therapist can't simply switch from the morning to the afternoon! Again sorry.

I hang up and start to flip out! I mean fully flip out! I call Jarrett and the moment he answers I start to bawl incoherently to him about the situation. I'm not sure if it took the third time of my explanation before he understood what I was exactly saying. Of course this pisses him off! Then the principal calls back on the other line saying, "Just wait, we're trying to sort this out. Go relax and have a coffee until we get back to you." EXCUSE ME! Don't tell me to relax!!!

Now I call the foundation Kierra gets her in-home services from. They tell me that my therapist would have to be pulled (as of the next day), and they would have to re-assign someone else, WHICH COULD TAKE UP TO TWO MONTHS!! So my kid would have NO therapy for TWO months! I didn't think the situation could possibly get worse until I was told she would probably have to be re-assigned a new speech therapist, occupational therapist and psychologist!

Fully expecting to go to the school that day, and reeming the principal a new one, I make arrangements to have someone watch the girls for a few hours. A fresh headache is coming on and I'm popping motrin like M&M's. Finally the principal calls me and tells me that they moved another student (bully for you!), and that the twins can remain in the afternoon class........ for now! I say what does FOR NOW mean? Apparently if it's still a problem, they reserve the right to pull them out of that class and put them in another. OMG are you serious? Part of me is happy that this isn't going to mess everything up, the other part of me feels sick thinking I'm going to have to re-live this moment again!

Fast forward two days. Everything seems fine. The twins are enjoying their new class. Last night around 8pm, I get a call from who? The principal. She just wants to comment me on this short story I wrote and distributed to the teacher about being friends with someone with Autism. I had a copy for every child/parent with my information if they wanted to discuss it more. First off, I don't think kuddos are necessary. She's my kid, and as such, I do this because I'm trying to develop a good relationship from the get-go with Kierra and her classmates. Second, she's clearly kissing my ass telling me how wonderful I am. Then she goes on about how the girls are doing wonderfully and how happy they are to have them in that class. I politely tell her the girls enjoy it too. Me and hubby had to laugh: how desperate can you be to call someone up on a Friday night because you know you regally pissed them off earlier in the week? I should be happy I suppose. This week could have ended very differently: me highly medicated.

So there you have it! Who would've thunk that my children's first week of Kindergarten would be so emotionally fueled???? Then again, if you knew the history of me, you'd know this would be the more likely scenario. Things can NEVER be simple around here!

Wednesday, September 05, 2007


First off... I'm BACK!!!! I know, long time no type. I missed you all though if it's any consolation. I wonder how many of you will be back to read my witty remarks LOL.

So short story: My visit home wasn't really all that and a big mac. In fact, wish I didn't go. No need to get into all the gory details, but let's just say I would've been happier to stay home. The only shining moment was my best bud Christy asked me to be a bridesmaid in her wedding (which I was totally excited about).

Things I learned on my trip: A) my mother likes to pick on my about my weight, B) my sister is a stress-case and should be avoided at all costs, C) mom's isn't as fun when the plasma t.v. kaputs the second day of the trip, D) mom's isn't as fun when you don't have a computer, E) you can't swim in your parent's out door pool when the weather really sucks, F) the bed at mom's house sucks and should never be attempted to sleep upon, G) life is harder when you don't have your husband to help you with the kids for two weeks, and H) sitting in the van for 15.5 hours doesn't feel any better when you know you have to do it again in 13 days time.

As I said, better off staying home.

Then I get home, run around like a chicken with it's head cut off, because the girls start school the next day and I have to buy all the ballet stuff for Jenna and Karis. Seems easy no? Well not really. I paid about $145.00 for their ballet clothing SHEESH!!! I'm going out on a limb and saying total rip-off. That and they better like ballet!! Then today the principal of the school tries to screw up my entire life by switching the girls from an afternoon program to the morning (I'll tell you tomorrow about THAT story). So today was stress-from-hell. Maybe I should have stayed at mom and dad's after all?

Anyways, I'm looking forward to catching up with all of you!!!!