A Depressing Day

I am totally pooped today. Let me tell you how my day went by starting with last night. I had a cold this weekend and could not stop sneezing to save my life. Sore throat, sinus headache a nose that I could not breathe out of despite the fact that it was dripping like a faucet. My darling husband cleaned the house yesterday and reorganized the kitchen for me because it was starting to get way out of hand again. He's such a dear! He even let me take a nap yesterday afternoon because I was still feeling kinda raunchy and needed to rest. Did I mention that I love him?

So later that evening, we stayed up to watch Poltergeist II and Poltergeist III together and didn't wind up going to bed until 3:30 in the morning. The kids woke me up promptly at 8:30 in the morning because they wanted to get up, watch movies and eat breakfast. I managed to throw some clothes on, get to the bathroom in time, (hey, sometimes I just don't) and get downstairs. I feed my daughter, told my oldest that yes, he could watch a movie and yes, he could go across the street to grandma's to get himself a root beer and I poured myself a bowl of cereal and hadn't quite finished it yet when my mom called me to ask if I could take her to the emergency room.

She has rheumatoid arthritis. It has been controlled for the past 3 years using the meds and herbal supplements that she's been using. She started having seizures off and on last year and her doctor seemed to think it was because of a tachycardia problem in her heart. Basically, they say, her heart wasn't pumping the blood properly, thus causing low oxygen to her brain and causing her to pass out. The doctors don't seem to believe that my mom is really having seizures, although they've never actually seen one of her seizures before to honestly judge that. I've never seen them either so I guess I wasn't much help.

The docs put mom on heart medication and she was good for a few months until she had yet another seizure and had to go to the ER. Once in the ER, no one can ever seem to find anything wrong with her brain or in her brain that is a sign of a classic seizure so they don't think that it's happening. Well, since she continued to have the seizures, despite the heart medication that was supposed to stop it, they put her on an anti-seizure medication that appeared to flare up her arthritis. Her wrists and ankles seemed to be swollen to 3 or 4x they're original size and mom can't even walk now. Every joint in her body seems to be in excruciating pain and even though she stopped the medication that she believes caused the arthritis to flare up, the symptoms don't seem to be getting any better.

She's through with going to Anderson Hospital for this. Don't get me wrong, I love Anderson, it was a great place to have my two youngest children over there at the women's pavilion but I think for a lot of other issues, they are lacking. I guess every hospital has its strengths and it's weaknesses though, so this time she had me take her to Barnes. The people at Barnes were wonderful and polite and respectful and kind and I really, really like it there. I feel as though my mom is a little safer at this hospital than the last one. I spent my entire day with my mom trying to help her ease her pain by rubbing her back and putting hot rags on her wrists and helping her re-position herself about every 20 minutes. When all of your joints hurt at the same time, there is no where that you can get comfortable for very long. Once one joint stops aching another one decides to chime in and say HELLO, REMEMBER ME? I'M BACK!

I think we got into the ER at about 9:45 a.m. and I left there after my dad finally showed up at about 6:00 p.m. Then I had to travel back to Granite City, go to the grocery store and pick up a few things for dinner, go to my brother's house to get my son from his camping trip with them this weekend and then I got to go home, put groceries away and cook dinner. (GROAN) I was seriously thinking about going to the laundromat tonight after the kids fall asleep but maybe I'll wait until tomorrow? I'm so very tired. But I still need to run back to the grocery store because I'm out of Kleenex and toilet paper. (sigh) A mother's work is never done.

I usually don't get very upset about my mom and her medical problems. Truth be told, I try not to think about it. But a couple of times during my stay with her in the ER today, she was trying to find a comfortable position and would put her pillow on the bed railing and I just felt compelled to stand there on the other side and kind of hold her up. I was afraid she was going to fall over because she had been falling asleep at the drop of a hat. So I stood there with the pillow on my chest and her laying on the pillow and I just stroked her hair while she slept. I started thinking of Alex and how I missed the little freckle-faced guy this weekend and then I started thinking of a song that he learned in pre-school that he sang to me 2 years ago. "May there always be sunshine, may there always be blue skies, may there always be mommas, may there always be me." And as my mind got to the part where it said "May there always be Mommas," I started to tear up and just about lost it. A few quick breathes later and I finally regained my composure without waking mom up, I think.

I know that she's gonna die SOMEDAY but it's something I try not to think about too often because it depresses me. At that moment in the song, I just thought about all of the grudges that I hold against her. I think all kids have them. I know my mom's not perfect, no parent is, but there were some particularly hard times between us during my younger adult and teen years. I think we hold grudges against each other really. But at that moment, I was seriously thinking of just casting them all away and began remembering some of the good times that she and I had when I was little just like Alex. I think that a part of every adult misses being a child. There are some rare cases but I think that we mostly do miss it. Back then, my mother was my entire world and I never wanted to leave her side. Now that I've got kids of my own, I sometimes forget that feeling and want to push my kids away. I came home and pushed them away again but it's not because I didn't want to spend time with them, I just had a lot to do and a limited amount of time to do it in.

After dinner was bath time and then bed time and all of that seemed to take another hour and a half. My hubby went to bed about a half an hour later than he usually does but he really missed me. Everyone missed me today. :-( When I got home, Phillip told me stories of what had happened that day. He said that my oldest boy, who is autistic, and my youngest boy got into a fight because the youngest one was telling the oldest one that grandma had gone to the hospital to die. My oldest son yelled in that panicky voice of his that "NO SHE'S NOT, SHE'S NOT GONNA DIE!!!" Finally Phillip separated them and told the younger one to go watch a movie and the older one to go play on the trampoline. Phillip said that he sat on the trampoline and rocked back and forth all day long, trying to comfort himself because he really was afraid that his grandma was going to die. :-( Phillip said that my youngest one did nothing but watched movies all day long. Sometimes he's into doing that if there's something that he REALLY wants to see, but my husband says that my son didn't get up at all. He sat through almost every single movie that he asked to watch today. Very strange of him. Phillip said he himself was pretty depressed most of the day and didn't have the energy to do much although he managed to keep the kitchen clean. Poor dear. It's been a depressing day for all of us. I hope things are better tomorrow.

Living Arrangements

I feel so sick today. Yesterday I woke up with an ear ache and today it's a sore throat and stuffy nose. Blah. Alex gets to go with his uncle and cousin today to go camping and I have to find clothes for him to wear for the weekend. That thing that sucks is, I don't have a washing machine. My washer crapped out on me Sunday night/early Monday morning. I think it's the belt but I have yet to call a repairman because I hate having anyone in my house and especially in my basement. The dogs like to poop in there and I don't go down there very often to clean it up. :-(

I'm falling asleep in my chair as I write this post. All I want to do is go to sleep. LOL. Part of me would also like to get every piece of furniture out of this house and throw it out in the front yard! I'm so sick of living in an itty-bitty house where there's no room for anything! Who can organize in those conditions anyway? I'd cram it all in the basement but then again, the dogs poop in there and I ain't having that! I've got three boys all in this little bitty room on a bunk bed. All of their belongings are crammed into the only closet we own in this entire house! Most of the stuff is toys and junk. All of their shoes go in a bin in the dining room behind the table because when I keep them there, I know where they are. They are not all over the house, under chairs, tables, couches or beds or in the hallway or bathroom. There's not enough room to put them anywhere else.

Brandon's and Alex's dresser are in their bedroom and two shelves with organizing bins to keep a lot of their toys in. Mine, My husband's and Collin's dressers are upstairs in the "Master Bedroom" and Sarah has something similar to the boys' toy bins up stairs next to her bed but my husband decided to put her clothes in that. So that's her "dresser." In the dining room, I have my computer desk, damn near every one of my computer disks/games in here, one printer, CPU, monitor and speakers that don't work, 3 cardboard boxes with my kids' school JUNK in there, a box of books that I'll never read again but that I can't seem to be able to give away to anyone either, an end table type thingy that has this really heavy drawer to it that I cram all the tools (that I can find) into so I'll have them all in one place at least 2 of my husband's bowling bags (to trip over) and an overly full laundry basket.

In the tiny little living room, we've got a desk for Brandon, 4 boxes of DVD's, the DVD rack, a full-sized couch and matching love seat, an old recliner that my husband's best friend gave him that is falling apart, my grandmother's rocking chair, a fold up table that my husband uses to eat on because he eats in the living room instead of the dining room, a wobbly entertainment center, my husband's big screen T.V., an end table next to the big couch next to a giant "effing" speaker that my husband refuses to get rid of or get out of the way in the basement. There's barely enough room to walk around in my house. I hate it. I feel so crowded in. Back when I first moved here I didn't fell this way. Of course, we were 3 people fewer in this family at the time too. Lots less stuff.

I can't wait to move. The sooner, the better. I want all the kids to have their own rooms. I don't think that my husband and I have had our own room since we got married! Brandon was very clingy as a little guy and did not want to go to sleep unless he was in MY bed with me. That left Phillip on the couch. Then, when we finally got him weened off of that, I got pregnant. I've been pregnant every other year since up 'till now so there was always a baby to share my room with me. It's always been me, my husband and our youngest child. It's the same way today. Sarah shares a room with us and quite frankly, it sucks. Don't get me wrong, I love my daughter but every morning I can expect to find her in my bed. That's not all that bad, but there's almost no time -- or room -- for me and my husband if you get my drift.

I guess I'm done with my rant for the day. It feels good to get all of my thoughts out though. Now I feel like actually DOING something with the rest of my day. :-)

Growing Up ME

Writing yesterday's post was like therapy to me. It felt really good to get some of those things out into the open. As soon as I got done writing it, I actually made a list of rules for the family kind of like they do on Nanny 911. Our family has never actually had a set of true, written down rules before. It's not that I've never thought of it. It's that I've never enforced it. I've got plans right now on making those little charts that the Nannies make for each individual child for rewards if they do good. Most of the day yesterday, I was able to keep my cool with my kids when they got on my nerves or did something wrong. They responded very well to the change and even my husband seemed to notice something was different even though he didn't quite acknowledge it verbally.

Yesterday was bowling night for him, my father and my brother. Although my husband is not on the same team as my dad and bro, but he's having lots of fun this time around. It's kind of rough on him though because usually he likes to go to bed by 8 o'clock. Yeah, you read that right. 8 o'clock. Some of his friends joke that he's turning into an old man already but it's so much easier for him to try and get a good night's sleep so he can be up and off to work on time. Today, he was late getting up even though the alarm went off. Although, he didn't get to bed until around 11:30 I think. On the plus side, we had a very nice conversation last night that was relatively kid free. He invited me up to go to bed with him, hubba-hubba, and I had to decline because I had to get to the laundromat and make sure the kids had clothes for school the next day. :-(.

Steve Jobs died last night. I'm very sad about this because I didn't even know he was sick. I suppose the guy likes to keep some things private of course and who could blame him? He seemed like a wonderful Genius of a man who had the courage to follow his dreams wherever they might take him. And because of that, he became who he was. Or should I say that he STAYED who he was.

I'm thinking that the problem with most people is that they listen to whatever everyone else thinks they should do. I have the same exact problem. Let me tell you a little bit about what it was like growing up for me.

If you ask my mom today, she would tell you that she taught her kids that they could grow up and do whatever they wanted to do in life. That's not exactly true actually. When I was a kid, I had severe asthma, but nobody knew it was asthma until I was 7 years old. I don't know if I've been asthmatic my entire life, but I know that when I was born, I was born breech and I wasn't breathing and was put on an incubator for the first 2 weeks of my life. Then when I got to go home, I was a happy and healthy chubby little baby for 4 months...until I got sick. My mom has a picture of me just before that time and she looks at the photo longingly wondering what I might have been like back then without the illness.

That's all she really says about it. "You got sick." I have the impression that I never recovered, that I was sickly and weak up until the year that I was finally diagnosed with asthma and got the medication that I needed. If that's true, then from 4 months to 7 years old, I was sick. I know that I was under weight and smaller than any other kids in my classes in school. My mom has mentioned once or twice that I was basically a permanent shade of light blue most of the time and my fingernails would sometimes turn purple. This was due to a severe lack of oxygen because I would have asthma attacks every night. My mom told my doctor about it but he just said I had Asthmatic Bronchitis and prescribed me cough syrup. To this day, I gag at the smell of that nasty "grape" flavor because my mom was always feeding it to me. Oddly, it helped just a little bit but cough syrup sort of does.

I remember being up past midnight as a 5-year old girl, my mom rocking me in her arms in the rocking chair in her bedroom screaming "Why God, why this child?!?!," as I would have a severe asthma attack and turn blue. I'd ask my mom "Mom-my, am-I-go-ing-to-die? I-don't-wa-nt-to-die." I couldn't get in enough air to speak more than a syllable. She told me "I don't know honey." and would cry and scream while she rocked me. Why she never thought to call the doctor or get me to a hospital, I'll never know. I'm a little bit pissed off about it.

A few months ago, my daughter got sick. The first night, she was okay. Slight fever, coughing, runny nose, the usual. The next morning, there was a rattling in her chest and she stayed on the couch, barely moving all morning long. I called her doctor and they got her in that after noon. They checked her oxygen with the little finger thingy and determined that it was at 88% absorption and called an ambulance! My mom wouldn't even have blinked at that. I WAS FRIGGIN TURNING FUCKING BLUE AND ALL SHE COULD DO WAS CRY ABOUT IT!!! I was really pissed off at my mom after that day!!! If I really think about it, it makes me want to smack the crap out of her sometimes. DUH MOM!!!!

I've asked her once or twice why she did that, or should I say, why she did nothing. She only tells me that she doesn't know. She can only guess that she was that much afraid of my dad that she was scared to call the hospital or something.

That's another issue, my dad. I am the daughter of an alcoholic. I say that loosely these days because it's been about 19 years since he's gotten good and drunk the way he used to. I believe that the only reason he has changed is because he became diabetic back in 1993 (I think) and his body couldn't handle the alcohol anymore. Before that, my dad was always drunk. If he wasn't drunk, he was either hung over, or just generally in a bad mood. If he wasn't drunk, hungover, or in a bad mood, he was at work, which put him in a bad mood.

I was afraid of the man. I didn't like him when I was a child and I didn't love him either. When he was drunk, he stank of beer and cigarettes and he always had a stupid grin on his face and he acted like a loud-mouthed idiot. When he was at home, I could not speak to the man. Everytime I even TRIED to approach him to ask a simple question of him I was greeted with a grimace on his face that said "What the fuck do you want NOW!?!?" And then he would scream at the top of his lungs the words "What the fuck do you want NOW?!?!"

It would be past my bedtime some times and I would have to go pee, so I would quietly creep down the rickety wooden ladder that led into my parents bedroom (my bedroom was in the attic, we had a 1 bedroom house with 5 people living in it.), and I would have to sneak into the bathroom to pee. If my dad saw me out of the corner of his eye or heard me he would scream "AWW GODDAMMIT, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING OUT OF BED!?!?" Then I would bolt outta there as if I had just seen a ghost.

I lived most of my childhood either sick to the point of dying or trying to be invisible to my father. I stayed in my room most of the day when I wasn't at school, although I would play with the neighborhood kids sometimes. But at home, you could usually find me hiding in my room, by myself, playing with My Little Ponies or something like that. I didn't socialize too much outside of the neighborhood kids. For that, I've paid the price of being labeled weird, strange and an oddball. For a long time, I thought I had ADHD, then I thought it was autism because I carry some of the same symptoms of autism and my son is autistic, then in therapy, I discovered how much effect an alcoholic person has on a family and the roles of the dysfunctional family because of it. I was shocked and amazed to see in myself the profile of the "Forgotten child" or sometimes called "The Lost Child." I displayed a good 88% of those characteristics and I finally had my answer of why I felt like I was always so friggin weird!

I've been in therapy for just over a year now because I thought I had ADHD. I seriously thought that something was wrong with me, that I was broken somehow. I even saw a clinical social worker who did a test to see if I had ADHD but she didn't think that that was my problem. I cried because based on what I had read, I had all of the symptoms. I just KNEW that I had finally had my answer. I told my doctor about my suspicion and one of the therapists and they decided that I should get a blood test and a physical to see if everything was alright there. Turns out that I had severely low Vitamin D. I've been on 4,000 UI of Vitamin D ever since, plus a Vitamin B complex with Vitamin C and felt so much better. I felt happy again for the first time in YEARS! YEARS I TELL YOU!!! The Dysfunctional family of the Alcoholic has only come up in the past couple of months. Finally, an answer! I also thought I was just a bad mom because I didn't feel as though I loved my kids enough. I mean, I was sick of looking at them most of the day. I knew that I loved them, I just KNEW that I did, but why did I get angry all of the time?

Turns out that these are NORMAL feelings for a parent who is in my position. I had been basically trapped in my own home for going on 3 years at this point. I never, I repeat, NEVER went out except to go grocery shopping. No one but toddlers and an autistic boy who sometimes acted like a toddler to talk to until my husband came home. He came home and mostly talked about work which was a bunch of stuff I didn't understand. He'd eat dinner, watch an hour or two of T.V. and go to bed. I'd feed the kids, feed myself, get the kids ready for bath and bed and stay up 'till 2 in the morning just tying not to be bored or heartbroken. Not that those feelings were my husband's fault. But I NEVER went out with friends. I still don't to this day. Even when I was in high school, I rarely went out with friends. I might visit them at their house or go to the occasional birthday party of the 2 or 3 very close friends that I had but other than that, meh? I have two friends of mine that I knew back from high school, one of which I've known since grade school that live down the street from me. Do I ever go to see them and visit. Heck no.

I don't think I've "hung out" with friends since I've had Brandon. My husband has. My friend I told you about that I've known since grade school has a 15 year old son and from my perspective, she seems as free as a bird. She has her job and organizations she's with and then it appears that she gets to do whatever else she wants with her time. I could be wrong though, I mean, I don't live her life, there's probably lots of things I don't see. But her pictures on Facebook depict a young lady who goes to Halloween parties and Casinos and she seems to have lots of fun either with her friends that are her age or hanging out with her son and his buddies. That doesn't happen with me...ever. I finally got a break about a month ago when my husband told me "You need to get out more. I'm not kidding you. If you don't get a break once in a while, you're going to end up in a loony-bin and if you end up there, believe me, I will be right behind you because I cannot handle these kids by myself!" And he had no qualms with me going out to Borders Book Store for a while and just doing what I do. It was WONDERFUL!!! Just having some "me time." A break with no interruptions with kids, doing something I wanted to do...aahhh! I tell ya, I was a new woman after that!

But I need to get back to the subject I was talking about regarding growing up ME. I had severe asthma as a kid and every time I wanted to try out for something I was almost always told "no." Either we didn't have the money or mom and dad didn't think I had the ability. Soccer was a no-go. I tried out for the same team as this girl, Selena, who lived down the street from me. It appeared to me that you needed to be born with a soccer ball in order to get into soccer. You have to be GOOD to be accepted and since i'd never played a sport in my entire life, I wasn't good at, well, ANYTHING. I thought about martial arts. I really, really wanted to be in martial arts. I got picked on and bullied mercilessly at school and with no way to defend myself, I used to get beat up a lot and then I would get in trouble at school for being in a fight. Nothing like getting punished for getting pummeled but that's District 9 for ya.

I wanted to join chorus in grade school and my mom never signed the permission slip. She says she "forgot." But what she meant was that I didn't nag the crap out of her like my brother used to. But then you needed to nag the crap out of my parents in order to get them to remember stuff like that anyway. In Jr. High, I wanted to join band. My mom told me that there was no way I could do that because I would be in the middle of a hot field for hours, marching in an itchy and stiff uniform trying to blow into an instrument. My allergies would be going haywire and I wouldn't have enough air to do it because of my asthma. So I suggested maybe the drums or a keyboard or xylophone. She said that the drums were too big for me and I wouldn't be strong enough to carry that stuff and walk and concentrate on playing at the same time. "You can do anything you want when you grow up?" Indeed.

I once suggested being an artist to my parents. My dad's reaction was "Well that scares the crap outta me! You ever hear of a starving artist?!?!" Mom leaned towards his side of the argument. That was something that I could do as a hobby as I wanted but not make any money at. I offered actor, singer, stage performer of some sort. No, no and no. You can't make money at that unless you are super-talented and even the super-talented only get like a 1% shot at actually becoming famous. Nope, that's not for OUR daughter. Whatever. I had really wanted to be in dance classes when I was a kid but was told we could not afford them.

Since then I've been basically a gas station employee. I worked at Big lots after high school but then I worked at 3 different gas stations in my life before quitting in 2004 after having my second baby. I've tried a few different At-Home businesses, the only one that I would call "organized" was Pampered Chef. I actually made a little money at it too. I made a little over $400 in two months. Not bad for starters actually. I've tried the candy bar business for over a year and not made more than $200 combined total.

I'm going to have to end this rant. Due to the demands of my family, I've been working on this, on and off for about six hours now. I just need to get off of here and make dinner, clean house; you know, the mom thing. I'll be back sometime tomorrow hopefully. See ya!

The First Day of Randomness

The way I had envisioned my life as a stay-at-home mom is a lot different than it turned out to be. I can only say that this difference between the two results is my responsibility and I take credit for the good and the bad. I cannot push this responsibility off on anyone else; not my husband, not my kids, not my dogs. Maybe I should start off with the way I envisioned it.

When I dreamt of being a stay-at-home mom, I envisioned having a clean house...FINALLY. I knew that I had wasted 10 hours per week commuting to a job that I didn't like very much and I just KNEW that if I could use all of that time to clean my house, it would be spotless. The only reason I stayed at that job was because I LOVED the people that I worked with. LOVED them! My boss, on the other hand, was a different story. I had respect for the guy, but he was the micro-managing type and I didn't have the courage to tell him to back off. I wasn't getting paid very much--at all--but again, I take responsibility for this too. I never negotiated on my pay, I never asked for more to start off with. I just took the job.

The job itself was, for the most part, un-challenging and un-fulfilling. I filed files, made copies and ran errands; and then, I cut staples out of paper. For 6 months that was all I ever did. If I was caught talking to my co-workers, actually socializing or laughing, it was quickly thwarted. I was to sit in silence, by myself and cut staples. Then my boss would fly by a few times a day and chastise me because I hadn't cut enough staples since the last time he flew by and chastised me. A few months later, he began getting onto me about the manner in which I was cutting the staples out of the paper because obviously, I was doing it wrong because I wasn't doing it fast enough for him.

My boss had boxes and boxes and then he had boxes on top of boxes of old files that he didn't really want to get rid of but he realized that they were filling up his office and his employees couldn't move about. His plan was to put all these documents through a scanner and file them digitally and then shred them and get rid of the paperwork altogether. Most of these first files I had dealt with were 15+ year old files. I was instructed just to "get them in the computer." Sometimes they were filed by a name, sometimes by a case number. We were in the very infant stages of this process so a lot of mix ups were made and thank God it had been on files that were closed.

But then when I had finally gotten into the files that were still open, he wanted each document to have a file number and a name. I was to scan and name each document as quickly as possible. Sometimes the pages would get curled up though and two or three documents would go through at the same time, thus, only scanning the first page of the group. I had begun checking the scanned files and comparing them with the paper files before storing them away to make sure I hadn't missed anything. If I missed something, I would scan them in and then file it away. This process was taking far too long for my boss and he told me about it. He just wanted it DONE. I was not to worry about the documents that did not get scanned in, I was just to cram the papers into the scanner and let it GO! Later down the line though, he would be looking for an electronic page of some file I had scanned in and when it wasn't there guess who's responsibility that was?

Needless to say, I stayed there a little over a year and left. My co-workers were surprised I had stayed past the second month. I said I wanted to be a stay-at-home mom being as I had just had another baby, my first baby girl, and I wanted to focus on my home business, (personalized candy bars). It was true, but it was even truer that I just wanted to get the hell out of there.

I had envisioned working on my business in the morning while my oldest child was at school, and then stopping by all the small businesses in my town and presenting my product and getting sales. 3 weeks into my quitting my job, my husband's car also quit. He had to use my minivan to get to work now and I was now trapped. A prisoner in my own home. At first, I actually thought to myself, "That's okay, I'll get some housework done I guess and maybe do some sales visits in the evenings after my husband gets home." That was laughable.

My mornings were spent hurriedly getting my kids ready for their buses so they could get to school. My oldest son's school was a half hour drive away and I had no vehicle anyway. He's autistic so having him home with me all day long was like trying to herd cats. Getting him on the bus was like trying to give a cat a bath. (insert vision of cat trying to scratch the crap out of you here.) He fought me tooth and nail and would scream from across the house "I DON'T WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL! NO, BRANDON IS NOT GOING TO SCHOOL! BRANDON WANT'S THE WEEKEND!" I would argue back with him that he was indeed going to school and I wasn't going to hear otherwise. All while getting his lunch ready, locating his clothes, shoes, backpack, lunch bag and harness, getting him dressed while chasing him around the house and trying to avoid my other three children who had just woken up, were grumpy, hungry and tired. Once I got him out the door--and at times I almost had to physically pick this kid up and carry him to the bus--it was time for me to get Alex on his bus.

Alex's bus ladies were two little old ladies that had very strict ways. The second they would pull up in front of my house I heard "HONK, HONK, HONNNNK!" That always ticked me off. The bus drivers can wait up to 2 minutes for a child to get on the bus but these ladies never waited for more than 30 seconds. Granted, I should have had my child ready by then, I take responsibility for that, but with the mornings I had, I just didn't care what those little old bus ladies thought! They "allowed" me to let Alex get on the bus himself but I was to wait at the front door until he was safely on. When they came back to drop him off at home two-and-a-half hours later, I was to come out to the bus and get him and bring him back with me, holding his hand. I could understand their logic. Really, I could. You never know what a 4-year old kid is going to do when he is supposed to be getting on the bus but I had two other kids that were nagging me for food, screaming, fighting each other and just otherwise being grumpy and annoying and they would start crying if I went outside without them for any amount of time and it was very difficult for me to focus on Alex getting on and off the bus.

Alex's bus would leave and I would feed the kids and put a movie on for them. I honestly thought that I would have two and a half hours of relative peace and quiet until I had to get Alex off the bus with which to work on my business somehow. I thought I could at least come up with a plan of attack to visit local businesses and hoc my product idea to them. Maybe work on my website? Write some articles? Something. That never really happened. I mostly got my work done sometime after Phillip got home because the kids would finally leave me alone and go downstairs with HIM. But when I would sit up in our room working even on the weekends, my husband got sick of it and moved my desk back downstairs into the dining room. I got even less work done this way. My kids were right there in the next room, watching their movies or playing their video games or whatever it was I was using to distract them and the noise was more than annoying. Not to mention the fact that every 5-10 minutes a kid would want to sit on my lap or have a snack or need a diaper change or want to go outside.

As soon as Alex got home, it would be lunchtime. That was a mess too. I was not the kind of mom who planned ANYTHING! I would finally manage to get some food on the table, check on the baby and go back to "work." After lunch, the boys wanted to go outside. It was usually about 1 o'clock by then and I would get sick of staring at a computer screen. I would go outside with them and play for a little bit. Sometimes I would beg my mom to take them for an hour or two and get them off my back for a while. I would use that time for "training calls" or sometimes just ME time. By the time my mom was done with them it was 3 or 4 o'clock. Brandon's bus came at around 4 o'clock to drop him off. Then I might have one more hour before Phillip got home and I would have to start thinking about dinner.

I would groan at that point in time because I would realize that I had spent the entire day on the computer and there were dishes all over the house. I would have to wash them before I could even get started with dinner. But first, I would have to figure out what to fix. In the beginning of my stay-at-home-mom experience, my evenings would go something like this: Generally, Phillip would get home between 5 and 5:30. About an 30 minutes to an hour later, I would FINALLY decide what to fix for dinner. Then I would have to do some dishes--usually the minimum amount possible--put half of them away and leave the other half in the drain rack because I HAD to get started with dinner. I would then fix the dinner, serve the dinner, serve the drinks and finally, MAYBE get to sit down myself for a while. Phillip would want to spend some time with me too, he had missed me while he was at work, and would want me to come sit in the living room with him and watch T.V.--usually his choice of show--while we ate. After Phillip ate, he went straight to bed. He had to get up early in the morning and hated being tired or late to work.

I got to actually spend maybe 30 minutes with my husband before he went to bed. (sigh) Now it was back to kid duty agian. (sigh, sigh) The bath time and bed time shenanigans would commence. I generally threw the three boys in the tub together, scrubbed them, hushed them when they go too loud because daddy was in the next room trying to sleep, and scolded them when they splashed water all over the place. The younger boys might finally be in bed by 10, Brandon, being autistic and never needing much sleep, would be asleep maybe by midnight. Sometimes I would have to give him some Melatonin to MAKE him go to sleep. After the kids were in bed and finally passed out. I guessed I could have a little time to myself. I usually spent my time on the computer. Myspace was my favorite. Lots of little time-wasting games to play on there that I would indulge myself in. 1:30 to 2 o'clock in the morning, I would look at the clock and be like "Oh crap, I'd better get to bed." I'd finally fall asleep at some point during the early morning hours and get up at 7 a.m.-ish to start this all over again.

I really had envisioned so much more for my life as a stay-at-home-mom.