So, you know how everyone likes to talk about the latests drama on the Internet?   Well I usually have no idea what you are talking about.

When someone says, “I am so sick of all this catty shit on twitter.”  ”I am so over the passive aggressiveness, just talk to ME. I KNOW you are talking about ME.”  Then I get a DM saying did you see blah blah blah.  My answer is always no, what’s up?

If you are my friend you already know this about me.  It’s almost like I have ‘Hater Blockers” on, but they are ‘Drama Blockers’.  I always miss it.  Honest to (insert god, buddah, cookies, whatever here).  I can’t seem to catch it, process it, much less care.  My closets friends call me Switzerland.  I am pretty neutral anyway.  It’s not that I don’t care or have on opinion, it’s just not important enough to get all upset over.  If it’s something I feel strongly about, then I will say my peace, but that’s it.

Some people don’t understand how I can be friends with different people on the Internet, when they are publicly known to dislike each other.  It’s pretty easy because I am almost 30 not 13.  It’s amazing how your perspective changes when you behave like an adult.

I have learned from YEARS of watching my family take sides over things, that I would base MY relationships off of MY interactions with people.  Just because Sally is fighting with Jesse, doesn’t mean I am automatically not friends with her or Raphael over it.  It doesn’t involve me.

Now Lu, where is your loyalty?  Trust me, it’s there.  But I don’t feel the need to rile people up in a public manner.  I don’t feel the need to have ‘Team Sally’ shirts made up.  That’s not how I roll.

However, I do love my friends, my true friends deeply and if they ever NEEDED me I would be there.  Ready to cut a bitch.

I guess I am just so tired of all cryptic yet obvious tweets and posts.  Good lord people, email them and say, “hey I didn’t appreciate blah blah blah.”  It’s really not hard.  I promise.

Also, sometimes people really do think too highly of themselves. I know this is a shocker, but not everything is about you.  I have seen instances when it seems so obvious, then come to find out it was really a misunderstanding.  But once you blast that person on your blog or twitter, it’s over.

People have been confused by my ‘cryptic’ tweets.  Um, guys, they aren’t cryptic…they just aren’t articulate.  That’s it. If I take issue with you, I will tell you.  I expect you to do the same with me.  EZPZ.

I know there are bloggers out there that are known for tackling controversial topics.  It’s what they do.  It’s their blog.  Their space. I do believe that these posts are written to get a reaction out of people.  Fine.  What is not fine is when it gets ugly.  When people that have had issues outside of this particular posts, start ganging up on each other in the comments.  When random people spew hatred on the author for sharing their thoughts, in their own space.  That is what the ‘x’ is for. Leave. Share your thoughts, opinions, even complaints but please do so with some decorum.

I joined this community because of the support I saw in it.

It is big enough for everyone.  Not everyone has to ‘walk’ in the same circles, that’s fine.  What is not fine is disrespecting someone because they don’t agree with you about ‘xyz hot topic’.

I guess it just boils down to this: Opinions are like assholes.  Everyone has one.

So take it for what it’s worth.  That’s exactly why I don’t usually see the drama…it’s just another asshole.

***This post is not about ANY particular person, place, or thing.  This had been brewing in my mind lately.  That is scary in and of itself. There is no built in connotation in this post.  It is simply to explain how the heck I can be friends with the cheerleaders, choir nerds, party people, and math nerds.  I iz well rounded yo!***

It’s been lingering like the smell of suntan lotion and salt after a long day at the beach.

I knew it was coming.  I mean how could it not.  After all this.  After three surgeries.  Knowing the pain and swelling that follow the simplest tasks.  The constant supply and demand of prescription drugs.  Not minor ones either.  Ones that cause migraines, you know, because I have Chronic Migraine Disorder.  The ones that rip up my gut some mornings so badly, that I can’t move much without feeling sick.   Even with nausea meds.  I mean the  nausea meds can cause more nausea if you don’t time it just right.

I am constantly walking the line of how much medication is safe, how much can I mix. Having to grit through the pain because I have a child to look after. How much before my liver gets pissed off.  I have gotten such a high medication tolerance at this point we have to try something else.

I am depressed.  And not dealing with it.

Do you know how hard it is for me to admit that.  You can’t imagine the guilt I feel.  I have attended the funeral of my father at the age of seven.   I have buried my step dad, five and ten year old brothers on the same day.

I have never let any hardships define me.  Never.  Not even a little.  Jaded? Sure.  Expect the worst? Sure.  But this is far beyond the worst that I could ever have imagined.

Not quite 2 months after my third ankle surgery, the journey that started in the fall of 2008, has come to point that I am not a ‘chronic pain patient’, it’s gong to be more long-term.  This is far beyond my worst expectation.  I was thinking more along the lines of, “will I know it’s about to rain b/c my ankle is sore” HAR HAR.  Not, who knows how long if not life long physical therapy, starting Lyrica (for fybromyalgia), a new splint and compression stockings to help with the still going on nerve discomfort and INSANE swelling.  Plus multiple other scripts.

*sigh*

This is just not what I am willing to except. I was supposed to be ‘recovering’ not ‘chronic’ that was never discussed.

I feel like they broke me. My foot doesn’t feel like it’s part of my body. It hurts, it’s uncomfortable, it has crazy nerve issues and it just feels wrong in general.  For some reason, when the sewed my newest incision up, they went THROUGH my old scar tissue.  This?  Hurts like a mother fucker.  Because of that, the supposedly dis-solvable stitches just under my skin, did not dissolve correctly.  We have been pulling fishing line type plastic out of my ankle and scars for WEEKS.  The doc tried to get at some today but it as so excruciating we had to stop.  If it doesn’t surface in it’s own we will have to numb up my ankle and try to remove it.  Yeah. Fun.

The muscle spasms are still insane.  To this they just say, “we touched and moved every muscle in your ankle, it takes time. Take some extra Valium.”  I would literally nut-punch this phrase if I could also, “you had a MAJOR surgery and then some setbacks, it’s going to take TIME.”  Well no shit Sherlock.  But let’s move forward.  I guess that’s why I need the pain specialist. *sigh*

Also, as a side note:  I got a bill in the mail for my surgery.  Now one that is VERY weird, because I know how this office works, you pay the Dr upfront before surgery when you pick up your pre-surgical packet, that you have to have to get checked in early by the hospital. So…I asked the head nurse SEVERAL times what the charge would be.  Her and the head finance chick both told me that I had a credit and we would go with that. (This is a mysterious credit too BTW, they know they fucked up.) I was like well yeah I have a gift-card to Target but um, it’s not going to cover it all.  Make sure. So they did.  I owed nothing more.  So on top of all this today, I also brought up the bill to my Dr.  Luckily for everyone the finance chick is out of town.  Her and I have *almost* physically fought before. They sent her out of the building. So, um, I guess it was good she wasn’t there because now they are just going to call me about it when she gets back.  However, my doc said if that’s what they told you, then that’s what it is.  By this time in the appointment we had both been crying and feeling helpless, her wishing if she could ‘magically’ fix ANYONE it would be me.  Mike thinks she would just pay for it herself before she would upset me anymore.  I think he is probably right.  We know each other outside of the office quite a bit.  I know she cares, but I need more than that.  Shit, I guess I really need a miracle.

I just don’t understand at what point did I go form recovering to chronic?  I feel like it’s two steps forward three steps back. (No, opposites do not attract in this case.)

NOMS

My SIL’s shower went great and I have gotten some awesome and amazing feedback form everyone.  Everyone but Cranky Pants Ankle.  It’s still very sore and swollen.  This really gave me some perspective.  I had been feeling a little more positive b/c I am doing a bit more around here again.  I am taking Mas to and from school and other little stuff.  The shower though had me running errands all over town, walking large place, up late Friday night cooking, and on my feet from 9a.m. to 7 p.m.  I felt like I had been moving or just starting to work out again for the first time, that deep soreness.  I was SO swollen.  Sunday I could barely put weight on it.

It made me realize how far I am from *really* being me.  A working mom.  (Not only working BUT I used be able to take Mason with me.  I will not be able to if I ever return.  I am filing for disability.)  A theme park loving mom.  A shop ’till you drop kinda girl.  A much different person I used to be. If I worked at a desk, I suppose that part wouldn’t be so hard, but I do manual labor and am on my feet all day.  Don’t get me wrong, we mail letters and do light stuff too.  But then we have people walk in with car engines in the back of their truck and we have to ship it out.  Yeah. So it’s just been so long lasingt, life changing, and depressing.  The Dr. thinks all of that is making it harder for me to physically recover.  Not that it’s my fault, she says, just the way it is.  Which is true.

So for now I just keep on plowing ahead.  PT three times a week.  New drugs, more meds, and rest.  Come to terms with the realization that this is a long-term situation.

Oh and time.  Let’s not forget that.

I am going to make the best of it then, if it’ going to be here for a while, or forever, whatever.   I will go to here or there and just use the wheelchair.  Fuck it.  I will work really hard on my guilt and push myself to cherish what I can do with Mason.   That is definitely the hardest part.  At least it is me hurt and not him.  That is the only thing that would be harder than this.  So for that I am very grateful.

I want off these drugs, I am just afraid the specialist will put me on something more permanent.  That makes it all more permanent.

Permanent was not the plan…

Some days I try to remind myself that I have  a purpose.

Surely this, all this ankle pain, surgeries, and drama will end and I will once again be healthy.

I know I am young and have a lot of life left to go, I just feel so trapped in this place.  This place where I am starting to become comfortable.  A place where one should never want to be, much less comfortable in it.

Some days I just feel like such a failure.  Not getting anything on my list accomplished.   Yeah sure, I am sick again…when aren’t I?

I need to learn how to be me, be functional within my broken self.

You see my ankle didn’t just break, part of my spirit has too.  I am choked back and shocked at how this has managed to take a hold of me and push me down with such great force.

I had seen the darkness lingering on the edge for weeks.  Intermingling with sickness, giving me nice cover.

It’s such an internal struggle.  My body feels tired so it’s easier to just sit here and let the depression take me.  I just push it aside telling myself that it will leave when my foot gets better.  When I am more me.  When I am not on various painkillers and Valium and tons of other crap for my ankle. When I get through PT and can make it through the day without crying out in physical pain.

When, when, when…

Well it’s been a year and a half and I am still saying these things.  I know it’s not my fault I had to have all these surgeries and endure tons of sickness as a side effect but damn it I am so sick of it.

I want my life back.

I just feel like I am so far gone, I don’t know if I am still in there.

I keep looking.

The only thing that remains is my true and utter love for my husband and child. Family and friends.

I push myself for people.  So that they will be cared for, happy, and loved.

Really I would just as well sleep all day and not think about anything.  Everything I touch, do, or think about is shrouded in this heavy dark burden the surgeries have put on my life.  It’s like the biggest snow ball effect.  I guess I find it so peculiar because I have truly walked through hell and back…but this?  This is going to take me.  After years of fighting for my identity, breaking away from life’s shitty circumstances I am drowning in them now. NOW?  Seems rediculous.

This should be nothing compared to that.  It just feels so heavy right now. So many people expect and wnat things form me that I don’t feel like doing.  Or if I do, I can’t do anything that lives up to my own standards.  I can’t even keep my house as clean as I would like.  Seems so small, but if you know me, it’s not.  I am a clean freak.  I don’t just have baskets of laundry around, like there are now.  I don’t wait last minute to get a wedding shower together, like I am now.  I don’t let life’s things get in my way, like I am now.

I am a Bull.  You mess with the bull you get the horns.

My horns are broken though and I just don’t feel like fighting this fight anymore.  I just want my life back.

I used to  think that nothing could break this bull.  I guess you never know what the last straw will be.  Camel’s back, bull’s back. Whatever.

OH HAI!!!!  I swearz I have not forgotten about you all!  As most of you know I have been going crazy getting everything ready for BlogHer@Home with my posse.  It’s a bit of work, but it’s gong to be a lot of fun.

Meanwhile, I am also planning my SIL’s wedding shower for next weekend.  It’s Fifties Retro Kitchen themed.  Yeah, don’t get me started.  I am trying to talk Mike into letting me buy a Lucille Ball costume and I will just re-use it for Halloween.  He says no.  I am still working on him.

Mason has been having an AWESOME week at school.  He has had very few accidents.  HOWEVER, he refuses to poop in the potty.  He will straight up look at you and say, “put a pull up on me or I poop in my pants.”  UM, yeah, he’s not kidding.   We keep trying to catch him…but then he gets scared and won’t poop for two days.  SIGH.  I don’t know what to do and I am up for ANY advice.  He has always been a private pooper, so I have tried just leaving him on the potty with a book when I know he has to go.  He won’t. He’ll get down, wash his hands, say “I’m gonna play with my toys!” Translation: I am going to shit my pants. The kid can poop in his pants in about .23 seconds.  He will shut his bedroom door and by the time I ‘jump’ off the couch and get there, the deed is done.  We have had SEVERAL conversations to no avail.  We are stuck. HALP?!?!?!

Physical Therapy has started once again. OH BOY.  The therapist and I are both optimistic that things will move faster and be better this time.  I really hope so.  I am doing everything I can to not walk with a cane. I am being a hard-ass.  Sometimes I still use it just because my heel hurts.  The bone is still filling in the hole where the screw was.  That should be much better soon.  My ankle on the side where the nerve was removed is WEIRD. And that my friends is the understatement of the year.  Also, still having insane muscle spasms, and swelling.  I have to be honest though, I am in less pain than before surgery, so that’s a fucking win.   The nerve was something “you only read about in school books and never GET to see one that bad.”  Unless you have me has a patient of course.

The thing is though, I just realized I am going to really be messed up forever.  I am not confident that I will ever live without pain.  I KNOW that it will never feel even remotely ‘normal’ because they removed a nerve, so that’s not even possible.  I seriously starting to question what’s going to happen if I can’t go back to packing and shipping.  It’s NOT light work.  We are major shippers.  We are also major couriers of like cabinets and other big stuff.  We do a lot of big freight shipments that can weigh thousands of pounds.  I am not being woe is me at all, I am just being realistic. I really don’t know.  I think they messed me up pretty bad.  I wasn’t supposed to be handicapped at the end of this.  I’m not sure what to do.  Right now I need to give PT a little more time to see if it makes a difference.  I am just hoping it moves mountains. That’s what I need.

Meanwhile this weekend I will be sitting on my butt hanging out and playing with my friends over at BlogHer@Home.  Come over and have fun.  The giveaways are insane. They have already started, so quick, GO!

I was handing Mike a check to deposit, noting the date for the next one would be the 23rd.  ”Ok, so when is the 23rd, that’s, is it Monday? No wait it’s Friday.”  Mike said.

I was all, “Yeah it’s Friday. Don’t you freaking know IT’S THE TWENTY THRIRD, OF JULY.”  I looked around like everyone else (no one else was there FTR) should agree with me in being shocked he didn’t know.

“Oh, is it Christian’s Birthday?” He said, as his eyes got sad.

“No, it’s the 23rd.  You know, the day they died.” *eye roll*

Mike shrugged and said, “Oh I try to forget that day.  Why would you want to remember that day?  Why would you draw attention to the worst day of your  life?”

This is one of the reasons I blog. Mike just wants me to be happy and takes it VERY personally when I am not.  Sometimes I just need to BE.  Whatever that is, and sometimes it’s not happy.  Not in a in general with life kind of way.  Just a sad fleeting moment where the stench of death brushes past me so powerfully that I swear my hair blows from the gust.  And I feel them.  I remember.  I promise to never forget. Then it’s gone and I am  back to folding laundry and talking about deposits.

Taken back a little I said, “I want to remember it.  I mean it’s not like I can forget it.  There is like a giant neon sign flashing in my brain. It’s not about that though.  If I just went through my day that day and didn’t talk about it, say something, it would feel wrong.  It would feel like I forgot or something.  I don’t know. I don’t like to think about the death part, but that’s when their life ended. It’s a fact. I know so many people have bad thoughts on this day.  Family members will self medicate, fall apart, and speak ill of my dad while shaking their fists at the universe. But I think about my favorite stories and memories.  I punch that ‘what if’ in the balls and think about what was. Because what was, was really awesome. They were all really awesome and should be celebrated and remembered.”

“OK Babe, that’s true.  *Rubs my back*  We’ll have steak Friday.”

*Wipes eyes, deep breath* “That’s perfect.”

End scene.

******************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Ok so Mike’s  not exactly a poet, but he gets it.

I am not going to lie and say that there aren’t days, hours, or minutes that I wish would go away and leave me alone.  Sometimes the simplest of conversations, actions,  or surroundings can take me to my knees.

In anger, frustration, and confusion.  I shouldn’t be writing this post.  I shouldn’t have to deal with this day.  It should just be another Friday.

It’s not though.  It is the day that changed my life forever, and I don’t even want to dwell on that.  You dwell, you get stuck.  The grief takes you too.  I’ve seen it.

There’s something inside me though that makes me say, today is the day. Today I am remembering, crying, laughing, telling stories.  When Mason is old enough we will have to make this more of this  celebration than sadness.  I simply can not forget. I can not act like they weren’t here. Like they weren’t real.  I want Mason to know that he does have 2 more uncles and a grandpa that wishes they were around, but aren’t.

I don’t know, I am grabbing at straws.  I just know in my heart I have to stand up somehow and say, yeah they are gone and today we should celebrate their lives.

Don’t get me wrong, I have had years where I just go on with my day.  Act like it’s just another day on the calendar.

Those days were the hardest.  They felt dirty and wrong.  Those years I partied more…go figure.

I should hold great victory and pride in this day too though. This day that I have not let control me. I have not let it become me, but just a part of my makeup.

So today (a really shitty day to be stuck in the house, but I have yet to drive and there is a tropical storm here, heh) I will fight down the demons that are pulling at my hair, clothes, mind and heart.  Trying to make me feel low and remember that morning.  That day, the one nine years ago where I was at home, alone, in Naples, during a torrential downpour, and my cell phone rang…and just like that they were gone.  Life as I knew it was over.  I was thrust into adulthood. My future completely undetermined.  I walked blindly, in faith of myself.

I don’t know if I was cocky, arrogant, or just stupid.  I just knew I could do it.  Somehow.  Honestly, my *somehow* is Mike.  His motto after all is, “stick with me kid and we’ll go places.”  He’s crazy, yet right.

I have fought hard to be here.  To be ok.  To be able to talk about it, them, with pride, love, and remembrance.  To be able to say, yeah I came through that.  I don’t toot my own horn (I do in my truck though, I wear that bitch out) much, but today I will.  I am proud of what Mike and I have made through all this.  How far we have come.  Our dating/engagement/wedding all happened in the same year.  So our progression as a couple hold hands with my life altering situation.

When we got married, we didn’t have a pot to piss in.  Shit, we were sleeping on an air mattress at a friend’s house, living off the good graces of humanity. (You want to feel humbled?   Let me tell you about the outreach of this world for good.  This was before Twitter and PayPal.  People came, called, wrote letters.  Thank goodness for the Internet now, who has time for that?  But still, I see it now on the Internet and I am always taken back and reminded, there is good out there.  Amazing strangers exists and turn into life long friends.)  We have not made any huge impact on this world.  We are just good, hardworking parents that put our awesome son first.  We live for him and each other.  We have just been able to create this happy little world for us.  It’s safe.  It feels good, we earned it.  Mike’s career, he has come so far since starting with this company in Georgia.  Sure, he could have been in some bigger things and I could have finished school if we never left Naples to begin with.  But we did, and we continued to press forward and build our life.

Determined to carry on.  To make my dad and the boys proud.  Not be a victim.  Although I am. But still, I’m trying.  I can remember with sadness and joy.  It’s the joy part I just can’t let the light go out on.

So tonight, we eat steak.  Maybe I will get crazy and have an alcoholic beverage, who knows!

I will feel the warmth in my heart where I hold their memories and see the reflection of that love when I look at the sweet innocent face of my son.  Who couldn’t look more like his uncle if he tried.

So today Internet friends and maybe like four IRL friends I have told about this site, all you lurkers, all you family and friends who read this and don’t tell me, CHEERS to life, to not being afraid to remember, to J, C, and dad.  We love you forever and cherish the life that we had together.

I promise to never forget.

I am incapable of a truly wordless anything. I am Italian, what can I say?  However, I will include pics.  Deal?  Good.  Here’s some randomness.

So, let’s talk about my ankle, we never do that. Um, I am healing.  I know that I am going to do better in PT once I heal from this surgery all the way.  I have been cleared to do stuff and start PT.  I have to walk a little better and get the muscle spasms down though before I can drive.  So really, I am not doing anything yet.  I am walking without my crutch today and doing a few things around the house just to get my muscles moving.  If I just sit on the couch forever I will never get better.  On one had everyone wants me to rest…but then at the same time I have to work hard and go through pain to get better. ARGH.  I will get there though.  It will be better this time.  I could walk better if my heel wasn’t so sore.  Once the hole where the screw was fills in and heals and stops bleeding, it will feel a lot better.   The nerve being gone is a HUGE difference.

It’s less swollen now than it was before surgery.  That’s saying a lot.  I have a long way to go…but I am on my way!

I have been fighting a lot of sickness lately.  My body is just run down.  I am working on that too.  I am just kind of in this weird perpetual cycle.

My bro and SIL are trying to work things out. It’s rough. I wouldn’t want to be in their position for anything.  I am keeping in close touch with them and checking on Lilli a lot.  Things are going…  So, we’ll see.

Speaking of Lilli, if you haven’t seen them on FB, here are a few for your viewing enjoyment.

So…like my new header and all my cute sunglasses?  I love everything Jenna A.K.A.  Avacakes Blog Design has done for me.  It’s the bestesest. Yeah that’s a word.  She also made me a blog badge, it’s on my side bar.  If you grab it let me know so I can get yours!  I am gong to set up a page/place for all of y’alls pretty buttons. I want my ETSY friends’ too, so let me know!

I really hope it’s Wednesday, but I honestly don’t know.  Whatever day it is, I hope your is well. SMOOCHES.

driving to fast with the music blaring.

heading off to college (A damn good one too because he was already better at math then me at age 10.)

hanging with his friends by the lake.

crushing on a cute girl or have a steady girlfriend because seriously, he was the sweetest.

teaching Mason how to play basketball because he would be well over 6 feet, I know it.

being the brunt of my jokes, as everyone always is.

planning for his future.

drinking to much and swearing he will never drink again. Ok maybe this is just me at 19.

Just living, being, loving, and just here.

He should be 19 as of last week.

But he’s not.  He only made it to 10.

He will forever be the bright eyed, insanely smart, nerdy, (How many 10 year olds do you know in “math club”?), basketball loving, Power Ranger fan, with the fairest white skin and almost white hair to match.

I swore with the way Christian prayed that he was destined to be a preacher, but I guess the very one he prayed to wanted him all to himself.

I am not happy about this plan.  I am not happy that I am not seeing him off to college next month and telling him exactly what NOT to do.  I always wondered how he would turn out, being 10 years older I actually got to witness the transformation from baby to child and was so looking forward to the amazing young man he would be.  Yeah there are two other siblings between him and I, but I didn’t really see them in that way, we were to close in age.

I am sorry that the world will never know what a wonderful dude my brother was…but I know, and I love him forever. 

Whether he is 10 or 19.  Happy Birthday Christian, Sissy loves you and misses you today, tomorrow, and for always.

Right after I graduated in 1999, with "my boys."

So, uh yeah…I’ve been missing for a while.  Recovering, recharging, OH AND HELPING WITH A ONE MONTH OLD. Whoa. BUT OH THE CUTE!  

I have been very sleepy during this recovery…shingles lingering maybe, or coming back some.  Not sure.  Either way I have been in bed.  Asleep. A lot.  Sleeping is healing or some crap.  So I have indulged.  I really want to get past this initial healing point because I can already tell when I get back into PT I am going to kick some major ass.  I can stand better now with less pain than before surgery.  The swelling is already way less that before surgery.  I know this is going to be so good. Or I medicated enough to believe that. KIDDING. Kinda.

Even though I have not been a huge help to myself or my 3 year old lately, I have been able to help my brother and wife with their one month old.   Thank goodness for that. My brother is a natural though honestly.  He would figure it out, but has much appreciated my psychotic baby information brain.  I have been able to share some important info and tips, and explain to them to go with their gut.  My brother was raised with a baby always in the house.  I think my mom breast-fed for like 13 years combined or something IDK.  So G just knows stuff already.  He has instincts, he has already been able to decipher the cries.  He has got it by golly. April has NEVER been around babies/children.  She hasn’t gotten that much guidance, until she got here anyway.  All in all it has gone well.  I know having some baby snuggles has helped me feel better, and in many ways seems to be healing their hearts as well.

April was not prepared to leave town with G in the car.  G was not prepared to leave here with her.  HOWEVER it is beyond obvious she is stuck between a rock and a hard place and flat out needs him.  Neither of them have wanted to totally end things, but didn’t expect to be thrown back together so soon.  She has to go back to her Army job really soon and can not afford childcare without G’s income.  They could get a smaller place, cut back, and let G stay home with the baby.  That is what they/we think is best.  A should not have to do this alone.  She didn’t get here alone.  G is very remorseful and very connected to the baby.  Although she has already admitted to being jealous that he gets to stay home with her, I have to remind her that this was inevitable anyway and it’s nice that she can stay home with her own father.   At first she was concerned about G being alone with her, but now we are afraid of A being alone without him!  She is by no means awful and is trying really hard…I don’t know I can’t explain it.

So they have decided they should at least just give it a shot.  Try and live together and co-exist as they slowly repair their relationship.  He MUST go to counseling that is one of the conditions.  They have already fallen into synch to a certain degree.  So I am hopeful.  I can not MAKE things be.  Mike and I have had many late night heart to hearts with them both and mediating and I think it has helped some.  But it won’t be easy.  Nothing worth it ever is.  They both are very in love with the idea of being a family, so if G can keep it together and A can heal her heart and let him hold it again, they are golden.

In other news my mother in law had a double knee replacement this week and is doing well.  We are hoping she will stay at the in house rehab for at least a week.  She is such a hard ass about things so who knows.  She is very much looking forward to skyping with her favorite little dude when he gets home from school.  Mike would take him up there to see her, but honestly he has already been so upset about my surgery we don’t want to freak him out about the hospital. LOL

Mas is doing great.  I miss him a lot while he is at school, but it is what it has to be for right now.  I will get better.  I am getting better.  Just…going…to…take…time. Oh joy.

Well they are all leaving tomorrow so it’s back to just us.  I have to say I am scared, but ok with that.  It will be nice to have our house back.  It will be a struggle for Mike to balance everything.  We will make it though, we always do.

So yeah. It’s 10 pm the night before my surgery and I sit down to write this.  Considering I have to be there at 5:45 a.m. and I still haven’t showered with the nasty orange soap yet, probably isn’t so smart.   But you guys don’t read this because I am smart.  So I think we are ok.

There was some huge confusion and a snafu with the scheduling today, but that is supposed to be all worked out.  If I get there tomorrow and there is no O.R. for me, you guys won’t hear from me for a while b/c I will be in jail.

You won’t hear from me for a ton for a while anyway.

I am sure I will make my usual random high explosions of brilliance on twitter though, so don’t worry.

This surgery will suck, like all surgeries…but it should lead to more healing.  If not…well let’s not go there.

My brother will be flying in on Saturday.  His wife won’t take him back or let him be unsupervised with the baby until he gets right with himself first.

Sooooooooooooo, he may be here for a while.  Really?  It’s ok.  He needs us and we need him.  Mike is the only man G has ever trusted or respected and he can also talk to me without getting enraged.  which is not the case with my mom.

We will tape him back together and then send him off to a professional for the glue.

Lu’s half way house at your service!

Anyway, it will be great for us to have the physical help.   We really need it.   It will be great for him to have the mental help he really needs.  I know I can only help him as much as he will let me.  I know I can not fix what he doesn’t want to fix.  So we shall see. One day at a time.

I am really glad to be getting this surgery over with.  I am ready to fill this blog with not only depressing family stories, but pictures of theme parks and fun times.  It’s coming peeps, it’s coming.

Until then, I pimp the cane like no one else can.

Third time’s the charm right?

As I fall deeper into a manic state I’m a prime candidate for the gene to receive the drug addict traits
Blood pressure climbs at a dramatic rate I seem to gravitate to the bottle of night quil then I salivate
Start off with the night quil like I think I’ll just have a taste (This is gross I go straight to the Valium and skip this.)
Couple sips of that then I gradually graduate
Too a harder prescription drug called Valium like ya that’s great I go to take just one and I end up like having eight
Now I need something in my stomach cause I haven’t ate Maybe I’ll grab a plate of nachos and I’ll have a steak
And you’d think with all I have at stake
Look at my daughters face… Mommy somethings is wrong with dad I think
He’s acting weird again he’s really beginning to scare me Won’t shave his beard again and he pretends he doesn’t hear me
And all he does is eat Doritos and Cheetos
And he just fell asleep in his car eating three musketeers in the rear seat

Sometimes I feel so alone, I just don’t know, feels like I been down this road before,
So lonely and cold, It’s like something takes over me, Soon as I go home and close the door,
Kinda feels like deja vu, I wanna get away from this place I do,
But I can’t and I won’t say I tried but I know that’s a lie cause I don’t
And why I just don’t know…

Maybe just a nice cold brew what’s a beer That’s the devil in my ear I been sober a fucking year
And that fucker still talks to me he is all I can fucking hear
Marshall come on we’ll watch the game it’s the cowboys and buccaneers
And maybe if I just drink half I’ll be halfed buzzed for half of the time
Who’s that mastermind behind that little line With that kind of rational man I got half a mind
Too have another half of glass of wine sound asinine Ya I know
But I never had no problem with alcohol (I don’t)
Ouch look out for the wall aim for the couch I’m about to fall I missed the couch and down I go looking like a bouncing ball
Shit must have knocked me out cause I ain’t feel the ground at all Wow what the fuck happened last night where am I
Man fuck am I hungover and god damn I got a head ache
Shit half a vicodin why can’t I? “All systems ready for take off please stand by”

Sometimes I feel so alone, I just don’t know, feels like I been down this road before,
So lonely and cold, It’s like something takes over me, Soon as I go home and close the door,
Kinda feels like deja vu, I wanna get away from this place I do, But I can’t and I won’t say I tried but I know that’s a lie cause I don’t
And why I just don’t know…

So I take a vicodin splash it hits my stomach and ah
A couple weeks go by it ain’t even like I’m getting high
Now I need it just not to feel sick ya I’m getting by
Wouldn’t even be taking this shit if Deshaun didn’t die
Oh ya there’s an excuse you lose proof so you use
There’s new rules it’s cool if it’s helping you to get through
It’s twelve noon ain’t no harm in self inducing a snooze
What else is new fuck it what would Elvis do in your shoes
Now here I am 3 months later full blown relapse
Just get high until the kids get home from two homes relax
And since I’m convinced that I’m in-somniac I need these pills to be able to sleep so I take 3 naps
Just to be able to function throughout the day let’s see
That’s an ambian each nap how many Valium 3
And that will average out to about one good hours sleep
OK so now you see the reason how come he
Has taken 4 years just too put out an album beat
See me and you we almost had the same outcome heath
Cause that Christmas you know the pneumonia thing
It was Bologna was it the methadone ya think
Or the hydrocodone you hide inside your pornos ( I don’t have to hide it, because I fucking need it.)
Your VCR tape cases with you ambian cr great places to hide ain’t it
So you can lie to Halie I’m going beddy bye Whitney baby good night Elaina
Go in the room and shut the bedroom door and wake up in ambulance
They said they found me on the bathroom floor

Sometimes I feel so alone, I just don’t know, feels like I been down this road before,
So lonely and cold, It’s like something takes over me,
Soon as I go home and close the door,
Kinda feels like deja vu, I wanna get away from this place I do,
But I can’t and I won’t say I tried but I know that’s a lie cause I don’t
And why I just don’t know…

Deja Vu by Eminem

I know a lot of things are not my fault.   I know a lot of things happen that no one can control, predict, or teach you to recover from.  I know that people say things they don’t mean, but that never really changes how it hurts us.  I know some of us deal with more in our lives than others will ever scratch the surface of.

Just sometimes I wish that wasn’t me.