In which my brain is a muddled mess.

Today started off like any other day. Get up, kick Isaac out the door to camp and Doug and I went to breakfast. We got home and went about our business. Doug went straight to the basement to do the garbage and cat boxes, I went upstairs to write an email and work on the reviews that need to go up for the Summer O’ Stuff.

Then, it happened. Doug came flying up the stairs telling me that Booger was dead. I thought he was kidding. I really did. How could my sweet Booger be really gone?

Suffice to say, he wasn’t kidding.

It was then it all hit me. I broke into tears and started to make phone calls. What the heck do you do with an animal corpse? Do you bury it, do you what? I had absolutely no clue.

So, I called the vet first and they said that I could do one of two things-bury her in the back yard or have her cremated. I could do the cremation one of two ways-private, where I got the ashes back or a general one where I wouldn’t get the ashes back.

I figured getting the ashes back would be creepy as all heck. Seriously. I loved her to death and all, but seriously. What the heck do I need her ashes for? What would I do with them? I couldn’t find a logical thing to do with them, so I asked the vet fora  bit of time and hung up. I then made a few other phone calls about final arrangements.

After a few minutes, we settled on taking her to Hudson Mohawk Humane Society.

I sobbed the whole way down, and Doug held back tears. He had to drive. I was in zero shape to drive for anything. When we got there, Doug carried her in as I filled out the paperwork and paid for the entire thing.  Doug finally broke and as soon as they took her back, he dashed out the door to the car.

I asked they be gentle with her. Asked that they remind her one last time she was loved dearly and would be sorely missed.

They promised they would. I’m holding them to that.

I don’t know how I’m going to explain all of this to Isaac. Booger was just as much his cat as ours. He loved her, snuggled her (even against her best judgment) and laughed at her eternal brainlessness.

I went book hunting, but the one that came highest recommended,  I think I’m going to pass on. I went through it and the last bit of the book deals with the last best thing about this child’s pet being that his body would decompose and turn into fertilizer.

Umm…I’m having a hard enough time saying goodbye without explaining decomposition to my child. So, Now I’m on the hunt for another book. I told Isaac, and I don’t think he totally gets it. I really don’t. Frankly, I’m such a muddled mess that I don’t even have my head around her being gone.

Heck. I’m just getting around Furball being gone.

I know there are good things in everything, but right now, I’m having a hard time seeing the forest through the trees. I can think of a million good and funny things about her. Right now, all I can think about is the fact that she’s gone and I almost feel as if it’s my fault in some backhanded way. I’m still thinking the usual coulda-woulda-shoulda.

So, goodbye my beloved Booger. Our car engine kitty, nap buddy and all around great furever friend.

Don’t think for a second that you’ll be forgotten.

There is always something worse…

I joined the monkey sock swap again…and my spoilee (who I’m actually using PINK yarn for…regular readers know this is big!) just had a horrible, horrible experience yesterday. There are few things worse than what she found.

Go over, show NapLover some love. Her and her daughter could really use it right now.

just try to keep my idenity a secret…this is supposed to be a secret swap!

There’s something in the air

I swear!

I was reading blogs on the Scavenger hunt swap, and was reading Cynical Knit Gal’s blog and her beloved pooch, Gracie is really ill. Ill to the point that she’s selling off her stash (both fabric and yarn), and sold her sewing machine to help pay for vet bills. Well, as I’m reading about poor Gracie, I realize that the snoring, snorting and general snottyness I hear is FURBALL. She’s got a runny eye, a runny nose and is generally congested and miserable. She’s ben congested for a smidge, but she’s eating and drinking, so I thought nothing of it.

So, I call the vet, explain the situation, and they have me bring her right in. We get there, and the first thing they hear is her being congested. They listen to her and automatically perscribe antibiotics. On top of this, they want to do blood work and then x-rays. Umm…x-rays? On a cat? Yeaaaahhh…

So, the total bill would have been (with everything) over $600.00.

It’s nothing compared to Cynical Knitter’s total right now, but it’s so much more than we can afford.

Plus, I figured why do x-rays when we’ve got an antibiotic that we haven’t even given a chance to work yet. So, I allowed them to do bloodwork, and the antibiotic was a no-choice thing. Never was a choice in my brain, so it’s nota big deal.

The new price tag? $185.00.

Could be worse.

Ok, we have to medicate Furball 2x/day…and that’s not fun, but oh, well.

And Isaac? He saw the crate yesterday, because I hadn’t gotten a chance to bring it back down to the basement and he asked what it was. I told him I had to take furball to the doctor’s. He immediately told me that Furball was sick, and the doctor was going to make her ALLLLLLLLLLLL better!

Let’s hope so, Monkey.

Rough times ahead.

Doug went south today. He had to go in for emergency surgery. He’s now in the SICU.

The outlaws are flying in.

Please, someone, come here and find me a place to hide.

I miss my Dougie. I miss my life being the left of abnormal. I miss my son being really on…and not off kilter.

I miss sleeping.

Exhaustion central, How may I help you?

The past few days have been one exhausting trial after another. I don’t know how I”m coping. Wait. I’m not.

I’m tired of the following things, in no particular order and without offense to anyone.

1) My outlaws. They are exausting fake people. I feel like I ran a marathon after encountering them for 5 minutes. I spent HOURS AND HOURS with them yesterday, their stupidity, and their horrid table manners. I swear…I don’t know if I’ll look at a California Roll the same way again after lunch. My mother has forced me to accept a dinner invite for Friday. Can I please get out of it by claiming that I’ve come to my senses and my IQ  can’t take another hit?

2)Medical crap. I’m so tired of being hte medical taxi, the waiter for people to come out of surgery, the one who everyone calls when they have something go down and they need either an ear or someone to take them somewhere.

3) Hospitals. I’ve spent more time sitting in hospitals and am just so sick of waiting for people. I feel like I’ve lived the majority of my life since I’ve been back in E. Nowhere in a doc’s office, a hospital waitng for someone or taking care of someone post op.

4) Being a married single mom. I’m tired of sitting on Isaac through doc’s app’ts, laying guilt trips on the other half to come with me, doing all of the piss work with the district and when I have to, the school. I get no help parenting, and only criticisms of what’s NOT right with Isaac. There are some days because o fthe married single mom status, I can’t take one more thing going wrong with Isaac.

Now, I’m going to go and collapse. Isaac already has….now that he’s done peeing on my bedroom floor…

some days…

You know, when you have a child, you don’t think you’re signing up for some things. 

and today is one of those days I just don’t feel like I knew what I was signing up for. 

Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t trade Isaac for anything, and I love the Monkey with every inch of my being,a nd the house would be too quiet without his singing, laughing and attempting to attack the cats. Some days, it’s just a very, very lonely place to be as a parent of a special needs preschooler. 

I spent this morning carting Isaac to the pediatric surgeon for the follow up from his most recent foray into Albany Medical Center Children’s hospital. We got there, and waited..and waited…and waited…

Torture for most 3 year olds, but for Isaac, this was cruel and unusual punishment. 

Our app’t was 10:30. We didn’t get seen until almost 11:35. We left the office at 11:45. 

yeah. that’s all I’m going to say about that. 

Then, there are the people who don’t understand, even when you explain, that he needs adaptations to make his world WORK for him. 
Case and point:

 I had someone ask me if his AFO’s were so that I could punish him for running away from me. Whatever. Even after explanation, they didn’t seem convinced. I waited for days for CPS to find me and play 20 questions and all of that.

And I didn’t sign up for the days where I feel like I need to apologize for my child and his “oddities.” 
Like to the surgeon that he’s not potty trained yet, because he’s hyposensitive. 
Like to some people when he has a hissy fit, because he’s just overtired and he doesn’t know when to shut down
Like to other people who don’t understand his need to MOVE and GO and be a tactile child. 

I also didn’t sign up for the fights I would have with doctors…
Threats if we didn’t get the referral to the ENT, because their incompetent office lost the records
fights over this last procedure…isn’t there another way??

and I didn’t sign up for stupid people who think that their child is more “special” than mine because of their gender. 

Let’s discuss that one. Cousin of mine (who the longer I am a mom, the more I want to backhand slap her for what she’s doing to that poor child with a horrible name…) was going on and on and on about how traumatic it was for the Badly named social retard to get tubes put in her ears. This was a week..yes, a week…after Isaac’s 2nd testicular pulldown. Yeah..that was surgery #4. 

I laughed at her. It was all I could do…I didn’t want to backhand her at a family function. 

I also didn’t sign up for the people who really drive me insane by questioning my choice of program for Isaac to get him the services he needs. 

Like the people who think I’m a horrid mom for sending him on the bus every morning. 

If they saw what I saw…Isaac RUNS to the bus, tells me goodbye, and will not let me walk him any further than halfway downt he driveway anymore…they’d see a child who ENJOYS his bus ride and feels like a “big kid” getting on a bus all by himself. 

And again, don’t get me wrong. I’m blessed on so many counts…a loving, sweet, hilarious child who tells me EVERY morning that he’s glad I’m here, and it’s good to see me along with a hug and a smooch…a SUPERB program that meets Isaac where he is and pushes him to the absolute next level on every playing field…a program that will NOT take any of his whiney fits, but still shows enough love that he talks about teachers…(Yes, we’re STILL hearing about playing with Mary Jo!!)…the knowledge that he’s made so much progress….and he will in all likelyhood go to kindergarten mainstreamed…

BUT, there are the things that get me down…
and being a parent of a child who isn’t “mainstream” right now is one of them. 
having a “medical mess” is another…

But, now, I was just asked to go watch “Cars..” 
“are you coming, Mommy? Come in! ”

I think I will.

Fine.

Isaac’s bday party is off due to lack of interest.

Please excuse me while I go return everything tearfully.

The Rules for this week..

1. If you have to ask “Will you be offended if…” chances are, my usually thick skin has gone to paper thin. I will be offended. Don’t even broch the subject with me.
2. Do not try to reason with me about things that I am usually reasonable about. It will not work. I am allowing myself moments of serious insanity. There are times I will NOT be reasonable or do the most reasonable or rational thing.  This also involves playing Devil’s advocate. I do not care about the other side of things. I don’t care about “maybes.”
3. If you know you are treading on an area that I am seriously sensitive about normally, DO NOT GO THERE. I am moreso than usual. It will usually amount to a tearful breakdown.
4. Don’t be offended if I don’t get back to you in my usual speedy fashion. I may just NOT want to chat. If it is urgent, make it clear.
5. DO NOT ask  me to knit anything other than mindless things. Don’t tell me that I should branch out. I’m not in a “branch out” mood. I want what the Harlot calls “Idiot knitting.”
6. Please give me some space. Please? I know when I want to be around people and deal with things and when I don’t.
7. Don’t ask me to be happy when I’m not. I do enough playing at work.
8. Allow me my Starbucks and Bruegger’s jags. I do not care if I am slamming my 4th Michael Jackson or having ANOTHER bagel. (see rule 2)
9. Do not try and tell me how wonderful this area is. I still want to go back to LA. (again, rule 2) This will not change.
10. If I say something insanely hurtful, you have 2 choices…a) tell me I’m a jerk and allow me to apologize or b) chalk it up to my being ultra sensitive and not having my filters on, and move on.
11. Allow me to sit and sob hysterically for no reason whatsoever.
12. Allow me to find the Wiggles extra freaky, and do not attempt to sway my mind in any way, shape or form. They are scary. That is that.

Thank you for understanding and attempting to abide by these for the next week or so.

grouchy, grouchy Laura

I feel like the grouchy ladybug from the books…where the whale smacks the bug with his tail. Although, it’smade me reel rather than be “ooh! I should be nice!”

SOO, my apologies in advance for my current state of mind. Just bear with me. I will be “normal” again soon.

Grey’s Anatomy…or am I the ONLY wussie?

After sitting through Grey’s tonight, I don’t know where my brain is at. I had to sit here and blog…so please excuse me if it makes no sense. Just know my brain is racing and my eyes are blurred with tears…So, excuse the typos.

It’s very rare that a tv show makes me sit here and sob hysterically. The last time I did this was the time when they killed off Dr. Greene on ER. Does anyone note the similarity? Hospital shows? What is my deal with those? I know. I’m a wannabe. But, I digress.

needless to say, I’m sitting here sobbing. I don’t know whether it’s the impending non-event here, or if itw as just the subject matter. Or a combination of both. Every time someone mentions a few key words, I’m either holding back tears or just being silent. Sorry if I’m not as THRILLED as I should be. My jokes about things are becoming a good cover for me being sad, hurt and generally a mess.

So, I apologize in advance if I get more and more snappy as 2/19 approaches. I apologize in advance if I’ve promised you knitted items for your small one, but it’s hard for me to even make things besides mindless socks. Yes, I’ve gotten to the point where socks are mindless. It’s therapeutic. I promise I WILL make them…you just may have to wait until after February ends. Sorry. I really am. I just can’t handle certain things right now.

I’m trance walking through my life right now. I can’t keep my appointments straight, I’v ebeen crashing into things at work…I’m a disaster. So, I apologize in advance again.

So, the question remains…am I the only wussie who sat here and sobbed hysterically at this episode of Grey’s?