I don't remember sacrificing a goat

All is well. Killed her meds and prepared for the worst.

Lydia is on top of the world.

What.

It was a non stimulant. She hated the feeling of a giant wet blanket holding her down.

She is a delight. She is a leader. She is happy.

Ok. Thrilled.

Why.

It must be my fault. Right?

Ps - when she saw me notably upset the day after elections, she said, Don't worry Momma. I can be the first girl president.

Medicine ups and downs for the ADHD kid with ODD on the side

Whoa.

So Lydia went on meds for the ADHD/ODD.  She switched meds As it wasn't working.

We took her off the second non stimulant last week.  Beastly at home.  Creature like.

Welcome to the Garden of Eden.

WTF.

We had her 504/IEP meeting with school. Lydia does not qualify for either.  Want to know why?  She is a TOP mother fucking student.  Not just good.  TOP.  STUDENT.

Can I get a 504/IEP for home?

We continue to struggle, but she is remarkably better since stopping the medication.

Is it age?  Is it the regimen of school and activities?  Who the fuck knows.

Things I lie about to my kids

Have mercy.

The oldest asked if I ever had a boyfriend before daddy.  Peppering me with questions.  Laser focus, the hyper focus enjoyed by those with ADHD when they like a subject.

Rocco and I were married when i was 36.  37?  Had boyfriends galore and an ex husband by then.  Where in the world did she learn about this?  I dodged the question.

Is it time to tell them about dead end marriages with abusive alcoholics?

When do I tell them about the baby who died before they were born?

When do I tell them what medical termination means.

Incompatibility with life.

Now all of a sudden the donor egg question doesn't seem as scary.

A good old fashioned Lexapro cry

Crying sucks.

I always try to stop it.  Since I am yakked up on 30mg of Lexapro I am usually successful. Always successful.  I feel the tears and I shut them off.

Therapist say cry = good.  Cry = release.  Cry = growth.

I say cry = surrender.  Cry = losing.  Cry = not in control.

This wkend was so long and so horrible.  Lydia is consuming all the oxygen in this house.

We walk around waiting for the bomb to explode.

It did and I sobbed like a momma should.  Man I really feel better but maybe it is because no one is home right now but me.

She gets this shit show from my DNA

Raced home from Lydia's medication appointment (progress = good) and treated myself to a concert under the stars outside of Chicago.  It's the kind of place where everyone does their best to feel like a Crate and Barrel advertisement.  Electric candles, silver and china and classy shit like that.

I texted my best pal on the way there to see if I should hit a gas station for food and wine.  I had Big Intentions but didn't end up getting to shower that day.  All the more reason I EARNED this good time out.

Kind of forgot about this read everyone is talking about.  Kind of forgot how it stressed the living shit out of me.  Oh yeah, this post was a running in my head all week.  Until it wasn't. Eek.

I lived that shit out loud last night.  Dammit all.

I am mega stressed from Lydia's large and magnificent energy that just might choke the life out of me.  I am crazy exhausted from nursing for over 2 years.

Over in the suburbs
Her house looked like a bomb
Lived a tired, stressy mom
And her little kid throng.
"You suck!", said her family.  "I suck!", said the mom.
And the Sad momma cried in the wine, her favorite balm.

Living with a little regret for my choices that night.

Great show.  Great time.  Heading home.  Long wait for the shuttle bus.  Having fun admiring a cool Hillary Clinton shirt.  Laughing. The line is long and we've been waiting a long time.  Still fun for me, but notice some weary moms in line w littles asleep on dad's shoulders or in strollers.

And then Trashy Line cutters show up.  The cut in front of me.  Who cares.

They cut in front of tired mommas.  Mommas who very likely wanted to be kid free that night.  I was glad to have Rocco home so not to foot a $17/hour babysitting night.  Sometimes your kid comes with you for love, sometimes for the budget.  Not sure what the case was for these moms, but the Trashy Line Cutters said kids belong at home, not at a concert.

Short story, I stood up for your Uterus.  I challenged the Trashy Line Cutters.  Rumor has it there almost was a fight, but I'm damn lucky Trash didn't throw a punch.  I'd be on the ground.  But I was asking for it. Daring them.

I was angry.

Why would line cutters be so personal to me?  It was an electric wire on my spine.  The electric wire of injustice.  I suited up for battle.

I am my daughter's mother.

Sometimes you get what you need

Toddlerina, now the Elementary School Empress, started new medication late last wk.

Lydia came home from school grumpy and eye lids at half mast.

Asleep at 545pm.  She slept almost straight through the night, but woke briefly for me to shove another pill down her throat.

Ok, not really, she took it willingly, but someone should just cut my heart out with a spoon.

Cut my mother fucking heart out with a spoon because it will be painful and and it will be messy and it is a shit-effective tool.

Later that day I see my buddy pull up in the driveway.  She walks up to the door kinda slow motion like, bad ass, leaving her car running and the driver's door open as if to indicate "you cannot refuse me - see the International Signs I Won't Stay for Long".

She hands over a bag of every kind of chocolate treat currently available at Traader Jo's.  That is a lot of chocolate.

She hugs me, leaves the bag of SWAG, and drives off into the sunset.

Lydia didn't wake up when I ate the chocolate without even unwrapping it.

A shitty frozen casserole would help

Notes to myself.  Not sure it will make a lot of sense but I want to remember it.

My family, my silent family, thinks all Lydia's troubles are due to lack of discipline at home.  Or best case, due to inconsistencies between me and Rocco.  I may be a shit parent, but he is a Mega Shit Parent.

My sister doesn't buy it.  How hard it is.  How much I am struggling.  Hey.  Sis.  Can you help.  Come over.  Do anything.  Bring me a tuna fucking casserole.

I solve problems, my sister says.  A dinner would only treat symptoms.

Lydia has been evaluated multiple times by a psychiatrist over the last several years.  We decided to try medication about a month ago.  She had plateaued. Weekly therapy appointments were not offering progress.  The first prescription was a miss.  Lydia stopped taking it a few days ago.

The rebound.  The, I dunno, can I call it withdrawal?  I don't really know what else it could be.  Is this a manic episode?  She needs little sleep, yet runs like an angry machine.

She targets me.  Follows me.  Baits me.  Rocco sends me outside.  Remove the stimulus, I guess?

I am alone in the garage.

Escort to the dentist chair or a violation against her will?

Ah, hell.  I have been dreading taking Lydia (Toddlerina) to the dentist since the day we walked out of her last appointment.

Huge, sobbing fit on the scene.  Terrifying the living shit out of the other kids waiting to be called down to the dungeon, I mean dentist's chair.  Frantic.  Begging.  Hiding.

It breaks my heart to see it.  Lydia becomes completely unhinged.  She can't be reached when she is in this state.  You can see she isn't present in her own body.

The older dentist in a kids specialty dentist shop steps in to help as his hygienists aren't making any headway.  I am doing my best to calm her and not freak out myself.  He asks to "escort" her to the chair.  I say ok, sure.

Grandpa Dentist bends down and tries to force her in the direction of the chair.  You think she was freaking out before, well now it sounds like someone is trying to kill her.  My mind and heart are racing - what the fuck is happening here?  Is this the way you do it?  Is this right?  He is a specialist, right?  He must know this will work?

Not sure how much time passed.  Maybe 15 seconds?  15 years?

I step between them and tell him to stop.

She is a wreck.  I have seen her in a state and this one is right up there in the top 5.

I don't blame her.  No one should ever be allowed to put their hands on you if you refuse.  I don't even make Lydia kiss her grandparents (another strike in the Roccie is a Shitty Parent  column as far as my family is concerned).

I'm sure not going to let stranger force her against her will.

In the end her teeth were cleaned. Couldn't complete everything she needed for her dental health.  It was just too much for her to process.

He said at the end of the visit all went well.  I am still dumbstruck.  I attempted to help him understand by sharing her diagnosis. He cut me short and said he doesn't like labels.

Wait you Dental Dick.  I am not labeling.  I am sharing a medical term to hopefully enable you to understand she runs DEEP.  You play around her rules when it comes to something like this.

Son of a bitch is fired.  Not sure what I'll tell the folks in that office.  I need to craft a message they can make change from.  No one should be allowed to operate a shop like this.

Where were we?

I think this helps, don't you? Just having a place to get it all out and see how much progress you have (hopefully) made? I have so much to manage.  How is it possible that each day looks exactly the same? Man.  I hope I changed my clothes.  And showered.

I am 45 now.  46 in December. I have a 7 yo from second round of IVF, an almost 5 yo from donor eggs, and a 2 year old from just having sex.  Sex.  Ew.  Like once a month.  I'm sorry about that.  I just really am.  Everyone deserves the crib to be a rocking.  I know many have tried and failed. 

Who the hell knows why I am on this side?  Too heavy for me to explore.  If you tell me things happen for a reason, I will reach through the keyboard and let my son pee on your hard drive.  He loves to pee on targets.  Careful.

I'm here and I am barley treading water.  Grateful as hell, but mother father this is a shit ton of a lot harder than the dreamy family stalking in the park I used to do.

I have a recipient family who has a 5 year old son from our remaining embryos.  This mother is the one to lead us all.  She opened my heart when I just wanted to toss my embryos over the wall.  It's a gift to see her mother her children.  I used to say "my children", but I am getting better.  Oh, there is envy, but not mean spirited.  Just want to have all the babies all the time.

My oldest daughter, formerly known as Toddlerina, is a powerhouse.  I am reinventing myself trying to find the best way to allow her to fly.  I am alienated from my family due to my parenting approach. I try to follow Peaceful Parenting practices.  Gentle Parenting.  Anything but Authoritarian.  Tried that and failed miserably.  Hard part is, my sister has some spectacular kids and followed Authoritarian. And look at me! (Har, har.) I am the product of Authoritarian parenting! I'm a gem of a citizen.

My DE guy knows he is from a special egg, but loves it because he thinks it has something to do with aliens.

My baby (still breastfeeding to the disgust of my family) will one day know I said "I cannot bear another pregnancy".  Oops.

I thank God for the ban on men's Olympic swim bodysuits.

Betty please.  For the next ten minutes, everything comes with pancakes.