Archive for July, 2008

Blood, blood everywhere

July 31, 2008

So! This morning, my sweet daughter Emma decided to make me toast as a surprise. What was REALLY surprising, though, was that she decided to cut it with a gigantic butcher knife, and cut the bejeebus out of her finger.

Because she wanted to keep it a surprise, she decided not to tell me (I was reading, BAD MOM, and didn’t notice) and bravely tried to stop the bleeding. After soaking through a couple towels, she came out sobbing (and I still hadn’t noticed…good Lord) and then my Super Mommy Nurse persona kicked into fantastic, butt-kicking action.

If you’re a mom, you know about Super Mommy Nurse mode, so I don’t need to explain it to you. If you’re not a mom, here’s a quick blurb: basically, you become some kind of cross between Marcus Welby and George Clooney on ER, with a little bit of Nurse Ratched kicked in for fun. (Just kidding about the Nurse Ratched part. Maybe.)

Anyway, after like an hour of holding bloody towels on a gushing finger, it finally stopped. I assigned her brother to tell her funny stories to keep her relaxed, and of course, he went for the easy laugh: fart jokes. Picture this if you can: two little kids, one with blood all over her, one with a giant parrot toy, sitting together on the floor in the bathroom, laughing hysterically at fart jokes while Mommy talks to the advice nurse on whether she should get stitches or not.

Long story short, she’s fine, all’s fine, and I’m cleaning up blood as we speak. I mean, after I type. I’m not THAT coordinated.

He's really got an excuse now, doesn't he.

July 29, 2008

So! Apparently, the reason why my husband has been such an ass these past few years is not just because he’s out to get me. He has a certifiable mental illness. Dang it! And just when I was really starting to enjoy yelling at him.

He’s been tentatively diagnosed with schizophrenia, which sounds a lot scarier than it is. Basically, he hears voices, and he is paranoid, and is very contradictory, and there’s a lot more, but that’s the major stuff. Plus, he struggles with rage addiction, which means that not only is he crazy, he’s ANGRY crazy. Good times.

However, he’s getting help, mostly because I told him that if he did not get help, I would have to kick him out to live with his mother, which was a huge motivator. He’s on meds, which seem to be helping, and once we can get him on better insurance (maybe we should move to Canada? hmmm), we’re going to get him even more help.

I finally had to talk to someone about this yesterday, and of course, now this blog, because I’m a very, very private person but privacy can only go so far. My sister in law has been noticing stuff for years, and told me I must be the most patient person in the world. She also told me that I’m good at putting up a front, but it tends to make people believe I don’t need anything.

Which was very perceptive of her.

I’m much better at listening than I am at talking. I feel bad if I have a problem and need to burden someone else with it – I’d much rather just deal with it on my own. That’s probably not very healthy, right? Huh.

Anyway, working on a lot of things over here at Boz Casa, not the least of which is my crazy husband. Ha! That’s not just metaphorically speaking anymore!

He’s really got an excuse now, doesn’t he.

July 29, 2008

So! Apparently, the reason why my husband has been such an ass these past few years is not just because he’s out to get me. He has a certifiable mental illness. Dang it! And just when I was really starting to enjoy yelling at him.

He’s been tentatively diagnosed with schizophrenia, which sounds a lot scarier than it is. Basically, he hears voices, and he is paranoid, and is very contradictory, and there’s a lot more, but that’s the major stuff. Plus, he struggles with rage addiction, which means that not only is he crazy, he’s ANGRY crazy. Good times.

However, he’s getting help, mostly because I told him that if he did not get help, I would have to kick him out to live with his mother, which was a huge motivator. He’s on meds, which seem to be helping, and once we can get him on better insurance (maybe we should move to Canada? hmmm), we’re going to get him even more help.

I finally had to talk to someone about this yesterday, and of course, now this blog, because I’m a very, very private person but privacy can only go so far. My sister in law has been noticing stuff for years, and told me I must be the most patient person in the world. She also told me that I’m good at putting up a front, but it tends to make people believe I don’t need anything.

Which was very perceptive of her.

I’m much better at listening than I am at talking. I feel bad if I have a problem and need to burden someone else with it – I’d much rather just deal with it on my own. That’s probably not very healthy, right? Huh.

Anyway, working on a lot of things over here at Boz Casa, not the least of which is my crazy husband. Ha! That’s not just metaphorically speaking anymore!

What it means to have a child with special needs

July 24, 2008

Not sure, exactly, how I found this….all that woozy late night Googling has finally caught up to me, I think. However, this list really resonated with me, especially since I found myself nodding to most of the entries on this list.

In our house, I would also add:

Afraid to try the simplest tasks because he usually fails.
Wary of other children not because they make fun of him, but because he simply does not understand how to relate to them.
Instead of planning our retirement with just the two of us, we make plans for just the three of us.

I hope I don’t come across whiny here, because believe me, I can be whiny but GOOD, and I didn’t mean to be whiny. Henry is our sweetheart, but dang, the kid is hard. HARDDDDDD. Just this week, in fact, we’ve had more meltdowns and tantrums than I can count; we even had to practically tackle him in one of his fits in order to keep him from running out into the street. Good times.

It’s difficult to explain to people who don’t know Henry – heck, even people who DO know Henry – that this is just part of his “thing”. Geez, my own mom prefers not to be around him because he gets messy (my word that conveniently encompasses pretty much everything he does). We get no respite care because we don’t live anywhere near any relatives, so stress? Yeah, I know something about stress. Stress has made me its bitch this week.

One day at a time, is what I keep telling myself, and maybe one of these days that Hallmark cliche might actually KICK IN.

Nothing like an empty house to make you unproductive

July 23, 2008

Currently, all of the people who live in my house are on their way to McMinnville to look at the Spruce Goose.

I’m supposed to be working on “stuff”.

You know, being productive?

And yet, all I can do is futz around.

Hmm.