When friends cause the chaos.

When friends cause the chaos.


I wasn’t going to write about this. I believed it was too private to bare. But then it dawned on me, that I started this blog to be help me cope. Not just with my boys but when life gets too crazy. I started this blog because I knew I had a hard time expressing myself.  Much more as happened and I think I will bare it as well.

One of the reasons I haven’t written in awhile was because life has a tendency to get a bit chaotic. It’s taken me a long time to process this and several other events that happened to me this year. It is in fact the main reason why I haven’t blogged in so long. Sometimes it takes me a very long time to process events and even longer to speak up about them.  Honestly, I haven’t felt this betrayed ever. It took me by surprise. I am still healing from the mess. So are my children.

Chaos is inevitable in my life. While there is the normal day to day stuff like being behind on washing clothes. Or the fact that everyone has Aspergers in our home.  Which isn’t soooo terrible unless we are trying to avoid meltdowns. Those meltdown hours can feel like days.  Some things are legitimately my fault. I can be so dense that I miss every fucking clue even if it was in neon blinking lights and it was bashed against my face.  Sometimes it’s my Yaqui temper gets the best of me. Then there are some situations where you have no control over, what so ever.

In this situation. I definitely freaked out. I lost my cool and made things worse.  Looking back I could’ve been much calmer then I was. When it comes to my children,  I tend to go from zero to a thousand.  I wish I didn’t have that temper but I do. (yes I am silly, fun loving, dance in the street for no reason, eccentric kinda girl…. but with that comes a very bad temper at times)

I know you’re asking, “So what happened?”

I was on vacation with my husband. This was first time I have EVER left my boys behind for more then a day without being with family. I was beyond nervous. I entrusted my kids to a “friend.”   .. Seg-way. It was  also, the first time I had ever been serious about a person I was dating in my life, that I felt we should move in together. (I will have to write about this later.) He moves in the week before vacation. And guess what he & her do not get a long while I am away.   I am without phone.

I’m thinking, “I don’t like it, but you know what.  they are adults. They will work it out or not.” Either way, I never had imagined what I was going to deal with by the end of our vacation.  Basically, She didn’t approve of him, she didn’t like our closeness, she didn’t like that he spoke up to her when she was being too much,  and I’m sure jealously played a big part in this.  They both said some nasty things to each other.

She took my kids from my home. That wasn’t the plan, but I figured it would blow over by the time I got home. She didn’t want to return the kids back to my house. When I asked her to bring them to the airport she refused. I wanted them home as soon as possible, not just because I was upset by her, but honest to god that was my first long stay away from my boys. It was really hard for me. She didn’t want to bring them until the next day after we got back.  As soon as we got off our flight in Norfolk we picked the boys up. I was beyond relieved. I had missed my monkeys. I thought that was the end of our little tiff.

No.. No it wasn’t. She threatened to go to CPS about how I abused my children. She wrote me this long letter in how she felt I have neglected my children.  My children didn’t have learning disabilities or have Aspergers. Essentially that I’ve abused my children and it was my pathology that caused their delays. She even threw the poly card at us.  Of course I was upset. I was seeing red. During this time, I thought letter had only been written  to me. By that Thursday, 10 family members & friends came to me that she had sent them the same letter.  I was M-O-R-T-I-F-I-E-D!

We got a lawyer. I had to explain to my family and friends who didn’t know we were poly.  We had to explain what the hell was going on. I had to get letters from friends & family on our behalf. I went to the boys doctors and therapist to inform them. I wanted to make sure that everyone knew what was going on. We hadn’t been open about our life until moment. We had no choice. I felt honesty was the best. (That’s why I blogged about us, being poly. Why yes. We are Poly back in May.)

What made things even harder to deal with was the fact she was a close friend. Someone who I spent several days a week with. She was someone I confided in and I thought I could trust.  Not to mention that she herself had lived in open relationship with her husband for years. She even lost her son to CPS because of false allegations.  She was trying to hurt me like other had hurt her. Simply because I didn’t agree with her. Honestly I didn’t agree with either of them. But because I didn’t come running to defend her, she  thought her actions was justified.

Looking back. I can’t say I didn’t know about her level of crazy. She had problems with other peers & jobs that been blown our of proportion in the past. I always took the stance of neutrality. I figured I wasn’t there for the argument, that I couldn’t pass judgment. I knew she was emotional. What woman isn’t from time to time? Many times she joked about being sociopath because when someone pissed her off she would make it a living hell for them and not think twice. At the time I thought she was joking. I mean I say some pretty nonsense stuff mostly for a laugh, but when it comes down to it, I don’t mean it nor would I actually do half the shit I joke about.   I never once thought she would do be so utterly hateful to me.  Probably because I don’t think that way. It would never occur to me to make such accusations about anyone and then spread it around to ruin them.   I don’t understand hatred. I don’t understand cruelty. I don’t get many things. I don’t think poorly of others until I have seen you treat me or others poorly. In this way, I am very much like a child.  I forgive easily because I believe most people don’t have an intention to hurt you.  I don’t think I could forgive her for this. It was too much.  She knew how much I love & adore my boys. She knew my fears that every homeschooling parent feels.  She knew she hurt me, that was her very intention. It is because of her intention that I don’t think I can forgive her.  No I don’t hate her. No I wouldn’t want anything to happen to her. But if I would never see her again, it would be too soon.

It was scary.  I think it’s every parents worst fear aside from an actual loss of a child.  Especially when you are lifestyle & you homeschool. We are constantly being scrutinized by everyone. Luckily it blew over.  Many of my friends & family pulled together to support us. Right when I thought no one would ever understand me, everyone came together. A few mutual friends of ours came forward with their support.   It was amazingly beautiful the amount of support we had. I also lost some friends. Mostly because of my life-style.  And that’s ok. I am not everyones cup of tea.


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My Other-Significant Other

My Other-Significant Other

polyamory8This has been about 4 yrs in the making, but only the last 6months has it become established as a relationship.  Four years ago, I met this random guy on FB.  You know how that goes. Every so often we’d chat and visit.  It was pretty great, because he had no expectations from me or I from him. He was just another friend I had made on social media.   Fast forward a few years. One day I randomly told him I really liked him, and the conversation just spiraled from there. We both had feelings for each other but neither of us spoke up about it.

He was in NC on his way to CA, and I honestly thought, “Man I will never meet this great guy face to face.” And just days before he left, we decided what the hell lets do drinks.    Like, my hubby, it was love at first sight.  Maybe having those years invested as friend helped that along. Well it was shocking for both of us. Not just the physical attraction but how easy it was for us to laugh & cry together.

Coming back home was the hardest.  He seemed to fit into this obscure puzzle of mine. That one last piece I had been missing and searching for,  not knowing that I had been searching for this whole time. In a way, he had been searching for me too. We were always so close yet to far away.  I guess you could call us kindred spirits.  As I was leaving,  I felt I had left a piece of myself behind.  In fact neither us wanted to.  In that  last moment, I thought we would never see each other again. And yes, I cried my eyes out on the way home.

Then it hit me, I had to tell Ian, that I love this man.   Granted we’ve had relationships out side of our marriage before. But nothing like this.  I  have only felt this deeply for my husband and two other people in my life.  Jesus-Christ-On-A-Crutch! Explaining these feelings wasn’t easy.  My husband & I spent quite a bit of time talking about our feeling for each other, this new guy, and all the weird scenarios on how this was going to effect  our life.

Then unbeknown to the three of us, 2 months later, my O-SO, moves in with our family.  No. It hasn’t been easy.   Yes, there has been tension. We’ve had to adjust to each other quite a bit. On the other hand, he has brought a lot of joy to our home and in a lot of ways balance.  None of us,  was expecting any of this. I knew that my hubby would love his sense of humor, but I never expected them to get a long so well.   Their friendship was even shocking to me.  Watching them banter back in forth is not amusing, but so endearing. They actually care for each other.

Now that my O-SO is here.  I can’t imagine him not being apart of my life. A bit of me regrets not taking the time to meet him sooner when he was local  ans before he moved away.  Perhaps it’s his easy laughter and zeal for life,  yet his heart ache and his willingness to let me see that side of him, that reminds me of my self.  He is so familiar to me, like a brother, that I had not , had a chance to grow up with.  I am convinced had we grown up together, we would have been the best of friends and that is why I love him so.

Telling our kids  was our first hurdle. We all had a lot of fears. How will effect the boys? Are they too young? Are we subjecting them to a life which they will have to hide or explain the action of us adult? What will our friends, family, & neighbors think? Will they suffer judgment? Really it was quite emotional and continues to be so.  When the time came, my boys were beyond amazing.  We were planning to keep it under wraps until the kids were a little older. But my youngest, Zeke, one morning looks at me and said, “I know why you love him so much….because he is your best friend just like daddy.”  It hit us that wow, these kids can see through us even if we were trying to hold back our affection for each other in front of them.  Their response was breathtaking when we told them. The boys both that similar remarks, “awwww we’re happy that he loves you. We love him too.”  or  ”We know he’s your best friend like daddy is.”  It dawned on me that I have been teaching my children; that they can love whomever they want to. I never had that specific conversation with them. It was heart warming, that my children will grow up having  a deeper understanding & acceptance than I ever did or ever intended for them.

The next stage has been telling family & friends. It’s not something any of us can hide. My O-SO is always around and has become just as an important  part of my life and to our boys, just as much as their father.  Telling everyone that we are poly and we all live together, well… lets just say it isn’t easy. It never is, when you are willing to go against the grain of society.  Our close friends know and they have been our biggest support. To them, I am in constant amazement. We’ve lost friends because of it. To them, I figure it’s probably best, because I refuse to be less then my genuine self.  Most of our family members, “know,”  but we have many more people we need to have that conversation with.  I am looking forward to the day when we don’t have to explain ourselves, everyone knows and we are seen as the beautiful family that we are.




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Why yes. We are Poly.

Why yes. We are Poly.

love*I took this down in fear of back lash. It took me years to write about this, I can’t let anyone make me feel fearful about who and what I am. So I will be writing about this more*

This maybe lengthy. I feel (and I feel often) that there is so much you don’t about me. I have been having this conversation about living honestly. Mostly with myself and how I relate with others. So you may not care for what I have to say… but it absolutely makes me sick when I can not be honest.

So while, my husband and I are open and have been for the enterity of our marriage.  I don’t feel very close to people that often. I know it’s easy for me to love people even in the briefest of moments. What I mean by that, is that, I can meet someone and love who they are in that moment. Then the moments gone, and I walk away feeling, I hope they were as happy to meet me, as I was them. I hope they knew that I loved them. I may feel deeper emotion for some. I know many feel at ease with me quickly. However, I definitely don’t feel that connection with many people. Only a handful have ever struck me, in a way that I felt like I’ve known them my whole life and I had loved them my whole life.  That some how, we crossed paths many times before.

I truly believe that love is infinite and it transcends all space and time. Horrible cheesy, statement, but I do. The love I received as a child.. from my father.. mother.. brothers.. sisters.. community.. made it easier to love myself… love their death, in that I was lucky enough to have wonderful people in my life… which made it easier have a great first love.. my husband.. my children.. my boyfriend and pretty much anybody that comes into my life.. even the homeless man on the corner. Every person I have allowed in gets a better version of me. Someone more capable and more committed to being genuine. I never want to go back to a place where I can not be my guanine authentic-self.

Having a great first love, was a wonderful experience. Realizing that our love for each other would never die, in someways put me on this path. In a nutshell, we met online in a IRC chat room, before online dating was cool. I really believe he saved my life. I had just lost a brother, my grandparents, friends, my mom was in and out of the psych ward, my father shut down.. the whole family did,  I was thinking about suicide on the daily, drinking and getting into fights at school.  Mom wasn’t well and dad hid behind his books, and my siblings didn’t want to come. Not to mention my surgeries.  I was in a horrible spot. But talking to that wonderful boy on IRC, even though he lived in Canada, everyday was enough to keep my grounded. After 3yrs of online dating, we decide to see eachother. So my senior year he decided to come to see me. He didn’t fly, nope he hiked. Granted, he didn’t make it very far before he caught phenomena, was found and taken back to Winnipeg. It was huge sacrifice on his part.(And probably the single most romantic thing anybody has ever done) He did make it down. And for the first time in a long time, my dad had come out of hiding. He ADORED my father and my dad adored him. Dad told him to join the army.  That winter, I was drinking with my with a friend I had sense I was 18mos old  and some guys I didn’t know. And sure enough I slept with one them. I don’t have much memory of the night. Instead of telling him that I had been drinking and no idea who this guy was. I just told him I had cheated on him. (it the moment, that was far easier then to tell him how horribly irresponsible I was) Probably the only time in my life I’ve actually felt guilt and shame. He was heart broken, and we were off and on until that summer. I flew to Canada. And I knew that if we could make it through that, we would spend the rest of lives together. That week was wonderful. I got home and I didn’t hear from him. Obviously I was heart broken. By Aug, I had a miscarriage… . I didn’t tell him or anyone else until I met my now husband. (At the time I felt that we had broken up and I didn’t want to make him feel guilty..I eventually told him years later) He had joined the Canadian army and was off to Afganistan. We spoke again when I had any life changing events.  I lost my dad that was beyond hard for me. I decided, I should let him know.  I found him online and shot him my new number.  It was hard.. so very hard. Sense then, we’ve made a point to check in with each other. I never stopped loving him and the same goes for him. What was hardest, was not having his friendship. Honestly I still feel that way.  I still want to call him up and tell him how wonderful my day was or how much I really need his shoulder to cry on. When we speak it’s always filled with bitter sweetness.

When I met, Ian,  my now husband, we were together years and I felt like I had been cheating on my first. It was hard to admit that not only did I love my first, but I always will.   I fessed up, I couldn’t handle feeling like I was lying. I found out that my husband felt the same way about his first love too. So he got it. That’s when I stopped shaming myself. I knew in that moment that I will never have to hide who I am from my husband. I didn’t know what polyamory  was at 20… but I knew that I wasn’t supposed to feel as intensely as I did.

I know that what drives me being poly is loss:  loss of loved ones.. or because life didn’t work the way I had planned it. I’ve lost too many people to want to run and hide. The idea of not ever being able to love again… it’s enough to bring tears to my eyes. I know I am sensitive.. probably more so then most. I have always been that way, but as I get older, I feel that life is so utterly fragile, and we shouldn’t take it for granted. Though we do it all the time.. we should do our best not to. It has to be a conscious effort for us, not only being capable of more, but receiving it as well.

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Where do you find sympathy in the dictionary? Between Shit & Syphilis

Where do you find sympathy in the dictionary? Between Shit & Syphilis

I LOVED this video. I just had to write about it.  One of the things I say pretty often is that I am not a very sympathetic person.  Truthfully I am not. I will be THE first person to laugh when you fall.   I will also be THE first person to help you up.  I don’t hide the fact that I can be an ass sometimes.   I think when we try being something we’re not, is when we get ourselves in trouble.   Especially when you’re being insincere.  Despite my lack of sympathy for most people and every situation, I am however, I am very empathetic.

As a child my dad used to tell me: “You know where you find sympathy in the dictionary? Between Shit and Syphilis and you ain’t getting none from me.” Why was this so important growing up? Because I was a very sensitive child and still extremely sensitive.  I needed to learn the difference between sympathy & empathy. They are completely two different beast.   I needed to learn to manage my own feelings without having to be rescued from them. And I needed to learn that if I wanted attention, it certainly wasn’t going to be from tears.

I find sympathy to be a very  condescending and rude gesture. Right up there with someone spitting in your face and not holding the door open for me.  I almost rather say nothing at all then tell  you something I do not mean and vise versa. I’d much rather have you keep your mouth shut then to be condescending, even though you think, you are adding some valuable input that only results in angering me,which makes me imagine 1001 ways I could hurt you.

Nothing will will make want to not talk to you or tell you anything about me, then  a “ahhh I’m sorry.”   For me, at least, it feels like a, “wow, you’re life sucks. Shut up now. I don’t want to think about it. You make me feel like a bad person, because I don’t know what that feels like.” No you’re not a bad person. You’re just not a sincere person. And that my friend, kinda hurts.  It shuts people down. Which does make you kinda crappy…. not bad, but crappy.  Yes I will call you out on it.

I recently got into an argument with a friend over it. And she goes, but, “But babe, I am really sorry to hear about your brother.” (I finally shared with her the story how I lost my brother) I looked at her and said. “Don’t say you are sorry if you do not mean it. Are you going to loose any sleep over it? Are soooo sorry that you are going to cry with me?.”   She just looked at me blankly. She was one of those over apologizers. It made her indigent!  Of course it did. I called her out. Was I being crappy and just little harsh. Why yes..Yes I was. But SHE was not being sincere with me.   I can sense it, I aways have and I also will either not respond so nicely or not respond at all.  Rather than to say “wow, I don’t know what that would feel like,” or “I have nothing to say.” Her knee jerk reaction is “I’m sorry.”   She’s not the only one who is guilty for over apologizing.  I probably shouldn’t let it bother me so much, because they are trying to be polite when they feel they have nothing else to say.  I’m sure I am guilty of it too. But it’s one of those phrases that makes me want to kick in your teeth.

While sympathy something I am not very good at, I am however very empathetic. Sometimes I feel a little too much and so very deeply, to the -nth degree.  Oh no, it not just my experiences of heart ache and sadness. I am that way about joy.  Sometimes I feel sad, angry, happy, excited, and any other emotion  at one time. Sometimes I can be in a crowd and go from happy as a calm to overwhelmingly sad. A lot of times it isn’t my feelings it is the feelings of say a someone standing beside me.  They may not be shedding any tears, but if you look deep into their eyes you can tell they are on the verge of tears.    It is in those moments that we share with one another that we should either reach out and let them know that our pain or joy is just as great. We should let them have peace.  And by that, not saying a word. No trying to make a horrible situation pretty again. No I’m sorries. Just silence and maybe a hug.  It is those moments we should be sincere with one another. Whether in silence or if we choose to share.  Not saying it’s easy. To me, that depth of kindness & honesty is what is required.

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10 Things They Do Not Tell You About Having a Gastric Sleeve.

10 Things They Do Not Tell You About Having a Gastric Sleeve.

If you haven’t noticed yet. My blog can go from being rather sweet-oh-so-lovey-dovey  to rather crass & vulgar depending on topic and my mood.  Really isn’t that life? Nothing ever stays in those Hallmark picture perfect moments no matter how hard we try.   This post my friend is a lot bit of TMI…so sorry, but I just wished someone had told me.

Prior to surgery, I’d taken 4 classes, at least 4 or so pre-op apts.  Now mind you, I am no armature to surgeries or hospitalization. For Pete’s Sake, I’ve spent most of my life in and out of them. Either for myself or my children or as an employee. I know how to advocate, and  I know how easily things can go wrong. For the most part. My attitude is. “I got this.” Well, really that’s my attitude about most things.

Jesus Christ On A Crutch!  Even I was not prepared!!!

1. This hurts worse then a c-section,  pacemaker, labor, pleurisy, pulmonary embolisms, torn ligaments, and having your toe nail ripped off. I really was expecting to bounce back in 2 days like nothing happened. I wish I remembered my open heart surgery, but I am glad I don’t.  Either way. Brace yourself!

2. They said I would be moody because of rapid weight loss. Ok… I get that.  I’m not fucking moody because of weight loss. I am fucking mood because I can’t do anything that makes me happy! I really I want to dance, go to the gym, I want to be with my family & friend. I am sick of this house. I’m sick of sitting still. I can’t have coffee. I’m pissed that I can’t do things for my self. This surgery has made me petulant.  Nothing is going my way!I  There I said it. I’ve turned into a ill-tempered  bratty child.

3. Farts hurts. Burps hurt. Laughing hurts. Not in a stubbed toe kinda hurt, like knife stabbing & someone twisting  in your guts kind of hurt.

4. Laying on your back for several weeks… sucks. I miss sleeping on my side & stomach

5. I never thought I would feel so,  ”meh” about food.  Perhaps it’s because I am still healing, but I just don’t feel like eating. It still hurts to eat.  I just don’t enjoy it.

6. Obviously from my previous post. Standing up too quickly you can rip parts of your abdomen. Crap that hurt!

7. Your pillow will become your best friend. Carrying around a pillow like a baby carries around a blanket. It is not only very comforting, but the pressure helps with the pain.

8. Taking a shit is the worse thing EVER. I feel like I going into labor through my ass.   Between being dehydrated, pain meds, not drinking enough, not eating enough, not moving around as much all adds to constipation, and not enough food to sustain energy. Hold onto that pillow. Because it takes FOREVER.  Deep breaths and don’t let yourself pass out.  It takes awhile for your body to get back to “normal.” And after 30mins or more for one lil’ rabbit turd, you will feel like the life was sucked out of you.

9.Old lady farts.  WTF!  I went from  being barely gassy to passing wind all the time.  *shakes head*  This is probably the most embarrassing part.  I need to start wearing long skirts like my Nana, and just shake my skirt out from time to time like I was dusting the floors.

10. Sex.  UGHHH Not having sex for 4 weeks was awful. I know that might not bother some people. But for me it did.  And when we did start having sex, obviously we had to be super gentle and we had to stop because the orgasms hurt my abdomen.  Which left me with what I call “blue ovaries.” Which only added to being grumpy.

All joking aside.. I am  7 weeks post op and feeling wonderful. I just wasn’t feeling so wonderful during those weeks right after surgery. Good luck on anyone else who is on their way under the knife.



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4 Months of Public School & That’s All We Could Take.

4 Months of Public School & That’s All We Could Take.

gabe_biologyWe spent a lot of our summer testing & stressing for  public school. They asked, so I thought well my boys are doing SOOOO WELL. They can do this. I mean millions of other children survive public school.  Of course I feared it.  I figured, what the hell. If it doesn’t work. I will pull them out. I wanted them to do more then just well. I wanted them to love it. I didn’t want to be right. I prayed like hell that I would be wrong.  Yeh… that didn’t happen.

It started with bullying. I knew that would happen.  If you have read my awful parenting advice, I have taught my kids to fight back  and to take a stand.  So when Gabe was getting picked on. His response was. “Mom, I think the boy has Aspergers too. He is different once he takes his meds. I think he just doesn’t know how to make friends.”  Sooooo sweet right? I’m a special needs mom… it hit me, I can’t be angry at a kid who doesn’t get it. I mean Gabriel is down right terrible when he has a meltdown. Ok.. so I cool down. I did go to school. I did start crying. Not because someone hurt Gabe, but because I feared that Gabriel wasn’t going to be able to keep it together. He’s worked so hard with all his therapy to have a  some 4th grader make him unravel.  And you know what happened? Gabe did.  By December I was seeing that side of Gabe I hadn’t seen in a long time. I mean yeh I’d see this behavior  but it wasn’t daily.. maybe once a month and now we were dealing with this daily.He was spitting in my face, biting , punching ,  and kicking me , punching the dogs, tormenting his brother, head bunting us.  Gabe’s no longer a toddler. He can not wale on the world like this. That is no place I want for my child.   Of course Gabe eventually punched the boy or laughing at him. Gabe got in trouble, and when I asked the principle if he knew this was the same kids that picking. Of course he knew nothing of it, despite just weeks before I was in his office crying my eyes out about my concerns for Gabe.

I don’t blame the bullying…. It was just one example of assorted problems. We had issues with teacher assistants and how they spoke to Gabe that set him off at home. Now add in ALL the sensory issues like the loud cafeteria, buzzing lights, or expressions & indiums  that he doesn’t understand and no one taking the time to explain them.  His world soon became a rather confusing one. Then he found himself for getting in trouble for making connections that no one saw. Very Aspie thing to do.  For example they would work on Volcanos and he wanted to talk about Pompae.  Or they would talk about math and he wanted to talk about the function black holes.  As a teacher, he is being disruptive, I kind of get it. But I don’t really. One would think, a teacher would think, “Dang I’m glad he made that connection.”  So because he wasn’t making the organized line of connections that was planned out on the worksheet he found himself making a lot of mistakes. His answered weren’t wrong per-say.. but they weren’t the ones they wanted him to know. He would come home crying that he was stupid because he didn’t understand “this” or “that” or  crazy, dumb, lazy, or retarded.

As for Zeke this was more upsetting. It’s odd. Zeke tends to be more classically “Autistic” but functionally he does better then Gabe.  Gabe is the gregarious one were Zeke is the one that retreats. Well for Zeke it started with much upset because we were “changing.”  After meeting his teacher he was excited. Zeke soon started having issues with muscle spasm. This is not new. We’ve been dealing with this at home for years. We’ve been testing him, but we have no idea the cause of it yet.   Zeke was having spasms in gym, he didn’t participate  and  he got in trouble. He got in trouble for sitting on the grass, and he didn’t understand. He got in trouble for spinning, this is one he stems. On and on.. Zeke was getting trouble for basic Aspie stuff. To which they all knew. I had given them plenty of information on the boys. It was very upsetting. Well every morning was a little harder. Zeke started not eating at school then not at home. Then throwing up in the morning. At first I thought he was sick. But after a few days I realized. Holy Shit!  It’s anxiety.  Zeke stopped looking at us as often, he wasn’t talking to us but rather lots and lots of screaming.   There was bullying. But like Gabe that isn’t the whole problem. Zeke is back to not eating in general so weight loss has been an concern.

As their  mom, I wanted to go She-Haulk and turned the school inside out for upsetting and in my eyes hurting my boys.  How dare they squash on any of their  light? It’s not that they were upset, it was my boys were regressing.  This is something I just can not allow to happen on my watch.  Between raising their medication twice in 2months after years of not touching, IEPs meeting that I felt weren’t meeting their sensory needs, impatient teacher aides, and the bullying. I am just not patient enough to allow my children to a part of that system and that culture.   Honestly, I just don’t agree with the system.

I tend to believe, that one of the greatest sin, is the sin of omission.  Just because you are not doing the wrong thing, doesn’t mean you are doing the right thing either.    If it was one child, I’d be a little more patient. The problems my boys had, had nothing to do with them or the fact that they have Aspergers. They weren’t singled out. If anything, they thought they were doing their best. I knew this in my gut 4yrs ago that public school wasn’t for my kids.  Today I am convinced, that what my children felt and went through is only a symptom on a systematic problem.  I am not sure if the break down comes  from: the ideology that testing is the means of educations, or that the environment is not a calm as it could be, or that the teaches are out numbered. .  But I do know… it’s not natural. Kids aren’t encourage to really explore their interests and a meaningful way.  One because the sheer volume of students to teacher ratio. And two,  to allow a child to question any subjection throughly, you have to let go of structure. You have to let their mind flow and question and let them find the answer as the arise.  It takes longer but there is a wholesome understanding rather then facts-based so that you pass your next test.

Over Christmas Break. I pulled the boys out. The first week was rough, I had surgery and was in the hospital for 3 days. I am still on the mend. However, it’s been so calm. My boys are returning to my sweet boys again. Yes they are hyper little monkey-boys that they are. The fighting has waned. Every day Gabe is coping a little bit better and is a little bit more helpful. Zeke is eating more and looking at us more and more.  How I missed THIS.  I’ve missed my happy aspie children.

Today, I started putting together the boys binders. This is a child who has seen a lot therapy. Gabe looks at me and says as we organize his stuff. “Now mom, can you make me a visual chart so I can check off the work I do each day. I know I I have work to do every day. And I know you will want me to work on my own. But it’s confusing without charts to keep me on track”



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Holy Mother of God am I STUPID!

Holy Mother of God am I STUPID!

Bunny_facepalm_by_shlj23-d4s3yajToday was the first day that I felt truly awesome post-op. I am 9 days out having my gastric sleeve. Who  has to go and do and do the stupidest thing there is to do? This girl!  I have been hating this damned bedroom. I can’t stand sitting still. I want to go dancing. I want to go to the beach. I miss my friends. Hell I miss having a clean house. SO of course, I feel great and I start catching up on cleaning & a make my kids breakfast for the first time in a week. I am happy to be somewhat normal human mommy this morning. I rest of a bit. Sitting on the recliner. Working on my next blog. Not this one… because well, this was just too stupid I had to post this one first.   So I hop out of my chair like I got  boosters in my ass and I didn’t have surgery,  and then… POP.  Oh MY GAWD! Literally my abdomen went pop. That fucking hurt!!! The last time I felt that much pain was when I tore a ligament in my elbow when  I was 18.  I mean giving birth didn’t even hurt like that.  I’ve had dozens of surgeries, pleurisy, pulmonary embolisms, c-sections…. yeh they hurt, but they didn’t make me cry.  I’m kinda proud that I’m fairly tough.  But GEEZZZUUSSS  Christ on a Crutch this really hurts!  I  cried like a baby! Yeh, cause I think I’m Super Fucking Woman all the damn time.  I didn’t even ask Ian for help, and he was only 3 feet away!   I call the doctors because I think popped a stiches. No. They inform me that I am not the only idiot. That  I  most likely ripped my muscle in the area that they just cut through when they too my stomach out. It happens all the time. People get excited that they feel better. They lecture me about taking it easy for 3 weeks. That I had major abdominal surgery. If it gets worse to go to the ER. I’m not sure if it’s comforting or not that I am not the only village idiot that rips their abdomen right after surgery. Being with me must being annoying sometimes. I really do pitty Ian and my significant others having to deal with my bloody-minded ways.

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My Gastric Sleeve Awakening the the Amazon in Me. Look Out!

My Gastric Sleeve Awakening the the Amazon in Me. Look Out!

amazonwomanWell I am doing this post bass-ackwards, because this is what I do. It takes me awhile to process all my thoughts and emotions sometimes.  Over the summer I decided to have the gastric sleeve. Well honestly I have been thinking about this for the past 12 years  now, but  one day, I was just sick of it. ALL OF IT.

I’ve struggled with my weight most of my adult life for one reason or another.  A lot has to do with my health: VSD, pacemaker, CHF, hashimoto’s, factor V, pulmonary embolism..blah-blah- booo-fucking-hooo… And I was sick and tired, feeling so sick and tired.  I really was born with the short end of the gene pool. I know this. I can’t control any of it.  Most days I can let it roll of me, like a duck  feathers.  But there are somedays I am down right homicidal. There is nothing but rage.  Yeh I know I am so damn happy all the time.. I hide my shit well. But really like all of us, I am pissed at the world for no other reason, then to be pissed.  Everything hits me all at once, I feel every bad event, every heart break ever had, every stupid disappoint and I am just utterly angry.   I can’t even ask questions, like why me.. because there are no answers to that other then, life just fucking sucks Zoila,  you have no choice, fucking deal with it.   (before you go offer your sympathy.. don’t… it doesn’t do you or myself any good)   It eventually passes, luckily  those moments are fleeting.  When I was a teenager.. well I didn’t have such self control. Another story for another time.

So one day that I was feeling particularly rageful. I decided to take control and strop pissing & moaning to myself. I decided, what the hell. I am going to call the weight loss center. What could hurt, right? Best decision EVER!  I spent my summer & fall going to classes:  pre-op classes, healthy-eating classes, and exercising classes.  Granted I have tried many many many diets before.  I do like the gym and being active.  But there was something different about this. It wasn’t just the surgery aspect. I never ever addressed my emotional eating.  I never was  fully  aware of it how bad the problem was. I never thought of myself as truly one of “those” emotional eaters.  I never thought of food as an addiction.  I half-heartly joked about it from time to time, but I didn’t think that was “my” problem.  You know what? It most certainly was. I can only blame my congenial disorders but so much. They are only but part of the problem.  The truth of the matter is, I really love to eat.  I love to eat when: I am happy, when I am sad, when I am with my family, when I’m anxious, when I’m angry, to celebrate, to mourn,  after I have sex, and any other emotion or lack there of in between.  Food is sooo utterly  sensual & comforting  to me. Not only am I in love with eating. I love to cook! Good grief, no wonder I have struggled for so long!

Up until surgery, I hadn’t much support from my family. Well it isn’t that they didn’t want me to loose weight. It’s that I’ve had lots of surgeries in my life, and quite frankly I scare the hell out of them.  I wish I had the self control needed to loose 170lbs.  Where I was at, everything was becoming so uncomfortable. I felt like I had no more options.  The weight was causing my already health problems to worsen. I never thought walking would become an issue for me. But here I was 32, chest hurting just by walking.  In my mind, this was no difference in the gastric sleeve and  needing a new pacemaker.  It has to be done. “Do or die Bitch!” This is the one and only thing I can control and this is what I am do. I am going to save me from me. I am going to be my own hero this time.  Having this surgery is too much of a sacrifice to EVER get back to 320lbs again.  Surgery day comes and goes.  It just so happens on Dec. 23rd 2013.  I miss Christmas morning with children.  It isn’t ideal, but you know, that’s how life is sometimes.   I do eventually come home Christmas day.

Post Surgery, I visit my family for what I like to call 2nd Christmas. I am obviously sore, but ever so delighted to see my family and they are to see me.  I get questions about what I can and can not eat.  Now mind you, our family LOVES to eat to.  I tell them  I’m not eating “this” or “that” again.  As I am talking to them, they are pushing food.  The very ones who wanted to help me loose weight, but not very supportive of the surgery in the first place.  Now,I’m not angry. It really makes me think on how we were raised.  We were raised to express our love through food.  My god do we LOOOVVEEE each other.  MY GOD DO WE LOVE FOOD! I’ve written about how large my family is. Well imagine all those birthdays that have feast, now add all those holidays, now add that to  all those just cause we miss each other. Really it’s quite ridiculous the amount of food we eat.  It not the worse thing ever. It’s been engrained in my head, in all our heads for that matter, that food is the way to a happy life.

It occurs to me, that I am not the only problem. Obviously, I put the food in my mouth.  If you want to know about a culture. There 6 key things that will most certainly tell you everything about a culture. Food, Dance, Music, Children, & the Elderly.   Food, being on top of the list. Food is universal.  Much like music & dance.  It’s well … primal.  I don’t think I am the only one who has so much love for food. I also don’t believe it’s just us Americans.   Food has been the source of celebration throughout the ages. It’s hardwired for us to love food as much as we do. Here’s the problem.  We have not evolved quite as fast as technology has.  We have not evolved as fast as processed food.  We have changed our environment but we still our still very basic human beings. Our foods are loaded with unnecessary calories, sugars, and dies,  GMOs,  and food is no longer a source of sustenance.  We no longer eat because we have to, we eat because we can. We eat more and do less.  Food has become something obscene  vulgar.  This is where I must change my thinking on food.

I will still be in love with all of it’s sensation of food.  But I will no longer will I be mindless about food.  To my friends & family. You will just have to show your love another way. Like shoes & corsets. I really fucking love shoes & corsets. Maybe even some wild ass makeup & books, but please no cookies, cakes, or pastries.

And here is something funny. Even though I know I am fat. I never had those big girl hang ups. Like no body loves me, every body hates me, bullshit. If anything I have a rather over inflated ego. In my head I am 5’10 drop dead gorgeous Amazon who can crush the world with her bare hands! Muahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!  Then I look at pictures of myself. I’m like, “wow.. is that me? I am a lot fatter then I think I am.” Which is oddly humorous.  I’ve never once thought I wasn’t beautiful or awesome or I wasn’t good enough.  I’ve barely been mistreated by men. If anything I generally get a lot of attention where ever I go, and men are rather wonderful to me. Which obviously pets my already big ego. (I’m human, I can admit this) What I don’t like is  I can’t run a mile or two. Mainly, I don’t like feeling as strong as I know I am. I’m so looking forward to the gym this year. 3 more weeks and I will be able to start going again. Look out world, 2014 is going to be the year of the Zoila the Amazon.


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To shoe or not to shoe…why must you question?

To shoe or not to shoe…why must you question?

One of questions I get all the time is: “Where are  his shoes?”  As if going shoeless will make you shrivel up and die. Oh the immorality of it all!  Perhaps it’s because I hate shoes as well, that I don’t mind my kids being barefoot. Zeke loathes socks and shoes, as much as I do. I generally don’t make him wear them unless we are at store. We keep his shoes in the van most of the time, so we don’t have to fight the issue as we’re leaving the house.

I am always amazed at the social implications of being barefoot. Oddly enough, shoes aren’t that great for us in the first place. So why do people get flabbergasted  over kids or adults going barefoot? One theory is that, “Many people regard the wearing of footwear as a sign of civilization and being barefoot as a sign of poverty. “  So my question is this. What is so terrible, so inhumane about being poor in the first place? I mean being poor was good enough for Jesus, Gandi & Buddha and many other men & women who changed the face of the earth.

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6mos is far too long

6mos is far too long

I haven’t been blogging… well honestly because life has been life.  But I decided not only am I going to get back to writing and blogging.. but I am going to be more honest.. and more raw.. *gasp* Can that be so? Yeh.. Even on this media I hold back, No more. So if I offend, thee. Sorry.. it’s not personal. It’s your interpretation, and you choose to be offended. If I haven’t yet.. likely I will at some point in time. I never mean to, but will occasionally stick my big foot in my big mouth. Nobody is perfect and I can not pretend to be.

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