Enjoying Life

 Lots of changes this year. Whiz Kid is graduating high school, but still doesn’t have her driver’s license (ouch); I need to get Little Bear his learner’s permit and bank account and all that jazz; the Princess is still very high maintenance; I tried out a second job over the holidays with much success, but it was a relief when it ended too; I met the man I’ve been waiting for all my life; and we’ve unintentionally acquired yet another cat. This one is a little monster named Mickey who we can’t get rid of.

In June of last year, the Princess and I had an opportunity to fly out to Oklahoma and visit my sister’s family. It was a wonderful trip. There were lots of baby chicks to play with, friendly puppies and less friendly cats, a neighborhood to walk in the evenings, the lake and the local pool for swimming, and my sister made the best meal I have ever eaten – homemade pho. It was amazing. The Princess has declared it her favorite place on earth and wants to move there as soon as possible. She also started the curse of women and has unfortunately inherited my endometriosis. Because she can’t take NSAIDs with one of her meds, that has been a real struggle.

In July, my youngest sister was venting to me about the little terror of a kitten she had gotten five weeks earlier in hopes of keeping the mouse infestation at her house under control. She has four young children, and between the wild little kids and the wild little kitten things were not going well. Of his multiple problem behaviors, the worst was jumping into the crib at night and viciously attacking her infant’s foot. I offered to take Mickey until he was old enough to be neutered, so he wouldn’t end up joining the feral cat population. We figured he would settle down and lose his bad habits once he was in a calmer environment. WRONG! This cat is different. He would definitely be diagnosed with some neurological/ behavioral issues and medicated, if he were a human. What an unapologetic little rascal! He is so incredibly soft and silky and affectionate and extremely clever – and vicious and evil. Lol. Although my sister was told he was the last of a litter from an adult cat at the location, all signs point to Mickey being a feral kitten who was taken from his mother much too early and without proper care. He had serious constipation problems for the first 6-8 months and could only be fed wet food with pumpkin. He nursed obsessively on the Princess’s stuffed animals. He panted heavily from even light exertion, not normal at all for a cat; but that didn’t stop him from dashing around the apartment like a total maniac. He ambushed our feet, shredded our hands and arms, terrorized Smidge and drove Shade almost completely outdoors, and grew like a dandelion. And kept growing. At 14 months old he’s a good size cat now, much bigger than Shade and double the size of Smidge, who he has injured on several occasions. His attitude, however, is vast and immeasurable. He’s long and tall with big paws, medium length fur and a long tail, and when scolded he lays his ears back and sashays away with his long body sinuating arrogantly, like a true narcissist. It’s both hilarious and annoying. We haven’t been able to find him a new home or give him to a shelter because of his aggression, so we keep him outdoors as much as possible now. He climbs trees like a champion, lays in the middle of the driveway like a dog and refuses to move for cars until the last second, and routinely murders the local wildlife. Grrrrr. He’s smart as a whip except for having no fear, loves attention, hates all other animals, and tries to kill anything his own size or smaller. What was I thinking? But at least he’s neutered and vaccinated. *facepalm*

Also in July, the PFA against the kids’ dad expired and I renewed it for 6 months just for the Princess. I wanted Whiz Kid and Bear to be able to visit if they wanted. My hope was that Whiz Kid would have a driver’s license soon and be able to facilitate visits without me, but that didn’t happen. I’m still the family chauffeur. And I still hate the sight of him.

The name change process went smoothly. The licensing, not so much. Whiz Kid has some vision issues that make depth perception a real problem, and failed the road test three times, so we scrapped the licensing temporarily and did the name change first. Now she isn’t much interested in trying again, and it’s becoming a pain. She needs to be self-sufficient in her transportation. She graduates in two weeks and needs to get a full-time job, and I can’t be driving her around. 

Back in October, I decided to volunteer with the Post Prom committee in order to give me something to do away from the apartment, since dating wasn’t going well. They didn’t really get into the serious work until February. In the meantime, I took a second job working weekends to bring in extra income for the holidays. It went great, kept me distracted and busy and out of the house for the dull months and provided enough income not to fall behind over the holidays; but it was most definitely not sustainable. I was glad to be finished with it.

In January, the extended PFA expired and I encouraged the Princess to come along with her siblings and visit her dad at that point. He’s still living with his mom, still using, still lying, still hasn’t been sent back to jail despite numerous parole violations. Still hasn’t changed one single little bit. But he had also been narcanned twice in recent months and I was getting concerned that he might OD permanently before she had a chance to see him again, leaving her to blame me for her lack of closure. I’m not sure it was the right thing to do; I guess only time will tell, in the end. Seeing him again seemed to upset all the progress of the past two years and she went back to self-harming and acting crazy. Things deteriorated at school and ultimately, she’s finishing out the school year in the outpatient program again. Ugh. We’ll see how the summer and the transition to Middle School in the fall will go. Her doctor just recently prescribed a pain medication she can take during her period that should help with the severe cramping, and hopefully that will help since all of her worst behaviors seem to manifest during that week.

Meanwhile, Post Prom got underway and I tried to get there at least a couple of nights per week to help out. Whiz Kid wasn’t sure she would participate in Prom at all, but the school has helped us a lot and I wanted to give back. Of course, the Princess’s mounting problems made keeping up with the work difficult. I wasn’t able to put in as much time as I’d hoped, and I won’t be participating again this year like I planned to. I know I can’t participate when Bear comes up in 2025, because there’s another kid coming up in his grade who is a serious predator, and that kid’s parents volunteer for everything school related. I will not work with them. It’s bad enough seeing the little hellspawn everywhere at school events. Like all actively hunting predators, he and his family involve themselves in everything they possibly can in order to build their own network of supporters. Foul trash. Anyway, somehow everything still got done and Whiz Kid decided to attend Prom and Post Prom after all. To my delight, she ended up reconnecting with the girl she had attended the 8th Grade dance with, her first real date; and they hung out the whole night. They hadn’t seen each other during high school, due partly to COVID and virtual schooling, and now they’re keeping in touch. I’m so happy. 

And then there’s the man of my dreams. Around the end of March, I started talking to a guy on Plenty of Fish and we hit it off right away. It seemed too good to be true, but after seeing each other for about eight weeks I already can’t imagine my life without him. He’s kind of crazy, but so am I; our crazy mixes well and that’s what matters. We have so much fun together no matter what we do. For the first time in my life, I have someone who wants to spend time with me as much as I want to spend time with him. I can’t believe I was ever willing to settle for simply being allowed to hang out with someone. He’s not just as active as me, he’s as active as I would like to be, haha. I plan to introduce him to the kids this month.

Oh right, and my youngest brother is getting married this weekend to his longtime girlfriend who we all love, but especially the Princess, and they’re moving in next door. Yayyyy! 2023 is turning out to be a good year in spite of everything. I feel happy to be alive for the first time that I can remember.

Ongoing Adjustment (i.e., Life)

 Another spring already? Wow. This one has been fairly cool – a little too cool at times – but I’ll take that over the usual two weeks of nice weather in between shivering and sweating that we usually get! 

Good things first: The landlord of the business park where I work is opening a free gym for the tenants’ employees. Yippee!! I’m so looking forward to exercising after work without having to add an extra 40 minutes for travel time. I saw it yesterday at their Open House and it looks awesome.

I have a new coworker whose grown daughter struggles with some of the same issues that the Princess does. It’s nice to know that there is someone around who can understand a little bit. Of course, my belief that this will be a lifelong struggle for me as well as for the Princess has been confirmed. Fortunately her medications seem to be working pretty well right now, most of the time. She started an anxiety medication recently that appears to be settling into an improvement.

“The Princess” doesn’t really suit her as a name anymore. I’m going to have to come up with something else. For one thing, she’s almost as big as me now (thanks a lot, early puberty). For another thing, she’s decided that she is also non-binary and isn’t sure if she’s more of a boy or a girl. Since she’s still very fashion conscious and has begun wearing makeup daily, I’m not taking it too seriously – call me unsupportive if you like, but I think in her case this is much more of an imitation than a reality. Especially since she frequently and dramatically laments her ill fate of being born human instead of a cat. If she could identify as a cat and make everyone talk to her in meows (and especially stay home from school, that’s the most important thing), she would, so excuse me while I roll my eyes. She’s got at least a few years of maturing to go before I’ll believe she’s not just role-playing. From now on I will call her Catgirl.

Meanwhile, Whiz Kid didn’t take long to decide that she is fully transgender and is starting hormone therapy. We’ve gone to several counseling sessions and she insists this is what she wants, despite the many social drawbacks and actual dangers that it may bring. She will be changing her name shortly as well; we’ve been putting it off until she gets her driver’s license so there will be some continuity for legal reasons. My parents still don’t know, but they will have to know soon. Catgirl is very impulsive and has been stressing out a lot recently over the fact that she can’t talk to my mom about Whiz Kid, and I can’t let that continue – nor do I want to give the impression that it’s okay for her to “out” her sibling. I’m the one who didn’t want them to know, so it’s my responsibility. 

How do you break this kind of news to the kind of parents whose list of unacceptable behavior includes: a) NOT beating your children; b) All forms of entertainment, from television to amusement parks; c) Attending public school; d) Having short hair if you’re female or long hair if you’re male; e) Interracial marriage; f) Getting vaccinated, especially against COVID; g) Females wearing pants; h) Talking to your kids about sex, at all, ever; i) Having tattoos, piercings, or wearing swimsuits; j) Wearing any clothing that exposes your shoulders or thighs, including tight clothing (this only applies to females, of course, like so many rules); k) Should I include attending college, now that they falsely insist they were never opposed to that? Or having an SSN? Etcetera, etcetera. You get the idea. Ugh. 

The latest grave concern my mother needed to share with me was that Catgirl had been talking about “Allah” being the same as “God.” CAN YOU IMAGINE THE HORROR?! She was somewhat mollified when I told her that it was probably because I’d been explaining to Catgirl that the word “Allah” is in fact just the Arabic word for God, used by all Arabic-speaking people regardless of their religion. This is why I avoid talking to her about anything that matters.

And of course, there’s Bear. He kind of slides under the radar these days, just the way he likes it; but I worry that he won’t ever come out into the spotlight enough to become independent. He struggles in school and refuses to admit that poor grades will have any negative effect on his future. He does want to work this summer at the local grocery store where his best friend already works, so I hope that will jump-start adulthood for him. He’s turning 16 this fall and needs to take more initiative for his life. 

At the same time, I have to figure out what’s going to happen with Catgirl this summer if both of her older siblings are working. She definitely can’t be home alone for any length of time. I’ve had to hide all the sharp objects and candle lighters because she has a compulsion to just “see what happens” with dangerous things, or she will cut up a perfectly good item because she thought of something to do with the fabric. Grrrrrr. I’ve been able to curb that somewhat by saving her favorite outgrown clothes for crafting instead of sending them to the Goodwill. Sometimes she still threatens to hurt herself, but more often my concern is just that she’s destructive because she doesn’t think about the potential consequences when an idea pops into her head. And as far as the lighters go, one of my siblings was a pyromaniac and I know that it’s not anything to mess with. I can’t trust her to leave the lighters alone “because I said so.” I have to be realistic – she’s going to experiment with it if it’s available. I suspect I’ll be working from home a lot this summer, which stinks but at least I have the option. But that also means I have to get this talk with my parents out of the way before then, so I’ll know if it’s going to be possible to leave Catgirl with them when I need to. Uggghhhh. I may have to shell out the money for a few weeks of summer camp.

The local organization I was so excited about didn’t last long. It turns out there was at least one extremely bigoted and immature person there who kind of ruined it for everyone, with the help of a few enablers. I left and so did several others. The time I had there was valuable, however. I wish things had been different. It was really upsetting to see that kind of meanness and petty hate in a place that was meant for spiritual enlightenment and inclusion. I feel sorry for future attendees who have no idea what they’re getting into.

If anyone knows of a free place to live somewhere in the Northern US, let me know! Lol. It’s discouraging to know that I have pretty much maxed out my earning potential, and it still isn’t enough to support a family of four and never will be. 

The Rebellious Daughter Who Raised the Gay Kids

Well, things keep on changing. After all, change is the only certainty in life, right? My new position at work is going well. I've gotten bankruptcy proceedings underway, which I had planned to do last spring but the courts were shut down. It's expensive to declare bankruptcy; my only incentive is to hopefully make it possible for us to rent somewhere else in the not-too-distant future, since a bankruptcy should look better on an application than a slew of outstanding debt. We finally have some money in savings in case of car repairs or a broken phone, and that is such a great feeling.

Whiz Kid surprised me a few months ago by saying they would like to move, and would be willing to help with household expenses if that matters (it does). Most of their friends in the high school are older, and either graduated last spring or will be graduating this spring. Thanks to the pandemic, they haven't been able to form new relationships in the district, but have formed several online in other districts in the county. They also told me they are non-binary. That came as a bit of a shock, and right on the heels of the Princess informing me that she had told Grandma (my mother) she's gay. Oh, goody. 

She's been saying for a while now that she's gay, but that isn't something I have to deal with yet in terms of visible lifestyle. She's got a few years left before dating age and I hope to be far away from my parents by then. But Whiz Kid's revelation really knocked me sideways. They told me a few years ago they are bisexual, but again that wasn't something I needed to worry about in terms of family opinion right now. It also wasn't something I saw as affecting their future in any negative way. But this is different, and apparently it's something they've known for aa while but didn't know how to explain it. Now they've met a few other kids who identify outside of standard gender definitions, and they finally have words for it.

I decided to join the local chapter of PFLAG. I'll need support, and hey, I'm already the wayward daughter who has "rejected the Scriptures" according to my dad because my kids don't receive proper discipline (which can only be done with a rod, Solomon says so and he was the wisest man); they are allowed to say "no" and have choices and spend too much time online and go to public school to be indoctrinated as socialist liberal terrorists, etc. And they already think Bear's long hair is inappropriate and that I should force him to cut it. (No way - his hair is awesome an he looks like a chubby, light-skinned Aquaman without a beard, lol.) So I'm sure this will just be all kinds of fun to deal with.

I've made other plans for Memorial Day.

Meanwhile I've also been getting involved with a local organization for "other" spiritual enlightenment. I first went there when I needed a safe place to talk about what was going on with the Princess, where I wouldn't be looked at sideways, or hushed up quickly with interruptions of hugs and promises of prayer and a swift, decisive change of subject. I found exactly what I was looking for and more. Last month I was elected to the Board, which basically means I need to help come up with ways to keep the organization afloat post-pandemic. I'm very excited. I finally have a place where I really feel I belong. And I hope, so much, that I will soon be able to give my kids the same. One way or another, we have to get out of here.

Did I Really Say That?

I can only laugh when reading the last few lines of my previous post. 

Still, this has been a better year than last, despite the pandemic and the shutdown and the general upending of everything. It's been a year of transformation.

About the time I wrote my last post, my dad (who works for an international company and interacts with many travelers) came down with some kind of exhausting cough and general malaise that lasted through all of January. My mom was sick as well; my oldest brother's family; Whiz Kid missed two days of school due to a fever, which he was very unhappy about, and complained loudly of an inability to taste or smell anything for about a week. I was pretty sick, but not for too long. Several coworkers seemed to come down with a bad flu as well, and all were inexplicably told they tested negative for the flu. 

I'll give you one guess as to the likely cause.

In early March, my company held their bi-annual company-wide training convention in a nearby state, and I attended for the first time. It was a big one since we were expanding the firm into a new area of the country. I don't handle crowds of strangers well anyway, and with the growing awareness that a pandemic was upon us, I would have canceled my plane ticket if I could. Many of the attendees did so at the last minute, even without refunds. It was undoubtedly one of the most stressful trips I've ever taken. I must have received at least 5 emails from the school district over the course of 36 hours, each with new and changing information, culminating in the announcement that the children would not be returning to school the next day and until further notice. My coworker and I returned home on a near-empty flight to a near-empty major airport; there was a surreal feeling in the atmosphere everywhere. By the following week the state was in full lockdown, and although our business was considered essential, we were being sent home for the forseeable future by the company CEO, because most of us had the ability to work from home. I had not previously considered myself an employee who could work from home - it certainly isn't easy - but when an emergency hit, all sorts of accommodations were made at the last minute. My company is awesome.

I'm sure that I'm not the only person who feels like 2020 started in March. 

For the first few weeks of lockdown, everything was sort of in limbo. School wasn't mandatory for the kids, so we largely ignored it. My divorced brother who spends his weekends here at my parents' house with his kids didn't visit them in the beginning; his job would have required him to quarantine due to crossing state lines. As time went on and it became clear this would stretch out into the long term, that restriction was loosened and he resumed the weekend visits. Thank God for that since seeing her cousins every weekend is a major stabilizer for the Princess.

Ah yes, the Princess. Her therapy was finally getting into a good swing, but the shutdown put an end to that. She's one of the many kids (and adults, including Yours Truly) who needs in-person interaction for it to be meaningful. Virtual school was all kinds of a mess. Virtual therapy was just not happening. The last quarter of the school year was pretty much a wash for her and for Little Bear, who I am now going to simply call "Bear." He's a big boy. She also entered the first stages of puberty, with all the attending mood swings. It seems so unfair that she has this to deal with on top of everything else. However, it does seem that the cognitive changes have helped her overcome the depression. 

Finally, at long last, the summer arrived.

It wasn't exactly the ideal summer, being stuck at home; but it gave us some much-needed breathing room. Working from home allowed me to spend time in the garden; research lots of things that interested me, such as aquatic plants; and completely rearrange the apartment. The stimulus check, coming on the heels of my annual tax return, gave us enough money to FINALLY purchase decent beds that were suited for our cramped space and adult sizes. The Nar-Anon meetings were shut down, and so was my yoga studio, both of which were a big loss. I really need yoga as physical therapy, and there is no arrangement of furniture that will give me enough floor space to do it virtually from the apartment. On the other hand, our state also began distributing extra food benefits; and for the first time ever, I've had a working budget, one that truly covers the bills and all our basic expenses. I finally bought clothes that actually fit my growing kids. The boys long since outgrew anything available in the kids' consignment shops, and it's not easy to find adult men's clothes on a budget.

Another revelation of this summer was the truth about my parents. I have tried for so many years to convince myself that they've changed, that they recognize the errors they made in our upbringing, that they really do believe in a compassionate and loving Creator and not in the punitive, hard-hearted, unforgiving tyrant they demonstrated to us through their actions. Sadly, the past several months have left no room for doubt that I was wrong. Between the pandemic and the political unrest, they've shown once and for all that they do not believe in the sort of God who would send his son to redeem humanity. They believe in a God of wrath and violence, always of course directed towards the people they disagree with. The sort of God who creates things so he can destroy them in anger when they fail to earn his good will, who defines "love" as "unquestioning obedience," and who allows evil to prosper as a punishment to all the good people who just weren't quite good enough. We do not mean the same things when we say the words "God" and "Christian." My parents are generous and sometimes even kind towards those in their orbit - they allow us to rent at a reduced price, and they bought us a car this year which is no small thing - but they have no compassion for outsiders. The things they do for us are the same things that most parents and grandparents do for their families when they have the ability, the same things I hope to be able to do for my own kids someday. I owe them gratitude, but I can no longer pretend to agree with their values. I do not want to be living with them if the political unrest boils over into actual danger where we live. We're not on the same side.

The kids returned to virtual schooling in late August, and it was somewhat better than the spring. Certainly better organized. It still wasn't working for the Princess, however. We tried taking her off the depression meds, hoping they would prove to be unnecessary. It became clear that she needed something, however, so they started her on a prescription for the ADHD instead. That has helped substantially. There were some unpleasant side effects for the first two weeks, but after that it's been fairly smooth sailing as far as moods. She's persistently grouchy and snappish, like many adolescents, but it's not the self-harming and depressive behaviors of the previous year. When hybrid school resumed, they agreed to take her back four days a week instead of just two. It's been wonderful. 

I was able to return to work two days a week when hybrid resumed, and last week I was finally granted a promotion that has been in the works most of the year! I'm so excited. No more food stamps, and at long last I'll have a paycheck that covers all our basic expenses with a little left over for savings. Even better, this position will lead into much higher paid position in a couple of years. There is still hope that we can live like a real family for a short time before Whiz Kid moves out. He will be 16 next year, and it bothers me intensely that at no point during his childhood have we ever had a real home. We've never had a family room, or indeed a place big enough to all gather in our own space. His entire life has been lived crammed into corners and extra rooms in someone else's house. I used to take the kids to the grocery store cafe every couple of weeks and we would all eat together, but that closed when the pandemic struck, probably for good. 

Now Thanksgiving is coming up. We won't be seeing the in-laws; the kids' dad was recently released to him mom's care after spending another 6 months in jail for cutting off his ankle bracelet and absconding from parole for three weeks. Between that and the exploding case counts in our area, it makes more sense to stay home. However, since my anti-masking parents are proceeding with their usual big event, inviting lots of their anti-masking friends in addition to family, we will still have to quarantine for two weeks afterwards. I need to the schools to stay open, and they have already had a few cases. If I want them to stay open in the long term, we have to do our part, and quarantining makes more sense than refusing to participate in Thanksgiving, since we can't use the excuse of going somewhere else. I hope that all goes well. 

 

Another Year and Re-evaluations

I've been gone a while. Partly because Blogger is now blocked on my work server and I don't have the time to log on at home, and partly because things have been changing so fast that I don't seem to know what's happening from one month to the next.

For starters, both Whiz Kid and Little Bear are no longer kids or little. Both are bigger than me now, by a noticeable amount. Whiz Kid reminds me so much of his dad in good ways, and other family members have remarked how much he looks like that side of his family. His voice changed almost overnight and he's developed a remarkable singing voice; he took vocal lessons over the summer and has stuck with chorus into high school, where he's currently a freshman. He's discovered Dungeons and Dragons, and it's nice that he's now old enough to hang out after school with his friends and be picked up on my way home, instead of being unable to participate in after-school clubs due to transportation issues. He's writing their next campaign, admins a few online servers and is working on writing music. I'm very proud of him in general; if only he could get his language more civil, I'd be ecstatic. He also had his first real date a few weeks ago.

Formerly "Little" Bear has been much less depressed this year than last, and although his grades have suffered tremendously from lack of follow-through on homework, he's making some improvements and remains the funny kid in his social circle. He tends to gravitate toward the class clowns and spends a lot of time on the Xbox; the main impact on his grades came when I started taking the controller to work with me so he couldn't get on until I was home. Neither of the boys talk about their dad any more. He's just a non-topic for them; they're moving on with their lives without him, which is painful to see but healthier for them under the circumstances.

I split up with the guy I was dating just before Thanksgiving last year, and that was for the better all around. He was fun to be with, but that's all there was to the relationship; and when it became obvious he was cheating on and lying to me, I decided to end it rather than confront him. The fact that he didn't protest at all confirmed my suspicions. For a short time I tried to find someone else, but the Princess was starting to show some concerning behaviors and I decided there wasn't room in my life for another person. It was a good choice. Her issues have turned out to be much more serious than I expected, and that has consumed most of the year.

It started with our last visit to their dad at the end of August 2018. He told me he was being transferred to another facility farther away, so I decided to take the kids one more time while he was still close enough for a day trip. His manner and behavior that day was very bizarre, and towards the end of the visit when the boys asked him about writing to them (his letters and cards had stopped the previous year), he told them he couldn't write because he'd been banned from pencils and pens due to sharpening them and stabbing the pedophiles. I was angry with him for saying this in front of the kids (plus I didn't believe it), and told him he should worry about the mote in his own eye before going after the beam in someone else's. He replied casually, "You mean like my schizophrenia and the fact that I hallucinate about smashing my daughter's head with a hammer?"

Everything seemed to slow down suddenly and I felt like my breath stopped; I just stared and then said that no, I was referring to all the people he had hurt and it was hypocritical for him to get righteous about the crimes of others. I didn't bother with the additional thoughts rushing through my head, about how he was supposed to have gotten effing fixed in prison and be taking his effing meds and not have these hallucinations any more; it had been six effing years and all this time I had been keeping the kids in contact with him hoping he would be at least medicated enough to have some small relationship with them when he got out. But no; evidently his frequent claims to be trading his medications for drugs were actually true, and all my commitment and support up to this point had been for nothing. I silently debated whether to tell the guards about his comment, but it was nearly the end of our visiting time and I knew that we would not be coming back. I decided I didn't want the kids' last memory of him to be having him dragged out fighting.

I called Little Bear's counselor as soon as we got home and asked her if she would object to my not taking the kids to visit any more. I'm not sure why I thought she might object; I guess I hadn't fully let go yet of the belief that the boys needed him in their lives even if he wasn't a positive influence. Of course she said that I should absolutely NOT take them back and made sure I was planning to report him to the prison authorities, which I did the next morning. Not long afterward the prison went on lockdown for a while, and it seems that during this time he had his parole hearing and was GRANTED PAROLE despite his threat, which I can only assume never made it to the relevant authorities. They did talk to his psychiatrist, however, because when he called me the following weekend just before the lockdown, he was furious that I had reported him and said that I shouldn't make him out to be someone who was dangerous to children, because that would make him a target there. He also accused me of overreacting by ending the visits, and didn't seem to believe I was actually going to do so. He explained that he had told me about his hallucinations (as if his remark had been purposeful rather than conversational) so that I would have the information I needed to protect her; otherwise he might, quote, "start choking her in the visiting room one day."

I realized in that moment that there was no point in saying anything else. He is more than just not normal. He's permanently, fundamentally irrational on a level that I have no power to address or mitigate, and it goes far beyond drug addiction. The reality of the term mental illness began to sink in. He ceased to be my children's troubled father and became the psycho who wants to hurt my child.

I reported those statements to the prison as well, and when I heard that he had been approved for parole, wrote a long letter to his prison counselor after making several unsuccessful attempts to reach her by phone. Nothing was ever acknowledged. I went back to court and had my custody paperwork changed to say that I have sole legal AND physical custody, instead of the previous arrangement where physical custody would be as agreed upon between ourselves. He was angry about that too. His home plan was to live at his father's house on the other side of our school district. It was inspected by the parole office and denied. His dad made some changes and asked them to reconsider. They were vague and noncommittal. His mother started raising hell with them and hounding his parole agent to re-inspect the house. I started getting very, very frightened that they might actually allow him to come and live within walking distance of us; we live in a house that is surrounded by darkness at night, and where he visited weekly as a teenager and lived with us for two years prior to our separation. I asked his dad what precautions they would be taking to ensure that he stayed where he was supposed to, since his dad works 2nd shift and would not be home at curfew. He wasn't aware of any. I spoke to the State Police; they suggested I file for a PFA and ask to have it include our whole township, although everyone seemed in doubt whether I could get a PFA prior to his release. But the feeling was that it couldn't hurt to try, so I did. Previously someone had told me I could sign up with the Office of Victim Advocates to get more information. I signed up. I spoke with someone there a couple of times, and then the 3rd time - around the same date I filed for the PFA - I got someone who had been there for a while and knew more about the system than my previous contact. This person told me I could write to the Parole Board and request a geographical restriction to forbid him from residing in our school district. I did so immediately. It was approved so fast that they must have just been waiting for a reason to say so. Not only did they ban him from residence in the district, they also banned him from being in our township at all. So he had to wait for acceptance into a halfway house, which was approved in June and he was released at the end of July. He's still out despite continued drug use and being absent from roll count one morning, although they did put him on an ankle monitor for that.

Meanwhile, as the 2018 holiday season approached and the kids had gone a few months without seeing him, the Princess started asking questions. I tried explaining that he wasn't safe and wasn't doing what he was supposed to do, and we wouldn't be seeing him any more for now. She became increasingly agitated and depressed even as Little Bear was coming out of his depression; I think the situation had opposite effects for them. In January she talked to her dad on the phone for the last time, something I regret having allowed even with my supervision on speakerphone. His self-pitying BS was completely inappropriate for a 7-year-old to deal with. Her behavior deteriorated throughout the day and culminated in destroying her glasses with a pair of scissors. I had been taking her to Little Bear's counselor, but I decided to switch her to an EMDR therapist. That therapist recommended we get a psychiatric evaluation; we had one in March without significant results. Her therapist continued to express concern, and the sessions were not progressing well. The last week of the school year, she told a classmate that she wanted to kill herself. I took her to the ER and they referred her to a two-week outpatient program.

She spent the summer under the closest supervision my parents and I could give. I had given up the child care subsidy the previous year because the only covered summer camp program in our area had deteriorated substantially, and with Whiz Kid being old enough to legally supervise, I had decided it wasn't worth it, not knowing the future. Too late to change that now. She did karate for a few months, paid for by my godmother. I searched extensively for a group program for kids in her position. The grief groups didn't feel they were the right fit for a child whose parent was still living. The groups for kids with incarcerated parents were focused on facilitating communication, which wouldn't help her situation. The groups for kids with addicted parents focused on teaching them coping skills and recognizing the signs of a parent acting out on drugs. This last led me to search for Nar-Anon groups that allowed kids. I found one at a church not far away where child care was provided and an NA meeting would run at the same time. We decided to try it out, and it's been wonderful. She loves going and I've been able to find support and a place to vent about things I really can't talk about to anyone else. I wish I had started years ago.

As the school year approached again, the district made arrangements for a reentry evaluation during the first month that would be used to establish an IEP for her. The reentry specialist was able to get us a second evaluation with the psychiatrist, who I'd been trying to reach unsuccessfully. We went for the evaluation on a Wednesday after being seen by mobile crisis twice in the previous few days. It didn't go well; the psychiatrist and the Princess were both irritable and confrontational to each other, and the psychiatrist infuriated me by telling her that if her dad ever did get better, she wouldn't be able to see him anyway unless she could get her behavior under control. !!WTH? They offered to give us an inpatient referral then, but I was afraid to send her away in case something bad happened to her; I was hoping to manage it with medication and outpatient therapy. They wrote me a prescription for pre-med lab work but made no promises about medication. When we left, the Princess was angry with me for not allowing her to go to "the sleepover place." I tried to explain that it wasn't a fun place and I was afraid of something happening to her. She responded with: "Mom. I have had to deal with a lot of problems in my life without you. I can handle this."

Well, I thought to myself, she is just as different from me as I am from my mother; and just like my mother with me, I've realized that I don't actually have a clear concept of what she needs in many ways. I decided that if something happened again in the meantime, I would let her go. It happened the next day. The school called me; I took her to the ER again, she was admitted and was transferred to an inpatient psychiatric facility the following day.

I think the week she spent there is probably the hardest week of my life so far. I'm fortunate to work for a company that had both the ability and the willingness to let me leave early every afternoon that week to beat rush-hour traffic for the hour drive to the facility so I could make the visiting time each evening. They started her on meds, and after a week she was released and referred back to the outpatient program for another two weeks. When she returned to school, the reentry evaluation was started again and we were referred for another evaluation for wraparound services and medication management outside the school. That is still in progress.

Meanwhile the meds are working well, and she's returned to interim family therapy sessions with Little Bear's counselor until the wraparound services kick in. With the medication to help break through the barriers she has had against talking about her dad, it's become clear that she has inherited some of the biological components of the mental illness that he and his mother both display.

Everything looks different in my life through the lens of these two realizations: that their dad is never again going to be a part of their lives in any way, however minor; and that my daughter's emotional struggles go well beyond a temporary depressive episode triggered by this fact. This is something she will be dealing with for the rest of her life. This is something that will keep us here in this town, in our school district, living in this apartment next door to my parents, where she has the support and the supervision and the services necessary to get her safely from this point to adulthood - and hopefully beyond.

Every evaluation/intervention/medical person that we've encountered on this journey has prefaced their comments upon meeting me with a little spiel about how smart she is and what a good mother I am. At some point it just makes me want to scream. I know that they mean well; I know they want to encourage me with the positive things they see before we discuss the negative things; I know that they want me to keep my hopes up and not feel discouraged. But I know by now that I'm a good mother and that my daughter is smart and amazing. What I want to hear is whether that will be enough to guarantee a good outcome; and of course, no one can speak to that. The future is yet to be revealed. Her intelligence and beauty, and my commitment to getting her all the help that's available, will stack the deck in her favor as much as it can be stacked; but this isn't a game I can rig. Smart and beautiful kids with good parents still succumb to mental illness, to addiction, to crime or depression or suicide. There's nothing I can do to ensure that she doesn't. All I can do is pray and keep doing everything within my power to minimize the chances.

For 2020, I'm just hoping for a bit of smooth sailing and that we find the right services to give our lives some stability for a while. I know it won't last, but a year of relative calm would be nice.

Cats, Dating, and Teenagers

Cat Update: Kanga is doing much better. She seems to have stopped peeing on the carpets as of about 2.5 months ago; I put the litterboxes in different places and she apparently likes them where they are, and I also learned she is suffering from tooth resorption :( poor baby, so she will be having dental surgery soon.  

Soooo... I have a boyfriend. It feels weird to call him a boyfriend, since he's certainly not a "boy," but that's the social term so we'll stick to that. I've used eHarmony and a couple of dating apps and gone out on a few dates over the past 18 months, but I was pretty much convinced that I would never find a man who met simultaneously my criteria for someone I'd introduce to the kids AND my criteria for sexually attractive. Because there are some conflicts there. I like sexually aggressive men, but not disrespectful men, and not just simply aggressive overall. I need a man who will take the lead in intimacy, since no matter how much I tell myself that the psychotic nonsense I was raised with is BS, it was beaten into me often and early and it still affects my behavior strongly. But I don't want a man who thinks he's in charge of everything I do. I'm a grown woman who has been looking after myself a long dang time; I don't need a daddy or a babysitter. Just a grown man who likes to own me in bed and knows how to do it without being a bully. 

I wasn't sure such a man actually existed, but he found me! On Plenty of Fish, no less, although I told my parents and the kids we met through a Meetup group. Right about the time he messaged me, I had joined several local Meetups with the idea that since dating wasn't working out, I might as well work on my social life in general. And some of them were great, but I haven't done much with them because of meeting Awesome Guy. When he first contacted me, I was all "No, sorry, you live too far away." Our houses are about 40 minutes apart without heavy traffic - and heavy traffic is common. I'd been hoping to meet someone local I could get to know on lunch breaks without making the kids suspicious. But he said I should give him a chance, and I'm SO glad I did!! We're on the same wavelength with so many important things, both in and out of the bedroom. 

After a couple of months I decided to broach the subject to the boys (Princess is too young to be overly concerned one way or the other). 

Whiz Kid is 13 now and he doesn't need Mom (hahaha). He basically said "Whatever, it's your life, I don't see what that has to do with me." Lol okay buddy, you're not THAT independent yet! Yes, this affects you. But thanks for not freaking out.

Little Bear was a completely different story. I held off longer bringing it up with him, due to the emotional turmoil he'd been dealing with after our March visit to their dad. When he seemed to be on the upswing again, I mentioned to him on the way to his weekly counselor visit (seemed like the best time to do it) that I might start dating someone. He lost it. The protective, sweet boy who worries way too much about me suddenly turned into an angry, tyrannical little man and went off about HIS family and HIS brother and sister and HIS mom and OUR apartment and how we didn't need ANYONE else coming along and messing everything up and thinking they could just be part of our family and I was absolutely NOT allowed to date! EVER!! Oh and I was totally CHEATING on Papa! 

What was supposed to have been a conversation turned into a yelling match instantly so it didn't last long. We were silent the rest of the way to his appointment and it was a rather emotional one. He talked about his fears that having his dad leave prison and not come to live with us would feel like he was still in prison, and another man in my life would be jealous and try to keep them from visiting their dad (we didn't get into the many reasons why visiting their dad might not be safe anyway, that's a different discussion), and his confusion as to why I would need anyone else since we seem to be doing just fine from his point of view.

My poor Little Bear. I had no idea he was so committed to the view that his dad and I were still a team somehow. 

The next two weeks were a bit rough. I didn't say anything else directly about Awesome Guy, but I did let them know when I was going on a date. Little Bear insisted that he had a right to know; not sure I agree, but it was a request demand I was willing to accommodate. Whiz Kid couldn't care less, and the Princess just said it was weird and wanted to know how I could have two boyfriends?! Which led to a brief and painful explanation of how their dad isn't my "boyfriend" anymore and that's what divorced means. She seemed a little confused and has been talking more about her dad since, and is seeing Little Bear's counselor for a few appointments.

Meanwhile, Little Bear had expressed an interest in woodcarving a few months back, and I found out there was a festival coming up this past weekend that featured woodcarving demonstrations. It wasn't far from Awesome Guy's house, so we went to the festival and on the way back, I told them we were stopping at his place to say hello. I figured if Little Bear didn't want to get out of the car, that would be okay, but I wasn't comfortable introducing the other two without him around, and this isn't a relationship that's going away any time soon. It's here to stay, and postponing things won't change the ultimate outcome. 

I expected him to be the one who flipped out, but it was Whiz Kid who started griping about all HIS time that I was wasting on a stupid festival and now making him see someone he didn't give a crap about and I should just leave him out of it. Of course this is at least a weekly conversation with him these days, nothing new. He resents everything we do that takes him away from his computer screen. Too bad. I wasn't particularly sympathetic to his cause, and when he vowed to stay in the car and be angry and miserable, I was like "That's fine. Awesome Guy deals with angry, miserable kids all day." They both perked up at that ans wanted to know what that meant, so I explained that he's a child and adolescent counselor. Little Bear's eyes were wide open and he said, "Wow that's actually very interesting!" They both seemed more curious after that. When we arrived they all got out of the car, and of course when he opened the door the Princess marched right in and made herself at home lol. She hopped up on the couch and was all excited about the butterfly pillow and the other pillow that was a perfect size that she always wanted and the big TV and could she watch Spongebob please? And swing on the swing out front? And how did he get such a cozy couch that is so much better than our couch? ROFL she makes a great icebreaker!!

Whiz Kid stomped in and growled a few grumpy answers including that he wanted to be home playing his video games. So Awesome Guy asked him what he plays, and he also plays that game, and then his roommate started talking to Whiz Kid about video games, and about making money, and Awesome Guy told him he can mow their lawn to earn some money because none of the other guys in the house want to do it, so Whiz Kid was pretty stoked about that.

Little Bear was quiet and reserved, but he sat down in the recliner and wrapped up in the blanket from the back of the couch and seemed really happy to be in a comfortable chair, something we don't really have at our place. After we chatted a little and then went outside to push the Princess on the swing, he came out and sat on the swing too. Awesome Guy offered to take us for ice cream but Whiz Kid complained about his day being wasted lol, and Little Bear was mad about that but I promised him we'd go out for ice cream another time soon. I know how good Whiz Kid is at turning fun times into misery, and I didn't want him ruining their first impression. Plus we now have a good excuse to see Awesome Guy again soon. 

It really couldn't have gone better, in the end. I'm so, so happy!!!

Update on the kids' father

It's been a while since I mentioned my ex. We've visited him several times this past year, which the kids have enjoyed. He looks profoundly unhealthy and still tries to tell his imaginary stories. This coming July is the earliest he'd be eligible for parole, and I have been hoping that he would stay on his medication and off the narcotics long enough to have at least a few months of normal interaction with them.

Yesterday, I lost that hope.

The last weekend in December, he called me on a Friday evening and told me that I needed to keep the Princess out of school for a few more days when the winter break ended. He told a wild story about some other inmate from a previous prison having stolen her picture from him, and how he'd put the guy in the infirmary for weeks needing reconstructive facial surgery, and now the guy was out and had sent him a letter telling him that she would be disappearing from school one of these days.

I suspected he was mostly or all inventing this, but it was far too serious a threat to blow off. My greatest concern wasn't for the Princess, who gets dropped off and picked up at school by me, where all the staff know me and our routine well, after having two previous kids go through. A stranger showing up unannounced to take her home would definitely set off red flags and would be against policy anyway. I was more concerned about the boys, who ride the buses and get home before I do. So I talked to my parents, who promised to be home at dropoff time every afternoon for the coming week and let the boys in downstairs through their house. I planned to give the school a heads-up, and my Dad said I should file a police report.

When my ex called the next evening "to check on us," I tried to get some more information about this mysterious person. Then I told him I was going to file a police report. He immediately became irritated and said, "I'm just asking you to keep our daughter safe while I deal with this! This guy's a dead man, he's never gonna know what happened..." blah blah blah. I knew then for sure that he was lying, but without proof I couldn't afford to operate on that assumption.

The next morning (Sunday) he called to say that everything was fine, he'd "taken care of it," we had nothing to worry about.

Note here: I wrote up to this point back in January, never finished it, and am just now returning to it. A lot has happened since then, but that will fill another post. Suffice it to say that in the end, Little Bear ended up with some pretty severe anxiety and increased depression over the whole thing; and after a trip in March to see their dad again, where he confronted his dad about lying and scaring everyone (which actually resulted in a real apology!!), he had a bit of a breakdown when he realized that I still wasn't getting back together with their dad no matter what. This led to spending a day at the pediatric hospital talking to the crisis team, and another day doing an intake at the child guidance center to be set up with a psychiatrist. They still haven't called me and it's been a month. Ugh. However, he is doing much better. Don't worry, I'm still going to follow up with them and he still sees his regular counselor weekly.

And then there's the other stuff... (to be continued)

What to do for Kanga?

Kanga has been peeing outside of the litter box for months. A lot. As in, destroyed a carpet and will soon destroy another if we can't solve this. I've tried every solution I could find on the internet, from Jackson Galaxy, and my own imagination. I've been convinced it's an anxiety issue and most of my focus has been on trying to solve it that way.

The biggest problem is that her special needs put the nix on most of the proven solutions, such as giving her places to climb up out of the way. She can climb up, but not down, which is a major safety concern and means that for her, part of "catifying" means making sure she CAN'T get up higher than a couple of feet anywhere. Add to that the fact that the many limitations of our cramped apartment are frustrating even for the humans, and we have a bit of a nightmare.

Sadly, I'm afraid that the true solutions may be ones I simply can't provide, such as a calmer and more spacious environment. I tried the "No Mark" pheromone spray; she peed on the floor where I sprayed it 3 times in the next 18 hours, a big jump from the usual 4-5 times a week (that I know of). I took her to the low-cost vet clinic at the shelter where we adopted her and Smidge, for blood work to see if she has kidney problems. (It would have been roughly 3 times the cost at our regular vet.) She doesn't, but they think she might have parasites, which could explain her occasional diarrhea and recent poor appetite. Not the peeing on carpets, though. The shelter vet seemed to think it was really a mobility issue, but we've already gone through several litter types until we found the current one which she likes, and several pan styles as well, and currently we're using those under-bed storage containers to give her more room for scooting around. She's perfectly content using them - about 75% of the time. UGH!

The shelter seems in a hurry to take her back, which frustrates me. I was hoping they'd at least try putting her on some anxiety medication to see if that helped. They said they weren't ruling out the possibility, but would prefer to re-home the cats. Perhaps it is selfish of me to try to keep them, but I am very resistant to letting them return to the shelter. It was a terrible environment for Kanga with her difficulties. They did suggest trying a pheromone diffuser (do you know how dang expensive all that stuff is?!), and I put one in the bedroom where they have most of their squabbles. Now Kanga has decided to pee on that floor too. AAAGGGGHHHHH!!!! Of course, it does seem to help with the squabbling as advertised. But at that cost it isn't worth it. Maybe the vet is right about the mobility issue, and she prefers to pee where she feels most relaxed. *headdesk* They said something about "observing her behavior at the shelter to see if the problem persists." Of course she will use the litter box at the shelter, because she can't even leave the dang cage!!! She'll never be more than 12 inches from it!! What a stupid idea.

Anyway, yet again today I started searching ideas for a shallower litter box. The wide boxes we're using are about 6" high, which isn't really shallow enough for Kanga; but cutting into them creates a different problem because of the way she has to hitch herself over the side. I foresee lots of scraped elbows with cut plastic edges. I considered putting foam tube insulation on cut edges, but she will scratch at that and possibly eat the shreddings; she samples some strange things. Until now I really haven't found anything for cats with serious mobility challenges. But today I found this post from Fundamentally Feline. And that led me to search for litterboxes for senior cats. Viola!

It costs a mere $40 on Amazon. (sarcasm) It's actually a puppy training box, but hey, whatever works! I'm saving up for it - and searching Craigslist. Maybe by tax return time I'll be able to spare another $40. The shelter vet also suggested putting carpet in the bottom of the litter box, which would be a great idea if I was rich and could afford to throw out a cheap carpet tile EVERY OTHER DAY!!!

I'm pretty annoyed with the shelter, to be honest. I feel like they weren't up front with me in the beginning about a problem they had every reason to know existed. True, she didn't start peeing on the carpets right away. But she did start within just a few weeks, and she continued the habit in a new room when we took the carpet out of the old room. I have a hard time believing this is something entirely new. And it makes me even more concerned about giving her back, because if they aren't honest with the new adopters, these kitties might get stuck in a cycle of being adopted and returned again and again. I don't want that. They're 3 years old and lived in one shelter until 11 months, then in another until they were adopted at 16 months, then were returned again after a year. I'm seeing the start of a bad cycle here.

I am going to put carpet tiles on top of the real carpet all around the litter box. Maybe that will help to prevent the good carpet getting ruined, even if it doesn't solve the underlying problem. Meanwhile, I just couldn't resist sharing this photo from yesterday of both cats sitting with me. First time ever. :D

Of Cats and Daughters

The Princess turned 6 years old recently. She's an amazing daughter in every way. Sometimes amazingly difficult, hehe. But always amazing.

A few weeks ago she started being actively, sneakily mean to the cats. Like throwing a toy at them and then denying it, or swatting them for turning away when she tries to pet them. Which I guess makes sense in 6-year-old logic. Or deliberately stomping her foot next to them as she passed by to startle them away.

I had a feeling it was jealousy, but there didn't seem to be much I could do about it. I began to get very upset and a couple of times she went off and cried after I yelled at her. Then one evening she said: "Mommy, if I ran away would you look for me?"

I wasn't sure what to make of that, but I replied, "Yes, of course! But I really hope you never run away because I'd be so super sad."

"But how would you look for me?" she asked. "You have to take care of the cats."

Light Bulb.

I explained to her that there is no way I would ever not look for her or her brothers because of pets; I can get other people to take care of the cats if I have to, and they are very special but they aren't my kids, and my first responsibility is to her and her brothers, and if one of them was lost I would never stop looking until they were found.

I've been trying to make an effort to spend at least a little time reading and writing with her in the evenings now, at least the evenings when we're home. She's being nicer to the cats. I think she still gets annoyed that Smidge curls up on my twin-sized mattress with me at night, because she isn't allowed to sleep with me any more. She's not ready to accept my explanation that there is room on the bed (not really, but I can't reason with a cat) for an 8-pound cat and not for a 50-pound child. Some things will take time, I suppose. She still occasionally cries about not having a kitten, and she cried last night at my sister's house because my sister's kittens have grown up and don't like her any more (of course in reality they didn't like being manhandled any better when they were little, but they couldn't escape as effectively hehe). She still wants a pet that belongs only to her, that will fawn over her and sleep with her and follow her everywhere and let her squeeze and snuggle and love it to her heart's content. What she needs, in reality, is a fluffy dog. And I wish I could give her that, but I can't.

There is just nowhere nearly enough of me to go around, these days.

I'm a Cat Mommy with troubles! Lol

Okay, so nobody said it would be easy, right? But I still fondly imagined that giving Smidge more cozy spots would stop Kanga's peeing problem. It did seem to help, after all; just not enough.

I have rearranged furniture. I've added yet another litter box which is now totally in the way. I opened up the drafty hall closet (the one with no storm window, but it's still painted shut so God forbid you could actually make use of it for air circulation when the weather is nice; oh no, it is strictly for draining away money on the utility bill) and decided to make it the laundry closet, and added Smidge's stool that she likes, strategically placed to give her access to the shelf and from there to the windowsill. Nope.

She has taken over the new cat tree by now, and at this point to be honest I think Kanga's problem has more to do with the Princess than with Smidge. She deeply resents not being allowed to pick the cats up or invade their sleeping quarters, and she has started playing with them a lot using the wand toys. Which, by the way, are bloody expensive and NOT meant for little kids to use because they break easily. In spite of my constant nagging at her to be more gentle and not use the toy like a horsewhip, she continues to thrash them around violently. I know it's bothering the cats because they will often come running from one end of the apartment to the other, and sure enough if I go to check, she's in there swinging a toy around and insisting that "It was an accident" and "It didn't really hit her SO hard." AAAAAGGGGHHHHH!!

Since peeing on the floor in a particular area is supposedly associated with the need for a safe space, I thought this weekend I'd clean our reeking carpet - not with that foul-smelling Nature's Miracle stuff again, which the cats and I both abhor, but with essential oils of lavender and chamomile, the advertised ingredients for the expensive "cat calming" spray at PetSmart that I can't even begin to afford. To me, the Nature's Miracle smells just as bad as the cat pee. It's only advantage is supposedly leaving the carpet odor-free after the fact, but I have not found that to be the case.

The lavender and chamomile certainly did seem to, however. I was so happy last night after I finished; the room smelled lovely, the cats weren't holed up on the other side of the apartment looking miserable, and in fact Kanga kept coming in every time I shut off the carpet cleaner and lying on the wet carpet as if she enjoyed it. So I was certain of success.

Oh, and I added the third litter box the night before with fancy Dr. Elsey's expensive litter for cats who hate their litter boxes, and she used it four times in 24 hours! A big improvement over the previous litter change to SWheat Scoop. (Note to the wise - that stuff breeds meal moths. Avoid it.)

So I was extra certain of success. I went to sleep enjoying the fresh, clean smell of an apartment where cat pee exists only in the litter box. I woke up to the old stink.

Yes, she peed on the floor again. Right in front of the litter box, which she then hopped into for pooping. Gooood kitty.... *headdesk*

Someone at church told me to put black pepper into the carpet, since cats always sniff before they pee, and the pepper is unpleasant. I'm going to spot-test that theory after the carpet dries. However, since she can't climb on things, I don't want the floor to be unpleasant for her. It's the only place she can be. Somehow I have to find a way to make her feel that peeing on it isn't necessary for owning it.

And she needs her nails trimmed again. They're catching on everything already. I'm going to ask the vet about those little nail caps so she can go longer between trimmings. I'm also considering having the two most troublesome nails amputated. I know that declawing cats is a rotten practice, but these are special circumstances. Her paws are already deformed, so it won't affect her walking or balance in a negative way, and it might make her less anxious if she's not getting stuck halfway down the hall whenever she wants to get from one place to another.

We'll see what happens.

I'm a Cat Mommy!

At the end of June, I decided we needed a pet. Studies show they help with depression, and both Little Bear and I struggle with that. Besides, all three kids have wanted a pet since forever.

A dog was out of the question. We knew a couple of people with kittens, but I felt a kitten would be more expensive (even if they're free to take home) and require more attention that we could offer. Considering how little waking time we actually spend at the apartment, it made the most sense to get two adult cats who already knew each other and would keep each other company throughout the day. We also needed indoor cats because the traffic in our area has ballooned over the past decade, and cats who go outdoors don't last long.

This meant adoption, obviously. I looked at the website for the local shelter and searched "bonded pair." Smidge and Kanga popped up. Two-and-a-half year old sisters, one with Radial Hypoplasia that results in her two front legs being shortened and turned inward so she hobbles along on her elbows, and one missing a front leg (due to the same condition in only one leg). They were up for adoption together. I thought it sounded perfect. They were young enough to spend (theoretically) a long life with us, but old enough to have outgrown the destructive stage. Their mobility issues meant I wouldn't feel guilty about keeping them indoors, and also that they'd be less likely to escape. I also assumed - incorrectly - that I wouldn't have to worry about the expense of climbers and cat shelves since they would have trouble getting up and down from heights. Ahem. More on that later...

Anyway, we went to visit them, and even though Kanga was unfriendly and scratched us a few times, I had my mind made up. The kids unanimously begged for a kitten instead, but in addition to my practical reasons, I wasn't going to subject such a small creature to the obsessive, controlling snuggles the Princess dreams of giving. She has a hard time accepting that live animals - especially soft fluffy ones - aren't toys and cannot be treated as such. If it was just the boys, that would be different.

They assured me that Kanga was not herself due to the pressures of the shelter environment, which could not accommodate her deformity. She refused to come out of her box or interact at all. I felt I'd do the same in her place. My opinion was that even if our apartment wasn't perfect, it had to be better than their current situation, and they'd been there for two months. Besides, I totally fell in love with Smidge; she reminded me so much of my old cat. So we adopted them. This was their second time at the shelter since they'd been adopted the previous year (after transferring from a shelter in New Jersey) and then brought back due to electrical fires in their owner's building.

When we brought them home, Smidge came out right away and dove under the couch. Kanga didn't budge. We left the carrier open and went grocery shopping. When we came back, she was out but ran back in when we got too close. We left the room, and later when I saw her out again, I closed the carrier and took it away.

We kept them in the big room for a few days. Smidge warmed up right away; Kanga took a little time but she did turn into a very different cat over the course of a week. I noticed that a couple of her claws wouldn't retract, probably due to her deformity, and one was quite overgrown and giving her trouble when playing. It was also the one everybody got scratched with. When we took them to the vet for their initial post-shelter checkup, the doctor did a fantastic job trimming her nails even though Kanga did her best villian-from-a-slasher-movie impression. Lol. It appears her claws on those crooked front paws are hypersensitive since she immediately reacts to having them touched, no matter how gently. Because neither cat can scratch properly to keep the nails worn down, trimming will have to be a regular thing.

It turned out that Kanga was the dominant one, and it annoyed me that she insisted on eating first and would butt in if she saw me petting Smidge. I assumed that Smidge's slender build and Kanga's chunky build had resulted from food issues, especially because Smidge would gobble her food very fast as if afraid it would be taken. I also assumed that Smidge didn't settle down and let me pet her for any length of time because she was nervous. Turns out she's just hyper, hehe. She can't sit still.

The pecking order shifted after Smidge killed and ate (yuck) two beetles on our deck one night, and decided she was the boss kitty and guardian of the household now! To my surprise and distress, Kanga didn't even try to stick up for herself, but just seemed to shrink down and give up everything to Smidge; all her cozy spots and safe corners, the first turn at the food dish, etc. If I sat down to pet her, she'd keep looking nervously around and sure enough, within seconds Smidge would come running in and give her a look, and she'd move away. Grrr. She also started spraying the sofa and peeing on the floor around the litter box. I steam-cleaned the carpet with pet odor remover once, but she's kept on doing it. She began throwing up constantly and stopped eating for a few days. It seemed pretty clearly an anxiety thing, so I kept giving her extra attention and fed them separately, and it got better slowly. I rearranged some furniture and added a second litter box, put out paper bags for her to hide in, and made her a cardboard box hideaway which Smidge sprayed right away and refused to let her go into. Ugh. Smidge also tried to monopolize the new litter box, but that has smoothed over. The first time Kanga got away with using it before Smidge caught her, Smidge ran up and sniffed the turd she'd left, then promptly hopped in and peed on it. I had to laugh at that one.

Because Smidge likes to be up on top of things, I decided to bite the financial bullet and order a cat tree from Groupon. Most cat trees I found would not accommodate a tripod, since they require the ability to leap down from level to level. Finally I found one that looked pretty reasonably spaced. I've seen other tripod owners talk about placing two climbers next to each other to provide more levels as well. In the meantime I picked up a small one off of Craigslist, which neither cat will use yet - not sure why, maybe it smells like the previous owner's cat or maybe they don't like where it is - and I rearranged the closet in the back of our Ikea loft bed/entertainment center/drawer combo with shelves for Smidge to climb on. I bought a pack of sticky-backed carpet tiles at Home Depot and cut pieces to put on top of the shelves so they'd be more comfy. My plan was to give Smidge places up high where she could enjoy hanging out and leave Kanga in peace down below.

A couple of days ago I put the big cat tree together, and Kanga immediately took it over. Lol so much for that plan! But hey, whatever works for them. They do seem to get along better now; Kanga has a new favorite place to sleep during the day and Smidge is free to keep the cozy cat bed she stole, haha. I also started feeding them next to each other, instead of the original setup where they shared a dish, or the second attempt where they ate in separate rooms. Smidge would run back and forth between the two rooms and eat from both dishes to keep Kanga away, little stinker. Now they eat together with minimal fuss. Smidge also seems to have partially subsided back to her more timid self, which wasn't what I hoped for, but as long as they aren't squabbling I suppose I can't complain.

I did have to find lightweight objects to put on the higher shelves of the new cat tree, since Kanga has decided to live there, because she can climb up but not down and that presents a major safety concern. That first morning she was apparently more comfortable attempting the nearly 4-foot leap to the kitchen floor than the 16-inch leap back through the hole she had come up through, and I had to grab her and set her down because it was obvious she was about to jump, which would have inevitably resulted in injury. Just in case, I'm keeping a pizza box on the floor in front of it for now, to cushion her fall if she should attempt it again and hopefully prevent serious injuries. So far I haven't seen her make any further efforts to go up there, but my ability to observe is limited.

It's going to be a fun journey!

Make the most of it!

There is another less-famous quote from Patrick Henry, the founding father who made the renowned "Give me liberty or give me death!" speech. After his dramatic conclusion, there was a cry of "Treason!" from one or more dissenting listeners, and he responded with "If this be treason, make the most of it!"

Patrick Henry was awesome.

That quote has been on my mind a lot lately because of this repulsive and destructive administration, but really it applies to many life situations. The past few months I've been trying very hard to make the most of everything. My new job is going wonderfully, I no longer miss my old boss in spite of myself, I tried dating someone and came to the conclusion that I'm much better off single and shouldn't mess with a good thing, and my parents expanded our apartment a bit so that we can actually have a family life now. Things are really going very well, comparatively. Financially, I have just had to accept that I will struggle for quite a few years still. Everything else is much better, so I'll take what I can get and make the most of it!

The kids' dad was moved to a closer location in January, so we can make the trip in a day now, which is very helpful. There are attractions along the way where we have free entry through our NARM membership, and I also learned of a local organization that provides low-cost entry for families on assistance to various attractions in our area. I'm thrilled! The Princess is 5 years old now, old enough to manage a good bit of walking, and now we have all these possibilities of places to go, plus I got a "new" car last month that is much more reliable. It's also a stick shift, and I love it. Yes, it has its drawbacks, since we have a lot of traffic around here. My ankle hurts from pressing the clutch so frequently. But it's a huge improvement over the old car, which wasn't going to pass inspection this month anyway. This one actually has room for my growing boys and their suddenly long legs, hehe. And I like the sound of it. I think my earliest memories of a car must have been my dad's old stick-shift Datsun, and I find the hum and shifting of the manual transmission to be relaxing. It sounds like I've always expected a car to sound.

I hope all the people I met here years ago are doing well. I miss you guys, but I expect we're all busy with better lives and brighter futures, so here's to making the most of it!

A New Chapter

In 3 days I start a new job. A very promising job that I hope to make a career of. To tell the story, I suppose I have to go back to Helen's passing.

I'm not sure why her passing hit me so hard. I didn't even think we were that close, once I became an adult. I probably saw her 4-5 times between Whiz Kid's birth and her coming to my parent's home for end-of-life care. Perhaps she was associated with something traumatic that is too far back for me to remember. Whatever the reason, I had a bit of a breakdown in the weeks that followed. My parents kept bringing her things back to their home to sort out, and the smell of Helen's house permeated the downstairs for a while and made me very emotional. I kept feeling drawn to her grave, and would go there sometimes on my lunch break and sit for a while and cry. Then I would sing a song and feel better.

As things began to settle down, my take-away from all of it was that I needed to stop giving so much of myself to people who are actively ungrateful, people who either use me or who simply ignore my efforts. Number one on that list was my boss. I was getting uncomfortable with the emotional closeness I felt for him, knowing that he almost certainly didn't feel the same way and was only getting so personal with me because he feels the same sense of entitlement in an employee's life that he does in his dog's. So I decided to find out. I asked him one Friday, as I was leaving, if he would fire me if I asked him out. He looked shocked and immediately replied, "I don't do that." By which he obviously meant going out with employees, not the firing people part.

So it was clearly time to move on. Funny thing was, I thought it would be easy to do that, once I heard his answer. It wasn't. I tried to put up some emotional walls and stop engaging in so much banter. Apparently, this was unacceptable. He doesn't tolerate boundaries in other people. So the work environment deteriorated rapidly. When he lashed out at me again for something stupid one day, I got angry. He told me that it was necessary to "take the good with the bad here," which left me wondering exactly what the "good" was. So after a couple of days when I was calm enough to respond rationally, I emailed him and copied his sister, the HR manager, saying that I was willing to continue taking the good with the bad, as long as he was.

He told her he had no idea what I was talking about and that she should find out what my problem was. The utter deceit and lack of responsibility in that meant it was over before it ever started, but I talked to her anyway. I told her that he was quite simply a bully. She was as cold and manipulative as before. As always, she reminded me that he just is who he is, he's never going to change (translation: He just isn't capable of doing any better, so lower your standards accordingly). She even went so far as to condescendingly tell me, in a "you poor ignorant little thing" tone, that I'm a smart girl, and if I really wanted to throw away a job like this! over some emotional issues, well, I was an adult and there was just nothing they could do for me. She went on to remind me that he does SO MUCH for his employees, buying us lunch! (usually because he's asking us not to clock out due to coverage issues) and giving us bonuses! ($180 total in the over 18 months I worked there, OMG what will I do without that!!!), and that furthermore he is absolutely the kindest and most generous person I will ever meet.

That last really offended me, although I didn't say so. He also added, when he joined the meeting, that he is NOT on an equal level with the employees, and as owner he is entitled to say and do whatever he wants. Yadda yadda, blah blah I'm an entitled little prick and you're a nothing, yadda yadda. So, that was the end of that. Still, being the people pleaser that I am, I somehow let them manipulate me into feeling like I was the one who needed to prove myself, and asked them to give me 30 days to see how things were going.

After I went home and had a chance to think about it, I realized how full of BS they were, and that yes, I AM a smart girl and have a 4.0 GPA to prove it, so why am I throwing that away on these jerks? I decided to look for other work. I waited the 30 days to tell them so, out of fairness, and during that time he completely stopped working with me or talking to me any more than was absolutely essential for the business to function. It was the most pathetically childish thing I've ever seen from a grown man. Although, he still occasionally would start teasing and harassing me for a reaction just because he needed the attention, which I found intolerably offensive. If you can't handle working with me, you definitely shouldn't be pestering me for random attention. Grow up!

Once I told them I was going to seek other work, things went from ridiculous to downright toxic. And in the end, I'm glad. Just like with my marriage, the one good thing that came of staying so long is that I will always know I made the right decision, in the end. He turned into such an absolute a**hole that I couldn't believe I ever saw anything good in him. In the meantime, I got a call from the staffing agency I worked with before, and they sent me for an interview with a company closer to home, with better hours and of course a much better atmosphere. The job involves extensive proofreading, so being a Grammar Nazi came in handy! Lol. And I got the job. If I stay long enough, they will provide tuition reimbursement to go back for a degree in their field, and I would like to do that. Social work is important to me, but this seems like a company and field where I'd love to make a career. Standing up for myself is finally paying off!

For Helen

Last Sunday my family lost a very dear friend. She died of cancer at the age of 86, after living her last few months in my parents' home to receive hospice care. She was a unique and amazing woman, and there is so much I feel about her that can't really be put into words. But what I can, I will.

Helen was present for the births of most of my younger siblings. Since the 7 youngest of us were born at home, and only one with a midwife, her help and support were invaluable. That's the first thing I remember about her. We met her when I was too young to really remember not knowing her, and hers is the only church I remember attending. It may have been the only one we ever attended with any regularity. By the time I was 7 we had begun home church services, but Helen would often come on Sunday evening and present a lesson to us.

Her life represented much more to me than just the things she did. She was an accomplished artist, but that wasn't really something that was part of her identity in my mind. She used to make beautiful little drawings on the Sunday School papers she gave us, and her handwriting was lovely. Her backyard is probably the thing I associate the most with her. It was a beautiful, well kept, tiny place of peace and joy. Her hydrangeas were lovely, her roses fragrant, her birdbath full and usually busy when we weren't outside (sometimes even when we were). Her brick path seemed like a work of art in itself when I was small enough to run on it. It was a road into my imagination, and her backyard was the place where I could be anywhere and do anything. It was a magical place to me. Her porch swing was big enough to accommodate at least three of us, if we didn't fight. Her wrought iron gate seemed to set her yard apart from the busy street and sidewalk, like a little pocket in time and space where everything was peace and harmony.

She always kept books behind the basket in her living room, and we spent many hours poring over them on Sunday afternoons, even after we stopped attending the chapel her husband pastored and where she took over the preaching after he passed. I didn't realize until her funeral that she was married a comparatively short time out of her years on this earth. He was many years her senior, and died suddenly one day on a walk. I think I was around seven years old. He was a unique person as well, blessed with the gift of healing, according to those who knew him. I remember that he was someone who just seemed to make every one around him feel better. She always had a jar of hard candy in her front room as well, and I think we frustrated my mother as we got older by always pushing for a piece of candy as soon as we could get a word in. Hehe.

You would think that the home of someone like this would feel peaceful too, but for some reason, I never felt comfortable in her house. I always felt it was haunted, that something unfriendly watched me everywhere I went. Since I also felt that way in a couple of other places growing up, it may be the problem was with my own psyche. Be that as it may, the feeling was intense at her home - especially on the second floor - in a way that it wasn't anywhere else. I don't think it was something that came with her, and I seriously doubt that it left with her. What it was, I'll probably never know. As I grew older it ceased to frighten me quite so much. It never seemed to ruffle her, if indeed she was even aware of it.

Most of all, Helen's life seemed to be one of unquestioning faith during the time we knew her. She witnessed miraculous occurrences, and was absolutely certain that anyone else could experience the same. She also had hardships, of which she never complained, and most of which I probably don't even know about. She walked everywhere, and was fearless in a way that I wished very much to emulate. She was always kind to us children, and was at times the only kind person who had any real relevance in my life. She was a good listener, and to my knowledge never betrayed a confidence, but her advice always came directly from Scripture. There were many times I wished to ask it, but did not because I already knew what she would say.

My mother described her very well as being "Valiant... without being vicious." She did not believe in using harsh words, or giving in to negative thoughts and self pity. She was indeed a warrior without violence. Her life during the time we knew her was one of constant helping. The week before she passed, some of my siblings and I had it out with the woman who had been our cult leader growing up; and hearing some of the remarks at Helen's funeral drove home for me the reality that religious beliefs alone cannot fundamentally change a person - for better or for worse. Helen would have said she believed many of the same things that this other woman believed, although they were not in agreement on all doctrinal points. But their beliefs manifested in such different ways, directed by the heart inside. Helen loved all of God's creatures, no matter how fallen, and would lend a helping hand to anyone in need, even if she admonished them the while to change their ways. My own mother is much the same way, generous with her material goods as well as her advice. So different from the attitude that one is receiving their "just desserts" if they face insurmountable obstacles, and must first change their ways to be deserving of help or love. Helen was ever sorry to see others suffering, while the other woman seemed to rejoice in what she always perceived as justice being meted out.

I feel as though a chapter of my life has closed. I have to decide whether I will go on from here following in the footsteps of harshness and arrogance, for whatever reason - the reason isn't relevant - or in the footsteps of kindness and acceptance. I really, really hope I take Helen's path. I will never believe all the doctrines she espoused, but I want very much to be the sort of person that she was.

Memory Eternal, Miss Helen. May God grant you peace and rest, and the reward of your hard labors.

Semi-annual Blog Post

Looks like this blog is getting more and more neglected. That's because life is getting better and better - and busier. I'm still working at the same job, and it has indeed become fun again, although I did come very, very close to quitting again at one point. In the end, I decided to take Microsoft Office 2013 courses at home, and work on getting certified. That way I will have options at my disposal if the situation becomes ridiculous again. The last thing I want is a setback. I can get another job any time, but I want it to be a job that pays the same or better. For that, I need Office proficiency. In the meantime, we have a pretty good dynamic in the current employees, and hopefully it will stay that way for a while.

Our new deck has been a great blessing, although we haven't had much chance to invite people over. The weather went from chilly to hot within a very short time, late in the spring. And with the absence of the giant tree limb that destroyed the old deck, we discovered that the new deck was directly underneath the favorite twilight hangout of every flock of starlings that comes through here. So any attempt to venture outside on a lovely spring evening was met with bird crap. Lots of it. By the time the little buggers moved on, the weather was most definitely on to summer and the mosquitoes were out. Stinkers. However, the kids have really enjoyed it during the day as a play area, and Whiz Kid especially will sit out there under the overhang in any weather - with his iPod. Not quite what I had in mind lol. We also have a little electric grill out there which I use regularly. It's especially handy in the hot weather, when just turning on a stove cap is enough to overwhelm our Brave Little Air Conditioner. I love the deck as much as I dislike the apartment. Best of all, I can breathe on it...

I'm not sure what's going on with Scouts. Whiz Kid transitioned to Boy Scouts in March, despite his protests; I told him to wait until he'd gone camping to say he wasn't interested. I kept telling him that all through Webelos, too. So he went on the summer camping trip the first week out of school. He didn't want to continue. As disappointing as it was, I let him drop out. Being a part of Scouting is something I really enjoy, but it isn't fair to make him do something simply because I want to identify with him doing it. I always resented that in my own upbringing and I won't do that to him.

Little Bear (who is definitely not little any more!) is still technically in Cub Scouts, provided the pack hasn't dissolved without notice. Our last committee meeting of the year, and our planning meeting, were both canceled at the very last minute without any real reason being given. When I started asking about it I got a lot of indirect, vaguely accusatory finger-pointing in response from one party, and a total silence from the rest. I really don't know why I'm even on the committee since no one has ever bothered to tell me anything. I was told I had to be on it in order to qualify for financial assistance, and they've had me handle some paperwork, but it seems that no one thinks I'm enough of a committee member to actually be involved in any discussions away from the meetings (which are apparently the ones where the big decisions are made), so what am I doing there? This year I will be paying for his membership fees myself, and I'm not sure if I'll stay - assuming there's still a pack, like I said. I had finally offered to fill one of two positions, neither of which I'm sure I have the time for, but they said both were very important and had to be filled. I've heard nothing back since. Not a word. Nothing to indicate which of the two they want me to take, or whether they are going to recharter at all. I have a strong feeling that our pack has been invaded by some political BS that I want no part of. I may simply switch to another one farther away. I don't need this nonsense. How shallow and arrogant do you  have to be to criticize the way a VOLUNTEER does their job? Because apparently, this all started with someone deciding that someone else was wrong for the position they were in, and demanding they step down - without finding a replacement first. Thanks a lot. Maybe the complainer can go work for the Trump campaign. It runs pretty well on shortsightedness and belligerence.

No, I'm not voting for either the rabid wolverine or the viper, in case you're wondering. I refuse to be forced into a choice between death by poison or death by dismemberment. This election is a terrible joke that won't end. I'm voting for Gary Johnson, and I could care less who stands a better chance or any such foolishness. We all stand a pretty high chance of being totally screwed no matter who wins. At least my conscience will be clear.

This summer has been so much easier than previous summers for me. Two months ago, I started taking a nutrition supplement called "Thrive" that my brother and cousin are always raving about, and it's done wonders! I take only one capsule a day instead of two, since I know I'm sensitive to things, and it's working fine that way. It's insanely expensive, and the part of me that hates waste is annoyed by the high cost. But it works. You can't argue with results. I'm spending nearly $150/month on vitamins now, for myself and the kids, which seems outrageous. But every time I try to stop, we suffer. It's keeping me focused at work and in a better mood at home, and I'm sleeping much better than I ever did. Plus, I no longer get sick in the heat! I can function, even at 90 degrees! So it's a small price to pay when seen that way.

This fall I'm going to take swimming lessons. My godmother has a pool and has encouraged me to learn, so I'll give it a shot. I don't think it will be too bad. It's the scheduling more than anything that was a problem, and the Y has a time that works for me this fall. I'm looking forward to it.

We've visited the kids' dad a few more times. He's about 7 hours away now, so it's not easy. But it's in an area where there are lots of things to do, and we have a reciprocal membership through a local museum that gets us into a few places out there. It could be worse. Plus it's a treatment facility within the prison system, and he actually seems to be getting better. That's encouraging for his future relationship with them. Only time will tell. On our last trip we went camping, and it worked out well. The weather was great, we found a really nice campground, and it's not far from an Orthodox monastery I'd wanted to visit for a while. So we stopped there. It was a really good trip, much better than I ever thought it would be. I'm not so put off by the thought of going again, now that we have other reasons to be there too.