An update. Kinda.

Fyi:  This started out in my last comment section, but I realized it's a post in itself.  Also, those of the male gender may want to skip it, as I'm going to say what I'm thinking...and sometimes it isn't pretty.
So you get more of the story of "me".  YOU'RRRRRRE WELLLLLLCOME! Okay. Honestly, I didn't expect a lot of response.  I was putting stuff out there, yeah, but with the half-hope that SOMEONE would give me a little hint as to how to stop being self-absorbed.  However, I was wrong.  You all came through.  This is not one of my strong points(surprise!)--talking about how I let my sickness?  Disability?  Mental shortcomings?  Get the best of me.  After twenty five years of coming to terms with this, (maybe more? I can remember this as far back as eight years old...), it's still a bummer to admit sometimes it feels stronger than I am.  Anyway, you all came through.  Thank you. I honestly took advice--I was THAT desperate.  ;)  And I thought I would give you an update.  Firstly, despite every night this week coming up with an excuse NOT to go jogging, I did it anyway.  (Still feel massively bloated, but my head is clearer, and that's a plus...maybe it's PMS?  Is it possible to have PMS three out of the four weeks in a month?  I'm totally serious).  Second, I know I need to make the dreaded doctor's appt. and get the general check up.  Probably get all my annoying bits checked and talked about...and I've actually been putting this off since I last saw the doctor for a personal appointment.  I believe it was my six week checkup after Syd was born.  What? Did I hear someone rolling their eyes?
Third, I did some service.  I honestly did.  I made a couple meals, and some banana bread and spread my love with food--and I honestly felt better.  It made me feel appreciated and validated.  Luckily, I wasn't there to see them actually EAT anything I made, because that easily could have ruined everything.  But they were grateful, and it made me feel grateful to be able to make them happy until digestion.
And lastly, I've been crafting...not good crafting, cause I don't do that.  But trying to make stuff.  I had an idea to make little owls for the kids.  Basically because I love owls, and they don't have anything that I've ever made for them.  So I got a pattern and have been putting them together at nights.  I won't say I've gotten better.  Sometimes I have an owl that turns out cute.  But mainly they all have severe physical deformities.  Jeff said I should make little owl families, like ours, for each kid...so that's two adults, two kids, and a baby owl.  It was a great idea, and then I realized it was a lot more work than I had intended.  I just hope the kids don't hate them to my face. I'll try to make the packaging look good--they'll each be in little nests with their babies--maybe that will make them look more appealing? If they get them under the Christmas tree, smile and say, "Oh, that's cute", and then hide them in their rooms where they can hopefully be forgotten about?  I'll be just fine.  Reach for the crafty stars--that's how I do.

So there.  That's not all, it seems like my kiddos have been more in tune to me needing a little extra response time and nap time, and basically, time to be selfish.  But they've given it to me, and I really appreciate it.  Things are looking up.  I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay.  I'm better than okay.
October is going to be better.  And the weather is supposed to be cooler.  And I'm going to be a zombie in a race, and go to Halloween parties and help at carnivals, and the list goes on and on.  And Sydney is going to get her check up that tells us where she'll be placed after she turns three...and I decided that whatever the outcome, it will be difficult to hear.  But we'll all give it a try.
See?  All this stuff was really weighing on me before, but now it seems a lot easier.  So, thanks again.  Here's to a better week!  After this weekend, anyway.

Overwhelmed by the nuttiness.

Yeah, this is one of those posts in which I'm just not doing so well.  I don't know why.  I'm trying to be consistent about my exercise, and trying to keep myself busy, but in the end, I'm just kinda...sad.  Poor me, I know.  But honestly?  I hate feeling this way.  I hate not being appreciative of how easy I have it.  I consciously know that there are people having way worse life experiences, and yet they keep on keeping on...
Sometimes I honestly feel like I would be okay sleeping for the rest of my life.  I hate admitting that, because I'm aware of how terrible it sounds.  It makes me a rotten wife, a terrible mother, and a downright pathetic human.   I'm treading water.  I know I'll come out of it, but sooner would be better than later.  
So I'm just being even more withdrawn than usual.  Waiting until I stop sucking the fun out of the room, and whatnot.  This would totally happen at the time my mother-in-law is in a rehabilitation center for her recent knee surgery.  Tonight I looked at her and honestly tried to WILL myself out of my funk.  Here she is, in physical pain, trying to recuperate and worrying about her responsibilities that are going untended to.  That's a lot of justifiable stuff to be bummed about.  Not that she is, she's just, "getting it over with".  
And then there's me.  I'm being whiny and sad about nothing I can see, smell, taste, or feel.  Just, because. Nice, right?  How lame is that?
Anyway, I'm telling myself I need to try harder.  I will continue to take my meds, and remind myself why I'm lucky to be who and where I am.  Try to shake myself out of it. Hopefully things will start looking less dismal.  I'm just asking, does anyone have any tips?  Any, "stop feeling sorry for myself", tips?  Other than the usual, "Stop feeling sorry for yourself"?  I'm open to suggestions.  Thanks all.

Where is my mind?

Hey all.  

(You like Sydney's Hitler mustache?  She took an honest nose-dive off my bed the other day.  This is what I get for threatening to punch her in the nose in front of other people.  I'm waiting for someone to come and take my children away from me).
You know it's my favorite time of year.  My FAV.O.RITE.  But it's been a little off for me, unfortunately.  I've been crazy busy.  So busy I've seriously flaked on so many things...and it makes me feel pretty rotten...and kinda scares me that I'm losing my mind.  As in, honestly losing stuff that I've previously had no problems remembering.  Like, for years.  And now, I wake up and remember something randomly, that took place LAST WEEK.  I even have it on my calendar.  Is it brain damage?  That's all I can come up with. I honestly have no excuses.  I just hope that those of you that have been on the receiving end of it will forgive me, eventually.  
Unfortunately, being forgetful hasn't been the only symptom I've been having.  I've also been flat-out obnoxious.  At Syd's class last week, I couldn't stand myself.  Things kept coming out of my mouth--things NO ONE wanted to hear, things that I had no right saying, and things that were just full of self-superiority that I honestly don't have.  But for some reason, I thought I did that day.  And even as I was talking my inner me was screaming to "Shut Up!"  But I just kept saying things that were digging me deeper in this hole of crap I couldn't seem to get out of.  And then?  And then I went home and stressed about it all day.  And stayed awake hating myself all night.  And was tired and grouchy the entire week.  
I don't know.  I just hope it goes away.  I'm thinking that maybe it was residual stress/sadness/anxiety of Dad's death.  Maybe?  And on that note, I really thought that I was getting over being down on Dad's day of passing.  But Friday was...really hard.  In fact, I had that same pressing sickness in my chest, that being on the verge of tears, that helplessness, that no one could fix that happened two years ago.  Muff and I have kind of made a standing appointment to go out that day.  And we did on Friday, and I believe it helped.  Somehow just being with her made me happier, made me feel understood and that I didn't have to explain why I've been "off."  Made me feel like it was okay...helped me remember what it was like when he was here, when we were young, and when things were good.  Cause there were good times.  Times that I felt loved.  I know that Lora and Jess would have loved to have been with us.  Maybe Jayson and Shelly, as well.  But life takes us different places, and that's how it goes.  They were missed though.  And thought about.  
I came home and felt more peaceful.  And tired.  Like I could have slept for two weeks.  
Anyway, I hope that now I can get to appreciating this time of year.  Because I honestly love it.  And it really does make me happy.  So I'm going to focus on that.  I'm going to be better for Jeff, for the kids, and for me.  And for those of you that I've slighted, I'm truly sorry.  I'm trying to get it together. 
Hopefully everyone's week will be a good one.  Fingers crossed.

You Can't Bull Sh*t a Bull Shi**er.

Words of wisdom brought to you by my father, Monty Steele.  It's that time again.  The time of year when I can look back and say that these upcoming two weeks, two years ago, were the most difficult span of time I have ever encountered.  They were really long and really short at the same time.  I watched my dad's vitality and will and mind be sucked away from him...and though I miss him, I don't think about that part too often, thankfully.  But just this being September, and waking up to take the kids to school, I smell it in the air, and I feel it when it cools off in the evening.  I'm taken back to that time.  And it's bittersweet.
I have to admit that my father has left me with some pearls of wisdom that I use daily.  The title of this post, for one.  I remember the first time he said that to me.  I was a teen, and I was trying to get out of trouble without lying, and without telling the whole truth--you know, softening the edges and whatnot.  But he saw through it.  And that's what he said to me.  I also remember how I rolled my eyes, and thought to myself that surely there was a better way to let me know he saw beyond my story.  And did he really have to "back woods it up" like that? I mean, really.  
He had a lot of those embarrassing sayings.  Stuff that may not have made any sense, or maybe too much...but it's all in my brain, and it's the first thing I think of when the situation seems somewhat familiar.  I feel bad that I never realized how much those things that I used to despise would mean to me, when he was gone.  How despite all my book learnin' and whatnot, (which, in being honest, there wasn't much),  the words of my dad are still the ones that come to mind, first. 

Anyway, the title of this post is basically targeted at Sydney.  Like they all seem to be, lately.  As you are all now aware, Syd has been attending her "special classes" weekly.  There are about six other little kids in there, with her.  They range from lower functioning autism to high functioning aspergers, and then there are those that haven't been diagnosed, like Sydney.  I've told you my reasoning for that.  My sister in law, Shauna, has told me for a long time that she is quite sure Jeff has aspergers, and I trust her judgement, because Jeff has always been different, and it's been an ordeal to figure him out.  (And I'm bat-crap crazy, so he has his hands full, too).  Shauna has done a lot of research on this, and with her son, Andy, having autism, she's made herself very educated on the topic.  I've honestly tried to do the same with Syd.  She's made leaps and bounds, but there are still some social aspects that sometimes worry me.  Honestly, what parent doesn't worry? 
So I've tried to have more patience with her.  I've tried to be lenient, and understanding.  Syd won't pick up her toys because "she doesn't understand what I'm asking".  Syd doesn't try her dinner because she's "special" and the texture is too weird for her.  Syd doesn't follow most of my orders because "they are too complicated and I need to make them more understandable".  
The thing is, before all these classes, I was a lot harder on her.  And I know that I was expecting too much.  But then I went fully the other way.  Like, "Be free, Syd!  Do whatever you want and let your "specialness" light your way. 
So she began taking advantage.  I kept telling myself, that I needed more patience, and to let her learn at her own pace and blah, blah, blah.  But really, I was a complete sucker.  And she totally played me.  

The other day she was a nightmare.  Honestly.  A beautiful nightmare that I wanted to put in the garage and accidentally forget about.  Hey, I would have given her some apple juice and put a fan in there, too.  I'm not a monster.  
I was done with her.  It was dinner time, and I made sausage tortellini...and she usually loves it.  As long as you call it chicken.  Anyway, she fought me tooth and nail, and didn't want to eat it--she goes back to being this basic feral kid when she doesn't want to do something.  Jeff was with me, and after some loud clashing of wills, I asked him to take her to her room.  She knew Jeff was going to make a shake, so that really put her out, as she was ready to guzzle her part of it.  I'm pretty sure that's why she didn't want to eat.  
This was the first time we'd done this with Sydney.  Normally, she knows that she will get what she wants, or not get what she doesn't want, or be left to her own devices.  But with Riley and Cole, I remember doing this quite often.  The struggle to get them to eat something not gummy or chocolate.  The fights over bedtime.  Syd had never had to deal with that, because she's "special".  Anyway, that's what she made me think.  After we showed her we were seriously not going to give her any shake if she didn't eat, she was shoveling those babies down.  And she was sweet and loving, and letting us know what a "good girl" she was, while giving Jeff, me, Riley, and Cole high fives and bones after each bite.  Every now and then she'd throw in an "Oh yeah!" and an "I so awesome!"   

And this weekend we've put her into her toddler bed...something that I feared would be the end of a sound sleep.  But after one night, she will get into bed, play for a bit, and then drift off.  Not coming out at all.  She gets it.  She totally got it before, and I didn't give her the chance to show me or any discipline because I had really convinced myself that some things were WAY too advanced.  She has BSed me all this time.  I thought I was the smart one...but she's had me figured out for months.  I'm learning.  She's growing, and she's smart.  And though I thought she was way behind socially, Sydney knows how to play people.  If she's interested, she'll let you know.  If you have something that she wants, she'll find a way to get it.  Sometimes it turns out that the thing you keep wanting more than anything, continually praying for, is right in front of you.  And it's not until you're willing to really go with your gut, that you see those miracles are happening.  I've come back to my early opinion of my youngest daughter.  She's a big time brat.  Who knew I'd be so grateful for that? 
When my dad was dying, the day that he lost all mental recognition, was awful.  He was scared, and angry, and couldn't communicate, and he was lost.  I still get emotional thinking about it, because I honestly can't imagine anything worse happening to someone.  But I called Jeff, and asked him to bring Syd to say goodbye.  It went against rational thought, but I strongly felt she needed to come over.  Jeff brought her, and I took her over to my dad as he lay in the Hospice bed in the center of the living room.  As soon as Dad saw her, he was cognizant, he said, "Hey, hey little girl!".  Those were the first audible words he'd said that day.  I'd been there since 8:00 am, and it was about 2:00 pm at that time.  He was with us for about twenty minutes, cooing and talking to Syd, fully knowing who she was, and able to say goodbye.  There's something about her.  Something great.  And any parent will tell you the same about each one of their children.  There's a light that is theirs, personally, that makes you a better person.  That after you see and feel it, you can't imagine being without.  Regardless of how many scares they give you, or how hard you've got to work to get them where they need to be, somehow they let you know it's all worth it.  That not an ounce of the love and sacrifice you give for each and every one of them, is wasted.  

 Even if they know that they can play you like a cheap violin, every. single. time.  
A happy week to all of you.