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Updating just so I can edit old posts, I hope.

Just popping in again. I sort of miss my old blog home--very cozy it was.

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I have a new blog home!

Blogger is just too damn undependable--and I keep getting all sorts of java script errors. The balancing act site has some really cool features, too, so I am happy to make the move. I just have to figure out how to move all the stuff here to there...who knows how long that will take :-).

My new addy is New Blog Please come visit me there!

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I know there is no such thing as jinxing yourself.

ON every rational level I know that in no way can saying something cause things to happen....not actualy physical changes, for example. Howevdr, just yesterday I was talking to someone while I was at school and she asked how the kids had been. I said great--no trouble at all. True. They've both been incredibly healthy and wheeze free all summer. What happens? Last night Jay starts coughing a little at bed time. By midnight, he is so stopped up, he is snorig and choking in his sleep, then he starts his tight asthma cough. WTF? He hasn't needed an albuterol treatment in at least two months, but he had to have one last night. It helped considerably. I also made him take some pediacare for the nose. This morning he is all stuffy and tight. Crap. My hospital benefits from the commission run out at the end of this month--I just hope he has a good fall.

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Can someone please tell me why anyone would want to see Anna Nicole Smith on TV?

This ide of a reality show based on her trashy life is just more than I can stand. Let's see, a fat, money-grubbing, bleached blonde with the IQ equal to her cup size and tqo of the biggest, fakest boobs ever made by man and silicone is going to show us all we never wanted to know about what dingbat hos (hoes? ho's?) do for fun. I am going out on a limb here and betting that at no time does she read a book or watch anything more mentally challenging than Tom and Jerry.

What a frigging waste of time, money and effort. Who had this brilliant idea? How desperate do you have to be to stoop to such an attention whoring thing? Frightening. Truly frightening....and then there is the Liza and her undead hubby show. What another pair of freaks they are. Can you hear Judy spinning in her grave? How much more exploitation can one daughter do? And is her husband male or female? Black or white? Micheal Jackson? Human? What a total piece of work they make. I am the most avid TV freak there is, and I am already dreading this fall on television. Damn. damn, and damn again. Freaks.

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As if anyone reading can stand one more TSU report.....I made an A in stats.

I am thrilled. Never made an A in math before--feels pretty damn good. I am now finished with all of my summer coursework except for a killer take home test that the 6 of us in the class have split up. I only have 9 multiple choice questions to answer, so it can't be too bad. Be better if I had bought the book :-). (If I was at my new blog home, I would insert THE face icon :oo:). Now I have to clean house like mad and then gear up for school which begins a week from tomorrow.

W. is in such flux right now that I hurt for him. His zoloft got totally screwed up, and he is almost out of control. Up/down. Up/down. He is still obsessing over working--no matter that we decided he didn't need to work; he spends hours online reading every possible job opening. I don't know what to do for him and it is so frustrating. My husband is one of the most talented and hard working people I know. He easily has 100 people that call him a friend and 300 more that know him by name and reputation. Why, then, can't he find a job in this town? Ugh. I feel partly responsible since he could have gotten his MBA while he was working, but I never really pushed it. Meanwhile, I have my master's, but it doesn't really matter. Damn. There are so many things he could do well that I just want to scream sometimes. I am going to call a few people that I know tomorrow--he wouldn't want me to, but I figure at this point, he needs all the networking he can get.

My kids are a trip as usual. Sam now informs people they must share if they have something he wants. Jay is very into jumping from furniture to furniture or from bed to floor. Five is growing up so quickly, it scares me.

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Fuck.

Nice use of the English language there, Kim. Fine command of verbage. I don't know what else to say.

In addition to my other personality flaws, I evidently am a first class bitch. I have some magical way of pissing people off without even meaning to. Lucky me. I suppose at some point I am going to learn to keep my mouth shut. When, I don't know. I have a burning desire to respond to those I have offended, but it would be pointless and drag more negativity to my blog, which is the last thing I need. Why is it that debates have to degenerate into personal attacks? That is what I just never have gotten.

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Talk about underestimating

I thought I could get all of my crap done today from say, 9 -1. Wrong. I am about to leave now and I still have one more chapter presentation, a case study and a response paper to do. CRAP! I did get W.'s resume rewritten with cover letters, and sent to two pleaces, an 8 page research paper and one chapter of presentation done. I met with my principal for almost an hour, so that set me behind from the get go.

Back tomorrow, I suppose. I will take the kids to daycare Tuesday instead of Wednesday and then have three days to just clean house and play the rest of the week. I cannot WAIT for all of this to just be DONE! I am a broken record lately.

UGH! To top all things shitty off, one of my former students has joined our staff. Blech. I despised her when she was in school, and she hasn't changed a bit. Damn, damn, damn.

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One more week and then back to school

I found out yesterday that one of my favorite fellow teachers has left. That is two since school ended. Rats and sinking ships come to mind. This one is a huge blow to all of us--Mike was someone we could all depend on for everything and one of the few male teacher/coaches who didn't think that school was there for sports. I dread thinking of who will replace him. It is going to be difficult, if not impossible, to begin this year with a positive attitude. I am going today to discuss a list of things with the boss. I told myself that I cannot afford to make any changes this year with W.'s shaky status job wise, but if there isn't significant improvement in morale and the general day to day stuff at school, I am going to be putting a whole hearted effort into making some changes next school year. I never thought I would say this, yet I say it everytime I talk about work.Mike was the same---12 years, never a moment of hesistation. Last year, boom. Now we have lost him. Tina and I both dread this year. Three new high school teachers, one position cut, and a new assistan principal, plus both of us having to teach a middle school class. Damn.

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Just found out we have a new assistant principal, but I don't know who it is yet. This should make the new school year even more interesting. I am finalizing my certification as prinicpal so that I can apply for any jobs in the future. As much as I love my school, I have to get all my options open.

Is forumula inherently bad?

I am now awash with conflicting feelings and thoughts. I breastfed all three of my boys for varying lengths of time-Sam was the longest--one year; Five the shortest--3 months. I have never been a particularly big advocate of nursing til they are two or three--not that it is bad, it just is not for me. I am also not a big opponent of formula or formula companies. I always encourage people to support nursing mothers and give it a chance in their own situation. I would never consider NOT nursing. If I had another child, i wouldn't even bother dragging the bottles out, but this comes from literally years of experience as a mother and as an observer. I have developed my attitude as a result of my own personal experiences and from those of my friends along with a tremndous support system.

Today the subject of bottles as being bad was mentioned and I just can't see this. Yes, breast is best, but to take the attitude that bottles should not even be part of play or anyone's maternity experience I just do not understand. Hmmmm. I suppose because all of my kids had bottles at some point, I have a different viewpoint.

My fear is that in our quest to make breastfeeding the norm (which it is) we scare off those who are unsure or uneducated. The whole militant breastfeeding attitude sounds great among other militant breastfeeders, but does it help convince anyone? I don't think it does. I keep thinking of the infamous rat poison debate--all that did was make me feel as if I was being called the world's worst mother. Add in my scheduled c-section, and you might as well paint a scarlet L for loser on my chest.

At some point we need to stop being so defensive of our own belief and begin to listen to others. Can we make impassioned pleas? Sure. Can we have healthy debates? Yes. But to take offense every time someone says how important it is to breastfeed or another mentions a formula brand gets us nowhere.

Again, I suppose most of my feelings go back to the fact that I have made so many birth and mothering choices that others view as cop outs. No one has ever said it to my face, but when the debates begin, the old uneasiness hits as always. I have had three scheduled cesearean sections. I have never labored. I fo

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I am tired of the crappy Blogger dependablilty. Dammit. I look forward to being on the new domain soon. I had a huge post typed last night and hit post and it didn't post, nor is it in y files. How crappy is that? Sooooooooo frustrating.

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It is over!

I can breath for a day or two, anyway. Statistics is in my past. I will never have to do that crap again. Ever. for any reason. Now I can move to the other stack of work that lies ahead and then enjoy one day off before school gets back in gear. I feel as if a ton of weight has been lifted--still half a ton left until next Thursday, but he worst is now behind me. Whew.

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Today is the final day of stats. I am too tired to be stressed--we drove in from Chicago, or actually Gary, Indiana, last night and I am faced with a monumental mess when I get home. Next week I am through! I can hardly wait. I am soon to be 5 classes away from my Ed.S. Two more semesters. A good, good feeling. Lots to tell about Chicago, but that will have to wait til I get back from Nashville.

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As God is my witness, I am going to track down the fuckwit who announced the need for low flush toilets and drown him in one.

Of course, there is never enough water in the bowl to actually drown him under desirable circumstances, but give us a minute and the damned thing will be ready to overflow.

Can you smuggle a toilet in from Canada? Is it illegal? How illegal is it? Fines or jail time? I am going to blow a frigging vein next time Jay floods the bathroom with 5 squares of TP.

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I feel sorry for the people that don't know the pure joy of biscuits and homemade sausage gravy.

Yet another benefit of living in the south, along with Krystals, Sun Drop, grits and hashbrown casserole. No wonder I am so fat :-).

W. made dinner for us tonight--not much to work with since we are leaveing town tomorrow, so he picked around and found the stuff for that anyway. He makes much better gravy than I do. Chocolate chip cookies and gravy--never let it be said he doesn't have skills. He can replace toilets, too, see why I keep him around?

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Two more classes

Today is my penultimate statistics class. Woohooo! I am psyched. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

Today I have a trillion things to do for Chicago. I will be running around in circles, I am sure. I am so tired. I was up til after 2 and up at 5:30. Must stop this. Tonight will be the same--if I actually go to bed it will be a miracle. I hope to be able to sleep on the road.

Two more classes. Thank God.

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How typical is this?

I get all the way to school to download the shitload of files I have created to take to Chicago and they are screwed. Of three attachments on one email, only one even showed up and it was screwed up totally. Then, the other emial with three more files in it didn't even show up. Damn, damn, damn. I am so tired of this shit. I suppose I can get up at the crack of dawn and come down and do it, or just mess with it tomorrow. Damn, damn, damn.

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I put the PRO in procrastinator.

I am not even close to being ready to leave for Chicago in TWO days. We are driving half way Saturday, meeting my mom to pick up Five and drop off Jay, and then going north til we get tired. I cannot even count all the things I need to do tonight and tomorrow. Naturally I am blogging instead of working. As soon as W. gets out of the shower, I am off to school to do some printing and get my head on straight. I am taking the laptop on the road to work on my power point and, of course, to have internet access in the hotel.

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I need to just put this down and move on.

I have been obsessing over an accident that Jay had last year and it is time to move on.

A year ago today, Jay was discharged from the hopsital after nearly drowning in Jane's pool. A year ago today, I realized we had a second chance with our little red-headed angel. A year ago today, I realized that you cannot take things for granted.

We were at Jane's house to swim. Five had a friend over for the day to swim and Jane had two extra temporary foster kids, so things were totally out of rythmn. Five was in the shallow end with Robert Wade, Ashley (Jane's foster child) was in the pool and we were getting the little kids ready. Anita and Lerisa (the temps) were dying to get in the water, so we put Anita in a swim sweater like Jay's. Jay wanted to wear it, but we told him his was outside and we would get it. I was busy dressing Sam in a swim diaper and lost track of what Jay was doing. Anna was half in and half out of the house--we thought she was watching Jay. She had no idea what was going on. Then she asked us, "What is Jay doing in the pool with Ashley?" I was livid. Ashley, although 14, was metally challenged and had never gotten Jay into the pool. He was afraid to death of the water, so I knew he wouldn't jump in alone. When I got out there, Ashley was holding him up out of the water with his back to me. I was yelling, I am sure, asking why he was in the water when she turned him around.

His face was blue.

His lips were blue. His skin was as white as anything I had ever seen. All these blue veins were snaking across his body. And his eye--he had this blank stare sort of angeld up, obviously not seeing. Obviously dead.

I grabbed him from Ashley. I have no idea what I said to her. I know I was screaming at the kids to get out of the water. Shrieking as I grabbed him from her and realized I had no idea what to do. My mind was totally blank. I panicked and turned him around and tried the Heimlich which didn't work, of course. I turned him upside down and smacked him on the back, just praying for him to breathe. He was stiff as he coul be. His little body would not bend. I am pretty sure I smacked his head on the concrete--at some point he got a rather large scrape and knot on his head--could have been from falling into the pool. Jane, meanwhile, had been online, so her phone wasn't free. She was in the house grabbing her cell phone to call 911. She heard me screaming and saw what was going on even before I told her. Her voice told me it was just as bad as I thought it was.

It seemed like an eternity before she got a human on the other line. By this point, I was frantic. He still wasn't breathing. The 911 person was telling her to tell me to do CPR as I resorted to it out of desperation. His jaw was clenched so tightly that I couldn't get his mouth open. His eyes were still open, but he wasn't seeing a thing. I began breathing over his nose and mouth. It took one or two breaths and finally he moved. He gagged and then began to throw up. He choked as he did, so I picked him up a bit--he finally cried. Color began to come back to his face and he took on a strange, disoriented look on his face. Vomit was everywhere--an odd yellowish color. It seemed like gallons. He looked at me with a pitiful look on his face. He was totally unaware of where he was or what was happening and I grabbed him up into my lap. By this point, the ambulance was on its way--since she was using a cell phone, Jane had to give her address and details that seemed to drag it out forever. We told them he was breathing on his own.

I began taking him to the front yard to wait when he stiffened again. His lips were suddenly blue again and his eyes began to roll back. I tilted him over again and he began to throw up again. Tons of pool water came gushing out again. Then he simply looked at me and collapsed against me as I ran to the front yard with him and just collapsed on the driveway with him.

A wonderful police officer arrived first. I wish I had gotten his name. He jumped out of the car and came to us as Jay began to throw up again. He ran back to the car to get paper towels and help me wipe his poor face. I was babbling on incoherently--I have no clue what I was saying. The ambulance was still not there....it was close to 8 minutes after the call before they arrived. I think the officer radioed and let them know he seemed okay. Jay was already wheezing a bit when they arrived. The look on their face told me that they were glad to see us sitting in the driveway. Jay was talking by this point, but clinging to me and refused to let them listen to his chest. We decided to move him to the ambulance and go ahead and take him in that way since he was wheezing. The officer told me to get a dry shirt before we left--Jane had brought one. I kept telling him I didn't need one, but he was insisting. I have no idea why I was putting up a fuss about it.

When we got in the ambulance, I had to call W. I was a mess. He answered his phone and I told him, "Jay is on his way to the hospital; he had an accident." He asked what happened and I told him, "He fell into the pool. We are in the ambulance, but he is okay." He was just up the street from us--Mike and Pam said he just turned around and ran out the door. They had to call his cell phone to find out what was going on.

By this point, we were well on our way to the hospital. It was then that I heard him referred to as a near drowning for the first time. My blood ran cold. He looked so precious sitting in the little jump seat in the ambulance with his mask strapped on trying to tell the paramedic something. As we were pulling up, the paramedic said he was sure glad to see it turn out like this. He said that when they get calls like ours, they are almost never good. Considering how long it took them to get there, I can understand that. Had I not done CPR, he would have died. Had he been in that water much longer, it would have been too late.

In the ER, things were a blur. W. arrived and I could barely look at him. Mike and Pam were there soon after. I was numb. I was thankful to have the dry shirt to change into because the ER was freezing and Pam said my back was soaking wet. The respiratory therapist on call was one we knew by name, so that was reassuring. She was great--all of the nurses were. They kept telling me how good he looked. He had to be taken for an MRI due to the bump on his head. I went with him and he did as well as could be expected. The nurse held him down and he screamed. My heart just bled. When were were leaving the MRI area, he kept telling me that "that man was mean." The nurse had short hair.

By the time he was admitted to a room, he was regular Jay. He was eating a popsicle and running around when the ped arrived. She made me feel like an incompetent fool--as if I didn't know he shouldn't be out by the pool alone. Naturally, I tried to explain everything and finally just shut up.

That night he slept. He was hooked to talimetry monitoring his heart, an IV for antibiotics, a pulse ox light, and in a tent. He really looked totally fine.

The next morning one of our regular peds came in and told us more about what we were up against. He said that in the next few hours, Jay would probably develop pneumonia. He said it was a great sign that none had showed up on the early x rays--if it had, it would indicate more serious damage. Helso a explained that when a child falls into water like Jay did, their muscles contract to stop the water from coming in which is why the Heimlich won't work and why his face was so taunt. It is a self preservation technique. He kept telling us that things could get worse before they got better and we would just have to take it an hour at a time. He was very careful not to give us any false hope or let us lose sight of how serious the situation was.

He was right. Pneumonia developed and the next two days, Jay was as sick as he as ever been. Listless, weak and pale. Then, the third day he was much better. They removed the monitors. On the fourth day, we were discharged with a ton of medicines and tremendous well wishes. The luckiest people we know.

It wasn't too much later that a child in Nashville who was Jay's age was found in his family's pool--unconscious. He was breathing on his own when he arrived at Vanderbilt by ambulance, but he died the next day of pneumonia and other complications. I was a basket case.

We never really talk about it anymore. Jay mentions getting sick when he went swimming one time. He has had so many hospital visits that this one doesn't really stand out in his mind, thank God. he has mentioned the ambulance trip a time or two. I just found the bathing suit he was wearing that day. I cannot bring myself to throw it out, but obviously no one will ever wear it again.

And now I have to move on. I have to quit having flashbacks and guilty moments. I need to appreciate the fact that he is three years old and vibrant, funny and loving. He is a truly magical child and he is my little miracle boy. I am blessed beyond belief. Had he died that day, I would never have recovered. Never. Someone, something, somewhere was looking out for me. No doubt about it.

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I will be damned.

I was all set to make enchiladas. Had the chicken cooked and shredded. Mixed the soup and the pepper together--I had to dice them up really well with the Braun hand mixer because I have texture issues with chiles and onions. I was all ready to beginthe layering and went to get the tortillas.

They were fucking gone. Disappeared. Nary a tortilla to be found in my fridge. I nearly cried. I did cuss. Several times. I looked all around, but there wasn't much for them to be hidden behind. A 6-pack of ginger ale, some hamburger meat, a bagle, some cheese and the milk--the middle shelves are pretty empty since we are leaving Saturday.

So, tomorrow I will go buy tortillas. At least I have most of the stuff mixed up. All I have to do is layer it and shred the cheese. Damn. I am not meant to have these done by the recipe.

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My children leap with joy for cheese. It is the most precius thing in the world. You would think it was real cheese and not just the pocessed American stuff (yellow, natch). They inhale it--especially Sam.

Speaking of Sam, I really no longer have a baby. How sad is that? He will two in less than 2 months. I must take more time to enjoy the moment. With Five and Jay I knew I was still going to have another baby around. I don't think I have come to terms with that in my mind yet. He is the darling of my life. I am hopelessly in love and every time he calls me Honey, I just melt. I adore them all, but it is true that the baby has a special place. It will be a struggle not to spoil him rotten as he gets older. He already knows how to pull all of mine and W.'s strings.

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Dear Florida: Please take your head out of the AARP's ass long enough to realize that you are incompetent when it comes to dealing with childen.

I hope some fuckwit's head is rolling all the way to Cuba after this last fiasco.

What does it take to make people do their damned jobs?I am stunned that such gross incompetence is so widespread. God help us all.

I am just freaking useless. It is time to accept it and move on.

I should be repaced by a laundress and a maid and a cook, dammit. I did about three hours with of work today. How pathetic. I am still so frigging tired all the time. Just wiped out. I took a nap after lunch and it was all I could do to get up for class. I am not though with my stuff for Chicago yet and I MUST email it to Devri tomorrow. Must.

I have loked at every damned hotel in Chicago online. W. and I have searched and searched and had lovely debates over this and that and have finally found one we can agree upon :-). The Lenox Suites. Got a great online deal on a king size bed with full kitchen. I figured this way, he and Five can eat in the room some and save some money. Hope so anyway. I am looking forward to being able to spend some time with Five as the center of our attention. He gets shoved to the back so many times. His birthday is Sunday--he will be nine. It does not seem possible. We don't have much in the way of gifts, but I think he will have a blast going to see Sue the dinosaur and jsut experiencing a city like Chicago. He wants to travel so badly.

Gonna make enchiladas for dinner tomorrow night. Mmm. Mmmm. This time I bought the damn green sauce. It was good with Rotel, though.

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Craving satisfied.

Llittle Caesar's pizza solved my problem and now I am miserable because I ate too much. Jay is at the Powerpuff Girl movie with Anna and Michelle, Sam is asleep. I need to run to my room and finish the mess that I started earlier. I am trying to at least move the worst of the mess downstairs out of the way so I can deal with it as time allows.

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Turns out I am an inarticulate mother fucker :-).

I read on another blog where someone had found on another blog yada yada yada that Swearing is the crutch of inarticulate mother fuckers.I love to swear. I am horrible about it. The word fuck is just so useful--noun, verb, adjective, adverb, interjection. Not many words are that multi-purpose. Learning the catchy phrase sonofamotherfucker was my downfall, really. It was at that point that I crossed the line into truly foul-mouthed. I have never looked back. I don't do it in front of the kids and I do try to keep it off my blog for the most part--I would hate to die tomorrow and the last known writing from me be something about some sorry-assed son of a mother fucking motherfucker who pissed me the fuck off because she has fucking shit for gdamned brains and is too hellishly damned stupid to be allowed to fucking breed. That would be my luck. You kow, speaking of luck, considering mine as of late, I have probably just sealed my own damned fate. I will hit publish, the entry will post and then Blogger will frigging crash down for the rest of the fucking night. I will die some hideous, horrible death (probably naked in the shower knowing my luck--choking on a gdamned Lego) and this will be the last words my children will read. Lucky for me, W. is so compu-stupid, he has no idea this site exists. The children will be spared eternal humilation and the knowledge that their mother is burning in hell.

BTW, cleanliness is next to godliness. LMAO. I am gonna roast for eternity.

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I am just wiped out.

Every muscle in my body hurts. My hair hurts--is that possible? My scalp is just sore to the touch. I am one giant bundle of nerves and stress. I have so much to do this week that no matter how much I do, I am gettnig no where. Fast. I spent 4 hours working today, plus 2 more on stats, plus 2 hours at commission. Then came home and the house was a certifiable disaster area. How on earth can two small children get in to so much while being supervised? Ah, wait. There's the rub. They weren't adequately supervised. Their father was in charge and he had his bead shoved into Tetris all afternoon, I guarantee.

Let me set the scene for you:

I walk in at 6 p.m. I had left at 8, come home at 10:30 long enough to chnage clothes and fix sandwiches for the two boys (Five is at my mom's), then I left until 4, came home, grabbed some paperwork and went back out til 6. Upon my return, Sam is still wearing the same dirty shirt he had on when he woke up this morning, which is the same shirt he wore yesterday and fell asleep in. He had added Sprite to the ravioli stains. His diaper was pitiful. Jay was in his underwear and he just smelled. No nice way to phrase it. As best I can tell, the only thing the two of them did not drag out today was the gerbil and the fish. Everything else was fair game. The broom and dustpan were in the middle of the floor, but there was no evidence that anyone with any sweeping skills to speak of had actually made use of it. Newspaper everywhere. Books and the damn Legos I put up last night scattered about. Throw pillows on the floor, clothes here, there and yonder. Phone book on the floor. Bag of garbage where it was last night. Jay had eaten newspaper. Yes, you read that right. He had chewed up wads of it and threw it in the floor. Sam was coloring on scraps of paper as he found them. I could have killed someone.

I want pizza. I am craving pizza. We have no pizza.

I screwed up some tags and have blue text everywhere--guess I could fix that.