Debra

In 2001, I started a new job at a bank.  I started off working as a receptionist at one of the branches.  After a couple of months, they moved me to the corporate office.  I soon after became the Administrative Assistant to the Corporate Secretary and an HR Associate.  I really enjoyed my job, but it was difficult at times.  The CEO was a tyrant and the President was just downright evil.  Both of these factors made my job more difficult than it needed to be, particularly being in the HR Department.  The one redeeming quality of my job was the people I worked with (aside from the jerks at the top of the food chain).  I met some wonderful friends there, some of whom I still remain friendly with.  I was laid-off from the bank in 2003.  I was ready to go and had already been updating my resume to begin looking for a new job, so the layoff was divine intervention.

One of the people I met during my employment at the bank was a sweet, shy, lady named Debra.  Initially, she was a friend of my friend, Jackie.  Jackie started working at the bank about a week after I did.  She was such a friendly, free-spirited person.  Jackie is the type of person who has never met a stranger.  She is friendly and funny.  I'm initially a little shy when I first meet people, but Jackie makes it impossible not to like her.  Jackie and I started going out to lunch pretty regularly.  Debra's office was pretty close to Jackie's desk, so before long, Jackie swooped in and recruited this terribly shy lady, Debra, to go to lunch with us.

After my employment at the bank ended, I still continued to meet up with Debra and Jackie for an occasional lunch.  Jackie moved out to the country and started a new job.  We lost contact, but Debra and I remained friends.

I started working out in the same area of town again, so Debra and I would meet for lunch about once a week.  We became closer and closer.  It wasn't long before Debra was one of my best friends.  We would go to the movies, go shopping, have lunch, and just enjoy spending time with one another.

I learned more and more about Debra and the more I learned, the more my heart ached for her.  Both of Debra's parents had passed away when she was in her early twenties.  She had one brother who lived all the away across the country in Washington State.  She didn't really have any other close relatives that she could rely on.

Eventually, Debra revealed to me that she suffered from Bi-Polar Disorder, Depression, and Crohn's Disease.  She spent quite a bit of time in and out of the hospital with issues related to her Crohn's Disease.  She also spent some time in psychiatric care related to her Bi-Polar Disorder and Depression.  No matter what she was going through, I tried to stick by her side.

Sometimes, Debra would make sticking by her side very difficult.  If she was struggling, she would push people away.  Sometimes, she would take a single comment out of context during a conversation and get angry.  She wouldn't talk to me anymore.  It would take me weeks of phone calls and emails to finally get her to talk about what was bothering her.  Eventually, she would come back around and everything would be fine.

On one particular occasion, Debra and I were having lunch.  At the time, my father was deep in the grips of depression related to his cancer treatments.  He had stopped taking his anti-depressants and was really making life difficult for my family at the time.  I said to Debra, "My Dad is depressed and just wants to sit around feeling sorry for himself instead of getting the help he needs."  From this simple statement related to my father, she inferred that I thought all depressed people sat around and felt sorry for themselves.  She got very quiet during lunch and then wouldn't talk to me for two weeks.

Debra and I started talking about church one day.  She was telling me that she had started attending a Bible study group at her church.  I was also doing a small group Bible study at my home with a few friends from church.  We had just finished doing a really great study called "Experiencing God."  I sent an email to Debra that said something like, "I know you said you were going to a Bible Study group.  Your group should try the Experiencing God study.  It's awesome!"

From that simple statement, she inferred that I didn't truly believe she was going to Bible study because I prefaced the statement with "I know you said..."  She actually stopped talking to me for over a year based on this simple statement.  I kept calling her and leaving voicemails.  I sent emails.  I sent cards through the mail.  I did everything I could to restore her trust and regain her friendship.  Sometimes it was hard.  I wondered if it was worth the time and trouble.  I felt that God was telling me to stick by her, no matter what.  I was so heartbroken during that time that I started seeing a therapist to deal with the pain of losing her friendship.

She finally came back around and we rekindled our friendship.  I loved her.  She was kind and generous. 

She was no only battling Crohn's Disease, but she was also battling mental illness and depression.  She always wore long-sleeved shirts, no matter what the weather.  I never commented on it, but I had suspicions that she was a cutter.  My suspicions were confirmed one day while we were at the movies.  She was looking through her purse for her wallet and her sleeve got pushed up on her arm.  On her forearm, there were probably 20 fresh cuts.  I quietly talked to her about it.  I told her if she was ever struggling, she could always call me, no matter what.  I didn't care if it was 3 am, she could call me.  She told me she was going to stop doing it.

On August 30, 2012, my life changed drastically.  I became a Foster Mom to 3 children, ages 8 months, 19 months, and almost 3.  To say my life was chaotic from that point forward would be the understatement of the century.  For the next 6 months, I was constantly sick from the cooties the kids brought home from daycare.  I didn't have time for friends.  I barely had time to shower, so I definitely wasn't making plans with my friends.  I still spoke to Debra on the phone, but I wasn't able to spend time with her.

Debra had started pulling away from me again before I got the kids.  It got even worse after I got the kids.  We would have brief telephone conversations, but we weren't able to get together.  Debra had lost her job and had moved out of her apartment.  She was temporarily living with her cousin. 

In February 2013, I got sick with pneumonia and ended up in the hospital.  I spoke very briefly with Debra on the telephone while I was in the hospital.  I apologized for not being able to spend time with her.  I told her that when I was feeling better, I would really like to get together with her to catch up.  She was distant on the phone.   She told me she was about to move again, but she wasn't sure where.  She told me she would call me when she got settled.  This is the last conversation I ever had with her.

I continued calling her mobile phone and it always went to voicemail.  I would leave her a voicemail every time.  I called at least once a month, but she never returned my calls.  I tried to send letters and cards, but when she moved, she didn't provide a forwarding address, so my cards and letters were returned unopened.  I was heartbroken, but I had children to take care of, so I couldn't dwell on my sadness.

A few months ago, I tried calling her again, only to be dumped into voicemail again.  A few weeks after that, I had a dream about Debra.  In the dream, Debra came to me and said she was fine and I didn't need to worry about her anymore.  She looked young, beautiful, and happy.  When I woke-up, I knew in my heart that my friend had died and she was speaking to me from Heaven.

I took my phone into the bathroom (so the kids wouldn't see me cry) and searched the obituaries.  It turns out that Debra had died a year ago, July.  She didn't have many friends as she had pushed them all away.  I had never met any of her cousins and I had only met her brother once.  No one called me.  I have no idea what happened to my dear friend.  I don't know if she died from complications related to her Crohn's Disease.  I don't know if she committed suicide.  I don't know what happened to her.  I didn't get to attend her funeral and I didn't get to say my goodbyes.  I sobbed quietly in my bathroom for 10 minutes, then I had to be a mother again. 

I do know that I loved her.  She was my friend.  She was a beautiful person who struggled with mental illnesses and physical illnesses.  She was kind and generous.  She was shy and sweet.  I miss my friend.  I hope that she knows how much I loved her and how much I wish I could have been there for her.

If you know someone who is struggling with mental illness, do everything you can to be there for them.  Even when they push you away.  You never know when it will be the last time you talk to them. 

 

My Best Friend

I had many friends growing up.  I wasn't the most popular, but I could always find at least one or two close friends wherever I was.  I lived in several states growing up.  My parents had a job that travelled to another state for 6 months every year.  Every January, we would pack up our clothes and head to somewhere new and exciting.  In June, we would return to Kentucky, where I was born and (mostly) raised.  I was a relatively shy kid, especially when I hit puberty and started gaining a substantial amount of weight.  But I would always find at least one friend at my new schools.  However, I only have 1 very best friend.  Her name is Angie.

I remember the day I met Angie.  I was in 6th grade.  I was living in Kentucky at the time.  It was a warm afternoon and we were outside for gym class.  I had somehow talked my way out of running the track that day and I was sitting on the side of a grassy hill watching my poor, unfortunate classmates trekking around the track.  There was a brown-haired girl sitting a few feet away from me on the grassy hill.  I don't remember who started the conversation, but we began chatting and exchanged numbers.  At the time, we didn't have any classes together.  We started talking on the phone pretty regularly. 

Over the summer between our 6th and 7th grade years, we became best friends.  Every weekend we were at one another's houses for a sleepover.  Angie was at my house so frequently growing up that my parents consider her as one of their daughters.  She is not just my friend, she is family.  We aggravated our parents so much because we were always on the phone together after school.  They finally relented and gave us our own private phone lines.  I guess they were tired of picking of the phone and hearing two 13-year old girls talking for hours on end.  Oddly enough, Angie and I both hate talking on the phone now. 

I continued moving to another state during my 6th, 7th, 8th, and 9th grade years.  While I was living out of state, I would frequently write letters to Angie and occasionally call her on the phone.  I remember that during my 9th grade year, I had moved to Reno.  I started calling her a little too frequently and found myself grounded after my parents received a $300 phone bill.  Oops.

I remember very vividly in 1989, I was living in Wichita, Kansas.  Angie and I were both watching MTV and chatting over the phone about the videos.  A video came on by a relatively new group called New Kids On The Block (NKOTB).  Being 14-year old girls, we were instantly hooked on this boy band.  We talked about our favorite guys in the band.  Her favorite was Jordan and my favorite was Joey.  Over the next several years, our lives revolved around NKOTB.  Our walls were covered in posters.  I would make-up stories about meeting the band and dating our favorites.  I've always loved reading and writing.  I didn't want to write the stories down, but I wanted to tell them.  So, I would call them "dreams".  I would start off the story by saying, "Last night I had this dream...."  I'm sure Angie probably knew that no dream is as detailed as my stories were.  Sometimes the stories I would tell were based on an actual dream, but they were greatly embellished.  I think she enjoyed hearing these fantasy "dreams" as much as I liked telling them.  Ah, teen-aged girls.  They have such imaginations.

Throughout our middle school and high school years, we went to multiple NKOTB concerts.  We also met many new friends because they were also "Blockheads", as NKOTB fans are called.  A couple of years ago, NKOTB started touring again.  We went to see our favorite band in the summer of 2013 and again this summer.  We behaved liked teenagers and screamed and danced our butts off.  It was awesome!

When Angie and I started high school, we were in two different school districts, so we couldn't attend the same high school.  This didn't hinder our friendship much.  Although I made new friends, we still spent most weekends together.  We even started including some of our new school friends in our weekend plans. 

When we were about to graduate high school, we formulated a plan to go to Boston and meet NKOTB.  We told our parents we wanted a trip to Boston as our graduation present.  Our parents came through.  We didn't meet NKOTB, but we had so much fun that week we spent in Boston as 18-year olds on our own in the big city for the first time.  It was magical.  We still talk about this trip and the amusing things that happened to us on our journey.  These are memories we will be chatting about as old ladies in the nursing home.

We've been through a lot over the years.  She was there for me when I found out my dad had cancer.  She was there for me when I found out I had PCOS.  I was there for her when she had some medical issues.  She was there for me through my infertility struggles.  We've been each other's shoulder to lean on or cry on.

When she and her husband decided to try and have a baby, she was nervous to tell me about her pregnancy because she was worried about how it would impact me.  I was so excited for her that I cried.  I would never be upset about someone bringing a child into a loving home.  Some women who struggle with fertility become bitter and angry at everyone that is able to conceive and give birth to a child.  She was even more anxious when she found out she was pregnant with her 2nd child almost 6 years ago.  I had already been trying to have a child for about 9 years at that time.  She shouldn't have worried.  I was just as excited for her as I was the first time she got pregnant. 

Every family function I have, Angie is there.  When I took in 3 foster kids, she brought gently-used clothes and shoes from her daughters for my daughter.  When I adopted my children, she was in the court room with us.  I was at the hospital for the birth of both of her daughters.  During the summertime, we load up her 2 kids, my 3 kids, and my niece and nephew, and go and do fun things.  We do movies, trips to the zoo, bowling trips, and once a week we go to her house for a swimming party.  While the kids play, Angie and I chat or just sit quietly and enjoy one another's company.  You know you have a true friend when you can sit in silence and not feel the need to fill every second with conversation. 

We try to get together at least once or twice a month and do fun things with our families.  This past weekend we took our kids bowling and went and had some pizza.  I love that we get to do fun things together.  My kids love playing with her daughters.  Angie and I also go out once a month to a Paint & Sip place to paint and drink water or soda (neither of us are drinkers).  We enjoy painting, but we really enjoying having time to talk without distractions like children and husbands.

My oldest son and her oldest daughter have some disabilities that are very similar.  It is so comforting to be able to call her and talk about the days I struggle with my son and know that she completely understands.  She knows she can call me and tell me about her rough days with her daughter and I will understand what she is going through.  She listens to me vent.  To an outsider who doesn't have a child with a disability, they may not understand our frustration.  She gets it. 

I love Angie.  I can't imagine my life without her.  Her friendship has meant more to me than I could ever put into words.  I know that no matter what changes may come, one thing will never change; our friendship.  Some day, we will be old ladies sitting around talking about the time I was threatened by an bag lady with a plastic butter knife, or the time we met Joey from NKOTB, the time my parents kicked us out of the room because we couldn't stop giggling at a scene in the movie we were watching, the time these tourists from Singapore offered to take us out for steak and lobster in hopes of snagging a young, American wife and the funny conversations we had with them, the dreams, the cookouts, the swimming parties, the concerts, sleepovers, bunco, costume parties, births, funerals, movies, music, and the list goes on and on.  There are many stories like this throughout our friendship.  I'm sure at some point, we will be boring our children with our adventures.

If you have a best friend, make sure you tell them how important they are to you.  Good friends are hard to find.  Great friends are nearly impossible to find.  Angie is a great friend.  She is my best friend and I love her.

September is PCOS Awareness Month

In 2001 I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS).  After my diagnosis, I still didn't know much about this syndrome.  I had read an article in a magazine that talked about a woman who was having difficulty losing weight no matter how hard she tried.  In 1998, I started working out every day, at least an hour a day, along with eating healthy, low-fat meals.  We would do a workout in the morning that included 20 minutes of cardio and 40 minutes of weight training.  In the afternoons, I would come home and swim laps in the pool.  On the weekends, we would play racquetball (along with our morning workout).  I maintained this super-physical, healthy lifestyle for about 3 years.  During the first year, I lost 25 pounds.  Following the same diet and exercise regiment, my husband had lost over 140 pounds.  I knew something was wrong, but I didn't know what it was.  After reading the magazine article, I thought I finally had an answer.  The girl in the article was eating healthy, working out, and not losing weight just like me.  The article said she went to her OBGYN, requested a couple of blood tests, was diagnosed with PCOS, was prescribed Metformin, immediately started losing weight, and soon after she conceived a child.  I had many of the same symptoms she had in the article, so I thought this must be my problem as well.

I went to my OBGYN and told her I thought I had PCOS.  Her response was, "Yeah, you probably have it." 

What?!  Why had she not mentioned it before?  Why did I have to discover this syndrome on my own?  It turns out, this is pretty normal behavior for many GPs, OBGYNs, and the like.  They know about the syndrome, they even think some of their patients have it, but they never mention it to them.  Some doctors don't even believe it's a real issue and dismiss it completely.  Many doctors are completely ignorant about PCOS.  If left untreated, PCOS can lead to heart disease, diabetes, stroke, depression, fatty-liver disease and eventually non-alcohol Cirrhosis of the liver, morbid obesity (and everything that goes along with that), high triglycerides, thyroid disease, and various cancers. 

I asked her to run some blood work to find out for sure if I had it.  Her tests were inconclusive.  She said the only way for her to know for sure was to do an ultrasound of my ovaries to look for cysts.  She referred me to an endocrinologist.  As it turns out, my OBGYN's ultrasound wouldn't have even been a definitive answer as to whether or not I had PCOS.  Not everyone who has PCOS has cysts on their ovaries.  That is just one of the symptoms of this syndrome.  It is called a syndrome instead of a disease because it can present itself differently in each woman.   

After taking 13 vials of blood from me, the endocrinologist determined that I not only had PCOS, but I also was pre-diabetic and had high triglycerides.  He prescribed Metformin.  I thought I would soon start dropping weight like crazy.  The answer to my prayers!

Ummm, that didn't happen.  I took my Metformin, continued working out, continued eating healthy with no results.  With the addition of the Metformin, the only real change was that I had terrible stomach cramps every evening.  As soon as food would enter my lower digestional tract, it would feel like I was digesting glass.  These severe cramps would last 20 minutes to an hour.  Then it would pass.  Metformin also causes nausea.  So, I was taking medicine that was supposed to help me and the only result I was seeing was being in severe pain and being nauseous.  That's not my idea of the help I was looking for.

I continued taking the medications my endocrinologist prescribed, eating healthy, and working out.  I wasn't seeing any results.  It was maddening.  I gave up for a while after my Father was diagnosed with cancer.  I didn't have the energy to worry about my diet and exercise regimen.  I could only worry about my Dad and whether or not he was going to survive the cancer.  (I'm blessed to say he is still alive 14 years later).  Through the stress of my father's illness and not being able to exercise on a regular basis, I gained 75 pounds.  I was now at an all time high weight of 350 pounds!

When my Dad's health started to improve, I got back into my workout routine.  I decided to try Weight Watchers.  I lost 24 pounds in the first couple of months and then not one more pound for the next 6 months.  It was maddening!

My doctors weren't much help.  They knew less about this syndrome than I did.  I started reading articles online about PCOS.  I joined a PCOS support group on Facebook.  Through these resources, I learned more and more about PCOS.

To learn more about PCOS, please click on the links on the right under the heading "PCOS Information and Support."

A few years ago, I learned that approximately 30% of women with PCOS are unable to lose weight even with exercise and normal caloric intake.  Guess who is one of those lucky 30%?  This girl! 

Some women with PCOS have success with low-carb diets.  I'm going to start trying that and see if it helps me.  I'm down to about 300 pounds now.  I lost 30 pounds in 2009 from basically only eating one meal a day.  I lost an additional 20 pounds in 2013 from having pneumonia and not wanting to eat at all.  Right now, I just try to eat as little as possible so I don't gain anymore weight.  I think I could also benefit with some sort of gastric surgery like the gastric sleeve or the lap band, but my insurance won't cover it and I can't afford it.

I'm now 40 years old.  I have Type II Diabetes, High Triglycerides, Hypothyroidism, Anxiety, Acne, Hirsuitism, Hair Loss, Headaches, Severe Mood Swings, Ovarian Pain, Skin Tags, Infertility, Hot Flashes, and I'm Morbidly Obese.  Last year, I adopted 3 children as I was not able to conceive any of my own. 

When I turned 40 in May, I decided I wanted to get my first tattoo.  I wanted it to be something that means something to me.  Here is what I decided on:

The cross represents my faith in Jesus Christ.
The Faith, Hope, Love are from one of my favorite chapters in the Bible, 1 Corinthians 13.
The 3 doves represent my 3 children.
The teal ribbon is for PCOS Awareness.
The names listed are the names of my children.

I like having the tattoo so that people can ask me what it represents.  It provides me the opportunity to tell them about PCOS.

PCOS is the leading cause of infertility in women.

1 in 10 women have PCOS, most don't even know it.

I am 1 in 10.

Teenagers

These days I have a general distrust for most teenagers.  I know they aren't all bad, but whenever I see a large group of teenagers together, I tend to avoid them as much as possible.  So many kids these days have no sense of morality.  This is the selfie generation.  Everything is all about "me".  What I want, where I want to go, what I want to do.  They have no manners.  They are spoiled and selfish.  There is no sense of common courtesy.  They have no idea of how they should behave in public.  It's just scary to me.

A few weeks ago, I took my children to the Kentucky State Fair on a Saturday.  We arrived late in the afternoon and there were lots of people, but we were still able to get the kids on the rides fairly quickly.  We spent about two hours on the Midway, then we took the children to get some yummy fair food.  When we started to head back to the Midway so the kids could ride some more rides, I thought for a moment my eyes were deceiving me.  I looked towards the rides and all I could see was a sea of teenagers.  There wasn't even an opening to get through to the kiddie rides. 

I didn't want my kids to be disappointed and not get to enjoy the rides, so we slowly squeezed our way through the sea of teenagers.  I repeatedly said, "Excuse me", which fell on deaf ears.  We literally had to elbow our way through.  My Dad is unable to walk for long distances due to nerve damage in his feet and legs.  He was in a motorized chair and these rude teenagers wouldn't even make a path for him.  It took him 30 minutes to get through the teenagers.

We finally arrived at the kiddie rides.  My older two got on a ride while my youngest and I got an ice cream for them to share.  Once my kids got off the ride, we were standing there eating our ice cream.  All of a sudden, about 50 teenagers come sprinting towards us.  My Mommy instincts kicked in and I took my children and put them against the rails of the fence around the ride and put my body in front of them.  If I hadn't gotten them out of the way so quickly, we would have been trampled.  I have no idea where these teenagers were going and what was happening.  I only knew that I had to protect my children. 

My husband had left a few moments before to go and get our car.  It was a long walk to where we were parked and the kids were tired.  As he was walking, he got slammed by the stampede.  He said he stood there with his arms folded across his chest as they bounced off him.

I decided that I wouldn't risk my children's safety in this mob and we decided to leave.  I spent 20 minutes elbowing my way through the mob, again repeatedly saying, "Excuse me", which again fell on deaf ears.  If I were to guess, I would say there was approximately 5,000+ teenagers just standing around at the beginning of the Midway.  I still don't understand why security hadn't intervened and got them moving.

I just don't trust teenagers.

You can get on YouTube and watch video after video of teenagers and their mob mentality.  You can see them being bullies, fighting, looting, etc.  It's just disturbing on so many levels. 

Maybe I'm just getting old, but they seem to behave worse than they ever have before.  I know teenagers have always been getting into mischief.  That is to be expected on some level.  However, teenagers these days seem to have no regard for anyone but themselves. 

I pray that I am able to raise my children to be well-mannered, selfless individuals.  I want them to have respect for themselves and respect for others.  I want them to have empathy for others.  I want them to have kind hearts.  I know they will get into mischief and will make poor decisions from time to time.  I just hope that I give them enough of a good foundation to learn from their mistakes.  I will do everything in my power to prevent my children from becoming another generation of selfish, ill-mannered teenagers that have no respect for anyone.  I'll do my best.  The rest is in God's hands.

Crazy Summers With Kids

For a long time, summertime didn't mean much to me other than it would be hotter than Hades outside.  Now that I have children in school, summertime has a whole different connotation. 

You may have noticed my lack of Blog posts during the summer months.  That is because during the summer, not only do I have my 3 children (ages 5, 4, and 3), but I also have my niece and nephew (ages 7 and 10).  During the summer break, my house is chaos.  Some days we would just hang out at the house and play.  Other days, we would try and get out and do fun things.  We would go to the movies, go swimming at my best friend's house, go to McDonald's PlayPlace, or go bowling.  Any outing with 5 children in tow is sure to bring chaos with it.  So, for the last 3 months, there has been too much going on for me to even consider posting on my Blog. 

Most of the time, I write when my two oldest are at school and my youngest is taking a nap.  However, right now my oldest are at school, and my youngest is hanging out on the potty with my iPhone.  He likes to watch animated movies while sitting on the potty.  I don't mind.  Anything to keep me from changing stinky pull-ups is alright with me.  If he wants to spend 30 minutes on the potty trying to poop, I won't complain.

The beginning of summer break is exciting.  The kids are excited to do fun things and I look forward to spending time with them.  By the end of summer break, I am worn out and praying for the first day of school.  There is only so much "together" time a Mom can take.

School is back in session and all is right with the world (for now).  I'm sure once my youngest starts school, I'll be lonely.  At that point, it will be time for me to find some sort of part-time work.  I won't be able to sit at home all day with no one to look after.  That's not my style.  My problem will be finding a job that will allow me to be home in the mornings and afternoons to get my kids off to school and get them off the bus in the afternoons.

My oldest son, Brennan, has ADHD, Sensory Processing Disorder, Impulse Control Disorder, and Anxiety.  He doesn't do well with changes and transitions.  When I was working and Brennan had to go to daycare in the morning before school and in the afternoon after school, he didn't do well.  He was getting in trouble both at school and at daycare on a daily basis.  After evaluating our budget and determining that we can scrape by on my husband's income and our adoption subsidy, we decided the best thing for Brennan right now is me being a stay-at-home Mom.  This prevents him from having too many transitions during the day.  It also provides me the opportunity to spend time with my children while they are young.  Brennan will be in 2nd grade when Jordan (3) starts Kindergarten, so perhaps he will be better equipped to deal with the transition from daycare to school back to daycare.  Only time will tell. 

I have always worked.  I started working when I was 16.  I was laid-off from work in 2009 for one year.  The first few months were very difficult for me.  However, I settled into a routine and things got better.  I read a lot of books during that year off.  That was the longest period of me not working. 

At the beginning of 2014, I was let go from my job.  I was absolutely heartbroken as I had worked there for 10 years.  The workload there was lessening up and my boss had some sort of prejudice about Foster Children, so, he let me go.  I honestly think his opinion of me changed once I took in Foster Children.  I was still working my butt off, but his attitude towards me changed completely.  From that point on, nothing I did was good enough.  He began nitpicking at everything I did.  I am a perfectionist and a hard worker.  I did everything to the best of my ability.  During the first six months I had the children, there were many days I had to be home because the kids were always getting viruses from daycare.  I would often work from my home computer while dealing with vomit, diarrhea, runny noses, fevers, infections, etc.  That still wasn't enough for him.  In February 2013, I came down with pneumonia and had to be put in the hospital.  He was blowing up my phone while I was in the emergency room.  When I told him they were admitting me for a few days, he actually asked if my husband could bring my laptop to the hospital so I could work from there.  There was no regard for my well-being.  I was too sick to even contemplate working.  It was ridiculous.  After the first six months with the kids, the illnesses slowed down and I was at work every day.  This still wasn't enough for him.  So, when the workload changed, he let me go.  I still keep in touch with some of my former co-workers (but not my former boss, he got deleted from my friends list).

So, now I am a stay-at-home Mom.  Although I was really hurt about being let go, I know that God's hand was in it.  As they say, when one door closes, another one opens.  Being at home has been the best thing for my kids.  They are the most important thing in my life right now.

Girl's Night Out

Most of my days are spent in the house with the kids.  It gets really lonely when the only people you talk to regularly are toddlers.  There are only so many questions you can answer in a day.  My daughter will ask the same question over and over.  She either has no short-term memory, or she is just asking questions to be talking.  Either way, it's really annoying.  I saw on a Google commercial that the average child asks 144 questions per day.  Now double that for my daughter, and then add in 2 additional children asking 144 questions per day.  That's an average of 576 questions per day. 

My son, Brennan (5), likes to argue with me about everything I tell him, especially if he is in trouble.  I will tell him to stop doing something and his immediate response is, "I was just trying to (fill in the blank)."  It doesn't matter to him that I just told him not to do that very thing 5 minutes ago.  He still feels like he can somehow justify his behavior.  For example, this morning he was playing with the baby gate.  It is leaning against the wall near the kitchen.  The kids aren't allowed to play in the kitchen.  He is in the kitchen trying to roll cars behind the gate as it leaned against the wall.  I knew it was going to end up in someone being hurt.  I told him to get out of the kitchen and leave the gate alone 3 separate times.  It wasn't long before he knocked the gate over and it scratched his foot.  I told him, again, to get out of the kitchen and leave the gate alone.  He starts arguing with me, "I was just trying to roll my car behind the gate."

I reply, "Yes, but I told you to stop doing that 3 times already."

Brennan argues, "Well, I was just trying to roll my car behind the gate."  As if this repetitive argument should clarify that he was in the right.  At this point I am done arguing and I send him to time-out for not listening.  This happens multiple times a day. 

My youngest, Jordan (3), is difficult on many levels right now.  He wants to test me on everything.  He spends a lot of time in the time-out chair these days.  Some days he can be really sweet and loving.  He will give me hugs and kisses and tell me he loves me multiple times a day.  Other days, he will stand there in total defiance as I tell him to stop doing something.  It's not until I start counting that he will stop. 

During the week, I also have my niece (7), and my nephew (10).  My nephew is usually perfectly behaved and I never have trouble with him.  My niece is a natural smart aleck, but other than that, I don't have too many problems with her.  However, the kids are constantly bickering.  Most days I feel like a referee.  They might play for 5 or 10 minutes in harmony, and then all of a sudden they are arguing over some toy.  They always want the toy someone else is playing with.  It doesn't matter that they have dozens of other toys to play with, the only toy they want is the one someone else has.

So, I spend most of my time with children.  When my husband gets home in the evening, the kids are so excited to see him that we don't have time to talk.  It's not until the kids have been fed, bathed, read to, teeth brushed, prayers said, and tucked into bed that we actually have a moment to talk.  After dinner, he is so exhausted from work that he usually falls asleep around 10 pm.  The kids go to bed at 8 or 9, so I have maybe 1 to 2 hours in a day to have an adult conversation.  As you can imagine, it gets pretty lonely being a stay-at-home mom.

Recently, my husband and I have started having a date night, which is great.  We will go and have a nice dinner and maybe see a movie when we can arrange for a sitter.  I definitely recommend date night for all married couples, especially if you have kids.  You need time to reconnect with your spouse.  You need to have conversations that don't revolve around the kids.

I also try to get out with friends about once a month.  We usually go to a paint and sip studio.  Afterwards, we usually go and have a late dinner.  It is so nice to get out with my family and friends.  I absolutely love to paint.  I'm not a great artist by any means, but I don't let that stop me.  I have so many paintings from girls' night out, that I have a stack of them in my closet.  I don't have any more room on my walls for them. 

I think, as moms, we sometimes forget to take time for ourselves.  I recommend to all moms out there, have a date night and a girl's night out at least one a month.  You have to make time to do the things you enjoy.  I really love reading books, watching movies, writing on my blog, and listening to music.  However, I dedicate so much time to taking care of my children that I don't take time to do the things I enjoy most.  I know as my children get older, they will require less and less of my attention.  Right now, I have to be on watch at all times because it only takes seconds for a toddler to get into something dangerous.  Just moments ago, I had to put my daughter in time-out for bouncing on the top bunk.  About 5 minutes after that, I had to put my 3-year old in time-out for the very same thing.  He copies everything his older brother and sister do.  Like I said, I have to be on guard constantly.

Take time for yourselves ladies.  Have date nights with your husband.  Go out with your girlfriends and leave the kids with your husband.  We have to take care of ourselves. 

Potty Training Is Awful

It's been a while since I've written.  The transition to the kids being out for the summer means my house becomes total chaos.  Not only do I have a 5-, 4-, and 3-year old to deal with on a daily basis, but I also have my 7-year old niece and my 10-year old nephew.  That's 5 children every weekday.  I'm so busy dealing with children that there is no time for me to write on my blog.  Which is unfortunate, because I find my blog to be a wonderful outlet for the daily frustrations as a mommy and as a woman with PCOS.

This week, Aunt Flo is visiting.  My face looks like a pizza.  I've had a headache for 4 days in a row.  My lower back aches.  My cramps feel like a bobcat is trying to claw its way out of my uterus.  Overall, I'm just cranky and exhausted.  It's taking every ounce of my energy to try and be patient with my children this week.  Fortunately for my niece and nephew, they are on vacation this week, so they don't have to deal with cranky Aunt Melissa.  My children aren't so fortunate.

My oldest son has been a little monster this week.  He has development delays, ADHD, Sensory Processing Disorder, Impulse Control Disorder, and Anxiety (and those are just the things that have been diagnosed by his psychiatrist and therapist).  http://pcosmommydiary.blogspot.com/2015/02/raising-special-needs-child.html

I never know which Brennan is going to wake-up each morning.  Today (fortunately for me and him), he is sweet, loving, and just wants to please me.  However, he has peed in his pants twice today because he is waiting too long to go to the potty and ends up wetting his pants.  He doesn't usually do this, so I'm a little frustrated with him today.  However, I will take today a thousand days in a row over the last 2 days.  The last 2 days with Brennan have been a real challenge.  He has been defiant, argumentative, destructive, hyper, and just a real pain in the you-know-what. 

Brennan has been doing really well going to the potty for a while now.  He went through a phase during the last month or so of school where he was pooping in his pants on purpose.  I'm not sure why he was doing it because he couldn't explain it to me himself.  His therapist is trying to help him understand his emotions better so he can tell me what is bothering him.  He has been mostly potty-trained since last year.  He still has to wear pull-ups at night because he sleeps like a log, but other than that, he usually doesn't have many accidents. 

My daughter, Summer (4), has also been potty-trained since last year.  However, recently she has decided that using the potty is too much of an inconvenience to her play time.  She keeps peeing all over herself on a daily basis, usually multiple times a day.  When I ask her about it, she just says she wanted to play.  I'm so annoyed by this behavior.  Basically, she is being lazy.  She will be playing in the hallway right next to the bathroom and pee in her pants.  She is literally 3-feet from the toilet and won't stop playing long enough to walk those 3 steps.  It's so frustrating.  I stopped letting her wear underwear.  She has to wear pull-ups every day now.  I got tired of changing her clothes 2 or 3 times a day.  I've tried rewards for going to the potty and I've also tried punishments.  Neither of these methods seem to be encouraging her to use the potty.

I'm also potty training my 3-year old, Jordan.  He will usually poop on the potty when we are at home, but he won't go pee on the potty all of the time.  If we are out in public, he will go pee at a public toilet, but he usually won't poop on a public toilet.  At home, we have a potty-training seat that goes over the standard seat.  When we are out at a public restroom, he feels like he is going to fall in the toilet, so he won't take the time to poop.

None of my kids will wake up at night to go to the potty.  I feel like I've done nothing but change diapers and clean dirty bottoms for 3 years.  For the most part, that feeling is correct.  Brennan and Summer are now old enough that I make them clean their own bottoms, but Jordan still has to have help in this department. 

I know when they are finally fully-potty trained I will be relieved, but I will also be sad.  This will mean that the last part of their babyhood is gone.  However, I will be relieved to not have to constantly wash pee-soaked clothing and bed linens.  All 3 of them usually sleep 10+ hours each night and completely soak through a night-time pull-up, their pajamas, and sometimes even their bed linens.  I feel like my house probably smells like urine all of the time, so I have air fresheners in every room.

I'm so over potty training.

Living With A 3-Year Old

Everyone has heard the phrase, "The Terrible Twos."  Well, I'm here to tell you "The Terrible Twos" is a myth.  It should actually be named, "The Terrible Threes." 

In 2012, I received 3 children through Foster Care.  At the time, my oldest son was almost 3, my daughter was 19 months, and my youngest son was 8 months (we officially adopted them last year).  The first 6 months were absolute chaos.  My oldest son could not talk and was not potty trained.  The children had no structure in their father's house.  I don't think they had ever even eaten a vegetable.  Brennan's threes were rough all the way around.  We had to teach him to talk, to use the potty, to understand the word, "No", to eat vegetables, to go to bed at night, and we were dealing with undiagnosed conditions like ADHD, Sensory Processing Disorder, and Impulse Control Disorder.  To say Brennan's threes were hard would be the understatement of the century.

Summer's threes weren't too bad.  The only obstacle was getting her potty trained, and that wasn't too bad.  She's actually more of a handful at 4 because she has learned to lie and she's too lazy to stop playing and go to the potty, so she pees in her pants just about every day now.

Jordan was only 8-months old when he came into my home.  He was very small for his age (he wore 3-month old clothes), but other than that, he has been developing normally.  Jordan's twos were exciting.  His vocabulary was expanding greatly, he was funny and loving.  He was absolutely adorable.  You could really see his personality developing.  And then he turned 3 and that adorable little boy has become Jekyl and Hyde.

Some days he is sweet, funny, loving, and everything you would want in a little boy.  Some days my little boy turns into this defiant little demon who tests me on everything I say.  His favorite responses these days are, "Why?", "I do it myself", "I don't want to", and "No." 

Every decision is a game.  Jordan, "What do you want for breakfast?" 
Jordan replies, "I want donuts."
I say, "We don't have any donuts.  How about a pop tart?"
Jordan says, "No!  I don't want pop tarts!  Mommy, I told you I want donuts!"
I repeat, "We don't have any donuts."
Jordan asks, "Why?"
I reply, "Because you ate them all.  You have to have something else for breakfast.  You can have a pop tart, a banana, a nutri-grain bar, or cereal.  What do you want?"
Jordan says, "I want donuts."

We are currently in the process of trying to learn to use the potty.  Some days he will use the potty multiple times a day.  Some days, he won't go at all and pees and poops in his pull-ups.  I've tried rewards like stickers and treats.  Sometimes he will try and poop on the potty for a treat and a chance to play on my iPhone while sitting on the potty.  Sometimes he just tells me he needs to go potty so he can play with my iPhone.  The funny thing is, if we are out doing things he will usually use the potty, but if we are home, he goes in his pull-ups. 

When he does poop in his pull-ups, I can usually smell it.  I will ask, "Jordan, why did you poop in your pants?  You could have gone on the potty and get a treat."

He always says, "I sorry Mommy."

When he does go in his pull-ups at home, changing his bottom also becomes a game.

I say, "Jordan, let's go change your butt."
He runs down the hallway and disappears.  He hides under the bed.  He will stick an arm or leg out so I can try and grab him, then he will pull said appendage back under the bed and giggle like a hyena.  I can't fit under the bed and he knows it.  This game continues until I threaten him with time out or other punishments.  Then he will relent.

Trying to get dressed in the morning or put pajamas on at bedtime also becomes a game.  If I tell him to change his clothes (which he can do himself with just minor help from me), he will always reply, "I can't do it by myself."  At which time, depending on my level of frustration, I either dress him myself, or threaten him with punishments to get him to try and do it himself.

Washing his face is always a game.  If I come near him with a washcloth or a wipe, he starts bobbing and weaving.  I have to pin him down on the bed or couch and hold his arms while he giggles.

He loves to take a bath, but he doesn't like you to pour water on his head.  He will say, "Don't pour water on my head or I'll cry like a baby."  Most of the time, he his honest to his word.  He cries like a baby and pulls away from you while you try to wash or rinse his head or face. 

When he starts doing something he knows he isn't supposed to do, he will often look at me with a gleam in his eye and then start to do it anyway.  I will tell him, "No."  He will hesitate for a moment, smile, and then do it again.  I will start counting, "One....Two....Three."  As soon as I start to say 3, he runs.

Whenever he has to decide something, it always turns into a fifteen-minute process.  If he poops on the potty, he gets a treat.  We have a bowl of treats on the table in the kitchen.  He will pick up a piece of candy, ask, "What is this?"  I will tell him what kind of candy it is.  He will put it down, pick something else up and ask, "What is this?"  This will continue until I start counting out of frustration.  He will usually make a decision then because he knows if he doesn't, he won't get his treat.

Sometimes I'll let him watch a Disney show or a movie.  I'll ask him what he wants to watch.  He'll tell me, "Miles From Tomorrowland" (or something similar).  I'll turn on the program and he'll start whining, "I don't want to watch this!  I told you, I want to watch Chuggington (or some other movie or program)."  The same thing happens with any decisions on what he wants for lunch.  He might say, "peanut crackers" (a.k.a. peanut butter crackers) and as soon as I put them on a plate, he will say, "Mommy!  I don't want that.  I told you, I want meat, cheese, and crackers (a.k.a. Lunchables)".  This happens every day.

Bedtime is always a ritual.  We play the "I can't do it myself" game when trying to put on pajamas.  Sometimes I'll make him do it himself and sometimes I get frustrated and just change him myself.  Then we might read a story and then we do prayers.  Every night he says, "Mommy, can I lead prayer?"  If he has been a good listener for most of the day, I will let him lead.  We have a standard prayer we say, but sometimes the kids get silly and start thanking God for everything that falls into their line of sight.  It's cute, but it can go on forever if you let it.  Anything to delay bedtime.  If I tell Jordan he can't lead, he will start to argue with me, "Mommy!  I want to lead." 

"No Jordan.  Summer is going to lead."

He will grab my face and turn it towards him.  He will put his face right in front of mine and say, "Mommy, I want to lead.  Please?"

If I say, "No" again, he will just start yelling, "Mommy!  Mommy!  Mommy!" trying to interrupt me while I talk.  Usually, that is when he gets an early trip to bed. 

When we actually get to bed, there is an entire ritual that must take place.  He usually picks a toy and puts it on the table in his room so it can "watch" him sleep.  He also has about ten stuffed animals in his bed.  If one of them is missing, he knows, and will insist that we find it.  I also have to make sure the ceiling fan is on.  Then he will give Daddy a hug.  I get a hug next (or sometimes he won't give me a hug just to prolong bedtime).  I will ask him if he is going to give me a hug.  He might say, "No" or he might just giggle.  I usually start to leave the bedroom at that time.

He will then start to have a meltdown and scream, "Mommy, huggies!"  I will go back to him and give him a hug and a kiss.  Sometimes he will collect a couple of stuffed animals to snuggle with, lay down, and let me cover him up.  Sometimes he'll just sit there and stare at me instead of laying down. 

I'll tell him to lay down and he will reply, "I don't want to."  Or he might say, "I'm not tired."  I drop the blanket and start to leave and another fit of screaming, "Mommy, huggies!" begins.

Once we get Daddy hugs, ceiling fan on, Mommy hugs and a kiss, collect the stuffed animals, grab a couple to snuggle with, lay down, and cover up, then I start to leave the room.  He will ALWAYS say, "Mommy, I want one more huggie."  I always give him another hug because I know some day soon he won't want so many hugs and kisses from Mommy.

He will also always tell me to leave his door open a little bit.  He doesn't like it all the way closed.  Usually, once I leave the room, he will start yelling, "Mommy, I need to go potty!" or "Mommy, I firsty."  He may not have used the potty all day and he may have just drank an entire cup of sugar-free Kool-Aid, but if it's bedtime, he's going to pee on that potty or get one more drink just to delay bedtime.  If we don't perform this bedtime ritual, he may lay in bed and cry and/or scream for hours.  3-year olds are very stubborn.

I think the only reason most 3-year olds don't end up locked in a cage somewhere is because they are so darn cute. 

Multiple times a day, Jordan will stop whatever he is doing and say, "Mommy, I love you."  I will get random hugs and kisses.  He also says really funny and witty things sometimes.  He loves to laugh and play.  He is always the first to say, "Please", "Thank you", "Excuse me", etc.  He has excellent manners.  Sometimes he will pick flowers (a.k.a. weeds) out of the yard and bring them to me.  He likes to help me with laundry or grocery shopping.  He likes to sing.  He can be really sweet.  He can also be a little monster. 

God makes toddlers cute so we don't kill them.

No matter how much of a monster he is, this little boy has stolen my heart forever.

 

Headaches - They Are A Real Pain

I've had headaches since I was a kid.  As I've gotten older, they have gotten worse.  I have three types of headaches:  1)  Sinus Headache  2)  TMJ Headache  3) Migraine

1)  I have terrible sinuses.  Without my daily Allegra and Flonase, I would be a sneezy, itchy, runny-nosed, hive-covered mess.  I'm allergic to just about everything, it seems.  I'm allergic to pet dander, pollen, grass, dust, and it seems just about everything else.  If I forget to take my Allegra, by the end of the day everything itches.  I start breaking out in little red hives that itch like you wouldn't believe.  I also sneeze, get a runny nose, and my eyes water.  If I get around pets that aren't hypoallergenic (like my poodles are), I will have an asthma attack.  If I forget to take my Flonase before bed, I can't breathe, so I can't sleep.  Allergies suck.  Some days I just get a lot of pressure in my sinuses.  It feels like my head is being squeezed in a vice.  Those days really suck.

2)  I have Temporomandibular Joint Disorder (also referred to as TMJ or TMD).  It is a real nuisance.  My jaws pop really loudly if I try to open my mouth too wide.  My jaw also gets out of alignment and I have to pop it back into place.  Sometimes this can be really painful.  The most annoying side effect of my TMJ is that I get headaches.  My neck gets really tight and then the headache begins.  It begins at the base of my skull and works its way up.  It's awful.  I first noticed my jaw popping when I was 18.  It used to be just one of my mandible joints.  When I was 25, I spoke to my dentist about it and he recommended that I have my wisdom teeth removed.  He said it might help with the jaw popping and the headaches.  So, $1000 co-pay and an oral surgery later and I still have TMJ.  I went back to my dentist and he recommended a dental appliance to wear when I sleep.  He said it would help with my headaches.  So, $750 co-pay later and a piece of plastic in my mouth and I still had TMJ.  The dental appliance did help with the headaches.  However, it made my other mandible joint start popping and it made my teeth brittle.  I started developing little chips in a couple of my teeth.  I stopped wearing the dental appliance.  Next I went to a doctor that specializes in TMJ.  He sent me to a physical therapist that showed me some exercises to do to relax the tension in my jaw.  The exercises help when my jaw gets out of alignment and they help a little bit with the headaches.  However, I was still getting headaches very frequently.  I started going to a chiropractor because one of my friends said it helped her TMJ headaches.  This has been the best solution for me.  If I go for an adjustment once a week, I don't get as many TMJ headaches.

3)  I don't get migraines very often, but when I do, it's absolutely miserable.  Sometimes, my migraine comes from a sinus headache gone awry.  Sometimes, I get a migraine because I have both a TMJ headache and a sinus headache simultaneously.  On the days that I get a migraine, the only thing that helps is Excedrin and a bed in a cool, dark room. 

I have had a headache for the last three days.  I've been pretty miserable.  It's Spring, so I have a little sinus pressure, but it isn't too bad.  Mostly, my headaches have been caused by my TMJ.  Last night it was bordering on a migraine headache.  I went to bed early.  I've not been to the chiropractor in about two weeks and I'm paying for it.  It just seems like there has been too much going on and I haven't had the time to go.  Tomorrow, I'm going to have to make time.  I don't think I can handle these headaches much longer.      

My headaches could also be caused by my PCOS.  There has been no real research connecting PCOS and headaches and/or migraines.  However, if you are part of any PCOS Support Group, many of the women complain of headaches and/or migraines.  I've had headaches since puberty, so it makes sense to me.  Puberty is when many of my PCOS symptoms began appearing (weight gain, acne, irregular periods, etc.). 

I hope some day they find a cure for PCOS.  It affects so many areas of our health.  Until a cure is found, I will just take it day by day.  I'm thankful to be alive and I'm thankful for all of the blessings in my life.  I will just work through the irregular periods, acne, hair loss, hirsuitism, weight gain, Type II Diabetes, hypothyroidism, high triglycerides, infertility, anxiety, insulin resistance, skin tags, ovarian pain, and headaches.  (These are just my symptoms from PCOS.  There are several others that many women experience.  It affects each woman differently and varies in severity.)  Some days are worse than others, but I woke up this morning, I have a wonderful husband and three beautiful children.  I have a roof over my head, food in my kitchen, and a bed to sleep in.  I'm blessed in many ways despite the obstacles my body presents.    

My Other Best Friend Is An Air Conditioner

I have two best friends.  My human best friend, Angie, has been my best friend since we were 12-years old.  We have been through thick and thin together (both literally and figuratively).  I consider her to be my sister and I would be lost without her.

However, I have another best friend that I don't talk about much, but I would be lost without it.  My air conditioner. 

I've always been a hot-natured person.  Until I was in seventh grade, my parents were always renters.  We lived in various apartments and rental homes.  The one thing most of them had in common; no central air.  There was usually a window-unit air conditioner in the living room and sometimes my parents would have one in their bedroom.  There was never a window-unit a/c in our bedroom (my sister and I always shared a bedroom).  In an attempt to keep our bedroom cool, my parents would put a box fan in the hallway pulling air from the living room and blowing towards our bedroom.  For the most part, it was useless.  I can remember being as young as seven or eight and choosing to sleep on an uncomfortable couch or a hard floor in the living room instead of my hot bedroom. 

When I was in seventh grade, my parents purchased their house.  They didn't need all of the money they saved for the down payment, so they used some of the remaining money to purchase central air for our new home.  It was one of the happiest days of our lives.  I also got a ceiling fan in my bedroom, so I was exceptionally happy. 

From that point forward, I grew up in a very cool home (sometimes it was even downright cold).  My Dad has always had sinus issues, and as a result, he kept it pretty cool in our house at night. 

When I was 22, I moved to Arizona.  When I moved in with my fiancée, I realized pretty quickly that he was a warm-natured person.  Having grown up in Arizona, he was used to the heat.  He kept his thermostat set at about 78 degrees.  In Kentucky, I was used to about 70 degrees.  I was melting in my new apartment.

I absolutely loathe being hot.  Once I get hot, I get angry.  And I cannot sleep at all if I am hot.  I've always been that way.  That is why I spent most of my childhood sleeping on the couch where the a/c unit was. 

Cameron (my husband) and I had a constant battle with the thermostat.  I would turn it down, and he would turn it up.  We finally had a conversation about the thermostat.  I made a compromise with him.  I told him he could have as many blankets as he wanted as long as I got to control the thermostat.  He was pretty agreeable to that once he discovered how cranky I got when I was hot.

Since I have children in my home now, I keep it at a steady 73 degrees, both day and night.  For the most part, we are all pretty comfortable. 

My bedroom has an addition on it.  It is much larger than it was when the house was originally built.  My home has a brick façade.  However, the addition is not brick, it is vinyl siding.  As a result of the vinyl siding and poor insulation, my bedroom is approximately 10 degrees warmer/colder than the rest of the house depending upon the season.  Before we fostered/adopted the kids, I would crank the central air down pretty low at night.  Once we had kids in the house, I didn't want to freeze them to death, so I added a window-unit a/c to our bedroom.  My bedroom is usually about 65 degrees (or cooler) at night.

In the last year or so I've started having hot flashes.  I could be pre-menopausal or it could be a result of the PCOS.  I'm not sure which.  All I know is it SUCKS.  I'll just be sitting there and the next thing you know I'm drenched in sweat.  My husband isn't a big fan of the hot flashes either because he ends up freezing to death while I'm trying to cool myself off.

When I used to work, all of the people I worked with were always freezing.  As a result, I was always burning up.  I brought in a little fan to blow towards me so I had at least a little relief from the heat.  At one point I had my own office.  My office was next to the reception area, which had very large windows with no shades or drapes.  The heat would really build-up in the afternoon in that reception area.  As a result, my office would also get really warm.  There were times that my office was over 85 degrees.  We kept telling the building management that there was a problem with the air conditioner in our offices.  They kept telling us it was fine.  Oddly enough, my former company downsized in 2009 and moved downstairs to a smaller office area.  The building management company moved into our former offices upstairs.  Within one week of moving in, they had the A/C repairman out to fix the air conditioner.  It just goes to show how crappy most building-management companies are.  Anything to save a buck. 

I get so frustrated when I'm hot.  I won't even go outside when it gets really hot in the summer.  It's really humid in Kentucky during the summer.  Unless I'm going swimming, I don't want any part of the heat.  Most evenings, my husband is sitting under a blanket because I have the ceiling fan on high.  Most of the winter, I don't even wear a jacket.  I'm not kidding when I say I'm hot natured. 

I often wonder if being hot all of the time is part of having PCOS.  If it is, it's just another annoying symptom.

I hate being hot.

Some People Just Don't Get It

My best friend and I took our kids to the zoo.  Her daughters are 8 and 5.  My children are 5, 4, and 3.  Both of us have children with Special Needs.  Her eldest daughter has Oppositional Defiance Disorder, Anxiety, and some other issues that have yet to be diagnosed.  My eldest son has ADHD, Sensory Processing Disorder, Impulse Control Disorder, and Anxiety.  Both of our kids are perfectly normal looking children.  Although they look normal, they do not behave like normal children.

We had just arrived at the zoo and the children were really excited.  They would rush from one animal exhibit to the next.  I kept reminding them to use their manners, say excuse me, wait their turn, etc.  The same thing all normal parents do.

We were in the Herpaquarium (snakes, tortoises, etc.) at The Louisville Zoo.  They were so excited that they would just hop from aquarium to aquarium to see what exciting animal was next.  Despite my constant reminders to use their manners, they were overly excited and would occasionally step in front of someone.  There was a lady who took offense to my overly-excited toddlers.  In a very sarcastic tone, she said to my children, "Excuse me!  My son was here first.  Step aside and wait your turn!"

My Mommy instincts kicked in, and I said to her, "They are just kids.  They are excited." 

She turned to me and said, "Well, my son is 7 and he knows to wait in line and say excuse me.  Just because they are toddlers doesn't mean they can't learn manners."

I said, "Well, my children are just toddlers and they are excited to be at the zoo.  I've told them to use their manners, but in the excitement of the moment they forget."

She said, "Well, MY son didn't behave like that when he was a toddler."

I said, "Well, does your son have ADHD, Sensory Processing Disorder, and Impulse Control Disorder?"

Her excellent response was, "That's just an excuse."

I replied, "It absolutely is not just an excuse.  It's a reality."  Then I left before I really lost my cool.  I'm not a violent person, but I really wanted to smack that lady.

Let me explain something to everyone reading my Blog.  ADHD, SPD, and ICD are not just excuses for misbehavior.  I've worked with Special Needs children before and in most cases it may be obvious that the child has Special Needs because they may have visible disabilities.  When you have a child with emotional disorders, it's not always obvious.

My son looks like a normal child, but he isn't.  When he is an environment where he becomes over-stimulated or over-excited (like the zoo or a birthday party), it doesn't matter how many times you remind him to use his manners or wait his turn.  Most of the time, he isn't going to do it.

I was so infuriated by this woman.  Then I realized that she just doesn't get it.  Most people don't.  Until you have a child with Special Needs, you just don't get it.  Most people see a child behaving like my son and think, "He needs a time-out" or "He just needs a spanking."  Unfortunately, most punishments don't work for my son.  It doesn't matter how many times or how many ways he is punished for bad behavior or rewarded for good behavior, odds are he will be repeating the bad behavior within moments of having just received punishment for it. 

So, to the lady at the zoo and everyone else out there who thinks that emotional disorders like ADHD, Sensory Processing Disorder, Impulse Control Disorder, Oppositional Defiance Disorder, Anxiety, and other similar issues are just an excuse for bad behavior, YOU ARE SO WRONG!

If you spent one week with my son, you would understand.  It is beyond stressful to have a child with invisible illnesses.  I'm not a bad parent.  I may not be perfect, but I do my very best.  I do teach my children manners.  I had worked with Special Needs children at a daycare when I was in college so I thought I was prepared.  I was so wrong.  My heart goes out to every parent of a Special Needs child.  It is the most difficult experience of my life.  I love my son very much, but I pray that someday he will be free of these disorders, for his sake, and for mine.

My 3-year old will always say, "Please, Thank You, and Excuse Me."  However, in the excitement of the zoo environment, he may jump in front of someone else.  He isn't a rude child.  He's a toddler. 

In the excitement of the zoo environment, my 5-year old may forget to wait his turn or say, "Excuse me."  It's not because I haven't taught him manners.  It is simply because during those moments of excitement, his brain cannot process the stimuli around him.  Many times you can look at him and tell that he is zoned out.  His nervous system literally shuts out all of the external inputs around him until they can be processed.  If it is noisy, crowded, or just really exciting, he may not even hear me calling his name.  In those moments, I have to pull him away from all of the stimuli, kneel down in front of him, and then talk to him. 

Before you say that these emotional disorders are "Just an excuse", educate yourself.  Until you have a child like this, you have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT.

Rant over.
 

Mommy Is Perfect, Right?

I can remember way back when I was a teenager thinking about what kind of mom I wanted to be when I had kids.  I was going to be patient, kind, caring, a real Suzie-Homemaker.  I had visions of becoming June Cleaver.  Then I adopted some children and reality set in.

The truth is there is no such thing as a perfect mother.  Television shows in the 1950s and 1960s showed you these perfect families with almost perfect children, although sometimes a bit mischievous which only made them more adorable, and perfect marriages.  What they didn't show was Mommy sneaking into another room to have a treat she didn't want to share with the kids.  What they didn't show was Mommy answering the question, "Why" for the millionth time.  What they didn't show was Mommy locking herself in the bathroom to have a cry break.  What they didn't show you was Mommy sitting on the potty while little hands slide under the door with children yelling, "Mommy, what are you doing?" as though the answer isn't obvious.  What they didn't show was Mommy repeating the same phrases over, and over, and over every day:

"Get dressed."
"Hurry up!"
"Pick up your clothes and put them in the hamper."
"Clean your room."
"Stop!"
"No!"
"Don't do that!"
"You're making a mess!"
"Eat your dinner and stop playing with your food."

The list goes on and on. 

The most important thing they didn't show in those television shows was Mommy finally losing her temper and yelling at her kids. 

I thought I knew everything about being a Mommy.  I thought I could handle any situation that came at me with the patience and virtue of June Cleaver. 

I was so wrong.

I try so hard to be a good mother.  I try to be patient, loving, caring, kind, generous, and all of those things I dreamed when I was a teenager thinking about my future as a mother.  I can remember thinking that my Mom, although she had her good qualities, was doing a lot of things wrong.  I can remember the biggest promise I made to myself when I became a mother was if my child asked me, "Why?" that I would NEVER say, "Because I told you so!"  I would get so frustrated and angry when my Mother would say that to me.  Why couldn't she just give me a reason?  Was it so hard to explain why I couldn't do something?  It seemed simple to me.

Now that I'm a parent I realize the reasons why she sometimes said, "Because I said so!"  The reasons are many.  Sometimes it's because the explanation is long and complicated and saying, "Because I said so" saves time.  Sometimes it's because the explanation is only going to require another follow-up "Why" from my child.  Sometimes it's because you are so frustrated that it is the only response you can think of at the moment.

Every morning I play this "game" with my son, Brennan.  Brennan is 5-years old.  He has ADHD, Sensory Processing Disorder, and Impulse Control Disorder.  I don't consider it a game, but before Brennan has had his ADHD medication, everything is a game to him.  He is so unable to focus on anything so everything becomes play time.  Here is how the game begins:

It's morning on a weekday sometime between 7 and 8 am.  Brennan wakes up.  He starts talking and/or playing in his bed all the while getting louder and louder in attempts to wake up his sister, Summer (4).  I have video monitors in the children's rooms.  I'm a very light sleeper and I immediately hear Brennan starting up his morning routine.  I speak over the monitor to him, "Brennan, please be quiet and lay still.  Your sister is sleeping.  When the lights are off, that means it is quiet time."  Maybe he will stop for a minute or two or maybe he will completely ignore me. 

Again, I say, "Brennan, lay still and be quiet.  What is the rule when the lights are off?"
Brennan replies, "Lay still and be quiet."
I respond, "Then please follow the rule."

This will continue with many more reminders for Brennan to be quiet until it is time for he and his sister to get up and get ready for school.  Then we begin a new game.

"Brennan, take off your pajamas and put on your school clothes."  He is usually too busy playing with and aggravating his sister to comply with my orders. 

"Brennan, take off your pajamas and put on your school clothes!  Mommy is getting angry.  What is going to happen if Mommy gets angry?"

Brennan replies, "I lose my TV and tablet time."

I respond, "Well, is that what you want to happen?"

Brennan says, "No."

I reply, "Well, get dressed then."  This routine continues until he finally gets dressed and goes to sit in the living room.  All told, this routine usually takes 20 to 30 minutes.  It's no fun for Mommy and usually results in Brennan losing his TV and tablet time. 

Some may ask why I don't give him his ADHD medication as soon as he wakes up?  That's a good question with a good answer.  If I give him his medication before 9 am, it wears off before the end of the school day and he will end up getting in trouble or even being sent home from school.  So, I have to deal with the frustration of dealing with my easily-distracted, overly-hyper son who has no impulse control.  This is not a game I enjoy.

Sometimes I lose my temper and I yell at him.  Deep down I know that he can't always stop what he is doing.  He's only 5 and his reasoning skills aren't the greatest.  He understands that he will be punished in some way if he continues his behavior, but punishment doesn't mean anything to him at that time.  It's an abstract concept to him until it is actually happening.  That moment when you send him to time out or tell him he can't watch his favorite cartoon, that is when it means something.  It's too late then.  The disobedience has already occurred and the threats of this punishment usually don't deter the behavior. 

Of course, on those days when I lose my temper and I yell, I feel awful.  I don't want to be that parent.  I don't want to yell at my children.  However, when you have said the same thing to your child no less than 10 times in the matter of a few moments, you sometimes lose your cool.  It's especially difficult for me on those days when my hormones are raging out of control due to my PCOS.  It takes every rational thought I have to control my temper on those days.  Sometimes I overcome the hormones and keep my cool.  Sometimes the hormones win and I yell at my son.  I immediately feel awful for doing it and normally I will apologize to him for yelling. 

It's especially frustrating when more than one of my children are misbehaving.  My youngest son, Jordan, is going through the Terrible Threes.  (FYI - The "Terrible Twos" are a myth.  It's the Threes you have to watch out for.  It's a total nightmare some days.  You will hear "Why" repeated after every statement you make.  Then they will say things like, "Get off me!", "I don't want to!", "I do it myself!", and of course, their favorite, "No!") 

My daughter is going through a phase of lying.  It doesn't matter if you assure her she won't get in trouble if she tells the truth, she will still lie.  If I ask her four or five times, usually the fourth or fifth time she will finally tell the truth.  One day she will figure out that Mommy already knows the truth of what happened and lying only causes her more trouble.  I don't think her reasoning skills are up to par for that yet.  Brennan, on the other hand, is incapable of lying.  If you ask Brennan a question, he will tell you the truth, unless he is going to get in trouble.  If he is guilty, he will immediately bow his head and put his fingers in his mouth.  I hope he doesn't have any aspirations of being a poker player. 

My daughter is also going through a "I'm too busy playing to go to the potty" phase and a "I can't be bothered to take the time to wipe my bottom after pooping" phase.

These are frustrating times in my household.   

I wish I could ALWAYS control my temper.  I wish I always knew the right thing to say or do, but the truth is being a Mommy is the MOST difficult job I have ever had. 

With all of the frustration, there also comes daily hilarity.  Kids say and do the funniest things.  I've learned to take the good with the bad. 

I knew parenting was going to be a difficult job.  I just never realized how difficult.  I'm responsible for the well-being of three tiny humans.  Every day revolves around them right now.  I'm trying to teach them manners, responsibility, good hygiene, respect, and morality.  It's a tremendous responsibility.  I have to make sure they eat healthy meals, exercise, get plenty of rest, do their homework, and clean-up after themselves.  I have to make sure they have clean clothes every day.  I have to make sure they get their baths, brush their teeth, and comb their hair.  I have to keep track of doctor appointments, dentist appointments, physicals, t-ball practice, dance classes, and school functions.  There is a lot that goes into being a Mommy. 

It may be the most difficult job I've ever had, but it is also the GREATEST BLESSING I have ever received.  Even though there are days I fail majorly at my dream of being June Cleaver, my children are told every day that they are loved.  If I fail at everything else, my children will always know they are loved.

They are well-loved, well-fed, clean, and healthy children.  They may not have everything they want in this world.  They may not have June Cleaver as their mom, but they have a Mommy and Daddy that love them to the moon and back.

 

Daily Adventures With Children

Last night my son, Brennan (5), decided to put a bean in his ear.  I don't know how long the bean was in there.  He didn't say anything until bedtime.  He casually mentions, "There's something in my ear."  At first I thought maybe he just had some water in his ears because he had just taken a bath.

Brennan says, "I put a bean in there."  Then he starts laughing.  At first we thought he was joking.  Then I realized that he probably wasn't joking.

I said, "Brennan, is there a bean in your ear?  Tell the truth because this is important."

He mumbles, "Yes."

After shining a flashlight into his ear, we discovered there was indeed a bean in there.  I was able to use a pair of tweezers to remove the bean, so fortunately there was no ER visit last night.

After removing the bean, my husband looks at Brennan, holds up his right hand, and says, "Hail Gallaxhar!"  Brennan smiles.

The Cameron says, "You're supposed to say, 'Hail me."  Brennan thought that was funny.

For those of you who don't get the joke, these quotes are from the movie, "Monsters Versus Aliens."  There is an evil alien named Gallaxhar who creates a bunch of clones of himself to take over earth.  Every time one of the clones sees another Gallaxhar pass by, they raise their hand and say, "Hail Gallaxhar."  When the salute the real Gallaxhar, he will reply in a bored voice, "Hail me."  The reason why this movie is relevant to this situation is because Gallaxhar drinks and eats things through his ear.

My husband has an odd sense of humor.  Fortunately, so do I.  My kids are going to have a weird sense of humor growing up in this house.

This is just one of the mishaps that can happen on a weekly, or even a daily, basis when you have kids.

On Christmas Eve last year, I decided to bake some sugar cookies and let the kids decorate them for Santa Claus.  It was right before bedtime and the kids had their pajamas on.  As soon as we were finished decorating the cookies, everyone was going to bed. 

I let the kids use plastic butter knives to put icing on their cookies.  I ran out of plastic butter knives, so I gave Jordan a plastic spoon to decorate his cookies.  All was going well.  The kids were having a good time. 

Brennan asked me to help him decorate his cookies.  While I was helping Brennan, Jordan says, "Can I eat it?"  I told him he could.  I hear a loud crunch, but I didn't think much of it at the time.  I just remember thinking that I didn't think the cookies were that crunchy.  I look over to see Jordan chewing happily. 

I look down at his plate and realize he still has the same number of cookies he had the last time I looked.  So, what did he eat that was crunching so loud?

The answer:  His plastic spoon he was using to decorate his cookies.  I guess he thought the spoon was edible since it was covered in icing at the time. 

I said, "Jordan, did you eat this spoon?"  He looked at me kind of sheepishly and I knew that was my answer.  Mom Emergency Mode (MEM) kicked in and I took him to the Emergency Room. 

He took it all in stride.  He wasn't afraid at all.  Even through the X-Rays he didn't cry. 

Meanwhile, I'm a nervous wreck imagining damage to his stomach and intestines, internal bleeding, and other horrible situations that could occur from digesting hard plastic. 

After a couple of worrisome hours in the ER, the doctor did not see any large pieces of plastic in the x-rays and determined that he would probably be fine.  We just had to watch him for fever, vomiting, blood in his stool, etc.  I took him home and put him in bed.  I was up multiple times during the night checking on him.

We did put out the cookies and milk for Santa, though.

Santa took a quick bite from each cookie and had a few drinks of milk before moving on to the next lucky home.

The next morning after his first bowel movement, I discovered many tiny shards of plastic.  The plastic spoon passed through with no problems.  I was so thankful and relieved.

The kids all enjoy watching me put on make-up (on the infrequent occasions that I actually take the time to do it these days).  Summer is 4 and loves all things girly.  She loves to dress-up like a princess.  She likes to wear those loud, little plastic heels.  She likes to wear the plastic jewelry.  And she loves to pretend she is putting on make-up.

A few months back I bought her a child's lip gloss in a little heart-shaped plastic container.  I figured that should make her feel like she was putting on make-up like Mommy.  Within an hour, she had put the entire contents of the container on her face.  She looked like she stuck her lips in a vat of Vaseline.  I told her no more lip gloss until she could learn moderation.

A few weeks ago, I got a call from her Headstart teacher.  Summer likes pretending to wear make-up so much that she took the markers at school and gave herself a complete makeover.  They had taken the markers away from her earlier in the day for trying to use them as make-up.  She snuck into the markers again and made herself beautiful. 

My first inclination when the teacher told me this was to laugh.  I think the teacher was a little taken aback by my laughter.  I assured her that Summer would be punished for defying her teacher and I would talk to her about not using markers as make-up, but the mental image of her looking like Bozo the Clown would not leave my mind.  I only wish the teacher had taken a photo.

I did talk to Summer about not using markers as make-up and told her she was still too young for make-up.  She got time-out and lost her TV and electronics time for the day for defying her teacher.

I have lots of fun art supplies for the kids to use.  There are crayons, markers, chalk, colored pencils, coloring books, paints, etc.  I had let the kids write on their chalk boards earlier in the day.  Summer decided to keep a piece of chalk for herself because later that afternoon, she came out of her room looking like this:

I had to giggle, but I tried to hide it from her.  Again, we had the discussion that she is too young for make-up and she shouldn't use crayons, markers, chalk, or anything else as make-up.

Being a mother involves a variety of emotions on a daily basis.  Happiness, pure joy, anger, frustration, sadness, exhaustion, etc.  Children can be funny, interesting, frustrating, sweet, and little monsters within the span of a few hours.

And I feel so blessed to be able to experience these adventures every day.  I wouldn't trade it for anything.  Not even a nap.