Open up the window and let the breeze in.

Today for the first time in a very very long time I bonded with another woman. And no it was not in the homophobic, gawd I think she is beautiful kind of way. I am getting to know some of the other women I will be working with. I was able to share with her the experience of taking care of my Mom in her final weeks of life. I never realized how it would affect someone who never knew my Mom. But more significant than that is the connection I made with another person. I do not do this very often. My typical responsive behavior is to ramble to much or not enough and not join in. I feel like I have spent many years on the outside looking in. I am sure I will keep looking in but just for a moment today we chatted threw the open window.

Working Mama

OK so I'll admit this working thing is much harder than I ever imagined it being. Back in Wyoming I had a "job" working for a single optometrist and I believe I now indebted to her for her kindness at that job. This was my 5th day of training and third day of clinic. I am dog beat tired. My brain is mush. I still remember alot of the job skills from before my head injury, but it just is the processing of those skills in a different way that is kicking my butt. I would hate to get dooced so I just won't do it. But I can say I have met some awesome people who I will be working with. My kids seem to be taking this in stride as well and I am just to dang tired at night to fuss with them over the mess in the house. (As if I was June Cleaver before!)

Day 2 and counting

I'm not sure what I am counting to but counting helps. I like to count the cracks in the sidewalk, sort and count my M&M's by color and number, discard all even number of things, I like odd numbers. I guess I am funny that way. Monday was my first day back to work in a really long time. On my drive there I was struck with the memory of my first day of kindergarten. I had on new shoes, a new dress with apples on it and a bag bigger than I should be carrying. Today my mother did not dress me but I was wearing new shoes for the first time and my feet hurt. My Mother always had new shoes for me; first day of school, vacation, holidays, you name it. BUT here is the clincher, I could not wear those shoes till the day of the event. I even remember a wedding that I had to wait to get inside the church to put those new white patent leather Mary Jane's on (I was 4).
I felt horrible inside. Like that little girl without a clue as to who was going to be in her class. Fast forward to 1985. We moved all the way across the United States 6 weeks before 8th grade is over and I had to be "that" girl. Then again in 9th, 10th, 11th and 12th grade. My parents had a time of it deciding were to plant the family plantation there for awhile.
As I walked into the building I saw a reflection of myself and paused, I did not recognize that woman in the window. I fully expected to see the little girl. I called #17 and told her I did not want to go in. She encouraged me to go, like I did for her 3 years ago when we moved to TX. I wonder if it was hard for her to realize my vulnerability at that moment and we were switching roles. I hope not, I am not ready for that yet. So here I sit tonight in my big girl pants and bid farewell to the little girl inside and say hello mama in window!

Hosted by Cecily and MamaGeek

What did I do in the name of all that is "sacred" to piss of the demi god's of the domestic kingdom. This has truly been a week that I would trade with the devil to have my old life back. The one of being single and living in New York. The one that was like 20 something years ago. Before the dawn of a first marriage, first child, first divorce, first of anything!
I was in the ER with #17 last night. She has had a headache of monumental proportions for the past 4 days with all the goodies to go with it, nausea, vomiting, stomach, diarrhea, body aches, you get the picture. Meanwhile back at the institution my Dad was having to install a hot water heater with the uncooperative help of #13 and #9. The hot water heater blew on Wednesday, after taking # 9 to urgent care for swimmers ear. Do you remember my post about "laundry", well the proverbial line between the metaphor and reality of that laundry is a very fine one.

Hubbie not home, sick kids, no hot water for few days, laundry piling up. Need say I say anymore?

Some of you have asked why I have not posted pictures of little #9. The truth is I take more pictures of her than I do of #13 and #17. She is a fun and willing subject for my photography practice. Although she has come to the stage of won't smile with her mouth open. She has a crooked tooth and is very self conscious of it. She is going to have to wear braces and probably go back into her glasses this coming few months. Throw that in with the trepidation of going to 4th grade and the fear of HORMONES (she has experienced her sisters first hand) she is going to be one fun party girl, NOT! Do you remember Judy Blume and her controversial books. I do, I had to read them at Tammy's house and ask Tammy the questions I was afraid to ask my Mom. It's not that I did not know the facts of life (I am the oldest of 6 kids) these books just felt "forbidden". Raising girl number three I have learned to answer only what is asked. But yet at times I wonder if that is all she wanted to know, what prompted her to ask. She is WAY more inquisitive than the first two and can carry on a witty and engaging conversation with kids and adults alike. The world better watch out, as Dr. Barnes once said to us "kids like her are hell to raise, but, they will be the people who make a difference in the world, if they survive past the age of 18."

Oh so that's WHY...

Wyoming. One place, one road, one community. One of the things I loved about living there was no matter where you go in the state you would inevitability run into someone from your hometown. But I was reminded today why we moved to the blistering heat of Texas...

Sister-in-law Beth sent these photo's out this morning. They were taken an hour apart. The only way I could move back there was if I had heated underwear and never had to leave my house. I don't see that happening cause the donut guys in Wyoming don't make house calls.

You aint nothin but a Horn Dog!

That's right baby I did not say "Corn Dog" I said "Horn Dog". I guess I am to be flattered that after three children, weight gain, weight loss, weight gain, ugly moods, adult acne, hormonal crisis and did I say weight gain my husband still finds me attractive. He loves to grab my boobs, my butt and anything that gets his game on. Several years ago when the TBI was a new resident in our household it was really hard on our "intimate" relationship. So as any good Speech Therapist would do (BTW she became a very good friend), she suggested we come up with a "CODE" word for the dirty deed. So we called it doing the "laundry". I would write it down in my daily planner for an evening at the laundromat. This way I was able to think about it during the day and not be shocked that night that he wanted to do what??!! We needless to say we are out the "laundry" phase and I just tell him NO, not tonight dear. Regardless of how hateful I am he sent me this the other day I it made me all, ya know, wanting to get the laundry done and damn if he is out of town. Let's do Laundry