This One Might Get A Bit...Well...Bit%cy...Consider Yourselves Warned!

I have had so many reasons to get up on my soapbox lately. The problem is, I haven't had the energy to climb up there, nevermind unload all of my ramblings once I get there.

I guess my first gripe would have to be about that lady that just gave birth to eight babies, making her offspring total a whopping 14 children.

Here's my thing and if I offend you, I do hope you forgive me sooner or later and come back. I'm usually not this serious but there are just times when one needs to bitch and my time has come.

I had a doctors appointment this morning and as I was sitting in the waiting room, trying to control the weemonkey, I overhear on CNN on the TV, that the lady that just squished out eight babies is planning to support her family with her food stamps.

Listen, I know that times are tough and everyone hits a rough patch and you've gotta do what you gotta do to put food in your babies mouths.

But from what CNN said, she's had this plan since she went in there and told them to put every live embryo within a 100 mile radius in her uterus and to wish her luck!

I have no problem with the fact that she's a single mom. Sometimes a womans life doesn't go the way they planned but they still want to be a mother, husband or no, and science has given them a way to do that. I was actually raised by a single mom from the time I was 12 until I married and move out on my own. My mom had no college degrees. She was a beautician in the 60's but she really couldn't fall back on that since nobody was looking for a sky high teased beehive in the early 90's. Oh, if only Amy Winehouse had come along sooner!

So, to make ends meet, my mom spent her days working as a secretary in a Real Estate Office and her evenings were spent working at a Wendy's. You should have seen our dog go nuts every night mom came home from her evening job! That dog would barely let mom in the door before she started licking every inch of mom's shoes, lower pants legs, and when mom changed, the dog tried to devour her shirt and hat. The point is, my mom suddenly found herself divorced, unemployed, raising a rebellious teenage daughter, living in a house that had a mortgage she didn't think she could pay, and she was scared to death.

But instead of doing nothing and running to the government offices (I honestly have no idea who passes out the food stamps) mom went out and filled out applications for any place that had employees. And she was exhausted by the time she got home from working her second job of the day, but she was making it on her own. I can only imagine what the must have felt like.

** On A Side Note: You know, I bet that's why food scented perfumes have never been big. Guys probably loved it when their ladies smelled like a nice New York Strip, the problem was, dogs loved them even more!**

Amyway, the single mom thing is not my problem.

My problem is that the government will pay for this woman to help support her growing family. The more she pops out, the more money she gets. It wasn't like she accidently got pregnant with eight babies. It was all very much planned. And now she has 14 children, her mother seems to be a bit of a psycho, and our tax dollars are paying for all of it.

On the other hand, here I am, diagnosed with MS, unable to walk most of the time, unable to get a job, and paying an arm and a leg once a month to get my Tysabri infusions. That's ONE medication. That's not even counting the Provigil for fatigue, the anti-depressant to treat the depression that comes from MS and the depression that comes from the medications that I'm taking for MS. Then there's pain medicine, baquelofen (spelled that one wrong) for spacsticity, co-pays for the endless doctors visits, the walker, the scooter, the cane, the handicap accessible bathroom renovation.

The government didn't offer to help us with that.

And to make it worse, until I became a mother, I went to work at some sort of job from the age of 16. At 21, I was blessed to become a mother and married to a man who had the same family values and thought it was important for me to be a stay-at-home mother.

In the beginning, it was a hard road to travel. The baby had all these allergies and needed a special formula that was $25 a can and she went through a can and a half a day. I was clipping coupons for everything on my list and if I didn't have a coupon, that item didn't make the list.

When I quit working, I got a pamphlet in the mail saying that I had all of the required credits if I should ever become disabled. Imagine my surprise when I called a few months ago and was told that since all but two of those credits were earned BEFORE I turned 21, they didn't count. Magically disappeared. And now, I've got nothing.

I can't get any kind of government assistance at all. And yet, this woman can choose to have more children and she gets foodstamps, not to mention that she'll probably get WIC while those eight babies are little. Then she'll get a book deal or a reality TV show and have more money than I'll ever see in my lifetime. And I'll still be sitting here, worrying about how I'm going to pay for my next prescription.

Liberty and Justice For All....You don't say......

Another thing that's been bothering me is that I've been getting told from all different angles that I need to find a daycare for my 2 year old son for my "bad days".

For a while, I tried to convince myself that I agreed with everyone.

But then I sat down and thought "What do I want and what would be best for the weemonkey?"

I decided that I couldn't make any kind of informed decisions without going and checking one out. The place was run by the owner/only employee and she seemed really nice. She only takes in 8 kids at a time and I thought a small group could be good. The place was clean, the toys were newer and seemed to have all parts intact. There was a lot of natural light, great views out the windows. Healthy snacks and meals were served.

Maybe this could work.

Then I stood back and watched the dynamic of this facility. Well, I was told to stand where none of the kids could see me "Maybe it will help you and your son finally cut that cord!" she said.

I watched as every half hour to 45 minutes, the owner/only employee would open on of the second story windows where she already had the screen popped out. She would then lean out the window as far as she could and smoke 1 or 2 ciggarettes. Her back to the kids, she didn't know that a lot of them noticed what she was doing, hanging out the window like that, and by the looks on their faces, they thought that looked like fun.

Then it was snack time. She brings out 10 cups of juice and sets them on a child height table. Then she leaves and returns with a tray of fruits and veggies and a bowl of ranch dressing. She leaves this on the child height table with the cups. Then she remembers that she was supposed to take one of the kids to the potty twenty minutes ago and rushes him off to the bathroom.

I then watched in horror as these two kids, who were obviously sick, meander over to the table and drink out of every cup. Then on grabbed a carrot. He sucked on it for a minute and then stuck it in the ranch dressing bowl. Then he sucked the dressing off of the carrot twice before putting the carrot back on the tray with the other carrots. The other child kept sticking his grubby hands in the ranch dressing, licking the dressing off, and then repeating about a gagillion times.

When the owner/only employee finally came back, I told her about the food bandits and she laughed and said "Oh, you must have just thought they did that! They wouldn't take a flea if they thought it belonged to a dog! hahahahahhahahahaha"

I coyly walked over to my enormous purse/bag and grabbed a bag of fruit snacks, some animal crackers, and the weemonkey's sippy cup and that was his snack. I'm sure he's the only one that was there that day that doens't have a stream of neon green snot coming out of their noses. YUCK!!!

Now, I know that not all daycares are like this. And I do understand that some people have no choice but to use daycare so they can work. But I have to say, I was ashamed at myself because the reason I was looking at a daycare was because sometimes I have bad days and need to take naps to make it through.

Then I started looking back over those bad days and realized that they weren't so bad.

The weeman loves to nap so when I took a nap, he was right beside me, snoring away.

And while on a normal day, I read six or more books to him, on these bad days I always read atleast two. He was given snacks and lunches that hadn't already been tasted, and he was the only one drinking out of his cup.

We still practiced writing and did his ABC flashcards that he loves. And he always seemed happy, never cheated.

So, why do I need to take him to a daycare where someone isn't going to watch him as well as I do or know what he's trying to say when he's speaking caveman?

All of that being said, I've decided that, while I do have MS, it hasn't taken my ability to be a mother away from me.

No daycare for us. Thank you for the concerns but it's just not going to happen.

As I've said before, sometime MS might get me down but don't ever count me out. I'm still kicking ass here!

Oh Geesh, This Can Be Hard Work!!!

I happened to look at my blogger dashboard and was appalled that I haven't posted since December 23rd! That's last year, for crying out loud!
I keep finding myself in a daze, as if I'm unable to convince my brain that it actually is 2009.
I mean, yes I'm forgetful and I do tend to misplace things, but it would appear that I've gone and misplaced a whole entire year! Well, not exactly the ENTIRE year, more like from May to December. You do the math..then get back to me on how long exactly that is, okay?

I'm not one to make resolutions for the new year. I find that if I make a resolution, this impossible goal that suddenly seems possible after several glasses of champagne or Old Milwakees Best (hey, I don't judge), then you're already setting the year ahead up for failure, depression, and anger.
I think that I unwillingly go through that enough already, don't you?

So, since I don't have to do all of that thinking over what resolutions I'm going to not stick with, I've had a lot of thinking time. And, even more bizarre, I found a lot of things funny.

This is what I've realised: I have said more bizarre, childlike, even spacey things to people over the last eight months than I have in my entire life.
Here are just a few that I remember:

1. To the Dodson's Exterminator "What time do you think you'll be here because my naptime is between 11-2 and I can't be disturbed during my naptime."

2. The conversation with the DirecTV guy who came to move our lines after our renovations:
Him: Mam, would it be ok if I use your phone?
Me: Sure. Would you like to push or look?
Him: Uhmmm, excuse me?
Me: [HUGE sigh as if he's the idiot] Do you want to push or look?
Him: I just want to use your phone?
Me: Yes, I understand that you want to use the phone. What you don't understand is the fact that I tend to put things in places that I don't remember and that don't make sense. So, would you like to push the "page" button for the phone or look for the phone?
Him: Uhm, push?
Me: Ok then! Get to pushin!

And do you know where I found the phone? In the dryer. The dryer that was running, drying towels. Yeah, I know.

3. I told my "center" child to pick up her suitcase. She looked around the room and said "Where is it?" "It's right at your feet, child! Look down and you'll see your suitcase!"
She then looked down, then the lightbulb visibly went on in her head, she had realized that her mother was a boob. She then looked at me and said "This here {pointing at the "suitcase" to which I shook my head "yes"] Well, I'll pick it up and put it away but I refuse to call my SLEEPING BAG my SUITCASE!"
Yeah, I was trying to tell her to pick up her sleeping bag but for some reason, suitcase was what was coming out.

4. I have said, on numerous occasions, to my husband "You really do love me, dontcha?"
That statement usually followed conversations like this:
12:15 p.m.
Me:Hey, honey? Did you get the mail today?
Him: No, it hasn't come yet.
Me: Oh, okay.
12:30 p.m.
Me: Hey, honey? Did you get the mail today?
Him: [letting out a slow, deep, meditation like breath then says through gritted teeth] No, it hasn't come yet.
Me: Oh, okay.
12:45
Me: Hey, honey?
Him: No IT HASN'T COME YET!
Me: How did you know what I was going to ask you?
Him: Because this is the third time you've asked in the last half hour.
Me: And you didn't strangle me?
Him: No, but the urge might have been there.
Me: Awww, babe, you really do love me, dontcha?
Him: Yes and who would raise the kids if I strangle you and then get myself put in jail?
Me: I'm going to ignore that last part and just go with "You really do love me".

I guess that's one of the good things about having this disease. When I feel like I'm going crazy, it's always comforting to know that I'm driving the people around me just as crazy so I'm not alone.

Ahhhh..The Holidays Are Coming..Whether I Like It Or Not

Well, Christmas is officially on it's way. Only 2 days away.

I'm in such a strange place. I'm not in the "Christmas Spirit" at all. And this is very unlike me.

I am usually one of those people who get so excited about the holidays. I have about ten totes filled to the brim with Christmas decorations, dishes, a Dickens Style village, and an enormous Santa figurine collection.

Every year before, you would walk in my house into a house that looks like Christmas threw up all over it.

This year, I had to be forced to get a tree. And the decor is at a bare minimum.

What is wrong with me?

This is kind of what I'm dealing with:

Before:

Okay, this is not really my house but you get the idea.

And Now:

Sad, isn't it?

The funny thing is, though, is that nobody has noticed. Well, I have but none of the other people in the house haven't noticed a thing.

None of the children have said "Hey mom? Where's the Dickens villiage that you always tell us not to touch?" or "Where are all of those weird Santas that you stick everywhere around the house?"

It's amazing. They're as happy as can be and they don't even care that it's the bare minimum.

Which leaves me to wonder, who the hell was I doing all of that for? The hubs could have cared less, the kids seem almost relieved that there's nothing that they will be yelled at if they touch, and I'm not exhausted from putting everything out and then dreading putting it all away when the holiday was over.

It's all kind of strange and wonderful at the same time.

Another thing that has changed about this Christmas is that we are staying home for the first time ever. Before, we always traveled to see family. We would either fly to Arizona to see my inlaws. And while it was always nice to see both of them (I mean that, I have truly been blessed with wonderful in-laws) have you ever tried to fight through an airport with three little kids and a thousand carry-ons, rushing to your gate so that you don't miss your flight only to find out that it's been delayed for three hours?

So, you open the carry on that has all of the activities that you were planning on using for the plane and try to entertain them for three hours. Then you finally get on the plane for the five hour flight and you've spent all of your activities in the airport and the kids are bored and they don't want to sit still and the guy in front of you reclines his seat as you're bent over, digging through bags trying to find snacks or ipods or DVD players. You finally find that thing that your one child wants and she's happy but then the other asks for something so you're digging again and that is the moment that your two year old son decides to find out how the table works and it slams down on the back of your head. And you're trying not to lose it because you haven't even LEFT THE GROUND YET but it's getting really hard. Then there's the endless trips to the bathroom and then the baby decides to poop and have you ever tried to change the poopy diaper of a toddler in an airplane bathroom????

The times we didn't fly to Arizona, we normally drove to Connecticutt to see the rest of the hubs family and while driving is a little better than the plane, there's the endless potty stops and complaints about being cold/hot/bothered/unhappy with the world in general.

Then you get to your destination, where a family member has offered to let you stay in their guestroom and sleeping arrangements are insane and you really don't want the kids touching anything in the house. And you're spending the whole time trying to convince the hubs' side of the family that just because you are from West By God Virginia, you are not a hillbilly and yet your children are walking around acting like the Clampets and you just want to scream!

Now, don't get me wrong, I love seeing the family but I always end up stressed out because I want my children to look perfect and act perfect and WHO ARE WE KIDDING? They are children!

So, this year, we have decided that we are making Christmas all about us and our little family of five. We are going to have the traditional Catholic/Italian Christmas Eve dinner of seafood and then we're going to watch...oh I'm so giddy about this!!!!....The first one of the marathon of A Christmas Story on TNT!!! I have watched that marathon every year of my existence and I love it. Then we'll wake up Christmas morning and open presents in, get this, our pajamas!!!! Then the hubs will make his famous "Big Breakfast" and I am going to make a Christmas dinner that involves making my first ever turkey. Pray for us that I don't kill us all from salmonela!

It may not sound as exciting as going to Arizona or Conecticutt but it's going to be ours and I can't tell you how happy I am about this.

Now, if I could just get that Christmas Spirit that everyone is talking about.....

Um, Say What?

This is my 20th post on this blog. It's funny to me since I have 665 on my other one.
So, do you ever sit down and start thinking about life and your MS comes to mind and even though you already knew it, it hits you again:


Wow, this IS for the rest of my life. Holy S*%t!


Maybe it's still the fact that all of this is still new to me and, honestly, it's made my life really crappy for the last eight months, but I honestly do have those times when that thought comes to my head.
For instance, my oldest monkey came up to me the other night and said "Remember when we made those plans to go to Disney World in a year? That's still happening right?"
Without thinking, I said "Sure honey, why wouldn't we be going? We already have reservations and things. Why would you think we wouldn't go?"
"Um, well, because of your MS."
And I sat there for a second and it hit me, oh yeah, I'll still have "my MS" in a year, right. Cause it's here forever. Right.


I guess I'm still getting used to all of this.


But there could be perks to going to Disney now.


I'll have my scooter and by then I plan on switching out those wimpy wheels and horn for something more, how shall we put this? Substandstial?


Yeah, like that but only four more of those.

And the horn we've already discussed.

Oh, there will be danger, my friend. In fact, Danger is my middle name. (Actually it's not but I was on a roll of coolness.)

On a serious note, I've made myself a goal. I'm calling it the:

"No Weather Permitting Will Be Said Goal"

I know that doesn't make sense but I can help you. During the winter months, whenever my mother is making any plans to come and visit us, at the end of every conversation she will say "Of course, you know, this is all Weather Permitting, right?"

I don't want to tell my kids "Yeah, we'll go to Disney, As Long As Mommy Feels Good. It's the same difference, to me atleast. Because, just like snow in the winter, we all know that we can go from feeling great to poo in 2.4 seconds.

So, I am keeping our plans. If I need to add a nanny, I can handle that. In fact, we might do that anyway. But my children will see enormous rodents next spring!

How do you all manage family vacations?

Memories.....Oh and Happy Turkey Day!

I'm sorry I've been MIA lately on this blog. I guess I'm in sort of a funk and I don't want to keep moaning on and on about it and chase you all away, you know? I've kind of grown to like you little boogers and I wouldn't want you to run away because of me being...well..funky.
I don't know if I told you all about how we're in the finishing touches of a huge home renovation. Did I tell you? I can't remember..
Ok, so we're in the finishing touches of a huge home renovation, there happy?
And the other day, we were moving totes in from the garage and the hubs gave me the most dreadful job of going through all of the stuff that I had hoarded in them. (I happen to be a bit of a hoarder. I come from a long line of them. My grandmother use to serve stuff in plastic butter bowls from, like, 1950)
So, there I am, going through the totes. No big deal.
And then I started finding some things that kind of hit me.
Like all of the kids scrap books that I've made them. Pictures of me being very young and very pregnant. Me as a young mom with two tiny baby monkeys born so close together that everyone thought they were twins. Pictures of me and the hubs before marriage and babies and home mortgages.
Then he brought in, and this is going to sound really stupid, but it was the final straw.
He brought in my pink golf bag.
See, the hubs loves to golf. Would do it everyday if there weren't this pain in his side called "work".
One weekend, two years ago, he had plans to go golfing but his buddy cancelled on him. The hubs looked like someone has shot his puppy. He just looked so sad. So, I offered to go. I don't remember if I was thinking that he would say "Thanks, but no" or "Okay, get in the car!" but he took me up on the offer. I had never been golfing in my life. I had seen a golf coarse and I've seen golfers play on TV so I thought it would be no big deal.
We played 18 holes, I wrecked the golf cart twice before he said I wasn't allowed to drive anymore, and it turns out that I'm one of those people who can whack at that ball with all of my might and it will only go like twenty feet. But the cool thing was, he didn't care. We had a great time, laughing and just being relaxed and hanging out. It was a great day.
After that, I started recieving gifts for no reason.
First came a huge box that contained my brand new pink golf bag.
Then I got some "girlie golf clubs" as he called them.
Then I got some pink, pearly golf balls.
We started golfing together as often as we could. And every time, it was a great time.
But then this summer came and there was no golfing.
I was too sick and he felt too guilty to go.
And I really missed it. I missed us together on the golf coarse.
So, that's why the funk rolled in.

But, in other news, as I'm sure you all already know, tomorrow is Thanksgiving. A day where we worship the turkey, football, and gigantic floats in parades. I hope you all enjoy your day!
Happy Thanksgiving To All!!!

Blahhh

The title really says it all. For the past three days I have been..well... blahhhhhh.

This is what infuriates me about this disease. Exactly one week ago (well, one week and a day..ok it was Halloween for crying out loud people!) I was hitting school parties and then that night the hubs and I took all three of them trick-or-treating and I was the one that the kids had to say "Mommmm, it's time to goooo!"

Then exactly one week ago (and yes I do mean exactly one week, wait..today is Saturday right?) I was baking a cake and getting ready for a date with a hot guy for our 9th anniversary. We went to dinner and talked and it was all wonderful.

And this week?

Blahhh...

I seem to be starting another flare up. My speech is slurred and I stutter a lot and I'm exhausted and my balance is way off (and by way off, I mean that when I think I'm standing up, I'm actually not). I've basically slept for the last three days straight. Luckily, the wee man is a great napper and stayed right beside me. And now the hubs and my mom are here for reinforcements.

I just hate being like this. The hubs keeps doing the laundry (which is really a wonderful thing or we would all be naked) but then he dumps the baskets out into a chair in the living room/our temporary bedroom and it becomes the Mountain of Doom. It's my Mt. Everest if you will.

I know that I'm lucky that he even does the laundry but would it kill him to fold something now and then?

Oh, right, "Real men never fold laundry!"
So, here I am, stuck in bed, feeling like crap, and Mt. Everest is slowly growing up in front of me.

Imagine this but made out of laundry. Oh, and without the snow of course.

What to do..what to do...

For now, I think I will just pull the covers up over my eyes and go back to sleep. Everest will always be there when I wake up I'm sure.

Distance Means Nothing

One person that I feel truly lucky to have in my life is my mother in law, Mary Jane. She's one of those women you wish you could be like, who tells you like it is even if that's not what you wanted to hear, and she gives you encouragement (although at times it may seem like she's just telling you what to do).
When I told her that I had MS she set out to learn everything she possible could about my disease. She's been going to an MS support group, she get's newsletters and emails, and she sent the kids a DVD about MS that eplained it to them in their terms. Plus it was a cartoon. You can't go wrong with having the kids watch a cartoon.
She's always managed to show up when we need her most and help in ways you can't imagine. And the funny thing is, she lives in Arizona. It's not exactly a quick car trip over to West Virginia from her house!
The last time she was here visiting, we went to Target. I wasn't doing too well and my legs were giving out a lot which lead to me falling a lot. When we got into the store to get our shopping carts, we had a conversation that went a little something like this:
MJ: Get one of those motorized scooters for yourself.
ME: Oh, no. I don't think I need one today.
MJ: Get one of those motorized scooters for yourself.
ME: No, I think I can just hold on to the buggie and shop. I'll be fine.
MJ: (a little more stern) Get a scooter!
ME: Ok fine!

And then I got in the scooter, end of discussion. The thing is, she and I both knew that me being in the scooter was what was best for me, but my pride wasn't allowing me to take that first step. So, she made me. I have a feeling that the conversation could have gone on forever like that if I hadn't given in. Who knows? We could still be in the front of Target, months later, arguing about how I was going to get around the store.
When I told her that I wanted to start journeling but I couldn't find any pretty Journals to write in, she sent me about 15 journals from her business. They were all beautiful, different shapes and sizes. I'm now set to journal for the rest of my life.
We tak by email several times a week and we try to talk on the phone atleast once a week but, of course, life sometimes gets in the way. But with all of that, her living across the country, only talking through email, etc, I've never felt closer to her than I do now.
I guess a "support system" doesn't have to be right there at your door to really be of support.
Thank you Mary Jane, from the bottom of my heart!
And I promise to always "eat my peas!"

The Value Of A Good Therapist

The day I was diagnosed with MS, this change started happening to my so very extremely nice all the time personality. And the more the MS started to effect or change my life, the worse it got.

I was...well for a lack of a better word PISSED. I was so pissed off. At so many things really.

I was pissed at the doctor who told me that even though I definately had MS, once I started the Rebif therapy, I might not even know that I have it for ten years or more.

Really Doc? Because I've known that I've had it every single day since, thanks.

I've been pissed at the way I see my illness effecting my family. My husband is always watching me like I might shoot off into space if he takes his eyes off of me, my kids were terrified that I was going to die and they were also sad because the mom who used to be "Supermom" now couldn't get out of bed long enough to make them breakfast.

I was pissed at the constant pain that I've been in, pissed as my leg for not letting me know when it's going to decide to stop working, pissed at falling down, at fatigue, at the neurologist, who was supposed to be an MS specialist, who kept telling me that MS didn't cause pain, that my leg had full strength, and that when I started talking like Forrest Gump that wasn't MS either.

That's another thing I've been mad about, I never know what's going to happen when I wake up one day to the next. Honestly, one day I took a nap with my two year old son and I had been feeling different that day. I couldn't figure out what it was, not worse. Just tired. When I woke up, I couldn't speak. Then when I could get words out my speech was all broken and I couldn't complete big words and sentences were impossible.

The next day, my husband drove me to this "specialist" who told me that it wasn't my MS causing my speech. It was stress. I thought, but couldn't say or I totally would have, "STRESS? Really? Cause I have three kids, a farm, a house to run, and all of that was there before and I never started talking like Forrest Gump before!!!" His solution was to up my antidepressant (that I have to take because the Rebif is known to cause depression) and give me a script for Xanax. My husband basically told him to stick the scripts up his bum and we left. I haven't seen him since.

I honestly felt like I was drowning. MS had changed everything about my life, it made me feel like I was on the outside of my life looking in, and I knew I couldn't deal with all of this anger on my own. So, I went to see a couselor and I am so glad that I did.

She's been helping me deal with all of this anger and has helped me to find ways to still be involved with my family without wearing myself out. I've been seeing her now for almost five months and it has made such a world of difference. I'm not as angry anymore, although I do still have my moments of rage at this stinking illness, but I'm dealing with it. I can see the difference it's made in me and in my family who no longer feel like they're walking on eggshells around me anymore.

I highly suggest counseling or therapy to anyone going through this. Therapy isn't just for crazy people, which is what I always thought before.

There's nothing more valuable than a good therapist!