It was not supposed to happen…

Once, a long time ago, a young woman had a major problem. And the doctors told her she probably could not get pregnant. For years she moved on and let it not weigh on her mind. God’s plan was obviously not children. But that was ok. She was living and loving a life of raising other peoples babes. Nanny work was rewarding, and gave her the outlet for her love and energy. Then, the same woman met the love of her life at a wedding of all places, and they dated for a short bit.

Her future husband knew within 3 days it was meant to be. It took her about 22 months longer to think about it. During that 22 months, they discussed family. She told him about her problem, that babies might not be in it, and he loved her anyway. Then, they made a 5 year plan. Save up, get married, buy a house, find out if there is any chance the whole pregnancy thing would change. Fast forward to around Mother’s Day of 2006. They had been married for about 10 months (1 month from the “official” wedding, as they sneaked off and eloped before that April day.) The same woman is now worrying, because its that monthly “time” but nothing has happened yet. The last time this happened she was rushed to the hospital. She worries more. She calls a friend who asks her if she might be pregnant. But that was impossible. Right?

And even if it was, this was NOT part of the 5 year plan. Her husband was a planner. He was going to freak out. But she took a test anyway.. Then called a doctor. Yes she was. Honeymoons are magical. But something didn’t look right. So they waited to tell the family. Once they knew for sure it was OK, they told their moms first. But the moms we told they might not be grandma’s. It was still scary. They waited until Father’s Day to tell the dads. It was a great plan. “Happy Father’s Day Grandpa” cards were bought. Her father got it first. And started to cry. He knew she was maybe not going to be able to have children. And he also was very sick. He was so happy to know he might get to hold a grandchild. His father took longer to figure it out. Thought the card was an “old man” joke.

In the midst, her father’s condition worsened. Just 3 months to go. And her father sunk into a coma. She went to the hospital against everyone’s advice. She waiting until she knew her mom would not be there to stop her. She went to the ICU. The nurses tried to stop her. But she begged one nurse to please let her go. She needed to talk to her father. So she suited up in a full biohazard suit and mask. She stood by his bedside. And told him he had to fight. He had to wake up and hold his grandson and teach him all the things he needed to know about cars. Trains. And music. And a miracle happened. His vitals went crazy. His heart accelerated, The doctors were shocked. Because he woke up. Her father told her when he woke up he knew she had been there. He remembered it.

He wondered if it had been a dream. He told her.  In his head he was screaming at her. To take this unborn child away from the germy hospital and to keep the baby to be safe.  And then, after a pregnancy fraught with back labor, gall stones, and endless worry, a “Hurricane” entered the world. He came in fighting. It was not his idea to come. The cord went around his neck so many times. He didn’t cry. She panicked. Her mom told her it would be ok. But the hushed whispers told her the doctors were worried. A handful from the start. But then he screamed. Then just as suddenly as he started, he stopped, and he calmed. He was looking at her. She held him in her arms and she smiled. She thought about him. Her son. He started out on his own drummer. When it was time to eat he slept when it was time to sleep he ate. He set his own tune. And she went along with every single one of his differing beats. He made his own way and decisions. He seemed, even as an infant, to relish in challenging her. He spent 5 straight months screaming. He walked when he decided he wanted to. He potty trained when he decided he wanted to. He went from not reading to whole books just because he decided he was ready. He set his own pace and still does. He brings calm and chaos every step of the way and lives up to his nickname of Hurricane. Every morning she wakes up and thinks “Holy crap. I am a mom.” And it blows her mind. Every year for the last 7 she has had the joy, on the second Sunday of May, to relish in being part of this day. And it is amazing. She is stressed, happy, sad, mad, fierce, tender, silly, serious, and overwhelmingly joyful. All at once. All because she has been given the chance to be a mom.


What do you call a Mom-troversial husband?

Hurricane is in the primary care of King Pig since the whole suicide/nerve disease/can’t work life insanity thing. KP has stepped well into the stay at home dad role.  Hurricane has decided he hates this new dynamic and the stay at home dad role KP is now playing. He has responded in typical (undiagnosedyetbutweallknowitscoming) Aspie/SPD fashion by having total meltdowns and making my life hell. So, KP decided to try something new. He and his best friend, “Frank” were trying to explain to Hurricane why he needed to shape up. Hurricane spent a whole Saturday with them and when I got home, he was sweet as could be. Since the day they had him, he has been getting 3 or 4 out of 4 on his school behavior card, and has not been talking back as much. I got to wondering, how did this sudden miracle happen?  Bribery? Beating? I just had no idea. Then I got a call from the school.

It was all so clear to me, but as I sat in stunned silence while the school counselor talked to me, I could not believe my husband had done something so evil. And totally genius. A simple fix. But it is still, nearly 3 weeks later, working. They spent an entire day watching a “Scared Straight” marathon. Now for my fans not in the USA, let me explain. Scared Straight is a TV show where totally insane out of control children are sent to jail for a few days with hardened criminals. At the end they either shape up or go to jail for real. It’s rather effective. But that is not the genius. Watching that show did show Hurricane what his behavior was a precursor to. But the following….is pure evil genius.

“:Hey look, Hurricane, he just yelled at your mom like you do. MAN. I hope you do not end up in jail.” (Frank)
“Oh! Acts out in school, a lot. Man that sounds awful familiar” (KP)
“Hey, he was arguing right with that inmate and now he is peeing his pants. That would be terrible, wouldn’t it? He argues a lot like you. As a matter of fact I think I heard you tell me that same thing…” (Frank)
“Stealing. Hmmm. Didn’t you get in trouble for “borrowing but I was gonna put it back” in class last week?” (KP)

In the meantime, he may be scarred for life, but at least it did the trick. It’s mom-troversial but I will take it!


The Challenge Awaits… but will anyone join me?

I realized something painful the other day. I have spun into negativity and it is wearing off on my son. I used to be a glass half full kind of girl. I then became an “At least I have a glass” girl. But then, the glass shattered, and lately I have lost my way. I scan newsfeeds on Facebook and I see so much pain. So much sadness. So much anger. And it consumes me. I comment. “How DARE HE say that to you?” I am instantly sucked in. “She is such a ________”. I get pissed off when something happens and I post it. And I have become an “Excuser” I make excuses or blame the world. I rant on twitter or FB. Or call a friend. “What the front door was he thinking? That guy is a douche and because of his bad driving I am late”  (Because me leaving the house in no particular hurry had NOTHING to do with it, honest!)

Then I met a woman who gave me the inspiration to change. I was early to pick up my son from the halfway point between my moms and home. All I focused on was getting him and rushing home in time to watch my football game. I was annoyed with the fact we were cutting it so close to watching the game, not thinking about the fact my mom has not seen her grandson in 3 months.

I made great time, and as I came off the exit ramp of the highway I saw a much older lady (I later found out she was 73) trying to cross the very busy road with her arms laden with groceries. In my head I was thinking, she is going to get hit. So I did what any normal person SHOULD do but what probably 30 other people had not.  I stopped traffic and insisted she get in my van and let me drive her across the street. She would have had to cross a 6 lane road with people doing an average of 60 and 2 blind spots and a hill.  With people laying on their horns behind me I stopped and refused to move, until she got in. She refused at first. “Oh no dear, I am fine”  But I insisted.  I just knew in my gut if I did not pick this woman up, she would be on the news as a lost angel. I figured seeing my soccer madness (I coach and the backseat was full of ball bags and cone clutter), my yoga pants and messy hair, she decided I didn’t look like a murderer, and she got in. I asked her where she lived, and ended up taking her all the way home. She told me to leave her at the corner, and I told her I was taking her to the door.  I drove her into a neighborhood my friend KT told me I was insane to have been in. KT’s direct words were “Now I KNOW you are a crazy ass cracker redneck, who can handle herself like a hoodrat, but I don’t even go into that part of town, and I would fit in. You done lost your mind momma!”  And when I dropped her off she said something to me that really hit home. She told me she sometimes wondered if there is still good people with good hearts in the world. She knew there were, but lately everyone is so caught in their own lives, we seem to forget others are out there. And her daughter would never believe she was sent an angel. That hit me hard. I realized, she was right. She kept trying to pay me, asking if I needed anything. I told her to please just pay it forward. Do something kind for someone else. I realized, too, it was time for me to shift my thinking. I went into that day focused on rushing by. Instead, I need to slow down. And I need to focus on avoiding the negative. KT and I chatted as I worked my way back out of the neighborhood, and that is when we came up with a ten day challenge. I decided, with the two of us having such a great fanbase it was time to get others on board. So here is my challenge to you… (As posted to my Facebook Page)

Start a positive revolution with me! It’s officially the DAY. Our challenge will start today. (It’s 1 AM my time. Lets roll with it!) I have decided to start a mini-movement. Join me in the Mom-T for Drama Free for Positivity challenge! (Part 1, ten day challenge)

I am challenging my fans, all 9,459 of you (or the average 900 who actually see my posts) to go DRAMA and Negativity free and do positive things for the next 10 days. Its a hell of a lot harder than you might think. Because those every day annoyances can add up.

Rules and Parts of the Challenge:
1) No negative facebook postings/vents to friends/ commentary when life throws you lemons. Instead, try to find a way to make life take the lemons back. That guy in front of you is a brake happy asshat? He is slowing you down enough to see the cloud shaped like a bear giving a hug to a kitten. Kid spilled milk all over the kitchen table? Its a chance to show him/her responsibility and have them assist in cleaning it up, and at least your phone/laptop wasn’t in the puddle! Dog threw up in your shoes? Again? At least he is not eating them. Etc. And if the urge to vent comes, swallow it, and move on.

2) If someone posts drama, IGNORE IT. Do not comment. Do not LIKE. IGNORE AND MOVE ON. If someone tags you into drama, just remove the tag. And move ON.

3) Pay it forward EVERY SINGLE DAY during the challenge. Help an elderly person load their groceries into the car. Buy the next guy in line his Starbucks. Give to your local charity, or my personal favorite (my son did this once) Make smile face cards and hand them out to random people just to make their day a little better.

4) Write 3 REAL LETTERS and MAIL THEM in the US MAIL to a friend or relative. It can be someone you see all the time, or a lost relative. But send someone something that will brighten their day, besides a bill!

5) Disconnect time: Set aside at least ONE HOUR DAILY that is not time you would/should be sleeping to go wired free. NO internet. No cell phone, no distractions. Shut it down, read a book, play a game with your kids, visit a neighbor. Go for a walk. Meditate. But NO distractions! My time will be from 7 to 8 PM. If my friends who are on here catch me posting, liking, or commenting, call me out on it. 🙂

6) Reconnect time: Pick 4 people you have lost touch with and send them a note or give them an out of the blue call.

7) Spread the word- the more people you challenge to do this with you, the further this will reach. And the more people you will have to hold you accountable. So. If you are doing this with me, share it, and if you pledge to join me, comment below


Birthdays in Heaven and Two Years of Tears (Tattoos and Suicide Part V)

I have been struggling to cope since my father passed away. I never really had time to grieve.   Today he would have been 61. Why is 61 hitting me so much harder than last year and 60? Because I am a glutton for self-punishment and refuse to show weakness to my family and anyone other than my closest friends.  I even wrote my first blog about it.  I can tell you why… with the sudden unexpected death of my father in law subsequent family based downward spiral, life has not slowed down enough for me to really let go of the emotions.  I have been raging with emotions since my husbands suicide attempt back in January.

To compound my raging emotions and my pain from my father being gone, my son is a mini version of my father. Its scary really how much alike he is to his grandfather. He is gregarious, outgoing, outspoken, and stubborn. He is funny and annoying and loving and sometimes vindictive. He is a mini version of my father, and thereby a mini version of me. I see myself fighting with my son the way I used to with my own dad. Pushing him 5 steps forward to have him bulldozing me three steps back. Setting an agenda and him setting his own pace. I think that is what has made this pain so much more real and so much harder.  I think since we are settling into our new temporary home and our new routine I am finally allowing myself to feel. And I hate it. I f***ing HATE it. I hate feeling the tears. I hate showing weakness. I am the backbone. I hate it. But I guess it is time for me to face it. So here we go.

Two years of tears cried out in a few days time. Feeling pain and owning it as mine.
Searching for answers inside of my soul. Pushing back pain and feeling un-whole.

Days go by, smiles come and fade. Telling the sadness to go, but not being obeyed.
Feeling him daily right by my side, so much more to have said before he had died.

Raising a miniature version of him inside his grandson,
and reliving as a parent, fights as a child I never won.

His birthday is here, though it’s come and gone before,
this season the pain seems overwhelmingly more.

Each moment my son falters, each time we have fights,
I remember similar battles with my father on insomnia filled nights.

A mini version of my father in my son’s smiling face
A heart loving too much for one tiny space.

Birthdays in heaven. It’s too far away.
Two years of tears now flowing, in just a few days.


Momtroversial Parenting – Knitting the Lies

I have put myself into a full blown flare-up. I literally made myself sick with a parenting decision I made tonight. I went against every fiber and core of my being. Because I said I would. And there has to be follow through. But I am sitting here in intense pain and literally sick. I have a disease that is similar to Crohn’s and stress causes major issues. I almost welcome the pain. Fighting tears as I looked at the damage done. Knowing in my heart this was the RIGHT thing to do. No it wasn’t. This was too extreme. You broke a long ago promise to yourself. And you went against everything you fought against as a mom. You broke your own advice. Feels like shit doesn’t it? Pain? You deserve it. The emotional toll is half what he is going through

King Pig and I have a problem child. We expected it. I almost welcomed it. I am known as a modern Mary Poppins as a nanny. I handle kids with quirks and issues all the time. I can easily handle one of my own like that. Famous last words from the super nanny. Want to pull your hair out still? Starting to understand why that one family always seemed to have reasons to come home late? You get what you wish for chick! He is curious, exceptionally bright, energetic, and challenging. Just today I got a letter, they want to put him in advanced classes at his new school to give him more of a challenge. Its the modern day gifted and talented class. A few doctors place him on the Autism spectrum, and I came to terms with that. I basically agree with the official diagnosis of SPD (Sensory Processing Disorder) Which is why I am so ill right now. But I am at my wits end with my problem child. And a punishment is a punishment right? So I am laying here looking furtively at my dresser and trying to breathe. Because tonight, I took away… THE BLANKIE   

I am an extreme believer in the power of comfort items. The need for some children to have that one “safe” item or place. I know adults who still have their blankies, and I even had a long discussion about this on my Facebook page. He has developed a habit of lying. And its about both little things and big things. It’s telling fantastic tales about new pet parrots and telling lies about how he was making noise because so-and-so rubbed soap in his eye. It’s constant. And it got so bad we have sign on his wall in his room. It reads  “Liars are LOSERS – 1) Lose Toys 2) Lose Privileges 3) Lose Friends 4) Lose the Blankie.” And he was up to round 4. So I took it. For a brief moment I gave it back. I left him to cry it out and when I came in an hour later to check on him, I found him passed out on his floor. As soon as I lifted him back into the bed, he starting reaching around for it. Whimpering in his sleep. And I briefly caved. Then I went upstairs to take a shower and while I was in there I found my backbone and went back and snuck it away. You took it. How could you TAKE it? You always tell your friends, take anything you want, but not the blankie or stuffie. And you TOOK the BLANKIE. You are officially the worst mom ever. Give it back! NO don’t. I can’t. I HAVE to hold my ground. But its so hard. MAN UP and hold on to it. You told him that was the last straw and you did it. Now stay strong. Or puss out. And let him walk all over you for the rest of his life.

I officially feel like the worst mom ever. But I am truly not sure what else to do. I’ve already gone in to comfort him a few times.  Something tells me I am in for a long night.


Parenting Fail- It was a little Mom-troversial…

I feel like a criminal and a failure as a mom. Because I did something I was not supposed to do. It made me feel so bad. I felt like a total failure as a mom. But I had no choice. I could see the look of disappointment on the faces of all those who have been supporting me. How could I do this to my child? How could I have let myself do it? I could have stuck to my guns, held my ground, been super mom. I was a failure. And I still am. My crime…is horrific. Especially to a lot of mommas out there. But…I am on a budget, and honestly not ready to deal with the volatile environment anymore. My house has become downright…hostile. So I did it. I gave in. I failed. His doctor was so shocked. But…I…Fed my child a sandwich. On WHITE BREAD.  Yep. I fed him a sandwich. A horrible gluten filled mass of peanut-butter and NOT sugar free jam. And a package of GUMMY SNACKS. Worst. Mom. EVER.

You see…the reason this will be seen as a crime is I have been trying to go Paleo for him. I am trying to eliminate all gluten, all food dyes, and all sugar from his diet. But Hurricane is like a crack addict with the bread and crackers. He is taking the sugar thing in stride. Some whining, but tolerable. But the bread. The glorious, glorious, bread. It is his go to comfort food. His snack of choice. And he was hating me. With a passion.

Hurricane has a hard time in school. They are throwing around the words ADD/ADHD, and he already has a diagnosis of Sensory Pervasive Disorder. Before they pull the go to “Maybe he needs medication” card, aka the “Make your child an obedient robot zombie” choice, I was looking at options and I called his awesomeamazingwonderfultakescareofmeinspiteoflackofinsurance Occupational Therapist for her opinion. She agreed with several of my friends and family members we needed to start with his diet. Not that he ate badly. But he did eat more processed and more sugar than he should. So I went cold turkey. And it. Has been. HELL.

As he munched his meat roll ups and ate his raw veggies at lunch, he was loathing me. He was coming home and laying into me. He was cranky. He was irate. In short, my six year old child had become, an asshole. And I was warned, he would detox, but he would be fine after TWO OR THREE WEEKS. I’m sorry. But I have NO patience for that madness. I want to enjoy snuggles and happy time in our limited time together. With me working three jobs I barely see my son. So to spend the time we have together fighting, was not working for me. So I did it. I gave in. I made him a sandwich. I am still sticking to sugar free.  I am giving him more fresh fruit, raw veggies, and more. I am slowly cutting back his intake of gluten. But I refuse to go cold turkey. Because I love my son and I want to be happy together not fighting.

So…pass the boy his rolls and dairy free butter.


Out of the mouths of babes…a Mom-troversial Moment or two…

We do things a lot different in the Mom-T household. We are ALL full of sass and crass. It’s just the Mom-T way. So I should never be shocked at the things that my child says or my students say. Or the fact even King Pig (my husband for you newbies) can say or do things that are a bit…controversial or just down right hilarious.  For example…

Hurricane has decided he wants to be a fireman. So everything in his world is firefighters. Drawings, stories, books, videos. His favorite show is Rescue Heroes.  He made a drawing of a buidling on fire being put out by firemen. ANd my husband told him it was missing the screaming victims. Now, Hurricane can NOT pronounce the word horror. It always comes out WHORE. So he draws this awesome picture, my husband says his piece and Hurricane flips. “Damn it daddy! It’s always whores with you! Whores whores whores! All you ever talk about is whores. BIG whores, bad whores. Its firemen daddy. NOT whores.” I was laughing too hard to correct him to HORROR or admonish him for saying damn it. Another time I was eating my favorite pickles, a brand called Bubbies. (Best pickles EVER, BTW).

“Whatcha eating mommy? Pickles? Mommy they are… (sounds out label) Boooooobies. Mommy you look happy to have those Boooobies in your mouth….”

Then there was my students deciding to talk in all numbers. To pass the long drive on a field trip, one of the students started a “talk in mostly numbers” game” Being me… I got into it. They got loud. I threatened to “pull this van over right now and 137 you guys right now!” One of the students responded and I almost wrecked. (Names changed, obviously) “Well, Ms. Mom T, if you pull over to 137 us we will all get even. Bubble girl will 39 you, Puppy-boy will 49 you, Captain Mad will 59 you, and I will…” I had to cut him off. I almost wrecked laughing. But yeah. Of all the numbers for him to pick…

Songs are the best as well. Lyrics being sung completely wrong, or completely right. And funny. For example, we were not Making Thunderherds, we were “Making up with Nerds”. And don’t get me started on the Barbie girl song…

And no one can ever forget him telling me I needed to get peanut butter for my pussy. Because the kitten had gum in her fur. Yep. Kids.


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