Halloween Fun

Punkin Boy dressed up as a cowpoke for the church "Fall Social and Trunk or Treat" (OK, so it was a Halloween party). Looking very cute and grown-up here.

What happens when you teach a Pirate Boy martial arts... Devilishly handsome, isn't he? (My sword is a little bit big for him still, I think.)

#1 Son opted to sleep instead of go to the party... he regretted it later. So no pictures of him today.

The Drugs Are Good

That was the pronouncement from a friend of a friend who finally got onto antidepressants. And it's been frequently heard around this area since The Man got onto Prozac last week.

I've been a big fan of Prozac since spring of '91, when it turned me from a bad-tempered, suicidal slug (only a slight exaggeration) into someone I'd never been before: someone who smiled and laughed and got things done and had so much to look forward to. And it happened instantly, for which I've always been grateful.

The Man has been an anti-fan of all kinds of medications for as long as I've known him, so it was hard for him to face taking pills long-term. The doctors all say it may take 3 to 5 weeks for the meds to reach full effect, and I was seriously worried that it really would in this case. I couldn't be sure he'd actually keep taking them if he didn't notice a difference soon.

But my fears were unfounded. He went from Mr. Hyde back to Dr. Jekyll in about 60 seconds. And there he has stayed. Still an off-the-wall brainiac, with no signs of the wild beast he'd been and no inclination to do evil apparent. My husband is back! The drugs are good.

On a Lighter Note

There's nothing quite as cute as Punkin Boy tippy-tapping on the laptop while he sings "White and Nerdy." Dude!

Boot to the Head

First, I just want to say that I was justified in never wanting to experience the life of a single mom. It is HARD. Fortunately, I was practically living that life already, so it's not been too shocking a transition. ;-)

Second, I want everyone to know that I feel better now than I've felt in months. It's such a relief not to be living with that rabid animal that was pretending to be my husband.

Third, and most important, I'm cautiously optimistic that the judicious application of a boot to the head and keister of my dearly beloved husband was just the wake-up call he needed to get rid of the rabies. Yes, it's abominable that it took something so severe, but no other method was working. This one seems to have. Take a look at his blog and see what you think. I'm hopeful that things can get back to good again.

The boot stands at the ready, though. And I'm not giving him a key to my house anytime soon. Must make it safe first.

Done, Done, Done

Well, I had to do it without the combat boots, and I couldn't stop myself from slapping his lying, cheating face, but he's gone. And I'm getting the locks changed tonight. And sleeping with one eye open and my fingers on the phone. The Man I know would never hurt me or the kids, he certainly wouldn't cheat on his wife or endanger his family, but The Man I know isn't here anymore. I wonder if he even exists still.

Hell Hath No Fury

Well, I found more answers. With pictures, even. I really wish I hadn't.

That's not true. I just wish the answers weren't what they are.

Note to Incrediboy: "Who I am" is a former spy. Never forget that.

Bang! Gotcha...

Oh I so want to swear. But I won't. I must be nice. I must absolutely not go to this house and get some answers about where my husband's been lately. But if any of you guys do, be sure to give the woman who lives there Elastigirl's regards. (And don't say a thing about tactical nukes; you'll ruin the surprise.)

Gimme an "E"!

I've been having kind of a rough time lately, as you can probably tell. Crying a lot, very confused about what to do next. But slowly, I'm recovering. For example, I've managed to get my eyelids to a more normal shape and color recently. What it took was a little help. When I needed to confront the problems in my first marriage, I had Tank Girl. This time, I saw the light one day when Punkin was watching this:

Helen: [sobbing] Now I'm losing him! What'll I do? What'll I do?
Edna: What are you talking about?
Helen: [stops crying] Huh?
Edna: [shouts] You are Elastigirl! My God...
[swatting Helen with a newspaper]
Edna: Pull-yourself-together! "What will you do?" Is this a question? You will show him that you remember that he is Mr. Incredible, and you will remind him who *you* are. Well, you know where he is. Go, confront the problem. Fight! Win!
[normal voice]
Edna: And call me when you get back, darling. I enjoy our visits.
~~~~~

I love E. She's so cool. I have managed to mostly snap out of it, though I still do have these crying jags. But all day, these words go through my head: "Remind him who you are!" Too bad that who he is is apparently kind of a jerk these days.

I Just Want to Know...

What happened to the man who wrote this? And this?

I just don't understand.

Ummm....

I don't know what to say. Honestly, I don't even know what to do. I do know that I probably won't post here again for a while and that I'll really miss doing so. I want to tell you all the insignificant little things going on in my life, but a big significant thing has come up and I don't know how it's going to turn out. I'm sorry. The last thing I need is to be alone right now, but I think that's what's going to happen. I'll write again later if I survive.

Oh Happy Day

Yes, the oldest boy is back, and yes, the younger boys are delirious with joy. Pirate Boy is doubly happy because he has started second grade and loves his teacher, his class, his curriculum AND the fact that he's been placed in third-grade math. So proud of himself! (OK, I'm proud of him, too.) I'm a little surprised that he's not in third-grade something else, but they do have a lot of really smart kids to deal with. Punkin is feeling ambivalent; he's glad #1 Son is back, he's sad that his brothers go off to school without him now, and he feels pretty OK about having Mama all to himself during the day. (Let me tell you, he'd much rather be in kindergarten!)

I'll tell you the best thing about this week, though. Within a half hour of his arrival home, #1 Son had finished telling us all about his exciting trip to China and his new sister and their trip to Nebraska and the Weird Al concert and everything. Now he was somehow surrounded by his younger brothers laughing and talking and clamoring for his attention. Dinner was on the table, everybody was busy. Suddenly, I heard our boy give such a laugh of delight it warmed my heart. "I'm SO GLAD to be home!" he crowed. We're so glad to have him.

Heart's Blood

Tonight I'm feeling bloody. Not just as in "bloody awful" or even "did I bloody well need that?" No, I feel battered and torn and in need of medical attention. It's only mostly a hallucination. (OK, this is where all the Pollyannas get to leave the room, shaking their heads and muttering, "Geez, another self-pity party...") I don't mean it that way; I just need to talk about it. Get the bile out. Keeping it in will kill me.

I may be wrong there. Thinking about it gives me the nearest thing to a heart attack, and I surely don't need that at this time on a Saturday night. I fought one off last night that would have had me in the ER if we'd had any health insurance or any money or any hope of either. Just color me impoverished and depressed and waiting to die. Yay.

I haven't posted for the past few days because I turned my right hand into a chunk of well-done meat while fixing dinner one night and I just can't type left-handed. It still hurts to do a lot of things, and even the heat of this laptop is getting to me. But I tell you what, if I ever get an overdone steak again, I'm pulling out my big ol' bottle of Coppertone Aloe AfterSun to use as sauce. It has saved my life this week and kept this second-degree burn from needing a doctor. (I'm not looking forward to having all these blisters pop, though. That's gonna be UGLY.)

TM is back in school (I may have mentioned that), and the kids start back on Tuesday. Well, presumably, both of them do. You know how Miss Thing picked up #1 Son early, right? Here's me innocently thinking that she just wants to take him to Harry Potter, and at least she'll bring him back in time for us to take him school shopping and get his hair cut and adjust his brain to not being on the "All Fun, All the Time" channel. Well, I was naive.

TM emailed her a week or so ago to invite her to bring #1 Son to junior-high orientation on Thursday. It's kind of important for him; the students will be getting their schedules, their lockers, and several other useful items they'll need for the school year. I need not mention the value of getting acquainted with teachers and classmates, or just the freaking-out potential of starting junior high. But of course, she didn't want to let him go. And because of that, he didn't care to go either.

Well, it turns out that she was taking him to a Weird Al concert Friday evening, so I could understand. And since it was on the way, she could just... what? She could take him to Nebraska for the weekend? Because why? (I still don't have an answer on that one.) And on her way back Monday, she'll ever so kindly drop him off at our place. If he's lucky, he'll get a good night's sleep as his entire preparation for 7th grade. Lucky guy.

It makes me sick to even think of the consequences of this one. He was having a hard enough time in 6th grade. How on earth is he going to deal with walking in totally clueless on the first day of 7th? Badly, that's how. But "Mommy time" is more important than anything else he could possibly have or do in his entire life. Although I understand how painful it is to have to let go of this person you love as if your heart is walking around outside your body, I do not understand how she can mistreat that other person like she does. If you love him, let him have a life.

But she doesn't. I worry about her new "daughter" (I'm sorry, I can't think of this as a real family situation, the way things are) so much. TM finally got #1 Son to talk about his new "sister"; it turns out that they did bring her back from China after all. And she is just as deaf as we thought (but Miss Thing wouldn't admit). And she "tells on" him all the time, although I don't know how, since she speaks neither English nor ASL (not that Miss Thing would know ASL either). Oh, such a happy, normal family.

I Meant to Say...

Drug-induced brain fry continues to march along. Every day, with practically everything I do, I realize I've forgotten something. And boy, is that irritating. TM reminded me this evening of something I'd meant to mention last time in my rant about #1 Son's current jerky stepfather. Well, a couple of things. First, we still don't know whether those heinous excuses for adoptive parents actually got to bring back their new "daughter" with them from China.

Second, would you believe that those jerks (I don't know which one it was; I'm guessing it was "Mommy Dearest") not only took a photo of #1 Son sitting on the toilet, but actually posted it on the Web album, at the top of the page, where it would be the first thing to show up? Another reason I could happily slice them both up, pour acid on the pieces, and dance on the remains... I almost pitied her when I realize what a jerk she's married to, but I suspect she shares his ideas of humor.

And of course, she's not even considering bringing him here for junior-high orientation on the 30th, 'cause that might deprive her of something, like the ability to keep him away from us. (She'll say it's about her time with him, but she doesn't spend it with him; she goes to work and lets him watch TV all day or roam about the neighborhood. Yay, mom.) Must wait until the 1st, even though she picked him up a couple days early. His time with his dad? Oh who cares-- motherhood is everything.

My GYN asked me the other day (after checking my blood pressure) whether I have a lot of stress in my life. I almost said, "No, why?" Heh. I think what I said was something like, "Well, there is that whole being out of work for almost 2 years and having no money thing. That's a bit stressful." She looked at me weird. "Are you still married?" she asked sharply. "Well, yes, of course..." and then I realized the implications of her question, the unspoken addendum: "And what is your husband doing all this time?" Going to school, I swear (though I try not to). Two more years. Always two more years.

Birth of a Mother

For those who were wondering, I had a laid-back, relaxed birthday. I slacked off totally on work and instead played Pirates! with my kids. We baked a chocolate cake and gave it rum-flavored, sea-green frosting. Yum! The Man ended up having to work most of the day and night, but he was home long enough to have dinner with us, so that was nice. (Dinner was Domino's pizza, courtesy of my baby sis. I totally refused to cook that day.)

Friday was little Cat's birthday; before we went to bed that night, Little Sis and her man had sent us photos from the party. What a cutie! I got to see pictures of her birth-mom and -grandma, who were there. The Man had to work from 8 a.m. to 2 a.m., so I was on my own basically forever. I took it a little easy, but had to make up the work I missed and oh, my house!

Saturday TM and I finally got to spend some quality time together. He had bought me a movie (The Corpse Bride) but we just sat and talked. It had been a while, and as much as I like Johnny Depp, I love my husband more. My folks had sent a gift card for Cold Stone Creamery (yum!), so I sent him out after the kids were in bed, and he returned with a couple cartons of sheer heaven. (Bing cherries were made to go in chocolate, that's all there is to it.)

Sunday, though... Actually, it was OK except I wasn't feeling well and had to lie down a lot of the day. Hmm, come to think of it, that's not really too bad at all. In the evening, I was up and about when TM opened an email from The Evil One's (third) husband. It had a link to the photos he took on their China trip, and I was anxious to see them. As I peered over TM's shoulder and waited for the photos to load (slowest photo site EVER), I noticed the title Satan's spouse had placed on this particular album: "My doofy stepson traipsing around China."

I went from peaceful to livid in 0.2 seconds. My hands actually clenched and I leaned slightly toward the monitor with a desperate desire to crush that man's throat and dance on his chest in spike heels. How DARE he??? was the tattoo of my heartbeat. How dare he call my stepson "doofy," and in a public forum, at that? Where exactly did he get off insulting his wife's child, in any case, and how on earth could he justify that, considering what nasty words (including "convicted, confessed child molester") could legitimately be applied to her stepson, his vile spawn?! The utter and unmitigated gall of the man!

Realizing how high my blood pressure was rising, I took a deep breath and a couple steps back. I tried to relax, but couldn't quite calm myself down. The outrage was unbelievable. As I closed my eyes and drew more deep breaths, I realized that my reaction wasn't altogether typical for a stepmother. That fanatical, violent surge of adrenaline belonged more to a protective mama bear, willing to stand up to anything for her children. And so I am. And he is mine. I hope he comes back soon.

Happy Anniversary to Me

Nine years, can you believe it? Nine years ago this afternoon (Hawaii time), TM and I were trailing behind a white-robed, hippy-ish island preacher across the grounds of the new "Fantasy Island" TV show, trying to get the workmen to get out of the way so we could go ahead with our wedding ceremony. Some highlights of the event (in case I haven't mentioned them too many times for you to forget), in no particular order:

• a large dog that knocked #1 Son (age 3) down and licked him all during the ceremony
• a manky but colorful parrot that sat on people's heads
• a long mournful blast on a conch shell to signify a long happy life together
• bridesmaids (and bride) in tropical print dresses
• a groom in a Hawaiian shirt and leafy lei
• the loud but gleeful statement, "I'm not wearing any underwear!"
• a preacherly monologue featuring the words "intimate relationships with animals"
• ocean breezes rustling the palm trees and tall grasses
• a massive mosquito attack on the legs of bride and bridesmaids
• wonderful family and friends, most of whom had made a long trip just for our special day (the chance to have a Hawaiian vacation wasn't a draw at all, I'm sure)

After cake, cookies, and socializing in the park, TM and I drove off into the be-rainbowed sunset for a relaxing wedding night at the Turtle Bay Hilton, with guava cake for breakfast. Not a bad start, really. Here's to the next nine years.

Getting Old

A lot of things seem to be getting old this week, not the least of which is me. That's right, kids, I'm less than a week from my dreaded 40th birthday. No, I haven't really been dreading it. I've been avoiding thinking about it. And when I do think of my age, I feel like I'm already 40 and looking pretty good considering. Well, I can dream, can't I? Fortunately, several of my friends have already turned 40; one of them called me this week and mentioned that the son of our other friend had graduated high school on her (Friend 1's) birthday this year. Ew, how old I feel.

And then I look around at my life and my little ones. Oh sure, at the family reunion last week, I saw my cousin who's 3 years older than me, and realized that she could be a grandma within the year. But I can't! As good as my little guys are about taking care of their "babies," they're nowhere near the age of having any of their own. Thank goodness!

#1 Son is another story. He called Friday to say he'd just gotten back from China, and I talked to him for a while. He was full of news about the trans-Pacific flight, traffic in China, their luggage getting lost, and people photographing him because he's a blonde. With some prompting, he told me about climbing the Great Wall, visiting Tiananmen Square, and seeing the terra cotta soldiers. Eventually, he mentioned the orphanage (that's what this whole trip was about, right? the adoption?) but only to tell how greedy and grabby the little kids were when he started handing out candy.

Then he said something I found really interesting. "For 2 weeks, I was an adult," he told me proudly. "In China, 12 is the age of adulthood." Really. I may not have mentioned it in this forum (although I'm vocal enough about it elsewhere), but the "sister" his Mommy is buying him (I have no doubt this is the way she thinks of it) is 12 years old, same as him. (Well, of course; he needs a playmate his own age. Duh.) Which makes me wonder about the Chinese as much as about the psycho woman. They know.

I've been wondering all this time who would allow this adoption to go forward, considering the circumstances. Besides the molester (who doesn't actually live with them and has had his record erased now that he's an adult in this country), there's still a boy who's entering his teens. And there's this girl his age, who's considered an adult in her country. And they're arranging for them to live in the same house (at least part of the time). And of course, Miss Thing can just leave either or both of them at the house anytime, 'cause they're old enough...

When he heard about it, TM's brother summed up the situation succinctly, "I can predict the future, and what I see is... a pregnant Asian chick." Tacky but likely. Damn that woman. Her insanity is decidedly getting old.

Miner 49-er

My dad passed along this article today; being from that area, his family is passing around a lot of articles related to the mining situation this week. Apparently my cousin contacted a reporter and got some stuff into the paper. Kinda cool, but still sad.

I Can't Believe It

I just cannot believe it. Actually, this could have begun the post I was tempted to write last night, which would have been a long whiny rant about how if I hadn't been so darned responsible as to double-check at the last minute, I wouldn't have even known that I was supposed to report for jury duty this morning. And how I'd forgotten when I postponed it originally (it was supposed to be during my family reunion last week) that today was my deadline as well as smack-dab in the middle of Migraine Week. And how I was going to lose out on about $100, which my family could ill afford at this time. And don't get me started about "What am I supposed to do with my kids all day?" That was a good whine.

But guess what? I went to jury duty, the kids went to work with dad, they had a great time, I got dismissed right away, we got home for lunch and a nap, I finished my articles in plenty of time (for the first time ever) and have actually been working on other people's! Punkin Boy fell asleep early, so bedtime was very quiet, and Pirate Boy promises to sleep till noon tomorrow. (Don't you believe it; but it's very nice of him.)

Whew! I am not staying up past midnight tonight. Must get rid of the puffy eyes from crying my self-pitying loser self to sleep last night. And I'll probably have no work at all to do tomorrow. Can you believe how sweet life is?

Quick! Look Over There!

Yo ho ho, my youngest niece Cat steals all the treasure while Punkin Boy and Darla (a.k.a. the crew) are distracted. She tells her mama (via sign language) that she plans to eat it. Well, that's a safe hiding place... sort of.

By the Way

It's on my mind, although I haven't mentioned it: #1 Son is on his trip to China, or at least I presume so. (Miss Thing doesn't bother sending an email saying, "OK, we're leaving tomorrow" or anything. The only information we've got is what he told me after talking to her on the phone a couple weeks back. How any parent can be expected to live this way is beyond me.)

Now tell me, you parents out there (and even you non-parents with a bit of imagination): With the information that's been in the news lately, combined with the widespread pet sickness, would you feel comfortable about your kid traveling (and specifically eating) in China these days? Me neither.