Walk with me.

It's a funny thing when all of a sudden there's much more to think about then you had intended... wanted... cared for..... you get the drift. Some days I'd like to be left alone. With out my thoughts. For just one day.

My grandparents are coming to visit on Tuesday. I have to cram in cleaning before they come. Cram in meal planning, grocery shopping, laundry, and yard work. Not to mention the fine dance of getting in work hours ahead of time, so I can enjoy their few days with me.

They are my "real" grandparents. Ya know... my blood. When my mother was the last to abandon us, they raised us for a few years, actually for 70% of the first 6 years of my little life. They're part mom and dad to me. Which is complicated in itself, because I crave that love from them, but I'm not necessarily sure they want to give it. Maybe they do, but it's certainly on their own terms.

I remember when we were adopted out, pulling out of the drive way, feeling as though my heart had been torn from my chest. Felt as though they ran over that, too, driving down the road... a little piece of my heart here, a pebble in the road there. I remember the heart ache I felt. It physically hurt me. I missed them so. I cried night after night. I shoved any thing that reminded me of them under my bed, in the closet. I felt as though I could barely stand it. I didn't think I could bare it. And. Of Course. Neither could my "new" parents. They called my grandparents. They said they didn't want me, it was too hard, they needed to take me back. That didn't go over well. And yet, there we stayed. If only I knew the abuse to come, maybe I would have cried harder. Pleaded to be rescued.

As long as I can remember, my grandmother still clutches me to her when ever it's time to say goodbye. Same drill. Every. Single. Time. She cries. I cry. I feel like that little girl again. It hurts. It takes my breath away. I spend part of my visit with them dreading the farewells. I can barely stand it. That little girl will always be a part of me. Always. Why?

Perhaps I should try to be-friend her again. That little girl in me. Maybe this time it won't be so hard. Maybe this time we can do it together.

When all else fails.

Yes she did. When all else fails, wear undies on your head and bras around your neck. And now the secret of my laundry success is out. I dress my kids in layers - many, many layers. Who said folding and putting away was a good thing, anyway? Make 'em wear every thing. Make 'em wear it all. Peal and wash. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

I'm feeling a *little weird* today. I have a lot on my mind. Things to do, things to mull over, things to figure out.

And now, some additional things to point out:

1. When one of your cat dies, don't go buy your kids a new kitten a day or so later. Which I did. And we're picking it up this evening.

2. If you check your husband's emails, upon his request, and have to send a response back to his boss, do NOT write your own name, instead of his. Which I did. Um...yeah.....

3. If you plan on keeping a head start on your Saturday chores, do not stay in your nightie until 2 in the afternoon. Which I did. Hell - I'm still wearing it.

Some lessons I just never, never learn...... what ever are we going to do with me?

Behind isn't so bad after all.

I'm behind. Very. So my next several posts are outdated, but you love me, so you don't care.... right? At least that's what I'm telling myself.

I took these last week. LAST week was back to school night for the kids. This week is their first week back. Can any one else say "kick in the pants"? We're making it, but I miss my babes. Totally.

This is my first completed 30 hour work week, or, should I say it will be after my 4 hours tomorrow? It's not as bad as I thought. Olivia and I hunkered down in my home office... er... home office corner, and barring several messes, we made it. Barely.

Now that I have some free time on my hands, I am going to blog your pants off this weekend... or at least my pants off.... can any one say "scheduled posts"?? I sure can. I love 'em.

And.

I love you, I'll be in touch..... you won't know what hit you when my comments start flooding in.

Disaster.

We're past this now, so I can't post about it, right? Now that I am not so irritated. So THIS happened right in the middle of my work week (last week), I'm still behind in hours, but there just isn't too much I can freaking do about it.

Olivia sprained her ankle, or should I say one of my other kids sprained it for her. Long story, too little time. I probably shouldn't out one of my other kids either. Too embarrassing. Yet - - Miserable experience, I tell ya. Very painful, very draining. Maybe I'm still not over it. *weeping*

But, alas, she's still in one piece, and her little self has healed just fine.

Moving on.......

All boy.

Who wouldn't feel more safe at home with this man around?

Now to change gears. I got my period today. Which was a surprise, because the 2nd drug I need to take was to actually induce a period. The Metformin, which I am on now, is working, better than expected. Don't get excited. There'll be no extra effort this month. If I were to get pregnant this month, the baby would be born end of May next year. I can't miss out on the kid's end of-the-school-year-celebrations, so the first month I want to give birth next year is June. That's why September will be the big push with Clomid. Funny to be talking about next year's summer vacation when we're just ending this one.

I can't say I've been spot on this week. I have things planned for the kids and I to do, but now that I'm working from home 25 hours a week, even fun activities can be an extra stress. Yesterday we bowled and I took the kids out to eat. Today was red box night and treats. Tomorrow we have lunch out, plus feeding the ducks, and playing at the park. I'm looking forward to it, but in the back of my mind I'm always planning on how I can get my hours in, school prep in, cleaning in, with out totally wiping myself out. Which is a joke because I am so freaking tired.

And. To top it off, I bitched the kids out tonight. I swear the neighbors think I am satan, that is, if they can hear me. I worry too much. Screw 'em, right? The kids were fighting. I was trying to put away (new) clean clothes for the kids to have for next week, and to top it off, Hannah and Ian decided to let Olivia play in a sugar bowl - - you know the drill, I had sugar all over my kitchen. I yelled at the kids, sent them to bed, got my oldest two up again because I felt guilty, they started fighting again, I sent them back to bed, let them get back out, and here we are. Some days I tell ya.... some freaking days.......

I'm just trying to do it right, get it right, be right, feel right, love right, scold right, teach right. I'm tired. So, so tired.

Shout.

Doesn't this just shout summer to you?

Some days I freaking love playing with my kids.

Farm It Up.

With out fail, I am proved over and over again, that my children are capable of making me eat my words. For instance. This little Miss. Rides a pony, and loves it? WHAT? She is still asking for more!

With out fail, I've realized that I am capable of taking care of my children when they are sick, but it really pisses me off to be my husband's nurse. For today, for example. I haven't been so nice. Am I evil? Get your own damn barf bucket.

With out fail, when ever I really need to be careful when I pour something, I spill it. Like today. I spilled powerade on my computer. I sure did.

This starts the last week of summer vacation. I'm a little sad, well, a lot sad. Where did the freaking time go? It slipped right through my fingers. The kids and I are on our own this week, partying it up. Due to my husbands large pay cut, decreased vacation time, and increased over time hours - - the kids and I will have to manage having fun every day with out him. Sad, I know. Not joking.

We have something planned every day this week - - that is - - if the kids get over their stomach bug in time. I've been in an interesting place the past week - - trying to swallow my husband's thousand-dollar-a-month pay cut, increasing my own work hours, while increasing my feeling that I just don't know how to get it all done. All the while starting to take the first of three fertility drugs I'm on. I fear I'm slowing losing it.

Which may be the perfect time to switch gears and show you these! We went to Farm Country yesterday, and had a blast. I love seeing my kids happy. **sigh**

Some things never change.

Guess what I spent my Monday evening doing? I'm behind as I can get. Some things never change.

It's official.

It's official. I took the first pill. The first pill that begins the start of my fertility treatments. And. I dragged my feet. Dragged them because I know I'm in for a not-so-happy tummy, but, it's just part of the party. I'm excited. Nervous. Scared. Trying to block out the "what if it doesn't work?", and replace those words with "I'll be pregnant in no time *shrieks of glee*". You ready for the ride? It might get ugly. I'm warning you boys out there. My one boy reader that I know of. This blog may turn into several posts full of TMI (too much information). So. The warning is as follows: buyers beware. You might get a brain full. Run. Fast. Run far, far away.

I talked to this way cool guy tonight. I love him. He's one of my bestest friends. He's my brudder.... yes, I just wrote that. He's my Keefers. And. He doesn't read this blog, so that's his name, and I'm sticking to it. The "mom and dad" came for a visit. To see him. Not me. Yikes, I know. Scarey, I know that too. He explained that the visit was alright, that they still don't do any thing normal people do (some things never change), and he also said some thing else that made my ears tingle. He said he hated that when people meet them, they seem so nice, so put together, like no one would ever know. He said to his girlfriend, and I loved this, he said "You are meeting some one I don't know, I know a person different then you're meeting". He's right. It's true. It's not like they walk around with a sign tattooed on their heads (or asses) that say "child abusers, kid beaters". No one knows what they really were were "love with-holders, dreams killers, prison enforcers". Part of me wants every one to know. They suck. And just a little part of me wants to give them a quick, hard kick in the ass. Right out the door. They better not mess with my brudder. This girl learned how to kick some ass - from the best ass kickers around - them.

Ironic, isn't it?