If Mama Ain't Happy...

Slacktastic Holiday

You know those people who have the holiday all put together and fabulous? The ones with the house so nicely decorated with a themed tree, and the gifts purchased and wrapped well in advance, whose families smile beatifically from the lovely photocard? The ones who serve you perfected frosted sugar cookies and spiced cider during their charming holiday open house parties?
 
That is so not me. In a good year, I have mutant looking gingerbread men (tasty, but fugly) and maybe some decent port from my wine club shipment. I have a Charlie Brown-looking tree with unrecognizable clay blob ornaments that I made when I was in preschool mixed in with the Looney Tunes figures and the gazillion "World's Best Music Teacher" ornaments Hubby's kids have given him for the past 15 years. If I manage to get a picture of the kids all smiling at the camera and no one is wearing white athletic socks with their dress shoes, I consider it a monumental victory. In a good year, I'm online finishing my shopping on December 20th, and I'm wrapping the stocking stuffers on December 23rd.
 
This year, I can't even get myself to that level of preparation. This year, I'm scrambling for a day to take off to do my baking, since my marathon cookie and bread session is one of the few things that I really look forward to when getting ready for Christmas. I don't think cards are happening,and if they do get sent, they will just be signed and will not include cute photos (Princess missed picture day and the make up date altogether because of the hospital stays). The kids' teachers/special educators/counselors/aides will probably get a container of said baked goods, not the handknit scarves originally intended. We'll do the tree, since Hubby and the kids will pick one out, but it may get decorated gradually over the course of two weeks. Gift cards will abound, and I'm sure to be taking advantage of Amazon's rush shipping options. Stockings will be light, and the haul under the tree will be lighter than in previous years. There will be very little in the "unwrapping" realm, since I plan to drop everything into gift bags.
 
This year, having all five of us home and healthy is the best I can hope for. Having a sane, relaxed or calm experience will be considered a Christmas miracle.

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Shamelss self-promotion

So I was getting the kid situated in bed (67% of my children are just sooo over the idea of being "tucked in") and I mentioned to Princess that her Grandy would be at home when she gets dropped off by the carpool tomorrow. Hoss overheard and got excited, since Grandy is all kinds of awesome, according to my children.

 

"Grandy is awesome?" I asked.

 

"OH, yeah!" he replied.

 

 

"Grandy is TEH AWESOME!"

 

"OH YEAH HE IS!" That exchange was repeated a few more times. Then I shook it up.

 

"And your Mama is teh awesome!"

 

"Well," Hoss countered, "I don't know about that..."

 

"Seriously?! How am I not the awesome? I can be pretty awesome."

 

"You mean 'cause you can cook good?" he queried.

 

"Dude. Cupcakes."

 

"OH, yeah. There was that one time when your cupcakes weren't totally and completely awesome, but that was only because I didn't like the frosting."

 

"And I totally am awesome because I have Phineas and Ferb on my iPod," I added.

 

"YOU DO?!!" and he started humming the theme song, which I sang along with for a verse or so. See? I wasn't bluffing. Although he knows full well that my iPod houses his playlist, so he knows that his favorites are there. I'm not as proud of the SpongeBob songs, but the VeggieTales and P&F rock.

 

"Funky knitted glove-mittens. How's that for awesome?" I tossed in.

 

"Are you going to make me some? Stripey ones?" Puh-leeze. As though I'd refuse to knit for the kid. Give me an excuse to play with yarn and I'll leap for it.

 

"You know," he mused, "now that we're making a list, it does seem like you're kinda awesome."

 

Damn straight.

 

 

 

 

 

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Stop me if you've heard this song before

Verse 1- call from the private school about Princess having a breakdown of some sort. Verse 2- ER visit. Verse 3- inpatient stay. Verse 4- partial hospitalization program, waiting for release to return to school.

We're going to change things up, though. Since the private school has not deemed in necessary to actually communicate to us about whether our daughter can return (we found out their requirements for her return, including the need for an additional psychological evaluation as well as the releases from all of her mental health clinicians- hospital staff, individual therapist and group therapy practice- from the conversation the hospital personnel had with the school administration), we are in the process of enrolling her in the local public school. I also have the first meeting for developing an individualized educational program (IEP, for those of you up with the lingo) either in the public school setting or in a specialized school in the county.

I'm trying to keep the whiny, depressing posting to a minimum here. That's why I've been so absent. For more gory details, email me for a link to the other sites at which I post, where I spill my guts on a comment-moderated site where people are accepting of my batshit children and my highly imperfect parenting. Or check back later in hopes that my life will have gone back to shoe shopping and overfilled wine glasses.

M-I-C, see if you can make it through the week! K-E-Y, why? Because you're loony!

Hubby's annual band fundraiser is this weekend, the one which helps fund the trip to the Spring Festival. Once again this year, they are attending the festival in Disneyworld, and whoever is in charge of such things (perhaps it was Hubby, perhaps the lead band parent) decided to make this year's fundraiser dinner a costume party. So, when given the strong encouragement to come up with a Disney-fied costume, I took what I thought would be the easy way out- I'll be a Mouseketeer! Just put on some ears, put my name on a t-shirt, I'm good to go!

 

Did you know that the Disney Store does not sell ears? I found them online, but only with all sorts of embellishments that I don't need. I just wanted a plain set of black mouse ears. So I did what any self-respecting nutjob with a crochet hook would do. I made a set of mouse ears. I crocheted a beanie and two coaster-size circles, sewed the circles onto the hat and attempted to felt it. (For my non-crafty readers, felting is the shrinking process that happens when you put wool into hot water and agitation- you may have done it to a sweater without meaning to. I now have a slightly lint-y set of ears that flop over because I made the circles too big to stand up, even when they got denser in the washer. So tonight, while I am also attempting to finish Little Joe's Parade of Words sandwich board (he has to graphically represent the compound word "Sunday"), I am sewing pipe cleaners around the edge of the ears to make them stay up. And if that doesn't work, I need to make a new set of ears that are not quite so floppy. So much for my "quick and easy" costume.

 

Next year, I plan to dress up at a normal, well adjusted mother. God knows that will be a stretch for me.

 

(And, yes, I will take a picture of the full-on costume over the weekend. Stay tuned.)

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That which does not kill me makes me stronger, I guess?

I think I've decided that any day that does not consist of backsliding or distinct bad things is to be considered a success. Princess started in the day hospital program today (hooray) but the insurance company denied authorization because her last clinical evaluation was more than 24 hours before the admittance (boo!). I hold firm to the belief that the evaluation and documentation from today will cause them to retroactively authorize today's service. If not, I'll find a way to pay for it, even if I have to grovel to every family member I know to float me a loan.

 

I still have not spoken to the new psychiatrist with whom I am trying to develop a new course of treatment for myself. We have traded voicemail messages for over a week now. I choose to cling to the fact that she has not told me that she is not accepting new patients a sign that I will eventually get to pour my soul out to her and get a new prescription to keep myself from slipping away.

 

I've been back on Weight Watchers for a few months now. I haven't lost more than two pounds, and they've come back a few times. I haven't gone any higher than where I started before WW, though, and I'm still a good 15 pounds under the heaviest I ever weighed (OK, that heaviest weight came during pregnancy, still...)

 

Life does not totally and completely suck. I won't be starting an apparel company with that attitude, I know, but it's a start.

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Update, or lack thereof

In the month since my last post, Princess finished her hospital stay and returned to school, only to have another mounting anxiety attack which manifested itself in what some categorize as a suicide attempt (running away from the school with the possible intention of running into the traffic). She returned to the ER, but was released to our care instead of being placed back in an inpatient program. That last incident was on September 23rd, and she has not been cleared to return to school as of yet, and is attending her intensive outpatient therapy every weeknight.

 

Our attempts at getting her into a day hospital program have been...challenging. First we were informed that a space would be available sometime late last week, which became an assurance that a space would probably be available something this week. A call came on Monday that a space would open the following day, but I had to bring her to the office to conduct an assessment, since the hospital required something more current than the observations from her group therapy the previous Friday night. I took a half day off from work to transport and accompany her, and the referral was submitted from our provider according to the directions given by the hospital coordinator. In the few hours it took to conduct and submit the evaluation and referral, the space disappeared. We are now right where we started from almost two weeks ago.

 

Hoss had his own meltdown last Wednesday, running away from his school and being brought back by the police. It's been well over a year since he's acted out this way, but his grief or stress or whatever is pretty understandable given the circumstances. The police officer categorized him as being at risk (despite many assurances to the contrary from the school counselor and psycholgist) and took him to the ER in a patrol car. I was not allowed to come along until I spoke with the mobile crisis team called in by the county police. Incidentally, the advice the MCT counselors had ready for me consisted of all of the things I'm already doing (family therapy, visiting a psychiatrist for myself, keeping close contact with my children's mental health providers, trying to get enough rest, the whole shebang). I also got a bit of a talking to from Officer McJudgerson. Thankfully the school principal is a 5'4" fireball who vehemently defended my parenting choices and my cooperation with the school staff and the doctors when it comes to how to deal with the mental health of my offspring. By the time the car left for the hospital, I think the officer realized that he'd been offbase in the way he summoned me to the school.

 

So I have essentially made no progress. Princess is still struggling, and we don't quite know why. We are no closer to figuring out the root of the problem or the treatment, and there is nothing on the horizon to fix things. We are unsure that the medication is working, whether her symptoms are a result of whatever the hell disorder we are dealing with or whether they are a side effect of the medication being used to try to treat her. I'm doing all I can, but it's just not good enough.

 

On an up note, Hoss' incident was far less dramatic than what we used to see from him in his early stages of treatment. He kept his clothes on, did not lash out physically, and never once said he hated me or wanted me to go live on another planet. That's got to count for something, right? Maybe I'm not a total failure as a parent.

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One day at a time

Princess is back in the hospital. I wrote about it at RealMental.org and probably will keep doing so. I went to see her last night and she's doing OK, but we still have a lot ahead of us to make her better. 

She called just now, mostly to talk to the boys. We might be able to take them to see her this weekend if her monitoring level is low enough to allow her to leave the unit for a few hours. She told me she felt lucky that the gets privacy when she sleeps and showers, since she's realized that some of the girls do not (suicide observation requires round the clock monitoring). She has been in for about 36 hours and has not wanted to harm herself. 

 

I know she will make it through. I just am not sure how to make that happen, what steps I need to take.

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The times, they have a-changed

On the message boards I've been reading this week, there is a fair amount of discussion about Roger Sterling's racist indications on this week's episode of Mad Men (I'm not intending to be spoiliery, but if you haven't watched the episode and are easily offended by knowing stuff ahead of time, I'll see you in a few day, 'kay? Thanks.) There seems to be some disagreement as to whether his ire and outbursts should be termed as "racist" since they are, in the context of the show at least, totally understandable and would not be considered out of line. Roger's a WWII vet, and his fight in the Pacific is 20 years old in the context of the show. 20 years isn't very long to get over what he felt like during the war. Does it make his words or actions or hatred for the Japanese OK? Not really. It's racism, but it's accurately portrayed for a character in 1965.

The same type of consideration comes up with regards to sexism on the show. If I was expected to pick up my boss' dry cleaning or had to deal with grabby clients to help the company make a good impression, I'd be leading the charge to file a complaint with HR. But I'm not working in an office in the 1960's.

I try to view the show in its own bubble, not put 2010 laws and sensibilities into it. Yes, the men act like pigs to the women. Yes, the white guys are totally ignorant when it comes to dealing with African-Americans or Puerto Ricans or Asians (assuming they deign to deal with "those people" anyway). But it's a story. They also sometimes drive with a highball glass in hand, and the air is dense with cigarette smoke. It's a story. The time during which the story takes place is not the time in which we live now. Applying today's logic and social norms to that story takes me out of the entertainment.

That being said, can we reinstate the wet bar in executive offices? I think some of my current colleagues would back me up on that one.

Back with a vengeance

In the time since my last post, I could have gestated a child. I didn't, but I could have.

What I have done since November is:

• muddled through the minefield of Christmas
• survived being snowed in with my husband and children
• took part in my organization's 5-year conference meeting, including electing a new board and shaping my work for the next five years
• admitted another child to a pediatric mental health facility
• prayed that I didn't have to complete the "kids hospitalized with mood disorders" trifecta
• finally got a BlackBerry for work
• tried not to let the BlackBerry take over my life
• watched a lot of TV on DVD
• knit and crocheted a lot of baby blankets for friends and family
• cut my hair
• grew out my hair
• colored my hair
• disagreed with my husband about the best shade of haircolor to suit my complexion
• completed the second year of my organizational management training
• started plotting my next level of world domination professional development in non-profit governance

I've been on Twitter and Facebook a lot. I have been on RealMental some, although less often than I should. I'm trying to be part of The Peevery. But I want to revive this blog. I want a venue to say things with more than 140 characters. I want to sometimes say things that are serious, and sometimes say things that are funny and sometimes just say things for the sake of saying them. My writing has dwindled, and I want to go back to being writer. I just kind of hope someone wants to read it.

If you were a tree, what tree would you be? OK, maybe I'm not Barbara Walters

The fabulous Neil of Citizen of the Month has once again provided the platform for so many of us bloggers to both ask probing questions and to talk about ourselves.  Yes, it's time again for the Great Interview Experiment.  I interviewed Tatiana, whose blog you should go and read after the interview.

 

What is your favorite aspect of living in the DC area?  What is your least favorite? (I’m a lifelong MD resident, so DC was always sort of in my back yard).

Oh, tough! There are so many great things about DC. To be fair, I’m biased – I’m from the area but ended up coming back, so I have to love it… or I came back for grad school. No, I really do love it here. I can’t drive, so the Metro is a big plus. And I love all the different neighborhoods. Cities like New York are too big for me, so I like that DC is manageable.  Plus, for me, all the museums make it ideal.  (note from MamaKaren: I was so spoiled growing up in the DC area, and all its free museums.  the idea of paying for a museum when I travel just seems so wrong!)

It is hard to say this, moving from Boston, but DC is expensive, too. And people can be pretty snobby about politics. Just because I live in the capital doesn’t mean I understand the nuances of government… nor do I want to discuss them all day.

And I have problems with limits. Obviously.

If there were no cost barriers/scheduling issues/logistical problems, and you given the chance for a last minute trip, where would you go?  You don’t get time to plan stuff out ahead of time, just pack your bags and board the plane right now…

Oh, no question. Ireland. My mom’s family is Colombian and I’ve been there twice. My dad is Irish American and I think I still have cousins twice removed or something in Cork, but I’ve never been. Plus, one of my life goals is to make a man with an accent love me. Family history and make out with a ginger in a pub. Done!

What is your top choice for ‘dead before its time’ TV show?

Oh, lord, I LOVE TV. No joke, I watch it… a lot. Even though I just finished one degree, I’m thinking that I’ll eventually go back to school for a PhD in media and cultural studies. Because all I want to do is watch TV and movies and talk about them. So… I would have to say Pushing Daisies. Everything about that show was perfect – Chuck and the pie maker, Olive’s singing, the detective makes pop-up books! I know most people would say Arrested Development of Firefly, but since there are movies for those and sadly NOTHING for Pushing Daisies, I’ll stick with my original Jim Dale narrated slice of heaven.

What song would best summarize your personality or your life?

Party in the USA! Party in the USA! Haha, no, that’s just my favorite song right now. I do love upbeat pop, especially from the 70s. So, I’m going to say… Shake Your Groove Thing.

Do you have a grammar pet peeve?  If so, what is it?

I v. me! I VERSUS ME! My little sister always says “My friend and me did this” and it drives. Me. Up. The. Wall.

If you had unlimited funding, what kind of museum would you create?

My favorite museum is the National Geographic Museum here in DC. It is like the magazine come to life. Natural science, art, culture, and all exhibits rotating out on a short term basis. So basically, an ADD museum.

What do you consider your best physical attribute?  Your best emotional/personality attribute?

So many to pick from! Haha, obviously, my humbleness. My hair is pretty kickass, but so are my boobs. Personality wise, I think my sense of humor reigns supreme.

 

So, readers, please go visit Tatiana, and visit Neil, and read some of the other interviews.  I will be interviewed by LZ at My Messy Paradise (whose blog I am loving already, btw.)

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