Callie: Oh hell no. No doctor is sticking anything near my girly parts.

*****

Me: Yeah, besides, you could get an STD and die.

Bug: Not me, I got the shot.

Me: The shot doesn’t prevent all STDs.

Bug: Well that is stupid. What a rip off.

*****

Izzy: I can’t wait to start school. I want to find out who the boys are.

Callie: That was so not the right thing to say on the way back from getting birth control.

*****

Bug: I want birth control.

Me: Why in the world would you need birth control?

Bug: I want it.

Me: Bug. You don’t have your period and you aren’t having sex.

Bug: So?

Me: So then birth control is pointless for you.

Bug: Yeah, but I don’t want bilogic babies. I want to adopt.

*****

Me: Maybe I should add that to the family rules. No sex allowed.

Callie: Yeah, no sex until you turn 30.

Bug: Then Geo can have sex. Did you know he was allowed to have sex once? Because he got married. So he was allowed.

*****

Callie: They were really nice to me. But still it was like, “Hey, nice to meet you, let’s chat, now let me attack your cervix with a brush.” And then Snowbaby got a lollipop. SO unfair.

*****

Bug: Mom, do you have genital warts?

*****

Bug: Well, if you guys have any questions about the sperm and the egg you can ask me. Mommy bought me a book.

Dear Sinus Infection who has decided to live in the right side of my face forever,

Please go away. I beg you. I keep pumping you full of medicine and antibiotics but you seem to stubbornly stick around, hoping I’ll change my mind. I won’t. I do not like your green snot, or the fact that you make it impossible to breathe out of one side of my nostril, or the fact that you are causing the most horrible tooth pain ever.

Nice knowing you,

Baggage

Dear the teeth in the back right of my head,

Yes, I know the last time I had pain like this, I didn’t have a sinus infection. I had a horribly infected tooth which had to be ripped out of my head and cost us a tremendous amount of money. But I’m holding onto the hope that the green snot is a good sign. Hopefully it is, well, as much as green snot can be considered good.

Sorry about all the grinding,

Baggage

Dear my hoo-ha:

Are you feeling left out of the ailment brigade or something? Because I’m not quite sure why you are randomly bleeding. Please stop ruining my cute Victoria’s Secret panties at once.

(Sorry about the antibiotics)

Baggage

Dear my right eye,

FOUR STYS? FOUR???? ON ONE EYE? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

I hate you,

Baggage

Dear Veteran’s Administration,

I think it is a big load of crap that you do not pay for ADD medications. I can’t work without my medicine, but I can’t get my medicine because it costs too much, but I can’t get enough money to afford it because I can’t work. Nice.

I’m so glad that being 50% disabled means nothing to you, VA. You suck.

Baggage

Dear Patrick,

If you actually read my blog, I’m sure that after you have read about my many physical problems, the least of which is green snot, I will lose any shot I had with you.

I understand. It is me, not you. Enjoy the wife and the kids and the hit TV show on ABC. I’ll settle for the 47 minutes of joy you give me on Thursday nights. Hopefully I can still see you through my sty-infested swollen eye.

Hugs and Kisses,

Baggage

This might be my last post.

Alas, I am quite sure I am dying. The vomiting. The pounding headache smack in the middle of my head…the worst headache in the history of headaches.

Luckily, I feel somewhat OK as long as I don’t move at all.

Ha.

Also luckily, my dad happened to call me early this morning which was a monumental mistake on his part. I think he figured out from my blubbering that I needed help.

Then I puked.

And while that was going on, the girls decided that they had been starved long enough, after all, they had been up for fifteen minutes and had not yet received breakfast. So while I puked, they snuck food. As much easter candy as they could shove in their mouths. (What was something they ate? SCRIPTURE CANDY. Given to us at a church sponsored egg hunt. SCRIPTURE CANDY. They snuck SCRIPTURE CANDY while their mother was moaning on the bathroom floor. Isn’t that funny? I’m surprised that they weren’t struck down by lightening or something. I think God frowns upon sneaking SCRIPTURE CANDY. Which is really just candy corn. With a Bible verse on the front of the package. I think they should be called CHRISTIAN CORNS. GOD GUMMIES. JESUS JUJU BEES.)

Anyway, it pissed my Dad off. So he made fried chicken for breakfast (which is neither here nor there.)

And then he left to drive Butterfly and Bubba to school while I cursed my existence on the planet.

They were late, of course, and so he walked into the school and announced that he was here to drop off Bubba.

“Ok, who is his teacher?”

No idea.

“Ok, what is his last name so I can look him up?”

No idea.

Dad’s story is that he said he found Bubba hitchhiking to school and decided to do the little guy a favor and give him a ride.

I’m guessing someone finally figured out where poor Bubba belonged.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to see if I can keep down some ginger ale and a package of Salvation Snacks.

Nurse: OH MY GOSH!! IT IS MARY KATE!! OR ARE YOU ASHLEY TODAY??!!!

Me: Hi.

Nurse: WELL WELL WELL, LOOK IT IS MY FAVORITE OLSEN TWIN! So what is wrong with you buttercup?

Me: Well, I’m having horrible pain in my chest. It feels like something is broken and moving around. When I pick up the baby, it kills me. When I take a deep breath, it hurts really bad and I’m having some trouble breathing. And my throat hurts. And I generally feel like crap.

Nurse: Well Well! Did you get married yet?

Me: Um, no.

Nurse: Are you pregnant?

Me: No.

Nurse: I’m not being nosy! We have to ask because you are a female.

Me: Ok.

(Returning after blood draw, x-ray, and EKG)

Doc: Well, right now it looks like you have strep throat, a respiratory infection and you have severely sprained the muscles here and here along ribs and sternum. I can feel where it has gotten swollen and inflamed, so that is probably why it feels that something is moving around in there.

Me: Oh. Ok.

Doc: I’ve given you some antibiotics and some percocet. You really need to stay in bed all weekend and rest. Oh, and for the next month, avoid lifting things more than 10-15 lbs. That will give it a chance to heal.

Me: Hahahahahaha!

Nurse: DOC! She has four kids! How can she do that? Four babies! FOUR babies! Such a big number for our little gal here!

Doc: Well, you need to stay in bed. It is pretty bad right now, not going to get better unless you rest.

Nurse: Oh I know!! We can have Ashley come over and help out!! Hahahaha.

Ha, indeed.

the most messed up thing I have ever heard in my life.

I just went to the bathroom.

And you know what I realized?

That I had somehow managed to put not one, but two tampons up my hoo-ha.

And I’ve been walking around for four hours like that.

Thank you.

Yeah before? When I was in hell?

That was a damn cake walk.

I managed to get everyone in some clothes and out the door. I didn’t get to shower and am sure I had puke on me somewhere. We didn’t get far though, as my van door had somehow remained a little bit open. I think it was my fault..not paying enough attention during the third puking incident. And now my battery was dead.

I won’t go into what happened next, but it was a nightmare which ended up with Bug thirty minutes late for her party.

And only two girls showed up out of 15. It broke my heart.

Bubba was terrified. Or we think he was. We don’t think he understands us. He won’t talk most of the time. He doesn’t know what his name is.

Me and the little two stayed for just a short while. Enough to blow out Bug’s candles. Then we left, and Snowbaby threw up all over herself, her carseat, her new jacket and the van. I was terrified, thinking she was going to choke. I was scared out of my mind.

We get home and she’s got it coming out of both ends. She throws up again. All over me. And Bug? She makes fun of her.

Geo told me to leave the van running so the battery would be ok. But apparently my van is not OK, as it majorly overheated while I was inside for some unknown reason. There is a very good chance that the engine is ruined.

And in the midst of this, Geo is leaving to go out of town. He was going to help me set up Snowbaby’s bed, but he didn’t have time.

Bug and Butterfly wouldn’t stop arguing. Bug refuses to take the blame for anything. No matter what you talk to her about, she will just complain that Butterfly isn’t getting in trouble. Even though she is. Even though that 95% of what Bug is in trouble for happened at her school, where Butterfly doesn’t even attend. I do email her teachers, all the time..which is how I knew she had Saturday school. In fact, I’m the one who told her teacher that I thought she should have Saturday school. Bug knows I talk to her teachers, but apparently she still thinks she can get away with things.

I’ve got two troublemakers upstairs, two pukers downstairs. I don’t even want to think of what I’m covered in. There is a giant stack of puke covered blankets, sheets and clothing in my laundry room.

And my van? Well it’s puke covered and possibly broken for good. Oh, and it is snowing.

So..um? Tomorrow? It has to be better, right? Please?

See, I was all ha ha about the puke last night. Sure it was monumentally disgusting. But, the woman I had bought Snowbaby’s crib from gave me a bag full of crib sheets, so I just whipped off his bedding and threw on some Dora sheets, wiped him down with baby wipes, brushed his teeth and put him back in bed. I almost puked myself getting the bedding in the washing machine, but hey..no biggie.

Of course, when I woke up at 4:30 to the sound of Snowbaby puking all over herself, I was less amused. And when she rolled around in it in an effort to get up, I was even less amused. And when I had cleaned her up and put her in bed with me (because her bed is going to need to be scrubbed down) and realized that there was puke all over my bed too..well..I was not a happy girl.

I’ve washed Snowbaby’s hair twice and it still smells like puke. And when Bubba gleefully pointed out that he has puked a little on the new Dora sheets, I thought maybe he would be able to pull through. But after he puked all over my living room carpet and his new Nemo outfit..well, no school for Bubba.

I have lots I want to write about..how Butterfly has the same issues as Bug and how she had a breakdown last night and how Snowbaby was playing with her doll and how she dances and shakes her little butt and how Bubba has been peeing in his little potty and he gets so excited…but my blog has become the poop and puke blog. Baggage and Bug and poop and puke.

Damn.

My only goal for today is to get them to stop puking before I have to host 15 kids at the skating rink for Bug’s b-day bash.

Keep your fingers crossed.

Today started with frustration that I could not get my ADD treated at the VA and therefore was going to have to pay out of pocket for doctor’s visits and medicine.

It continued with a quick, but productive appointment where the doctor confirmed I had ADD and prescribed medicine.

Then came a disaster at Walgreen followed by a debaucle at Walmart which had me screaming at the Walmart lady that she needed to fill my prescription even if it was dated for tomorrow because it was just a mistake and why couldn’t she call the doctor and ended with me sobbing in the Walmart parking lot. Without my medicine.

Which was the beginning of a long sobbing spree. Which was briefly interrupted when I considered taking my van and running it head on into the train that was crossing the road I was traveling on.

And then continued to my room where all I could do was cry and cry. And I thought about posting something but then I thought that someone would comment that I was a crazy person and it was no wonder I was not getting picked for the kids that I sent my homestudy in on and I was pretty sure if I posted something, someone would call my DFS and alert them to the fact that they had licensed a crazy person.

Which made me cry more. And then I noticed that my little box over there on the right that tells my ranking on a blog site was the highest it had ever been, which isn’t a good thing as the lower the number the better. And really, it doesn’t matter because most of you probably have never seen that little box as you are probably reading this through google or bloglines or something. And really, it doesn’t mean anything. But somehow, that little box showing a number in the 50s devastated me, which made me cry more.

And then I tried to explain myself to Geo, which was hard because I was trying to articulate how I felt when I wasn’t exactly sure how I felt. I knew I was angry..angry that I had spent so many years not being diagnosed with what was wrong with me. I was afraid that this wouldn’t work. That this medicine wouldn’t work and I wouldn’t feel better. That I was stressed by this matching/waiting process going on with the adoptions and that each time they didn’t choose me, it hurt. Really hurt.

And then Geo suggested that maybe I needed to go get a job outside the home for like thirty hours a week..and well, you can imagine how well that suggestion went over.

And let’s not forget the fact that I had horrible cramps. Awful cramps. And that while I was sobbing in the Walmart parking lot, I noticed that my jeans were wet. And when I came home I realized that I bled through my tampon, through my underwear and all over my jeans.

Finally I calmed myself down enough to go to my class, where the members of my class spent about twenty minutes making fun of adults with ADD. On a day like today, I really needed to hear that I was nuts, a pain in the butt to deal with, irresponsible and that talking to me was like talking to a brick wall. Because duh, I already know that. Thanks people.

But driving home tonight, I made up my mind that I am not going to end up flattened by a train. I am going to get up tomorrow, be at the pharmacy when it opens, get my medicine, start implementing the behavior modification techniques I have learned, and try to make it. I want to adopt more children. I want to be a good mom to Bug. I want to write a book about me and Bug and how and why you should adopt from foster care. I want to be happy.

I’m not giving up. I’m not giving up.

Tomorrow has got to be a little bit better.

Technorati Tags: ADD, depression, goals

The majority of my test results are in.

Nothing is wrong with me.

I don’t have diabetes, I don’t have liver disease, I do not have problems with my thryoid nor do I have an infection of some type.

I had a very slightly elevated albumin level. She said it just basically indicates I was slightly dehydrated, but she said it wasn’t even really relevant. Just make sure I keep up my water intake.

Right now, the tentative diagnosis is Adult ADD. It was mentioned in passing at my first appointment, but I thought that there was no way that was it because I don’t act like Bug does. Well, apparently Adult ADD and childhood ADHD/ADD have many differences. I have taken multiple screening tests now, all which indicate that this is probably the case. (In fact, one rather rudely told me to “Seek medical attention IMMEDIATELY”)

I got a list of symptoms of Adult ADD and it was like reading a (rather embarassing) book about my personality. Mom, Dad and Geo all nodded their virtual heads in agreement.

In actuality, having this tentative diagnosis has done worlds for my attitude this morning. You know, I will be the first to admit that some of the issues related to my sexual abuse are still present in my life. I am sure they will always be. But on the most part, I am very comfortable talking about it. I get emails from time to time from people who stumble on this blog and want to talk or want advice on sexual abuse. Doesn’t bother me. When my grandfather died, a large part of the issues I had died with him. The anxiety, the fear that he would kill me or my family. And while I am a little bitter that my stupid ovary issue is related to the abuse, I also feel a tremendous sense of relief that Dr. Gel said I could get knocked up.

I guess my point is..every single time I have ever tried to get help for an issue in my life in the past 10 years, as soon as they hear I am an abuse survivor they pin everything on that. Extremely short temper? Well you are harboring anger from your abuse. Can’t concentrate? It’s the depression. Tendency to bounce around from thing to thing without finishing it? Oh, well maybe you are bipolar. Low self esteem? Feeling that you are underachieving in your life? Well duh, you are an abuse survivor. You are expected to have low self esteem.

And it never really felt right to me. In fact, I had some therapist who refused to talk about anything other than my abuse. Even though sometimes I wanted to talk about my marriage. Or sometimes I wanted to talk about my relationship with Bug.

So when Dr. Lunch told me that I was probably feeling this way because I have depression and anxiety and maybe the Wellbutrin wasn’t working and maybe I needed to try Paxil, I got a little pissed.

Because I know what depressed is. I know what anxious is. And I wasn’t really either of those things. I was depressed because I felt horrible. I was depressed because I didn’t get picked for the kids. But hey, that is normal. It was just a bit of sadness. When I really took an honest look at what effects the ADs have had on me, I would say that they helped but they never fixed. They took the edge off, but they never dealt with 70% of my issues. I thought I would just have to be like that forever. I thought I would be mostly unhappy forever.

And when I really trace back this current downward trend I’ve been in, I can almost pinpoint it.

Right at the time I graduated from college, lost the structure of my classes, lost the security of my GI Bill and was suddenly my own boss and responsible for my own income.

I’ve walked around for the past month or so feeling like I am stupid and lazy. And I’m not.

Anyway, I’m waiting to hear from the doctor as to what the next step is. Of course, the VA doesn’t really specialize in adults with ADD so there is already an issue with medication and the like. I’m working on it.

But I am optimistic. For the first time in my life, I’ve seen a list of almost everything that is bad about me and somebody has said, “Hey. We can help you fix this. It is not your fault. This can be fixed.”

That is very powerful.

Technorati Tags: test results, ADD, ADHD, depression, anxiety, therapy

When you watch a fish tank for two hours, you notice a lot of strange things. Like the scum sucker fish..he was being followed by this big orange fish for the better part of two hours. Also, the Vet who sat next to me insisted that Ashley Judd was married to Tom Cruise. That has nothing to do with the fish tank though.

The VA kept me waiting for two hours..apparently she ”went to lunch” and moved her morning patients to the afternoon but nobody bothered to tell me so I just sat and watched the scum sucker.

At least the doctor actually did something. I had to get get seven vials of blood drawn (fun when you are terrified of needles), a urinalysis and I have to put my poop on a card and mail it in. How gross is that? Sorry. Hope you weren’t eating.

She’s testing my white blood count, my thyroid, checking for diabetes and hepatatis, plus my B12 and folic acid? And testing my..you know..to see if maybe I have colon cancer because apparently that makes you tired?  Plus some other things, I think.

She should have most of the results in tomorrow.

I have some more to write about, including my behavior program for Bug we designed at class last night….you know, the one that Bug has already shown that she doesn’t give a damn about….but I am too depressed right now.

Oh, and I have notified the school as to what happened, but frankly..the check is not obviously forged at all. With the exception of my name missing a letter, the rest of the check is perfectly filled out.

Darn Bug.

Did I mention I found half of a shriveled up LIME in her bed??

Technorati Tags: fatigue, behavior