Just Another Day

I'm doing much better now, thanks!  I've had time to research things and ask more questions and I feel that we are doing the right thing in removing "the thing" even though my motherly instincts automatically object to someone slicing my into daughter's skull with a knife! I didn't even tell you that the day after we met with the surgeon and scheduled the surgery, my daughter fell from her tree swing and needed four staples in her head.  I was at lunch with a friend when I get a frantic call from my son asking if I am on the way home.  I am not.  So my husband grabs the phone and says, meet me at the ER, she cut her head badly. Oh the blood!  I know that head wounds bleed profusely, but there really is nothing to prepare you for seeing your child's clothing almost completely soaked in blood, as well as most of her hair.  Poor baby, luckily the staff saw all the blood and let us in immediately, without doing all that check-in routine.  All I ...

So what started out as a simple lesion has turned into what will be a CT scan under general anesthetic, and then surgery, of course, under general anesthetic. Lovely. If I thought I was stressed out before, apparently I had no idea how bad it could get. And even though there are many parents out there with much tougher challenges, I am going to throw myself a brief pity party on this here blog.  You see, being mine, it makes it ever so much easier to whine. The hospital is calling it a lesion, but upon further study of the actual definition of a lesion, I am unsure.  There seem to be many different types of lesions, and this one, I think, falls under the umbrella of "tumor" although I think they absolutely do not want to use that term.  I am not saying that is it cancer or anything, because tumor does not always equal cancer.  Well, I guess that still qualifies as a lesion, although I was given to understand that a lesion occurs with an injury of some kind, a...

You know, there are some days where you just look at yourself and think, "Parental failure, right here." Tonight is one of those nights. My son, who is not necessarily the nicest person in the world to other children, got in a fight with a girl down the street.  Who allegedly pushed him off his bike and scraped his leg pretty good.  He was practically spitting with fury when he came inside, and I asked him why it was always him who was fighting with everyone.  Which of course, made him even more angry. He has this sense of the world that is so black and white, so "us" versus "them" and I don't know how to shake him out of that mentality. He is coming up on 11, which is supposed to be the age of reason, but it's also the age of raging hormones, so we'll see how that goes.  He also has a superiority complex, and goes around infuriating and humiliating other children by using words they don't know.  Which, you know, good way to make frie...

- One of the things I feared has come to pass.  My daughter has somehow been traumatized by school and I, due to her disability, cannot for the life of me figure out why.  And yes, I know that three year olds aren't exactly known for their monologues about their emotions, but I think we truly have a disadvantage here.  She doesn't want to go to school at all, tells me in the morning "No school!" and then when she gets there, bursts into tears when they are ready to line up.  The teacher reports that she will suddenly become teary in the middle of class for no apparent reason.  I've spoken with the teacher and she cannot pinpoint an incident or reason as to why she is doing this. I know attention-seeking behavior (especially from her) and this is not it.  This is genuine distress.  All I can get out of her is that school makes her sad.  Ugh.  This SUCKS and was exactly what I was anxious about.  I want to rip my hair out because I alr...

When Hubba-hubba almost died because of Depeche Mode? No? Well, sit back and let me tell you small tale, and obviously one with a happy ending. Back in the halycon days of New Wave, living in Los Angeles was an exciting, heady time.  Famous bands, and not so famous bands played here, visited here for talk shows and the like, and of course, what used to be a very Big Deal, the new album release. Sometime in the late 80's (I'm guessing 88 and Hubba-hubba is at work and I am too lazy for fact-checking) Hubba-hubba and some friends went to the Virgin Megastore in Hollywood for a big release party/signing for the Depeche Mode album. Sigh, back when it was ONLY albums.  Or tapes.  But mainly albums. Does anyone even use the word albums any more? The security bigwigs at the Virgin Megastore had erected plexiglass barriers between the crowd and the limo in which Depeche Mode planned on using for departure after their event transpired. As I wasn't there, I'm not ...

"Never share a bathroom." Spoken like a true rich person, that. Supposedly this one was attributed to one of the Real Housewives of Where-the-hell-ever, who are all rich.  Or at least doing a sufficient job of pretending to be rich for the cameras.  At first I pshawed like an old grandmother.  Ha! How could you NOT share a bathroom at some point with your spouse?  Even in the swankiest hotel room I have graced only has one toilet.  A damn fancy one, but one nonetheless.  But maybe the really rich people have access to hotel rooms beyond my ken. I am one of those people who prefer to keep the door closed whilst doing whatever it is I need to do in there. My motto is that if Hubba-hubba can't see it, then it never happened. Then I got to thinking about it, and you know what, this woman might have a point. I mean, not to get too TMI, but there is a certain agony of having to wait for someone else to finish using the bathroom when you need to urgen...

It never fails. I took Ms. P to get her hairs cut the other day.  It is all one length with no bangs, and I don't get it trimmed all that often because a) it saves me some money and b) she isn't a huge fan of getting her hair cut. Anyhoo, when we are in a situation where she might freak out a bit, I try to warn the person we are dealing with that she is special needs and may not truly understand what the person is saying to her, and that she has difficulty communicating verbally. If I had a buck for every person who says, "What, this adorable angel is special needs?  Are you serious?  She certainly doesn't look like a special needs child," I would have the money for that very expensive purse I've been eyeing lately. And this is where I have to keep my eyes from rolling far, far back into my head because I want to ask them what exactly does a special needs child look like? Why does a child have to look like they have a disability for people to accep...