We all have a breaking point

If you all have been reading long enough, I am sure that you have noticed that my happy (mostly) little family life blog has turned into a long boring story about the step children from Hell. All of that changes today, I hope. I threw my step children out of my house today. Good bye and better yet, good riddance to trash.

I really didn't think that it was possible for someone to stop loving their child. I dismissed the theory out of hand when their mother told me that they had exhausted everything she had to give them, including her love. I figured she was angry and bitter, and it was out of hurt and frustration that she spoke. Now, I think I have a better perspective.

Last night as I stayed up way too late to finish a project that I had been working on, it occurred to me that I ought to make a list of what my youngest step son was needed to do today. The list included directions for dropping off one application and checking another four or five places that he applied to, but, hadn't heard back from.

He dropped off the application, but, he didn't go and check on any of the other applications. I left the house to buy milk and take lunch to the school with instruction for him to hop to it. He didn't bother. He was waiting for me to return from the children's school so that his brother (who was supposed to be waiting to hear back from ??? via telephone, to figure out why he isn't in the Army any longer) could go with him.

I'll admit, it made me angry. I was furious that he hadn't done much of anything he was supposed to do on the job front and that my oldest step son was planning to shirk his responsibility again (he missed a job interview last week) to ride with his brother.

I stated in no uncertain terms that they could go together today, but, that in the future, they will not be attached at the hip because I don't feel that either child makes good decisions when they rely on their sibling for counsel, also because they both have to find a job, and only one of them can drive to work, the other does not have a license nor a method of transportation, therefore he needs to be hoofing it around the neighborhood to find employment.

This started a fight. I don't fight. I just simply said, "if you don't like my rules, get out." So instead they chose to run their mouths. They told me that they weren't leaving because this wasn't my house. I had one demand to use my phone to call his father. The other told me that because they are the oldest children, it is my husband's responsibility to support them before my children. I was told that it is their right to tell me how to spend money, because it doesn't belong to me, because I don't work, so it is my husband's money, and apparently they think they ought to be in charge. I was told that I am too lazy to work to support myself, so I kept popping out kids to make my living. I was called a whore. They informed me that they don't think my children are their father's children. My kids were referred to as bastards repeatedly. I am a bitch, and a cunt, and a compulsive liar. They threatened to call child services on me and say whatever they needed to, so that, "you never see those children you say you love so much again." There was more, so much more. It tires me to think about it even.

The End. I hope, this is the end.

Who knew a cooking class could be so emotional?

My baby boy at three years old is the light of my life and the bane of my existence. I love him so much and I get so frustrated because I just don't understand what makes him tick. I feel like I am in a constant state of limbo where he is concerned. I ask myself everyday, how hard I want to push to get answers. Do I really need a label for my son? Is it necessary? Would being able to say, "he's _____ you jackass, don't judge him or me," be worth being able to fill in the blank? Would it help him? How do you know? How do I know?

There are times that I am overcome by emotion because he starts singing made up lullabies to 'his girls' as he calls them in the car. Then there are times that I am overcome with fury because he throws sand in the baby's face, repetitively, without remorse, unable or unwilling to be deterred. Sometimes he holds me, he pulls my head down on his chest and he holds me tightly, but, tenderly too, and I can feel the love in his touch. Then, there are the times that he hits me, seemingly too stubborn to stop.

I think that after 6 children and 2 step children, I have a pretty good idea of what is, and is not, normal. I know that my son isn't normal. I feel it in my heart that bursts with affection for him and in my body that aches with the struggle of trying keep up with him. I know that my son is special.

Tonight I took a cooking class (at Whole Foods again of course) that was presented by a lovely woman with a product that caters to the GFCFSF crowd. Miriam Diamond, who owns Nana's Cookies, was the guest tonight. She is in her own right a mover and a shaker in California where she lives. She is both a friend and a vendor of Jenny McCarthy, who uses her products both personally and at her new school. She is a warm and fabulous person whom I was very glad to meet.

It wasn't actually Miriam Diamond that really struck a chord with me tonight, it was one of the other mothers in the class. She has a son, the same age as mine. He is GFCF, like mine. *yes, the dairy went too* He does the same things my son does. The very same things. He has the same behavioral issues. The very same. Like my son, he was an early talker and is very verbal. Like my son, he has problems with excess yeast. Like my son, he is very well loved. Like my son he isn't autistic. Like my son, maybe he is.

This other mother and I compared medical notes, cooking woes, potty issues, supplements, medications, labs, hopes, dreams, fears, and more. I have never felt so understood. I have also never felt the need to be understood this fervently. It is a strange new world that I am venturing out in with my son and his dietary restrictions. One I'm not sure either my son or myself is really ready for. I am not a brave person, but suddenly I find that I need to be. When I started Hercules on this diet the first time, I tried to go cold turkey and it was a miserable failure. I persevered at the gentle (yet firm) encouragement of our ped to try again. A slow approach has made it possible to get my son both to eat and to eat right. Now I am faced with the awful reality that it has helped. The diet has helped tremendously. With each adjustment we have made, first dyes and HFCS, then gluten, now dairy...my son has gotten better and better. There are more lullabies than sand these days. Who would have guessed that it could be so frightening to me, for him to get better? I certainly didn't.

Come to Jesus

Today was a day to come to Jesus. It was a day that I discussed the lay of the land around this house. What I expect and what I won't tolerate. Funny, both of the adult children think that they deserve to make their own adult decisions and lead their own adult lives...while they live under my roof. Not so my friend, just not so.


First, if I pay for your gas, you don't use it unless I sanction the errand.

Second, if you use the food stamps that you've been hoarding to buy your own groceries, no, I sure as heck will not make sure that my kids don't eat your food. Why, are you not eating theirs?

Third, I came so close (thumb and forefinger actually touching) to telling my youngest step son to go f*#k himself today. I'm not proud of that, but, I still think he ought go f*#k himself. He thinks that my children are, "in need of Ritalin or something, they're out of control, they have no discipline." Which of course is actually a reference to my three year old who is special and none of his freaking business.

Fourth, I don't give a rat's behind if you stay here or not. This time though, when you leave, it will be forever, so make sure you really want to go when you leave, the door won't open again for an extended stay.

Finally, you owe me. Not the other way around. Don't have an attitude, don't be ungrateful, don't think that you can treat my home as a hotel. If you live under my roof, you play on my family team, if you can't play well with others...GET OUT!

Forget about cake, "Let me drink wine!"

Today was a day to celebrate. My oldest daughter and I got up early and went to brunch. We had planned to go first to church, and then to brunch, but, my step sons wanted to sleep in, therefore we waited. We went to a simple brunch at our Whole Foods, during which I didn't even collect on my free mimosa (which I am regretting now) and we talked until the farmers market opened up. The farmers market is a very small, informal thing that is hosted in the parking lot of the grocery store.

We had fun looking at the goods from the different vendors. We purchased kitty soaps, pooh bear beeswax candles, and organic dog cookies from one vendor, glass bottle sodas from another, and my daughter's first pair of dangly earrings from a third. We talked to an organic CSA (???) that has what I think is a steep fee. It is $300 for 12 weeks, six items each week. I haven't done the math (yet) but, I'm pretty sure that I can do better at our local health food store. $.99 a pound organic eggplant anyone?

My typing is seriously suckish tonight, I think that it is the organic Sauvignon Blanc that I bought to try a cider recipe on Stacey's blog, I only need 3/4 of a bottle for the recipe, so I thought that it would be prudent to drink the other 1/4. Um, so, yeah...before I make the cider I need to go buy more wine. The soda we bought at the farmer's market today was ginger ale for the same recipe coincidentally.

We then retreated to an outdoor mall to just walk around, window shop and enjoy the cool weather, it was only 78 after all! My daughter picked up a couple of trinkets from a few of the stores, but, really, we just soaked up the sun.

It was a fabulous day. Then, then we came home. I made the Persian stew that I had promised to fix (last night actually, but, instead I made a pork loin roast with brussels sprouts, carrots, and sweet potato casserole) that is majorly labor intensive. There are five or six herbs that have to be washed and finely chopped plus spinach. I was happy to do it, but...

There is always a but. I came home to find an entire 12 pack of soda gone, a Costco size box of chocolate milk empty, 2 boxes of cookies, and 4 bags of Christmas candy gone. Plus three, no, four boxes of school lunch items that went hasta la vista in my absence. Which stresses me to no end about money. If 2 weeks worth of groceries disappears in a single weekend, we are in serious trouble.

TLC will never pick up Viv plus 8

In this post I intend to put myself out there, just so all of you will know just how big a bitch I am...

My youngest step son arrived yesterday at three in the morning. His mother threw him out of the house again and he showed up without any money, wanting a place to stay. To tell you all the truth I was pretty pissed off. Frankly, it really upset me that he gave no thought to waking up my babies when he pounded on my door. Not to mention the ten minutes I spent scared to death. The incident from last year still looms large in my head. I let him in, but, I was sure to hammer home the point that, though he feels his father does, I owe him nothing. This is after all, my house.


Yeah, I'm kind of a shit, but, I've got all kinds of resentment that every cent that should be going towards my children's Christmas is being eaten by their adult brothers. Not to mention the fact the my husband is all over my ass to cut our living expenses. There is a way to do this...shit can the organic GF diet that H is on, on which he is finally showing some improvement. In order to accommodate my husband's adult children? Screw that. I won't do it. So I'm left with not letting them shower everyday (my husband's suggestion) and sitting in the hot, dark (no lights, people) Florida heat.

I can't say that there aren't perks to having my step children here. For example, I can go take cooking classes and I can drive my children to school without fear of having to find a babysitter. The perks, do not out weigh the cons though. I can't be comfortable in my own home. I can't lounge around in my gym shorts or my pajamas. I can't make a bottle in the middle of the night with the lights on, because there is someone sleeping in every room of our home. I can't watch what I want on television, I can't use my computer when I want to, I can't put the babies to bed the way I usually do because they won't fall asleep with the television blaring downstairs and the lights on. My home, the less than lovely place that is, is still my own safe haven, or, it was.


Right now, the boys are off on what I believe to be a wild goose chase. My youngest step son wants to go back into another branch of service (he has been recently discharged from the Navy) but, he has to wait 6 months before he can do so...so, why is it that he (they) are at a recruiting office right now? On my gas bill? Let's save the gas for actually obtaining employment instead of chasing rainbows, or, at the very least, chase them once you've figured out how to make your car payment and put your own gas in the car.


My home is too small. It is too small for me and my six children, throw two more adult kids into that mix, and I feel like the walls are going to burst. Now, factor in that the roof and ceiling are finally being fixed and that we only have TWO, two usable bedrooms until the work is done. Two bedrooms for nine (ten if hubby is home) people, and two dogs, and two cats.


My dishes need to be done. The litter box needs to be changed, I would kill for a nap. If I were living in someone's house free of charge, and eating their food, and taking their money for gas and toiletries and such? I'd offer to do some of those things. *I* wouldn't grimace when asked to contribute. I'd say "thank you" an awful lot. I'd be grateful. Instead, the ways things are, I think that I'll just be a bitch.

P.S. We won't mention the showers are twenty plus minutes everyday, or that my husband isn't coming home until Thanksgiving (which will make it two and a half months that he has been gone) because we can't afford it with the added expenses. We won't bring up the hiding upstairs so that they won't feel compelled to listen to me when I ask for help...because this is Club Frigging Med, for everyone but me.

Alternate title being, "It's a pity party, but, nobody else is invited"

Fighting fish and fluff

Last night our Betta, Survivor, was dethroned as the ultimate survivor. Actually, he was dethroned this morning when my daughter found our new Betta tank on the carpet, upside down. When I woke up my son (Hercules, of course) to find out where the fish was, he informed me that he was somewhere near the foot of my bed. Sure enough, my oldest daughter and I found the fish, it must have been there since last night. I asked my daughter, as she is far less squeamish than I, to retrieve a piece of tissue and flush him. When she touched the fish it started flopping madly. We managed to get it back into the bowl and to put some water in there. Violet (the male Betta) is swimming right now...and not in the big pond in the sky. A bit of internet research tells us that Bettas have a sort of lung called a labyrinth, that enables them to breathe air, and that they don't die until their bodies dry out in 24-48 hours. Wow! Right?

Last night I took a cooking class at Whole Foods (of course) that was kind of cool. The dishes were crab meat stuffed shrimp and tarragon brussel sprouts. I actually enjoyed the brussel sprouts better than the shrimp, surprising, as I love shrimp and didn't think that I liked brussel sprouts. I guess that my mom's version of frozen sprouts that she boiled for a half a century, wasn't the best gauge.

Tonight I took an amazing cooking class there, presented by Lynn Yeager, of Cookie Momsters, who is half of a local company that makes GFCF frozen doughs that the store sells. She showed us an amazing recipe for GFCF Thanksgiving dressing that had everything from apples to sausage in it. It was better than my usual dressing even! She also did a sweet potato casserole, fruit pizza, and ice cream pie. Serious WOW! My new favorite anything is Tempti mint chocolate chip ice cream made from hemp milk that is so freaking good, it was what she used in the ice cream pie! I can't wait to go by her store, that sells all kinds of baked goods (all GFCF) including bread that she assured me would make a great PB&J sandwich. The next day they are open is Saturday though, so I'll just have to force myself to be patient.

Little Boy brought his class pet home today and he is most upset that this time we didn't do anything special with him. I think that it is most important to understand that not everyday has to be a special day...or that is what I'm telling him as my schedule did not permit riding the train or going to the park with Jasper. I have been officially dethroned as the World's Best Mommy, until the next time at least!

A new massage place opened up down the street and I'm considering trying out their introductory hour for $30. I think it is a deal, I'm just not sure how comfortable I'd be. Maybe I'll talk myself into it, and, then again, maybe I won't.

This was, I'm afraid, the best I could do today. For my 200th post (coming up soon) I am hoping to surprise us all with something well written and potentially humorous. We shall see. It could just be all these long days/weeks/months/years of sleep deprivation that Monica talked about here, on her most awesome blog. Then again, that can't be it, she's as sleep deprived as I am, and she is still brilliant and funny. Depressing.

Halloween...the cute and the political

Patty the devil dog


Molly the hot dog


Jelly Bean the cat


The Little Lady, my middle kitten


Baby Girl's first Halloween


The Big Boy has outgrown costumes...


Little Boy, the pioneer


Hercules, who never has time to look at the camera these days


I had no idea what an explosive topic trick-or-treat has become. I tried in vain to find out what hours would be designated for trick-or-treating. So, I did what I always do in a pinch...I asked other mommies. Wowza! I got plenty of answers, most of them included questions about my sanity and suggestions for church Halloween festivals.

Despite the best efforts of the community in which we live, we dressed up and hit the streets. We had to walk over a mile and a half to find fellow trunk-or-treat shunners. Three hours and a half a meager bag of candy each, we returned home.

I understand there are bad people in the world. I understand the desire to shield our children from harm, but, get a grip! Halloween is fun! I got my first Reese's cup one Halloween because my mother would never buy them, she was convinced there were worms in the peanut butter. I decided that Whoppers (my dad's fav) aren't really that good if you compare them to a Milky Way. I got to be all kinds of fun things, from a cowgirl to a homemade devil. I wore fishnet stockings for the first time with a Halloween costume. Doesn't anyone else have fond memories like mine of Halloween?

The death of Halloween as a family holiday saddens me.

Our fish tank is doing well...considering we are on our third water change. We added a catfish to help eat up the extra food my children are prone to give. Each and every person I have talked to has given me the same advice though, start flushing one by one until they're all gone. I guess I'm a dumbass because I can't intentionally kill the fish. In for a dime, in for a dollar, that's me.