Bronchitis Fallout

October:
After coughing for 2-1/2 weeks, I agreed with Ms. Ogre that I should see the doctor.  My appointment was for Friday, 2 days later. Too bad I had to leave early from work.

The doctor diagnosed the bronchitis and said she wanted me to be off Monday and Tuesday.  My first thought was why, I should be much better by then.  I said I didn't want to take Tuesday off, but she was adamant that I take Monday off.  I actually felt happy that I could have a day off, until I was driving down the road and realized that it would be payroll week and I was 2 weeks behind closing Food & Beverage so the tips wouldn't be calculated.  Oy.

I stopped back at work and picked up the paperwork I needed to work from home Monday.  <sigh>  Ms. Ogre wasn't there as she had to leave early, but I let Jane know.  I texted a picture of the doctor's note saying I had to be off Monday to Ms. Ogre.

Now it's Monday.  I sent an email to a manager and copied Ms. Ogre. 

• Ms. Ogre responded by asking why I was working since the doctor gave me a day off. 
• I said that it was payroll week and I hadn't closed for 2 weeks.  I needed to get it done.  I'm still coughing but I feel better than I have in 3 weeks.
• She then asked why I wasn't working in the office.
• I said that the doctor told me to stay home and that it would take me all day to close anyway.

Problem 1: I said that I felt better than I have in 3 weeks.  It's true though.  May as well be truthful.
Reaction 1: Why the hell aren't you in the office then
Reaction 2: Is this going to be a problem where now I'm in trouble for doing what the doctor ordered and what you wanted me to do the first week?


November:
It turns out the boss's reaction was because she didn't know what was going on.  As an auditor, she doesn't tend to trust.  For example, to pay an invoice, the manager has to approve it, the controller approves and codes it, I enter it, the GM approves it and signs the check and then if the check is over a certain amount, the controller co-signs the check.  But when I take work home, I work.  Don't trust me?  Check my emails.  Check my printouts on the work printer.  Check my programs to see the usage.  I don't cheat. 

I'm also really paranoid at this point.  I've already rescheduled 2 dentist visits that were scheduled at my normal leaving time.  I can't reschedule my rheumatologist though.  She's in that office once a week until 3:30pm!  I can't get around dropping Patrick off at school at 8am for chorus practice.  I've rescheduled parent teacher conferences.  I've not gone to the school to see some programs that Patrick has put on. 

I really hate not being at work when I'm supposed to be.  I have a good work ethic but there's a lot going on right now and it's not always up to me when stuff happens.

Is This Heaven?

I went home to Iowa for 3 days and came back re-centered and calm.  I'm two weeks behind in my work but I'm not stressing about it.  I just wish Ms. Ogre could have gotten away, because she's still stressed to the max.  She'll deserve a vacation once budgets are loaded and the annual audit is finished.

I came down with bronchitis and have been told to take Monday off.  I was so excited at first!  Then I realized it's payroll week and I'm...two weeks behind.  I will be working from home for a while Monday.  And I'll keep track so the time isn't taken off my sick days.

I was looking at my calendar and realized that I'll be late to work Tuesday, leaving early Wednesday, late the next Tuesday, leaving early that same day, and...one more.  No wonder I haven't scheduled my mammogram!  (TMI??)  At what point do I get in trouble for the medical appointments that have to be scheduled during the day?  Oh, the last one was my rheumatologist.  How could I forget that one?!

Brain Vomit

After feeling tense and unable to vent my feelings to someone, I suddenly realized, "OH WAIT.  I HAVE A BLOG."  It was a "duh" kind of moment.

So you're going to start seeing some more posts.  The main subject will be problems at work, as a way to document some things that are going on.  Brain Vomit, coming up!

I also wanted to update on Patrick.  He went to a new psychiatrist today, the one that will keep track of his meds.  She was recommended by 4 people, and they were right to recommend her.  She spent an hour and a half with us today and she changed his meds to an extended dose of Ritalin.  Thank goodness!  She said the one he has been on is only a 3 hour dose.  This new one will be eight!  The teacher will be so relieved.  She also noticed slight symptoms of Asperger's so she said we'll keep an eye on it.  I'd heard that before from his therapist, so no worries.  Besides, it's not like he all of a sudden has something.  It's just a new word for him.  Who knew all the talking on and on and on would be low spectrum autism?  Huh.

The short story of work is new boss, new boss's boss to be hired, reduction in the workload due to RA, shuffling of work to even the load for everyone in the office, lack of budget money for extra help next summer, new boss, new boss, and new boss (same one, just lots of issues).

A Sample
This is what will keep me up tonight.  Technically, it IS keeping me up tonight.  I requested Friday, Oct. 4th off around a month ago.  Received permission and then decided not to take the trip.  ...supposedly I let my boss, Ms. Ogre, know that I wouldn't be taking off...  I decided that with all the stress, I should take that trip afterall.  If the bosom of the family can't make it better, nothing will!  But I informed her the 2nd time.  She didn't like that.  And it's fiscal year end, a very bad time to go.  Could I go a different weekend?  Yes, except homecoming is this weekend and I've missed it for 7 years.  She said she almost told me Wednesday that I couldn't go but she knew she'd "hear about it."  Whatever.

I planned ahead and, to make up for taking Friday off, I worked from home on Sunday, 7.1 hours.  I meant to work more the rest of the week in the evenings, but I wasn't feeling good all week.  So the discussion today was that I was informed we're never doing this again at year end.  Even though I reminded her again that I'd worked 7 hours from home on Sunday, Ms. Ogre wouldn't acknowledge it and understand that I'm a day ahead of where I would have otherwise been.  That's what makes me the maddest.  Whenever we have a discussion, she needs to one-up me, and prove to me what she's saying, and refuse to understand what I'm trying to say.  She then repeats it 3 or 4 times so that it starts feeling like an argument.  Did I mention this is her first management job?

Future Brain Vomit entries will discuss the legal definition of my job.  I'm salaried non-exempt which means I'm supposed to be paid overtime.  That's being called into question.  I need to be more like Jane, see?  Isn't she such a good employee for working extra and not getting paid for it?  She'll have some comp time when she wants.  Isn't she such a good girl?  Well, sure, if you want to break the law that way instead since legally you can't pay via comp time.

Oh the Brain Vomit that's coming!

Thanks for listening.  I know people with much bigger problems.  I keep them in my prayers!  (Love ya babe!)

Dealing with the Ex: Mr. Charming

This post might be more dangerous than any other.  Why, you ask?  Well, because a long time ago, someone told me I'm still in love with the Ex.  WHAT?!

Mr. Charming.  Many people can see the intelligence and charm right away.  Eventually the jerk can be seen, but until then, Mr. C is IN.  Don't get me wrong.  Mr. C will not win me back.  But, oh, how I miss the intellectual conversations!

I just texted back and forth with Mr. C for about half an hour.  About phone carriers.  Cell phones.  POT PIES.  Now I find myself wanting to send him the recipe for my pot pies, which Patrick says is the best thing he's ever eaten.  I know if I sent it I'd ask him to tell me how to spice it right, because that's my weakness in recipes.  The running joke in our marriage was that Mr. C could take cat food and sawdust and make a gourmet meal.  There were so many times when I'd look in the cupboards and couldn't find anything to make, and Mr. C would walk in there and whip something up that was DE-LISH.

Honestly, though, the root of his problems is sex.  Call it sex addiction if you'd like (I don't, he does), but if he just kept him thing in his pants, things would have been better.  Mr. Charming.

Still a jerk.

Vacations and Surprises

Patrick was gone for two weeks on his vacation to my parents.  Technically it was supposed to be both my parents and my sister, but my sister had something come up.  And Patrick was at a camp for a few days too.  I've really had some angst about the visits because there aren't any kids on their block and my parents don't really know people who could do play dates.  And my mom is all about unplugging.  I figured Patrick would be bored out of his gourd!

Turns out....I was wrong.

After picking Patrick up from camp, they spent a night at home.  Then they took their camper to a kid friendly camp.  (Dad must have just loved that.)  They had a really good time though.  Patrick got to ride his bike around the campground without fear.  The campground owners gave some kind of rides to the kids too, but Patrick wasn't real clear on that part of the story.

Once home, Grandma took him on the different nature trails in the area to ride bikes.  Grandpa spent time with him in several ways.  Once they spent 45 minutes watching a pile driver out on a country road.  He helped Patrick build an erector set digger, which took a few days.  He played miniature golf.  He allowed Patrick to play with a remote controlled boat, which unfortunately sunk when Patrick tried to launch it with his hand.  Patrick ended up wading pretty far into the pond to get it back out!

I, on the other hand, worked.  I finally let my bosses and co-workers know that I would be giving back some of the work I've taken on in the last few years because I couldn't keep up with the "traditional" job duties.  And that my hands hurt.  A lot.  So my goal is to hand back work that is not mine to do.  Wish me luck, because I'm sitting here typing this and getting ready to do it!  I also went to a movie -- The Heat with Sandra Bullock.  Hilarious!

But I digress.  Back to the vacation part.
I don't recall having fun with my dad.  There's a very real possibility that we miniature golfed.  Once.  I just don't remember.  I remember the work and chores quite clearly.  Handing him tools, baling hay, mucking stalls, picking up sticks.  I probably would've been the kind to enjoy watching a pile driver for 45 minutes.  (I have spent more than that watching cool things with Patrick - like a paver, and the railroad repair equipment.  Now THAT was cool!)

While I wish I had more memories of having fun with my dad, I'm eternally grateful Patrick has had those experiences with him.  My parents are in their 70's and the whole family is thinking there may not be too many more years like this one. 

Dealing with the Ex: Mr. Visitation Avoider

When the ex and I first split up, we had a temporary visitation schedule.  It was the standard one, where the non-custodial parent gets Patrick every other weekend plus every Wednesday. (I think every Wednesday.  Maybe every other?)

Patrick was one year old.  Mr. VA couldn't handle it.  I started keeping track of his lack of ability to take the kid, even long enough to do my shopping!  He'd forget or cancel for various reasons, including his daughter this or his girlfriend that or his work the other.

We kept the same schedule for the divorce decree.  It wasn't much better afterwards, but at least it was only for a few months.

Due to reasons I can't yet go into, visitation was curtailed by the courts.  Mr. VA was allowed one hour, supervised visits only.  Thankfully our town has an official visitation center.  Michael would meet me when I came in the front door, and he'd use his keycard to take Patrick to a room where Mr. VA was waiting.  Mr. VA had to come in a back door and not have any contact with me, or with Patrick outside of the room.  (Although a few times we saw each other outside.  He couldn't seem to remember to park in the back of the building!)

Visits went well.  I was hating Mr. VA at the time, so I didn't like hearing Patrick laughing.  But it was ok because Michael was watching and taking notes for the judge.
Eventually the judge handed down his decision and there was no more visitation.  The last time Mr. VA saw Patrick in person was when Patrick was three.  It's been six years now.

It's hard for Patrick because he doesn't have a dad.  He doesn't do Father's Day.  He can't go play catch with his dad.  He sees other kids with their dad.  He hears talk about the dads.

Patrick eventually started thinking that his dad hates him.  His dad doesn't "want" to see him.  I started thinking maybe I'd let them talk on the phone.  It seemed relatively harmless and I would be supervising.  It made me Mad As HeII though.  Patrick's therapist was ok with it.  So they started talking.

I allowed Sunday evenings only.  But Mr. VA can't keep to that.  And he keeps calling after he knows Patrick is in bed.  And then he'll text to ask when he can talk again.  Seriously?  I said Sunday evenings!

Eventually Patrick realized he didn't know where his dad lived and didn't know what he looked like.  And eventually the therapist suggested Skype.

That's borderline against the judge's order.  The phone was bad enough.  Skype?!  Fine. ok.

Mr. VA enjoys seeing his son.  Patrick enjoys seeing his dad.  I hate the whole deal.  And someday, probably in the next year, Patrick will be asking to go see his dad.

Per the judge.  Not until he's 17.

War and Peace

The War

I've decided to write this particular post as a therapy for my anger.  I'm just steaming right now.  I'm trying to remember the good stuff, and I will, but I'm reveling in the anger.

Patrick is in piano lessons.  He missed class just about 2 weeks ago and they started a new song.  Because he wasn't there for instruction, he doesn't know about the high-A (high-La).  I explained it last night but he insisted that it was middle C (middle-Doh).  Tonight he was arguing that it was high G (high-So), even though I showed him the progression, right there in black and white, to La.  Nope.  It's So.

I gave up and went to one of the songs we've been doing for about 3 weeks.  With enough practice, he'd be with the rest of the class on this.  We've been remiss in practicing because time just flies by.  With the amount of time it takes for school homework and the time it takes him to eat, I feel that the kid should have at least half an hour of free time a night!  But I digress!

The Dinosaur is a song he really got into, probably because it's in A Minor.  And it's about a dinosaur.  But he wasn't with the class when they started practicing the right hand, which includes eighth rests with eighth notes.  And he stumbled with it because it's new.  In my attempts to get him to sing the notes etc, he got mad.  He was leaning on the keyboard, which wobbles because he already weakened the stand by placing his feet on it.  And when I told him to stop, we got into a discussion about how upset I'd be if he broke a $350 keyboard.  He asked how much the stand was and I said it was probably $40.  He sneered at that and said it was a piece of crap.

I quit.  Go to bed.  I'm done with you for the day. 

It's all about the attitude.  The disrespect he's been showing everybody.  The problems he'll be facing in 4th grade if he keeps this up.

<breathe deep>

The Peace

The other day when we got to the YMCA for his before-school care, he was putting on his backpack when a little old lady was behind him.  I was going to chastise him, but he wasn't that close to hitting her, so I let it lie.  He pushed the button to open the automatic doors, then he moved over to open and hold the other door for the little old lady.  Then he did it again for the second set. 

I was so proud!

The Conclusion

I guess there's some hope for him.  I think instead of doing a swear jar (that includes the sarcastic terms "really" and "seriously"), maybe we should do a disrespect jar. At least then I'd feel like I wasn't on the losing end! 

Dealing with the Ex: Mr. Deadbeat Dad

When I was married, Mr. DBD counted on me to get money to his other ex for his daughter's child support.  When we separated, his other ex was out of luck.  Me too though.

I live in a county that requires non-custodial parents to have their child support garnished from their wages.  I also was smart enough in the divorce to garnish some other fees, like reimbursement for health insurance.  Normally my state would require the non-custodial parent to carry the health insurance for the child, but since Mr. DBD job hops so much, I decided to carry it myself.

Job hops?  Since we met 17 years ago, there's only been one job that lasted more than a year.  Normally he thinks the "grass is always greener."  He may have the charisma to get a job easily, but lately he's had a hard time getting a job.  That part of the story will wait a bit longer.  Suffice it to say, garnishing child support in a case like this is tough.

Mr. DBD would hide the fact that he had a job.  Eventually the state or I would find out and send paperwork.  By then, most times he'd be gone, on to greener pastures.

Mr. DBD moved out the week of Patrick's first birthday.  There was a two or three month period where he was working some kind of construction and was paid "under the table."  It was good money and I got quite a bit of child support.  Unfortunately, someone found out he wasn't qualified for the job and didn't have the proper certification.  So no more support.

I was working three jobs and paid $800 a month for child care.  Every cent meant the world to me.

I went about three years with maybe two payments.  It was brutal.  But I made it.  I have a certain amount of pride for that!

Some may ask why I didn't throw him in jail.  Well, he couldn't get a job if he was in jail.  This state will also take away the driver's license, but then he couldn't drive to a job.  I need the money, not the satisfaction of putting him behind bars.  (I could dream though!)

And then the sky fell, the bell tolled, and the fat lady sang.

No more child support for a while.  He's indisposed for 8-12 months.  Yes, that's for a future post.  I'm not ready for that yet.

So fast forward to last November.  I got a payment!  Then another.  And another....and I'm still getting payments twice a month.  And I SO need it.  I know it'll end so I'm not counting on it much longer. 

It's been about four years since I took Mr. DBD to court for some other issues.  Mostly I was trying to get permission to move out of state, but I also requested permission to change Patrick's last name to mine.  In return, I offered to write off $20,000 of back support.  I was willing to deal.  I only asked to change Patrick's last name so I could give it up.  It's not like I really wanted to change it.  But Mr. DBD signed the paperwork with nary a word or a squeal.

Twenty thousand dollars

In three years, he'd built up that kind of a balance.  And since then it's back up to about that level I think.  

But at least he's paying. For now.

To the Rescue

My Rheumatoid Arthritis is so bad right now, and the new medicine hasn't kicked in.  I'm hurting and when I'm like this, I get lazy.  (Thus the blog title.)  I don't take pain meds because the only thing I have is Tylenol or Advil/Aleve and they don't work for this kind of ouch.  Plus I don't even think of taking something until hours and hours after I should.

Tomorrow the cleaning ladies are coming, racing to my rescue.  The only bad thing is, I can't pick up before they come.  I know, I know.  "Cleaning for the cleaning ladies."  But I pay by the amount of time they're here, and they may be speedy with the cleaning, but the picking up will throw them for a loop!  I have dishes...oh let's not go there.  Sock patrol was missed by the kid so I must have a dozen socks in my living room.  Don't even ask how they could have accumulated to this point.  I can also have the sheets changed if I leave clean ones out for them.

Then again, looking around, it's not as bad as it used to be before the cleaning ladies.  I just wish they'd do laundry!!  Oh the joy!

But they are going to rescue me.  I am so grateful.


p.s.  The kid got out of bed so I made him pick up the socks.  Woohoo!  Now for the dishes!

Proud Mama

It's sad to say, but I'm so used to Patrick struggling with most things that it took me by surprise the other day when he wrote an essay.

He met his new resource teacher who will work with him for the next two years.  He got the chance to stay after school to help clean her room. 

.......He loves cleaning.  Just not picking up and putting away. But give him a roll of paper towels and cleaner and he'll be busy for an hour!....

When I picked him up from school, I got to meet Mrs. L and she was very friendly.  She gave Patrick a "magic notebook" with a red cover.  She asked that he write in it over the weekend.

 

I thought this would be very tough to do because of his struggles with handwriting and he missed a lot of instruction for writing paragraphs.  I told him Sunday to write at least a page and he could choose whatever topic he wanted.  So he took the book and disappeared for a while. 

 

I almost cried when I saw what he wrote.  It was two pages long about Club Penguin and puffles.  He wrote neatly and with correct punctuation and capitalization.

 

Mrs. L wrote back asking what are puffles, what do they look like, and what colors are they.  She drew a great picture too.  It was a neat way to get him to expand his descriptions of puffles.  Patrick had already written a response to her and drew about 10 pictures of puffles, and they all had different characteristics.

 

The next morning I got up and he was coloring each puffle a different color.

 

So proud of him!! 

 

 

* Mrs. L wrote another response today but he didn't have time to work on another entry because he did homework for about two hours tonight.  That's past my cutoff.  He had only 45 minutes to do as he wished before bed.

Mistakes Moms Make and the ADHD Consequences

I messed up big time.  My poor catastrophic thinker and I are having a hard week.

The day before Mother's Day, we went shopping.  I was looking at aquarium stands at the pet store.  And I got sucked into falling in love with a kitten.  And I took the little guy home.  I mean, really, look at him!

What I had totally overlooked was that I would now have 3 cats, and this one is a long hair.  Long hair.  I hate brushing cats.  And scooping the litter box.  What on earth was I thinking?!  So all weekend I thought about the pros and cons and finally decided Sunday night to take him back to the store.

It. was. heartbreaking.

Patrick had to be pulled out of school because he was sobbing and practically hyperventilating.  I was sobbing when I left work to take the kitty back.

Patrick spent the day with my friend as she was off work for the day.  She took him to a park, where I met them after I got off work.  We were walking back to her house when Patrick started skipping and said he couldn't wait to get home to see the kitten.

Wha?

Um, Patrick, you do remember why you're with Miss D., right?

...how could he have forgotten this?

So of course, the rest of the walk back he was dragging his feet and barely moving.  Then he refused to get out of the car at home.  I counted all the way to TWO before he moved.  When he went into his room to change into his baseball uniform, he jerked on the curtains and bent the brackets.  He was disappointed that I stopped him before he could break it.  He said that he was so mad he wanted to hurt someone.  (That's not typical for him, thank goodness!)  He also, at some point, started biting and/or sucking on his arms just above the wrist.  He has marks several days later.  This especially worries me because I think ahead to a teenager who's raging and self-mutilates. 

The rest of the evening was fairly steady.  He hit a double and a single at baseball so he was feeling pretty good.  When we got home later, he didn't say anything about the kitten.

I, on the other hand, felt the loss the whole evening.

I messed up.

Responsibilities and ADHD

I've struggled to get Patrick to do things without being told...5 or 10 times.  I know that I should get on him much, much sooner, but even I forget about the tasks.  And he can only be told to do one thing at a time.  And I feel like I'm always always telling him to do things.  Or not do things, as the case may be.  I just don't want to harp on it.  I feel like I'm always trying to push him down, to get him to stop moving, stop interrupting, stop goofing off.  It wears on me.

Let me site some examples.  I have him do sock patrol in the living room because somehow some way socks accumulate there.  Tonight he picked them up, but he went right past (over) a sock in the hallway to the bedrooms.  Another time I told him that it's his responsibility to empty the garbage cans in the other rooms.  The bathroom one was overflowing so I told him to empty it and make sure to pick up the garbage on the floor around it.  The second time I told him, he did take the can to the kitchen, but he didn't bring the can bank into the bathroom.  And he didn't pick up the trash on the floor.  So later I told him to get it back in the bathroom.  And for some reason, it ended up in his bedroom.  <sigh>  I told him again to put the can in the bathroom and pick up the garbage around it.  So he brought the can back and put half the garbage from the floor into it.  <sigh>  Please pick up the rest of the garbage and also the garbage on the counter.  Once the garbage on the floor was picked up, how about the stuff on the counter?

I signed Patrick up for piano lessons.  The place we go is fantastic, and the teacher is absolutely wonderful.  But within the first ten minutes of class, I'm so mad for having to motion to him so many times to calm down, to stop it, to listen....I'd have him drop out at the end of the semester if it wasn't such a good thing for him.  We both love it and he's good at it.  (His dad has a boatload of natural talent that I'm hoping Patrick inherited!)  The teacher handles him well by ignoring as much as he can and trying to ease him into the right action.  At home, if I don't sit with him while he practices, he only plays for about 3 minutes.  And then he's done!  Yes, Mom, I practiced it all.  When I sit with him, it's routinely 20 to 30 minutes.

Can you imagine how the homework goes?! I tell him to look at his planner and decide what to do. And on and on until it's time to pack up the backpack.  By then, I just do it. 

I have to be with him constantly if I want his homework done.  His chores.  His piano practice.   There's no self-starter capability being exercised here.  When will it end?  When will he accept the responsibility?!  When-I-teach-him.  When-he's-old-enough.  I've heard that other ADHD kids are like this, but it's making me nutty. 

If anyone has any tips to solve this it would be great.  Yes, I could just follow him around until things are done, but I've done that in his room.  It hasn't worked. 

Dealing with the Ex: Mr. Control Freak

Since I'm still new to blogging, I'm hoping I don't get flagged if I use some potentially harsh language in reference to my ex-husband.  He brings out the anger in me.  I didn't used to be like that.  Even the guy I dated who broke a kitten's back didn't affect me like this other guy.

Mr. Control Freak has issues.  I won't get into them now, except for the name for this post.  I remember towards the end of our marriage, I'd have to sneak peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.  Mr. CF thinks PB&Js are bad because it's all sugar.  I tend to disagree.   There is actual nutrition in peanut butter.  And who's to say I don't use sugar-free jelly?!

Back in the days of marriage, I made myself a sandwich one evening,and he harped on me so much I just finally threw it away.  It got so bad I'd sneak them when he was at work.  I know it was around the time Patrick was born because I told my OB-GYN about it, and she got mad and asked if I wanted a prescription!  She was great.

Once we divorced, for reasons not currently discussed, there was no contact with Mr. CF and Patrick for a good four years.  Patrick became old enough to realize he didn't have a dad and people don't normally think of things like that around kids.  They'll talk about doing something with Mom and Dad, or make a Father's Day card for Dad, and it was salt in a new wound.  Patrick's therapist suggested eventually that maybe they could talk on the phone.  I was leery but I did it for Patrick's benefit.

I laid some ground rules.  Easy ones.  Talk once a week.  He's not to get to know Mr. CF's girlfriends.  No discussing what Patrick eats.  I had to add that last one when the PB&J issue came up and he started in on Patrick like he used to do to me. 

But, again, Mr. CF asked tonight what was for supper.  He should be able to remember by now.  Besides, Mr. CF never asks when I slave away for an hour cooking a good homemade meal to eat it all in 7.2 minutes!  It's only when we've had the lazy meal.  Seriously.  Stop asking. 

It also puts Patrick in a bad spot because he knows it's a rule and his dad is breaking it.  And he knows I get angry.  He starts being all subdued like HE'S the one in trouble.  And then I get to deal with any fallout.

There's no conclusion to this problem.  I just want Mr. CF to go away and not bother my kid.  'Cause if he dont,  Mama Bear gonna come out!

Broken Trust

Patrick's grounded for breaking my trust this morning.  My rule is that he's not allowed to go outside or to a neighbor's house while I'm sleeping.  He woke up at 6, and around 7:45 I woke up because the cat was pawing at my door.  I never latch the door, so I know Patrick had been around.  I called to him to open the door (so I wouldn't have to move my lazy, don't-want-to-get-up-yet butt out of bed).  When he didn't answer, I went looking for him.  I found him next door.  He's now grounded for a week.

Grounding in my house means he has to spend the time on his bed when he's home.  He can have one  non-electronic toy and as many books as he wants.  I don't really think it makes much of an impression on him though.  He makes all kinds of excuses to come out.  Water.  Toilet.  Hugs.  Food.  More food.  More food.  What's that on tv....Let's go to baseball practice, time for tutoring!  Music class is tonight!

Unfortunately, at some point today, he manged to get my good scissors.  And he cut up a pencil, his deodorant, and the stem from his deodorant.  Then he carved on the bed's headboard.  It's a good thing he was brushing his teeth when I found out because I was able to calm down a bit.  I sat there waiting for him, looking at the toys scattered on the floor.

What the heck was I doing while he was so busy?!  I mean, I watched tv, I made rice pudding, I was on the computer for a bit.  Seriously though.  Is my Mom Radar broken?!

Well, I explained to Patrick that he broke my trust this morning and it's important that he follow that rule because it's a safety issue.  Then I explained that in the 40 years my headboard has been around, I never, ever carved it with scissors.  To make more of an impression, I told him that the next day would be spent in the corner while he's home.  Somewhere I can keep track of him, but where he can't watch tv.  Maybe in the kitchen.  Is it good or bad that he has school and then tutoring tomorrow?  It'll be about an hour or so in the corner.  I haven't decided if he'll eat supper there.  I suppose I'd better have him sit at the table.  <sigh>


Lazy Single Mom

p.s. He'll clean up the bits of deodorant all over the floor once it dries a bit.  Hopefully it won't smear.  The cleaning ladies have another 28 days before they come again.  Oy.

Relaxing It Ain't

I'm supposed to have an almost-schedule free Saturday.  We have plans for the evening, but nothing else is on the books.  I wish my child would go outside and play.  I had my computer reimaged this week and I need to make sure my settings are correct and reload software.   It's not relaxing when you have to continually tell your child that he can't have it until you're done.  Seriously.  Stop asking.

On a good note, this Lazy Mom had the cleaning service in yesterday for the 2nd time in my life.  Oh, I really love coming home to a clean house!

Naming a Blog

I'm going to claim that I'm a Lazy Single Mom.  That means I don't have to type as much.  And it's a good excuse for having a house that's, well, decorated by Chaos.  In reality, though, I hate cleaning, I don't get motivated to clean unless there's company, and I am a Big Baby when my Rheumatoid Arthritis is acting up.  And when it's not.  I may actually be lazy too I guess! LOL

The name of the blog is also indicative of my status as a mom.  Technically, Patrick was 2 when I got divorced.  But from the time he was born I was essentially a single mom.  I had to take care of the baby before I left for work and make sure he was napping before I could leave, so that the husband working 2nd shift could sleep.  Then I'd come home at lunch and feed the baby.  Then I'd rush home after work and take care of the baby while the husband was at work.  So when the husband moved out the week of Patrick's 1st birthday, I didn't really notice. 

Now that the background is covered a bit, the RA part of me is screaming to stop typing. So here goes!  My first blog post! 

See you when my lazy self posts again.

Thanks for reading,
Lazy Single Mom