I’ve had a card I purchased at least a month ago, sitting in front of me, waiting to be written in and mailed. The card is for my Grandma in Oregon, and for the first time in a long time, it says exactly what I wanted it to. But it still sit here, waiting, because I can’t just send off a blank card with only Ashleigh’s picture included.

What am I supposed to say to a Grandma I don’t even know? I know she always for purple and pin polyester with coordinating jewelry, and has one glass eye. I remember her shaky voice, even from when I was a kid, and I know she drinks buttermilk. I know she blames herself for the Stickler’s Syndrome we all suffer through, and I know she love flowers. I know she didn’t call, or even send a note when it was known I was expecting, or when Ashleigh was born. My Mom says Grandma wants to see everyone soon, but I know it is only because she is dying.

The card reads

I love the way the poppy blooms–only for one day-so colorfully and so expressively.

(inside)
Imagine being able to say everything you want in just one day…

I realize it is not completely my Grandma’s fault we didn’t know each other, as she has always lived in a different state than I have. Yet is it hard to feel empathy for someone who has turned her back on me. I lived the JW life, escaped when I could, but it is still extremely difficult for me to understand how others can justify how they treat family members. How dare she (and my Aunt and Uncle) shun and treat my sister and nephew as if they don’t exist. How selfish of them to state they are only doing this because “they love us”.

I grew up with a small family as it was, never knew any of my Grandpas, and loved my Grandma Hansen to pieces. It seems so completely unfair that the one Grandma to remain alive long enough to have the chance to meet my daughter doesn’t care to. It makes me happy knowing Grandma Hansen met my nephew before she died, but oh how I wish she were alive and the judgemental and self-righteous one was not.

Harsh, but how it is.

I KNEW my Grandma Hansen. She made me laugh when she asked about “any new boyfriends” when I was twelve. She showed me pictures of her hanggliding, and shared stories of her travels. She made me dream, and hope of being an amazing woman someday. Not once did she spell my name right, but when she hugged me, it was real.

So what do I say to an 87-year old woman I hardly know, who is dying of Parkinson’s disease? Is it wrong that I feel angry at her even though she is the weaker, the one unable to eat?

I really don’t know what to say. Generally she is a sweet little old lady and one would think me crazy for saying anything negative about her. But it is difficult to put aside hurt feelings to write anything meaningful without it seeming as if token words.

Okay, that’s it. I’ve had enough responses and conversations with others, and yes, I know biting is a common behavior with two-year-olds. I’d rather not read any more condescending “you haven’t had a two-year-old how do you know” emails. What about what I have to say…it’s my daughter and I can be as pissed off and upset as I feel necessary?

I’ve tried not to dwell on this whole topic, but the bruises are still obvious on her cheek, and I’ve had way too many people give me funny looks in the stores to ignore this. It was tempting to make a sign reading “no, I didn’t hit my child, she was bit by a kid” but even then, people don’t care, they judge. But I know I judge other parents when I see them so I can’t really say much about that.

Back to biting being typical two-year old behavior. Typical, if they’re unable to communicate with adults why they’re upset, frustrated, or confused. NOT typical when the child already has a stunning supply of vocabulary, including multiple profanities. See, I suppose I should’ve gone into more detail in my original post, but I didn’t think it was an issue. The kid that bit Ashleigh is 100% brat, full of attitude and spite, just like his father, who has caused some problems at the gym before with his temper.

So when I said this kid should’ve known better, I meant it. If he can yell at one of the Kids Club workers “Fuck off, I don’t like you, my daddy is coming” then I think he has plenty of verbal skills accessible in order to refrain from biting TWO children.

Take a look at this picture and tell me it was just an “innocent” two-year-old trying to communicate his frustration. I don’t fucking think so.

I updated Ashleigh’s site last night so now you can view the January pictures of our little bumpkin.

We spent quite a bit of time at the park in the evenings and on the weekends because Ashleigh just loves it. Just chillin’ on the swing is one of her favorite things to do these days. I have a ton of sand toys for Ash to play with but so far she hasn’t quite figured out what the sand is for, other than to grab fistfulls of it and clap her hands.

She is doing and saying more and more each day and I feel like I haven’t had time to take it all in. She repeats a lot of words now (diaper, done, hi, milk) but not always on her own. Ashleigh loves to climb, especially inside of her activity table, as you’ll see in the pictures, and she’s coming very close to going over the baby gate. She waved months ago, but now it’s her newest passion and she’ll wave at anyone, anything, pretty much about anytime.

Last Friday she had a fever, nothing drastic, but enough to make a momma’s heart drop. Turns out it was Roseola again, and even though she looked like some alien with her spots, she was fine. For a few days she just wanted to walk around or be held while she sucked her thumb and snuggled with her little fox. I liked the snuggling, but it was so frustrating to deal with the clinginess, with my schoolwork and some business work to do. Thankfully, she was back to normal yesterday and actually played on her own for a few minutes.

Her talents are increasing, and pretty soon we’ll be putting her in a toddler bed. It seems as if she can jump pretty high in her crib where she almost goes over the railing (and the mattress is on the lowest setting possible). My mom said I fell from the top of my bunkbeds all the time when I was younger, so even if she does fall from her crib, she’ll be fine, but it’s still not a comforting thought. I’m having a hard time thinking of Ash as the toddler that she is, instead of the baby I recall. Once she’s in the bed, there’ll be no going back and I’ll just have to face reality.

I am not thrilled. In fact, I’m pissed, and still fuming. My teeth are still clinched together and I don’t know if I want to scream or cry or both. Last time I checked, two and a half years old is plenty old enough to know NOT to bite someone. Let alone another kid, let alone TWO other kids YOUNGER than them.

Earlier tonight at the gym’s Kid’s Club Ashleigh was bit in the cheek by some kid who obviously needs to learn something. The sad thing is she was the second one to get bit and she lucked out. A ten-month-old boy of someone in my class was bit on the lip and was bleeding all over. As Mary was checking him out, and getting her kids together, the nasty brat bit my daughter. And it wasn’t a little bite, either, as she has two bruises on the side of her face.

I took a couple pictures when we got home just in case, but it makes me so angry. What’s shitty is how the dad reacted, with a simple “oh, sorry”, completely not giving a crap. And the kid only gets a three day suspension. WTF?! In a typical day care they would be kicked out or reprimanded in some way.

Shit like this just pisses me off and as you can tell, I’m still not sure how to respond completely. I know if I see that kid or father again they will not receive a warm welcome.

I am unable to pick Ashleigh up without a pain in my abs, reminding me I need to check on who has invaded my brain. Normally I do three sets of 20 whateverthey’recalled lifts with my bright orange-red exercise ball sometime during the day. Nothing too out of the ordinary, except when Ash climbs on my stomach, but I can handle it.

I guess I wasn’t really using my brain power when I continued to do those sets AND went to a Monday morning class, Tuesday night class, and this morning’s class. Ouch. It’s pretty sad when it hurts to sneeze or cough. Even more idiotic, I’m planning on attending the evening class with John tonight. What or who has possessed this body and mind?

Other things going on…my left pinkie looks like some sort of disease attacked it, thanks to a friendly spider who bit me multiple times the other night. The chlorine in the pool has helped it heal faster, but it looks awful. John wondered why he wasn’t bit and all I can say is spiders love me. Mosquitos don’t bite me but spiders come running and chomping.

A few more things to say, but I have to get things rolling so we can gead out of here in less than two hours. Believe it or not, I’ll be making dinner tonight. *snort* Gotta love those Lean Cuisine Skillets. I’ll try not to burn it this time.

We made it to the gym last night in time to drop Ash off at the Kids Club and get ready for the Water Aerobics class at 6:30PM. Thank goodness there were some kids her age to keep her entertained, otherwise she would’ve had a fit when we left again (which of course they say she stops as soon as we leave, but it’s still hard to listen to).

Normally we do a half hour minimum of cardio before the class, but in a way I’m glad we didn’t. Last’s night’s class was so refreshing! The pool temperature had been raised a few degrees, and they filled it up to the top. While the new water made it difficult to do some of the walking moves, I had a much easier time doing and remembering the moves for the whole hour. John even joined the class for the second time, making the class even more fun.

The most important thing about last night in the pool is how good it felt, and that my cramp disappeared for a time. The hot tub afterwards felt even better, so much more that I had a hard time getting out to go pick up Ash.

I wasn’t sure if I would like this kind of class, but it turns out it’s my thing. Plus, I can still go to the closer gym and do my cardio and weight training (the Nautilus Nitro machines they have are kinder to my joints) on the days I’m not swimming. John suggested going to the woman’s morning aerobics class but I’m not so sure yet. I’ll be lucky if Ash and I make it to a Moms Club scheduled park day this morning at 10:00AM.

Getting on a workout schedule again is helping immensely with my mood changes and my everyday joint pains as well. My doctor had asked me last time I received my Depo shot if I was considering switching to a pill, because I was having difficulty losing weight and I said no, but am now reconsidering. I’ve changed my diet (cutting the soda was a killer), and exercise regularly and still I’m just maintaining. VERY annoying. I’m just not sure if I’m ready to trust the pill, seeing as Ashleigh made it in spite of the pill before.

In the meantime I’ll just bust my butt, keep walking to the park everyday with Ash, and hitting the gym, and hopefully, something. At least I feel better with all the activity going on. When we had issues with money lately I haven’t freaked out like usual and for once I was the positive one, trying to reassure John. That is definitely a first, but also a sign my outlook is improving.

I’m a bit ticked off right now. Yes, I’m happy my instructor for a scripting class has already uploaded the class information to Blackboard. What I’m not compeltely enthused about is a tidbit which was NOT mentioned in the course description anywhere. Apparently there is a required chat time on Mondays from 6-7pm. Required enough that it affects my final grade.

Okay, first…if there was a required chat as part of the course they should TELL US in the catalog. OR, they should’ve listed it as a Hybrid course, which is an online course that requires a meeting of any kind, either on campus or online. What the fuck?

They’re pretty damn lucky I am actually available at that time, as the school would be hearing from me. I am not thrilled. Oh, and she wants us to use the piece of shit AIM messenger, which I despise with a passion. Bah. At least the textbook cost less than $20 dollars, unlike the atrocious JAVA book that is going to yank me $80 for another class. Good thing I just sold a couple textbooks through Half.com.

One of the side effects of the darn cryosurgery procedure I went through last week is cramping. I’ve been fine until tonight. And my ass is getting kicked. See, I haven’t had a “normal” cycle in years, so this whole cramping thing is new to me. Especially since my damn contractions with Ash were never this bad.

I always say I have a high tolerance for pain, and while that’s generally true, what I mean is the more common I have to deal with the pain, the easier (ie:arthritis, fibro, mysterious knee pain, etc). Therefore…I am not tolerating this shit very well.

And have I said how retarded these pads are?

Well, isn’t this fun. I had my cryosergery (took five minutes tops, the name sounds so dramatic) yesterday afternoon and I have been drip, drip, dripping ever since. I feel like I did the weekend before I had Ash, though at least I know why things are happening.

The doctor did inform me this procedure has an 85% success rate, and the four-month paps will be to check for anything abnormal. Ah, I suppose that’s a better rate than some other things. I’m not worried, just annoyed with the whole drip and rediculous pad thing. I switched to tampons as a teenager for a reason, sheesh.

On another topic, I finally received feedback from “the Board” (bored) regarding the MOMS Club site and it’s approved. Duh. Like any of them were going to get around to making one. Anyhow, now they want a recipe section, and overachiever and perfectionist that I am, has now begun the setup of such in MT. And to think I held off switching to MT because “everyone else was”. So, this of course means figuring out the whole archive shit that I haven’t bothered to tinker with (in case you hadn’t noticed my basic “title only” archives). This “I can do anything” attitude of recent has got to go, because it’s killing me.

My neck is doing much better, as I can see in my blind spot when I drive now. I’d say that’s progress. Ashleigh is the same cutie, walking around with a purpose, and dumping Code Red all over. Hmm, shall I put in a request to rewind and start this year over?

I need to find something to keep the drawers on her dresser shut, but other than some rope, I haven’t thought of anything else. Suggestions gladdly accepted.

Last night John and I spent a couple hours filling in all the appropriate pdf tax files for federal and state income taxes. Looks like we’ll definitely bring in more if John claims her, so we’re pretty happy. After taxes and my financial aid we’ll be getting at the end of the month, my nifty car and John’s truck will be paid off. Completely. Wow. No monthly vehicle payments means credit paid off, equals a house much sooner. Not that I expect we’ll be in one in less than a year, but what a pleasant thought. This plan is looking perfect, though I’m sure they’ll be gone by the time we’re ready.

Anyhow, one can dream. I did get my grades for last semesterday, finally. I’m thrilled with the A and B in my two favorite classes, and actually pleased with the C for that awful Child, Family, Education Crap class. Not bad, considering I didn’t go that last week and didn’t turn in the last two assignments. I am quite dissapointed in my C for the Art class, seeing as how I had an A on every assignment before the final project. Apparently I didn’t “get” the project like I thought I did. Oh well. I found out half-way through the class I didn’t need to take it, with my transfer credits from Seattle.

I AM excited about next semester, though. All four of my courses are going to be online, which means no dragging my butt to class in the evening, or no more mental battles over whether to go or not. Even better, only one class lasts the whole semester. It runs from the end of the January to the first week of June, and another starts the same time, but lasts until the day after my birthday in March. So that leaves the last two, from the end of March to June. I can handle this, I really can. It’s a shame all my courses aren’t offered online.

Hmm, a lot of rambling today. At least I’m in a rambling mood, highly improved over the mopey or quiet ones. I’m just struggling with some designs right now, a revamp for a friend’s site, and nothing is coming out. It is beyond frustrating to know I have ideas in my head somewhere, but they’re bein stifled. I almost didn’t take my Lithium this morning just because I wanted to get this done, but obviously, not the thing to do, and for once my logic won the argument.

Sometimes I just want to scream, I hate this mediocre feeling so much. I realize I should be grateful for the balance in my life, but it’s not so easy. My whole life I have coped with the good and the bad things with my art, my writing. When I was depressed, angry, excited, I wrote. When I was happy, in love, pissed off, I drew. Or something! And all I have in this “just right” phase is my mumbo jumbo misfit words I’m typing now and I feel like they’re just not cutting it.

Someone needs to invent a contraption which records your dreams, because that is the only time my mind is free enough to think the unthinkable, or dream the impossible.

Lovely. Just lovely. The one day I have plans to do something with the girls (few moms I know locally after all these months) without Ash, I wake up with a nasty kink in my left neck. Of course, even though I got my ass up and hit the gym this morning to utilize the hot tub, it has spread. Now the pain resides in my shoulder and upper back. When I try to relax, I end up forgetting about it…until I move my head to quickly and sudden spasm reminds me. I downed four Advil, my Sudafed 12 hour decongestants (for the constant supply of snot I’ve had the last few days), and with the planned drinkage tonight, I might actually have fun.

Oh yeah, and John didn’t hear me when I said to dry my over fifteen year old panda bear in the dryer, so he is fried. And I have thirty minutes to take a shower and find something to eat, meanwhile, I look like a fucking retard with my neck a tilted off-center.

Am I just not allowed to have a good day? Shit.

In spite of all this, I AM in a decent mood. It’s not a high, that’s for sure, but it sure is better than yesterday. I think the fact that I’m going to go hang out with some other females and just talk shit, drink, play games, and be silly is a very good and much needed thing. You know, like the two-hour walks up and down Wal-Mart without Ash. Therapy, baby.

It’s interesting that last night’s CSI episode included the Bipolar topic (you weren’t joking, Jen, depressing shows last night and nothing positive in the news, either). I was impressed with the correct portrayal of someone on and off Lithium. While Lithium is a godsend for me (doesn’t work for everyone unfortunately), I go through spurts where I “forget” to take my medicine because it smoothes life over pretty good. It’s during those times the meds aren’t in my system that I can be one irritable, temperamental bitch. The Lithium works, so it’s not like I don’t have faith in it, but when my lows have faded into a very nice mediocre, “I’m feeling good today” I’m so damn happy to not be depressed that I tend to not think clearly. It’s one of those things where I have to chose the lesser of two evils. I remember when the whole manic depression/Bipolar issue was brought up in the news with the Yates case and how some people just didn’t get it. I would get some pretty nasty remarks and emails from strangers asking “so are you going to kill your kids, too?”, just because I mention I’m Bipolar at the top of this page. So, it was refreshing to have an accurate version, or more appropriate to my situation, portrayed on TV last night. At the same time, it still hurt in some ways to realize how I was, and how I could be if I’m not careful.

I do miss the carefree days of my manic highs, when I painted, drew with never ending creativity. I recall meeting many people, loving life, and behaving recklessly because I was so sure of myself, I was invincible. But there were also the downward spirals, the months long lows that kept me inside my apartment, and many times, the realization I had taken on way too many responsibilities at work and now I couldn’t hadn’t them. Nothing quite like being a super hero and then feeling like a cornered, squashed bug.

The day I called the University of Washington for a depression study and was forwarded to the Bipolar/Lithium study, was the best day of my life. Granted, the Lithium stifled my creativity, but I’ve learned over the years to recognize when it’s there and to utilize it to the max.

Dr. Dunner, the amazing doctor in charge of the research had me read Moodswing by Ronald R. Fieve, M.D., which helped me realize I wasn’t the only one experiencing this awful disorder. The text also touched on many of the issues in my life, such as my high creative modes, my ability to go for days with little sleep, while partying, having sex, and doing everything non-stop (while manic), and my times when I was reclusive and destructive (during lows). The book even touched on many successful men in history (Lincoln, Roosevelt, ad Churchill) who showed all the symptoms of being Bipolar IIb (the supposed beneficial illness). I didn’t feel so alone anymore.

I’m not sure why I’m writing sharing all this, as I feel it’s turned into somewhat of a tangent. John patted my back last night when the bipolar subject came up, and while I shrugged it off, it has obviously hit home. While I want to ignore this disorder, I have to accept it or it will take over again and I hate that. When I have a pretty crappy or moody day, he tends to ask me if I’ve taken my pills, so I’ve started telling him before he even asks now “and yes, I took my damn pills today”. I wish this didn’t have to affect John and Ashleigh, but it does. I wish the meds would adjust the levels in me accordingly, to match my daily stress levels, but that’s nearly impossible.

I miss my clueless, carefree times, but I don’t miss the times I wanted to fade into the walls. I realize others have had worse things to deal with, but at the same time I try not to minimize my life. My move to California was one of the most progressive decisions in my life, and it was a difficult one. I had to leave my comforts, but I’ve gained so much more here. I’ve managed to retain some of my independence, even though I have to rely on John in some way, and I’ve learned I CAN start over, and I CAN try new things. This life is nowhere near over.

Thanks to Cheryl my interest in fun socks has now turned into a fascination. When I sent her a pair, I bought some for myself, too. Now, I can’t get enough, and while I love my striped pairs, these monkey socks are just too cute. Sigh.

Maybe I’ll get surprised with the Sock Exchange, though anything beats plain old white.

I’m not sure how many of my readers of Panacea actually noticed another section of my site, AKA. Last night I had one of my epiphanies and decided to transfer the words and their definitions from AKA into Moveable Type. What I thought would be a huge deal wasn’t so bad, even though I had to put each entry in with no importing.

My main reason for the transfer is the ease of which I’ll be able to add a word (okay, so the html wasn’t that tough, I’m just lazy). Plus, for those word-lovers out there you can now view the words by letter or by verb, noun or adjective. God, sometimes I can be such a nerd.

Today has definitely started off better than yesterday. Last night went pretty well, soon as John came home. I took it upon me to do my design tinkering, watching TV and let John feed Ash for once. She was just find for him (of course) but I held back the urge to jump in and do things my way.

I almost didn’t make it to the gym last night, but around 11PM the usual burst of energy hit me and I headed out. Still pretty tired, I only did half my cardio and resistance, but at least I did it. There are times when Ash is sleeping, such as now, when I get to have time, but when I’m working out at the gym, for a few moments I’m Alicia, not “Ashleigh’s Mom”.

Okay, all you moms out there, got a question for ya. What the hell do you do when you take something from your one-year-old (yogurt container from the trash to be specific) and they hit you, in the face, and knock your glasses off? Twice.

It’s not like I can slap her hand to let her know it’s not okay to do mean things to mommy, because, well, that’s not exactly a good example. Reasoning sure isn’t going to cut it, because all she understands is “milk”, “night night”, “mommy”, “daddy”, “come here” and a few other words that won’t help worth crap here.

I just called and informed John that he should enjoy his workout after work as much as he could, and to take as long as necessary, because Ashleigh was ALL HIS when he got home. All she has done since Midnight last night (the first time she woke up) is cry, whine, cry, hit, whine, sneeze all over me, hit, cry, whine, throw food at me, cry, whine, throw a fucking canniption fit on the way home that made me think I’d pinched her with the buckle somehow, whine, cry, and did I say hit?

I knew this was coming, and I realize it’s all a part of being a parent, but I sure as hell don’t have to like it.

Nothing exciting happened last night, as we crashed as soon as it was the new year. I did somehow convinced John to play some Uno with me (thanks Secret Santa), an amazing happening of the year in itself.

I woke up this morning to John yelling my name. Ashleigh was awake in her crib, jumping up and down, and very happy. Her diaper was on the floor and crap was on the bars and wall. Just lovely.

It’s hard to get the point across to her that what she did isn’t exactly something that’s acceptable. Especially when she got a bath afterwards, which of course she loves. She’s just not going to get the opportunity to play with her crap again, that’s all. PJ’s every night, so be it. Dang, those are a pain to get on her.

No resolutions for me, as those just don’t work. Like some others, goals are what I make, and the most important one right now is to stop stressing. Take each day, do what I have to do, and keep going. As long as the three of us are healthy, have a place to live and food to eat, I’m good.