SHHH!

There has been a lot of buzz about "The Secret". I haven't read this book or seen the DVD (so I should shut my mouth until I do. But I wont.) but my basic understanding of this concept is if you put positive thoughts out into the universe, they will come true. The book/DVD uses material things as examples (a boy envisions a bike, thinks of the bike, puts it out into the universe and then he gets the bike). Y'all know I'm all for the materialistic (I have quite the shoe collection) but I think this could be a very powerful concept. I'm not going to call it "The Secret" because it's no secret, duh! I'm going to call it the "Universe Concept".
Personally, I have been on the receiving end of the Universe Concept before I even knew about "The Secret". I'm generally an optimistic person with cynical tendencies. I'd like to think I'm realistic but I sort of live in my own small bubble-type world so I won't actually label myself as a realist. If you put positive out there, it will come back to you. Perhaps this is more simplistic reasoning than realistic but whatever. It's my blog and I can write it how I want to!
With that being said, I'm trying to envision different things for my life. For instance, everyone knows I want another baby. That's NO secret! But being the realist that I am (shit, did I just label myself that? Oh well. MY BLOG!), I understand that our current dwelling place is far too small to house another child. So while I've been putting it out into the universe (and/or praying) that I want to get pregnant, I've sort of attached negative thoughts.
But this morning, I had an epiphany!
I could have another baby here. I could put the baby in our room and when she (that's right, she. I don't want boys, thank you) she's too big for the crib, she can share Chicken's bunk bed! I could adjust! I can rearrange! I CAN MAKE THIS WORK!
Of course, there is still the pesky issue of Husband needing a home office/studio. And my dream of a beautiful guest room. And a garage.
Perhaps the solution is not to dream of another baby. It's to dream of a bigger house. The realist (there I go again!) in me knows that we need more money for a bigger house. So I should imagine Danny getting his mortgage license first. Or I could imagine my long-wanted career change to a sign language interpreter.
But I don't go "in order". My life has never been in "proper" sequence (although it has worked out just fine so far). I had a baby long before I married, I had a car before I had a license, etc. So maybe what I need is a baby and then let the details work themselves out.
Except, you know, my husband doesn't really want another baby right now. Because he likes things in order.

Spring Break Isn't What It Used To Be!

Now, I didn't go to college but I always thought of Spring Break as a time to drink too much, stay up too late and flash your boobs to Joe Francis (of Girls Gone Wild). Times, they are a-changin'!
In my quest to find a great summer/day camp program for Chicken, I chose a Spring Break program as a "trial" for summer. I chose this place because many of her classmates went there for preschool and will go there this summer and I want her to be comfortable with people she already knows.
But y'all know I'm crazy. Like restraining-order-crazy.

When Chicken was 3 and went to preschool, I was very confident about where she was going. NHA was pretentious, clean, bright and featured accredited teachers. I never shed a morning tear there. I had a "feeling" about the place that allowed me to drop her off guilt free as I went about my silly monkey job. Then something happened that needn't be detailed here but I had to abruptly remove Chicken and eventually was served with a restraining order from the administration of NHA. Then the search was on for another preschool to place Chicken during the 5 remaining months before kindergarten. I never found the "best" place and we ended up in an "ok" but not the best, program. I cried everyday for 5 months when I dropped her off. The place was safe and clean but dumbed down. I began to doubt my instincts. After all, I'd had a great feeling about NHA and for years trusted them with my precious Einstein Chicken. And see how that turned out?

We're back to square one. I've been dreading and avoiding the task of finding the best summer program. I can't bear touring schools with directors telling me only what I want to hear again. I'm still raw from the endless registration process last time. And the tears feel as fresh today as they did when I was crying them last spring. But because I am a mature and dignified parent (what?), I'm doing it we'll try this Spring Break program. For the low, low price of $150, my child can enjoy field trips, new camp shirts and swimming lessons for five days!! (Must pack bag lunch for child. Mommy's agony included free of charge.)
Chicken, however, is so excited she insisted she take the school's business card to class with her. With promises to be open and honest with me, she'll embark on a school bus (her first without me) filled with screaming 6 to12 year olds to the skating rink in a couple of weeks. A pocket full of change for the arcade, my cell phone number in her memory for emergency and a dose of Mommy's agony on the side.
Happy Spring, folks!

The Kids on the Bus Go "HA HA HA"

I've had a stressful and sad week. It really started last Friday but the bitterness and anxious feelings continue to grace me throughout the week.

Wednesday, I didn't sleep. Ok, that's a lie. I did sleep. For 3 hours. It was just one of those nights ("if I don't go to sleep RIGHT THIS MINUTE, I will only get 5 hours sleep" "Damn it, I'm still awake; that leaves me 4 hours sleep" and on and on.). I was functioning through Thursday but with a newly acquired eye twitch. Then Thursday night, I felt the same anxiety creep up on me around 9pm. So I knocked back a couple glasses of wine and was well into my second dream cycle by midnight. Excellent.

What does this have to do with kids on a bus? Well, shut up and let me finish. (Gosh, you people are so impatient. Can't you let a sister tell her story?!?!)
Today was nothing special. I continued with the melancholy in my heart, darkness in my eyes and blur in my head. Fast forward to 2pm. I was scooping up Olivia from school and my new favorite song came on the radio. Lets Get Married remix by Jagged Edge featuring Rev. Run. I know it's not a new song. But it's new to me. And I love it. So there.
I'm getting there. Promise.
Where was I? Oh, old song, new favorite comes on the radio (which it hardly does) and I turn the volume to it's maximum capacity. Then I feel the itch. You know, the dancing itch. Before I know it, I am fully breaking it down in the driver's seat of my car. It's cool, though. Because this bitch is W O R K I N' I T ! If I could have scrubbed the ground, I would have.
Then I feel that eerie feeling we all get when someone is watching us. Like a creepy old guy, or a ghost. Or say...a school bus full of middle school kids.
Dammit. I hate when that happens.
It's cool, though. Because for three minutes and thirty two seconds, I was released from my own pain.
Besides, now 30 twelve year olds have the pricless story about the chubby white chick they saw booty dancing in her car.

Lost

I know a little girl who may be lost.
I fear for her life. Not so much physical safety but her emotional and mental survival. I will worry about her physical self later, when she is older. It's coming; right around the corner.
Her life is filled with adult-type drama. She is caught in the middle of everything.
Why can't these people let their child live? They can help her. I can't decide if they don't know how far she is, if they know and don't care or know and cannot find the strength (or time) to help her.
If continued, she will end up in a bad place. She will outsource the love required from home. She will dip her toes in danger, only to fall in and bump her head. Hard. She will hurt just to see if she still bleeds. She is quickly becoming numb. A numb child is a dangerous thing.
I know she is misguided and lonely. I know her insides are twisted from her own reality. She reminds me of myself when I was 12 years old. Bright, with so much potential but everyone has given up on her.
I'm having nightmares about her future. I've been begging everyone to let her come stay with me this summer. For I believe I can "fix" her. I want to scoop her up with stability, love and guidance.
Perhaps healing her will close the wounds I have carried for 15 years. I will never forget the devastation I experienced when I was her age. She feels like no one loves her or cares about her, I know. She doesn't even have to say it. In her big brown eyes, I know what she can be. And they just won't have it.
"It's none of your business" they say. I have watched her grow since she was a toddler. I may not have birthed her or raised her but my heart literally aches in worry. As if she was my own.
How can I help a child who doesn't even know she needs help? And no one believes me.
I know and I love you.

The Doctor

In spite of my hormone induced rage earlier in the week, I've turned a corner.

My ho-a-scope said my "luck will be changing today". That was yesterday.

-Chicken's homework is done. 4 days early. Without argument. With Husband's help.
-Today was Baby Back Ribs night @ Scruby's BBQ. SCORE!!
-I purchased two new mah-va-lous pieces of jewelry from the Q. (That's QVC, fools!)
-I remained dignified and mature during an argument with another school mom who is acting stank.
-I confirm plans with Gramma & Silly Grandpa Bobby. I love them.
-I may or may not have completed a very complex permit application for a job at work.
-I sent birthday wishes to an old friend and received a very sentimental reply. Olive You!
-We did not watch another Sopranos re-run.
-I wore a new shirt today. And I have another new shirt to wear tomorrow!
-My husband still loves me. Even though I go out for Chinese and come home with Burger King.

So what that there is a meeting at 8am that I am not prepared for? The bathroom is growing mold (again?), there are still dishes in the sink and laundry is scattered throughout. I still haven't called laid-up Vermont Aunt and there is a weird smell coming from a non-smelly room in my house. So what?

From the words of my wise homie Dr. Dre:

Today was a good day.